a text from Kelly saying she was going to spend the night with a friend named Betty Jacobs. But Betty said she didn’t come over. Did Kelly call the Jacobs girl?”
A slight hesitation, and Justin heard computer keys tapping, then the tech’s voice again. “There’s a minute-long call to Betty Jacobs yesterday morning about eight o’clock but nothing afterward.”
Justin headed down the hill to examine the car, noting the blood splatters on the car door. “Check Fisher’s records.”
Another moment passed and Justin reached Amanda. She and the deputy were searching the trees surrounding the car crash.
He shone a flashlight and caught sight of a partial footprint to the left, then noticed a stiletto heel stuck in a patch of weeds.
“Sergeant Thorpe,” the crime tech said. “I just examined Fisher’s phone and you won’t believe this, but the text that Kelly received from the burner phone—well, that came from the same phone that sent the message to Fisher saying Kelly wouldn’t be home that night.”
“So Kelly didn’t send that text to Fisher. The kidnapper did.”
“I’m surprised Fisher didn’t notice that the number was different.”
“There are a lot of their friends in town for the reunion. Maybe he thought she was using one of their phones.”
The facts clicked together in Justin’s mind, giving him a good idea of what had happened. He told the tech to keep looking at all the phone records from Lambert, Fisher and Kelly, then hung up and called out to Amanda.
“Did you find something?” Amanda asked.
“A shoe.” He pointed to the foliage and Amanda raced over, then knelt to examine it. Her gaze shot back and forth from the car door to the wooded area and the trail leading back up to the road. “The driver hit Kelly’s car, then dragged her from the crash and forced her into his vehicle.”
Justin nodded. “That’s how it appears.” He sighed. “I just talked to tech. The text Kelly received asking her to meet this person Hailey was sent from a burner phone.”
“So Hailey could be a fake name?”
“Probably. The text Kelly supposedly sent Fisher saying she was going to her friend Betty’s house for the night—that was a fake. It came from the same burner phone.”
Amanda ran a hand through her hair. “I assume there’s no way to trace the number?”
“Afraid not. The texts were obviously a setup.”
Amanda winced. “Someone lured her out here with the intention of kidnapping her and doing God knows what else.” She gestured toward a shoe in the bushes. “The question is why? And if he went to all that trouble to lure her out here, then our unsub targeted her specifically.”
He admired her logical mind. “That’s true. Up until now, we wondered if the victims were chosen randomly. Now we know that someone specifically wanted Kelly Lambert.”
“But who?” Amanda asked. “So far Mr. Lambert and Fisher seem to be telling the truth.”
“Let’s talk to Kelly’s ex-boyfriend,” Justin said. “Maybe he wanted her back badly enough to kidnap her.”
* * *
AMANDA CONSIDERED HIS comment. It was a very likely scenario. Especially if Terry Sumter was obsessed with Kelly and was desperate to win her back.
Although they had to look at all angles.
“That’s a possibility,” Amanda said. “But there’s another one that might fit.”
“What?”
“Maybe another woman wanted Raymond and decided to get Kelly out of the way so she could move in on him.”
Justin frowned. “We’ll talk to Kelly’s girlfriends and Fisher’s male friends. Hopefully one of them can give us some insight there.” He gestured toward the car. “We might luck out and find a print or hair that the kidnapper left behind.”
The sound of an engine rumbling echoed from the road, and they all climbed the hill together. The crime van rolled up, techs spilling out with their kits. Amanda thanked the deputy and asked him to go back to the office to man the phones and follow up with the bank. By now, Kelly’s photograph should have gone into the system. They could only hope someone would call in with a lead.
Another officer brought a police dog and began to search the area.
The head of the unit introduced himself as Lieutenant Gibbons, then pointed out the other workers by name. A redheaded woman named Petunia, a chubby guy named Larry, a rail-thin guy with funky glasses named Jerry, and the guy with the dog was named Herbert.
Amanda explained what they’d discovered so far and handed over the shoe to be bagged and sent to the lab. The next hour they scoured the area in case Kelly had somehow escaped, but finally even the dog team gave up.
“We’ll take a cast of the tire print,” Lieutenant Gibbons said. “And we’re going over the car with a magnifying glass.”
“Run the paint sample through the lab, too,” Justin said. “Maybe the paint was custom designed for a particular vehicle.”
Amanda checked her watch. “It’s getting late, but I want to talk to the bridal party tonight.” She removed her phone and called Fisher. “Call everyone in the bridal party and tell them to meet me at the sheriff’s office in half an hour.”
“Did you find something?” The young man’s voice warbled as if he’d been crying.
“We’ll talk when Sergeant Thorpe and I get there.”
She disconnected, dread balling in her stomach. Telling Kelly’s fiancé and father about finding the car would be difficult. If they’d harbored any shred of hope that Kelly had simply gone away for a couple of days without telling anyone, the fact that they’d found blood would kill that hope.
* * *
JUSTIN STUDIED THE group of young men and women who’d gathered in the sheriff’s office.
Kelly’s bridesmaids and best friends—Betty Jacobs, Anise Linton, Mona Pratt and Eleanor Goggins—were all attractive women in their twenties, although they were a mixture of brunettes, blondes and redheads.
Any one of them could have fit the profile of the victims who’d disappeared over the past few years. So far, the kidnapper didn’t have a clear MO, which had slowed down the police in connecting the cases in the beginning. Normally a kidnapper/killer chose a certain type—all blondes or brunettes or redheads. This unsub seemed to have no preference for hair color or body type or career choice.
Except they were all in their twenties and lived in Texas.
The groomsmen looked nervous as they settled into wooden chairs. Glenn Cates, Danny Latt and Lance Stephens. Fisher’s father, Ernie, was his best man. He stood beside his son with a hand on his shoulder.
Raymond looked even worse tonight, the strain
