Page 112 of Last Seen

They shake hands, and Ross puts the laptop on the desk.

“All right, we got the Jeep coming into town on 40. Picked it up out by the airport heading west. Once I had a date and time, I was able to triangulate its path. Moves off of 40 to 440, takes the West End exit, and then we lose it. But there’s a TDOT camera just before that exit, and I was able to get into the system and run it back a week. There is one person in the Jeep. And damn if your instincts aren’t right on, sir. Face ID matches it to Catriona Handon.”

Theo doesn’t know if he’s happy about this, or even more upset. Catriona Handon is alive and well.

“All right. So she’s driving Halley’s car. Where does she go once she ditches it?”

“We’ve got her in a silver Camry heading back east on 40. In the passenger seat. No idea who’s driving, but it’s another woman. I’m running her face but nothing’s popped yet.” Ross pauses. “It is not Halley. I’m sorry.”

They all know what this means. Theo forces away the despair that’s building. He was right about Halley. She’s in serious trouble, or worse.Stay focused, man. You gotta find her.

“All right. So her sister drives her car to Nashville and ditches it. Any chance you got plates on the Camry?”

Ross smiles. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. Got enough to run a comparison. The Camry is registered to a Cathy Esworthy. And guess where she lives?”

“Brockville?” Theo says hopefully.

“Nailed it.”

Lemke rubs his jaw. “So Catriona Handon is still in Brockville. Where she went missing fifteen years ago?”

“Catriona Handonwasin Brockville. At least long enough to get Halley’s keys and car. We need a BOLO for Cathy Esworthy, stat. Is she in the system?”

Ross pulls up her driver’s license. A pleasant woman stares back at them. “I gotta say the driver is much younger than this woman. She’s clean, too. Not even a traffic ticket. Her husband’s an upstanding businessman as well, has a bunch of Porsche dealerships all over the South.”

“But his wife has a Camry?”

“Third car registered to them at the Brockville address. They also have a 2017 Cayenne and a mint 1987 944. Red. The Camry—maybe it’s a kid’s car? I wouldn’t want my son driving a Porsche until he’s off my insurance.” Laughs, and Theo’s stomach does a strange dance. He won’t have a son. He’ll never be able to make a joke like that. Especially now that Halley’s left him. That was always her dream. A dream he refused to help make come true. A dream he’s willing to reconsider if she’d just fucking come home.

He pushes the thought aside.

“I’m calling Sheriff Brockton,” he says. “If Esworthy lives there, he’ll know about the car.”

Lemke’s phone rings, and as he listens, he frowns. “All right. I’ll come get her.” He hangs up. “There’s a woman named Donnata Kade in the lobby. Says she has information about the murders in Marchburg.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Donnata Kade is worse for wear. That’s an uncharitable thought, Theo knows it, but she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. There are dark rings under her very large eyes; her short graying hair is unwashed and mussed; there is a stain on her shirt. When he does a quick, discreet search on the name, the first headline is damning. She is former FBI, emphasis on theformer. Something about that triggers a memory, maybe a piece in theWashington Postabout her fall from grace, but he doesn’t have time to access it before she starts to speak.

Her words are fast and sentences staccato like she’s hopped up on caffeine, or cocaine, spilling out so quickly he wonders if she’s afraid they will shut her up before she can get them all out.

But he is chilled to the core by her accusations.

“You’ve probably already looked me up. They all think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I swear to you I’m not. I’ve been following a killer across multiple states for years. He leaves almost no evidence. The cases are all unsolved. Sometimes there’s no body, either; the woman just disappears. He’s tied to Brockville, Tennessee. I know he is. I lived there once, and saw all sorts of things. Terrible things. And I spotted him in Marchburg the night Kathryn Star was murdered. He was doing something to Halley James’s Jeep.”

Lemke interrupts her. “Okay, okay, slow down.”

“You don’t understand. This is huge, and no one believes me. But now there’s proof.”

“Proof?” Theo asks. “What sort of proof.”

“He took your wife. What more proof do you need?”

“You know this how? Did you witness the crime?”

“No. But how else did her Jeep get to Nashville? He took her and had one of his women drive it here. He collects them. He’s a collector. Terrifying psychological profile.”

Theo looks over at Lincoln Ross, who is watching Kade with interest. “Where did you get that information? About her Jeep?”