Chapter Fifty-Nine
Jules’s eyes rise from the paperwork on her desk to the person who has appeared in her office.
Lucy no longer has jet black hair, no longer wears dark eyeliner.
She’s in a smart blouse and blazer and is almost unrecognizable from the vigilante the media tagged “Lucy Lawless.” She’s now the office manager, receptionist, and whatever else needs doing at Find Them, the nonprofit Jules created last year.
“Ms. Delaney, your special guest has arrived,” Lucy says with exaggerated formality.
Jules rolls her eyes. She stands, straightens herself, takes in a deep cleansing breath, and strides out the door.
In the reception area she greets the charismatic man who spends his weekends preaching to thousands of parishioners at the Church of the Heartland. He’s sitting facing the front desk, stands when he sees Jules.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Jules says, giving his hand a firm shake.
“My daughter’s pretty persuasive,” he replies.
Jules smiles. It was Carrie’s idea to seek funding for Find Them from her father’s church. Last year, Carrie finally found the courage to tell him what happened to her. About May Day. And her father rose to the occasion with love and support. Now he may be opening his checkbook.
Jules used her own money to open the nonprofit. It was enough for the office space in this strip mall, enough to hire a handful of employees, including Lucy and Carrie, but not enough, she quickly realized, to fulfill the organization’s mission.
Enter the megachurch.
“Give you a tour?” Jules offers.
“I’d love one.”
Jules guides Pastor Jim, as he likes to be called, from the reception area to the large space Find Them staff call the bullpen.
An open office with twelve desks for employees, volunteers, and college interns.
With the energy of a newsroom, the team works the phones, taps on their computers, and otherwise pretends not to notice Pastor Jim.
As Jules leads him through the room, Pastor Jim says, “The first question I always ask a potential grantee is ‘What’s your mission statement?’”
“I’m glad you asked.” Jules points to a back wall, which is inscribed with the words: TO GIVE A VOICE TO THE LOST.
He seems to like that. He knows that his daughter could well have been one of the lost.
Jules notices him eyeing the photos pinned on the wall under the mission statement.
“We call that our crime wall,” she says.
She walks him over to it. Painted on the wall is a giant map of Nebraska, Iowa, Kansas, Missouri, and Illinois. Pinned in the states are photographs of the missing. Dozens and dozens of missing kids, missing young women, missing old women from each state.
Pastor Jim exhales loudly. “There’s so many.”
“These are just the ones we’ve identified who went missing over the last ten years.
We hope to expand out to a longer period and nationwide.
We’re the first organization, to my knowledge, to try to document it all in one place, identify all the missing.
We’re working at computerizing the details of their disappearances to find potential connections.
Statistics show that most violent crime is committed by a small percentage of offenders.
It’s likely some of these cases are connected.
” She’d learned much of this from Jack and his FBI colleagues who are still hunting May Day.
“I had no idea…” He shakes his head like he really is dumbfounded.
“That’s another part of our mission,” Jules says.
“Raising awareness. Many of these women live in marginalized communities, and the media tends to focus mostly on the white and affluent who go missing.” Jules doesn’t say she’d first noticed the disparity with her sister’s case.
The year Clare vanished, three others, all women of color, also went missing but received hardly any news coverage.
“This is how you’ll spend the money? Documenting cases, pressuring the media?”
“Also providing counseling and other services for survivors and their families, generating age-progression sketches, helping law enforcement produce and process leads.”
They keep walking to the side wall. It’s similar to the crime wall with its painted map of Nebraska and surrounding states. But this one is slightly different. It has string that connects photos of the missing along a timeline of years.
“What’s this?” Pastor Jim asks.
“This focuses on the May Day Killer.” Jules breathes in. “Through research, we’ve documented every missing or murdered woman who was taken on May first of a given year—in these states, anyway.” Neither of them say it, but the fact that May Day is still out there hangs in the air.
Pastor Jim’s eyes well when he sees the photo of his daughter on the wall. He blows out a breath then appears to collect himself. He points to a photograph of one of the other missing girls. “Your sister?”
Jules nods. She doesn’t like to exploit Clare’s disappearance. It’s hypocritical, given Jules’s criticisms of the media for only paying attention to missing pretty white women. But to keep Find Them going, she’ll do what she has to do.
Pastor Jim stares at the May Day wall for a long time.
Other than the Nebraska victims, there are photos of women who disappeared on May 1st in Illinois in the 1970s and 1980s, some later found murdered, some never found.
Then a woman in Missouri, one in Iowa. Jules doesn’t know if there’s any connection to May Day, but she’s determined to find out.
“Do you want to say hi to Carrie?” Jules asks, recognizing the mood has turned dark.
“You know it.”
Jules guides Pastor Jim to a small office. While most of the staff work in the bullpen, crowds make Carrie anxious.
“We have a visitor,” Jules says at the doorway.
Carrie turns around from her boxy computer. “Daddy!” she says, jumping to her feet.
She gives him a hug and then steps back, looks at him with those innocent eyes. “So?”
“So,” Pastor Jim repeats. “I think it would be an honor to support this fine organization.”
Carrie claps like an excited schoolgirl.
“I’ll have my team be in touch,” Pastor Jim says to Jules. “But congratulations, Jules. This is impressive.” He turns his gaze to Carrie. “And I couldn’t be more proud of you, sweetie.”
Jules feels something in her chest, pride she thinks. More funding means she’ll be able to help more people. And maybe help catch him.