Chapter 9
Wyatt watched Adeline as she paced the perimeter of what had been the Prescott crime scene. The yellow tape was gone now since multiple sweeps by the forensics techs had revealed nothing in the way of evidence.
It was as if the lady had gotten out of her car and disappeared into thin air.
No signs of a struggle. Her car had been parked on the side of this lonely stretch of road deep in the woods.
The one detail that stirred suspicion was the open driver’s side door.
When she’d gotten out—or was dragged out—of her car, she’d left the door open.
That was likely the sole reason one of his deputies had called in the parked vehicle that rainy evening.
A car left on the side of the road wasn’t necessarily an indication of foul play.
With the price of gasoline, drivers attempting to stretch every gallon often ran out.
Other times mechanical problems required that the vehicle be left behind for a time.
Wyatt suspected that the door had been left open on purpose, to ensure notice was taken well before the vic would otherwise have been reported missing.
There had been no blood inside the car. No indication of foul play whatsoever. The keys were in the ignition and the vehicle had started without hesitation. The tank had been more than half full.
The driver had simply vanished.
Adeline crouched down to inspect something on the ground. She’d scarcely changed at all. Same wild mane of blond hair. Same intense blue eyes and sharp tongue. Still as ornery as ever. Tough as hell in spite of her size. No more than five four and a hundred pounds.
His gut tightened. He knew every inch of her body by heart.
She pushed to her feet. He braced . . . as if she might have heard his thoughts. She strode farther along the perimeter. A smile haunted the corners of his mouth. Still walked like a man—or tried to. She couldn’t really pull it off considering that cute little butt had a sashay entirely of its own.
Adeline stopped abruptly and turned toward him.
Heat rushed up his neck. “Told you there was nothing to see.”
She braced her hands on her hips and surveyed the area for about the fifth time. When her attention landed on him, Wyatt felt himself holding his breath.
“I want to see the car.”
He shrugged. “Four different techs have been over the vehicle. The last search was conducted with the husband. There’s nothing there that shouldn’t be.
Nothing missing.” That was another thing she’d always done.
Questioned every damned step taken by anyone involved in an investigation.
Never took anyone else’s word for anything.
“Indulge me.”
He supposed there was no harm in that. He’d gotten the search under way as scheduled this morning. The phones were ringing off their hooks with tips on sightings, most of which, so far, had proved to be cases of mistaken identity.
“No problem,” he said at last. “Multijurisdictional cooperation is my specialty.”
Their gazes held for another moment or two . . . as if there was more she wanted to say. She broke eye contact and headed for his SUV.
He ordered himself to relax and followed.
There were things he wanted to say to her. Things he wanted her to say to him—or to yell at him. This thing had festered between them for far too long.
About nine years too long.
But now wasn’t the time.
A woman was missing.
Whether her abductor was a killer or merely some sick bastard trying to prove a point, he had an agenda and Adeline appeared to be on that agenda.
Wyatt had let her down all those years ago.
He wasn’t about to let her down this time.
Pascagoula Sheriff’s Department; 11:05 a.m.
Wyatt liked watching Adeline. Maybe a little too much. He had to hand it to her, she had a way about her when interviewing persons of interest.
Cassie Elliott squirmed in her chair. “Like I told you before, I can’t think of anything that was bothering Cherry. She was happy. Really happy. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
The woman looked Adeline straight in the eye as she spoke but all the signs of lying were there. She looked away as she completed her statements. Couldn’t appear to get comfortable in her chair. Kept her fingers tightly laced in her lap.
Adeline had walked around the room a couple of times, but the woman’s hands never moved from her lap. She was working hard to conceal her outward display of nervousness.
Elliott was thirty-five. Graduated from the same high school as Prescott. Brown hair that she wore short, brown eyes. A little on the chunky side, unlike Prescott who looked quite fit in all her photographs.
Adeline settled in the chair next to Wyatt on the opposite side of the table from Elliott.
Adeline had insisted on using the interview room when he hadn’t wanted to since these ladies weren’t suspects and the whole concept was demeaning on some level.
Small-town sheriffing would do that to a guy.
Made him forget it was about the investigation not the comfort of the persons of interest. Even if they weren’t actually suspects in the investigation.
He suspected Adeline felt relatively certain the ease with which he’d cooperated with her so far was more about trying to make up for the past than about what he believed to be the best decision for proceeding.
Whatever. He just wanted to get through this.
Adeline exhaled a heavy breath. Wyatt remained silent but kept his attention fixed firmly on Elliott. Another tactic Adeline had requested.
“Look, Ms. Elliott,” Adeline began, leading up to something he worried she hadn’t run by him first. “We already know what was going on with Ms. Prescott. Her other friend told us just a few minutes ago.” The woman’s eyes got wider and wider with each word Adeline spoke.
“All we want from you at this point is confirmation of certain specific details.”
Wyatt held his surprise in check. If this maneuver got the job done . . .
“I . . . I don’t know what you mean.” Elliott looked from Adeline to Wyatt.
Wyatt didn’t waver.
“What did Jessica tell you?” Elliott asked.
Though Adeline hadn’t mentioned Jessica Huff’s name, the two had arrived at the same time for the interview.
Deputy Womack had promptly separated the two, but not until after they had seen each other—which was the point, Wyatt realized.
Elliott knew Huff was being questioned, as well.
No doubt Adeline was wagering the two had gotten their stories straight before coming in this morning.
But neither one had likely thought to have a plan B just in case the police attempted to trip them up.
Wyatt could see how this routine would work, particularly with those who’d never been a part of an investigation before.
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss her statement with you, but,” Adeline said, nodding knowingly, “if we can confirm the details she shared, we might have a chance at cracking this case and finding your friend.”
A beat of silence had Wyatt jumping in.
“That’s the thing,” he said, his voice low, but firm, “I don’t think you understand that Cherry’s life could be at stake here. What you’re withholding could make the difference in whether we find her in time or not.”
Cassie Elliott visibly trembled. Her wide-with-worry eyes filled with emotion—the kind that would roll down her cheeks any second.
“I don’t know what was going on. All I know is that something was wrong.
It started about three months ago when her little girl turned four.
” Elliott licked her lips and tried again to get comfortable in her chair.
“What started?” Adeline pressed. “We’d like to hear your version. The absolute truth is critical.”
Elliott’s face scrunched with confusion. “Some kind of nightmares. Cherry kept talking about being afraid to take a bath. The water scared her to death. It was bizarre. She reacted so strongly . . . as if the dreams were real somehow.”
Tension visibly claimed Adeline’s posture. Wyatt had never forgotten the nightmares she had . . . especially when it rained.
“Had she been uncomfortable with water events in the past?” Adeline asked. “You know, swimming, skiing, that kind of thing?”
Elliott swung her head side to side. “That’s what’s so crazy.
She was a great swimmer. Good diver, too.
It was weird. Like she was going through some kind of crisis.
I’ve never seen anything affect her like this.
But she stopped talking to me when I suggested she see someone.
” She shrugged. “You know, a counselor. It was just so strange. I guess she opened up to Jessica. They’ve been friends the longest. Makes sense, I suppose. ”
Adeline stood abruptly. “I . . . have a . . . call . . .” She walked out of the room without a backward glance.
Wyatt stared after her, then grappled for what to say to the woman seated on the other side of the table. He finally settled on, “Thank you, Ms. Elliott, for your cooperation.”