Chapter 11
Tuesday evening
The evening settled in quietly. Sabre sat at the dining table, a file open she hadn’t read in ten minutes. Across from her, JP leaned back in his chair, the dessert between them untouched.
Sabre finally broke the silence. “If I take the case, I’m stepping into something I don’t understand.”
JP nodded. “Yeah.”
“And if I don’t…”
“Then you’re betting that message is a bluff.”
“Do you think it is?”
“No.”
The word landed flat and certain.
“So, those are my options,” Sabre said. “Take the case and walk into whatever this is”—she gestured toward her phone— “or risk that a fifteen-year-old girl dies.”
JP shrugged. “That about sums it up.”
“What would you do?”
“I’d figure out who’s making the rules before I agreed to play the game.”
“I don’t have time.”
JP shrugged. “Then you don’t have enough information to make a clean decision.”
“There is no clean decision.”
“No,” JP said. “There’s not.”
Silence settled again.
Sabre tapped her fingers against the table. “Bay isn’t lying about everything.”
“Like what?”
“She was protecting someone, and she said ‘her.’”
“You’re sure?”
Sabre nodded. “She caught herself. But it was there.”
“So, we’ve got a second girl and someone out there threatening the first one,” JP said.
Sabre looked at him. “And possibly watching both of them.”
Her phone buzzed. Both of them froze. The sound was small, but in the silence, it felt sharp. Sabre picked it up. It was the same number as the previous texts.
She opened the message. You never finished Hannah’s case.
She handed JP the phone.
JP took it and read it out loud.
“Hannah? Does that name mean something to you?”
Sabre was already churning through remembered faces, files, and stories. “Hannah…” she said quietly.
“Have you had more than one?”
“There were a few,” she said. “But there’s one that never sat right. I had the case early on, the first or second year I was practicing. A child went missing.”
“What was her name?”
“Hannah Caldwell.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“She just disappeared.”
“Abduction?”
“They never proved it.”
JP frowned. “What do you mean?”
Sabre hunched forward, feeling tense. “They had a suspect, a man connected to the family, and they built a case. The evidence was all circumstantial, but it was enough to move forward.”
“And?”
Sabre’s jaw tightened. “They convicted him. I never felt comfortable about the decision, but I didn’t see the trial, so maybe they had more than I knew about.”
“And the girl?”
Sabre let out a slow breath. “They never found her.”
“You think that’s what this is about?”
“I don’t know.”
JP nodded toward the phone. “It looks like someone does.”
Sabre looked at the message again. You never finished Hannah’s case.
Her voice dropped. “That case was finished. There wasn’t any more I could do.”
“How old was Hannah?”
“Just barely five.”
“So, she’d be thirteen or fourteen now.”
“Yes, but I don’t think she’s Bay, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“How can you be certain?”
“I can’t, but she doesn’t look like her.”
“She was pretty young; kids change.”
“You’re right. I need to go to the office and see her file.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure as a tick on a hound.”
She smiled at him for lightening her mood a smidge. “I’ll call Nelson on the way.”
As soon as they were in the truck, Sabre made the call and put it on speaker. He picked up immediately.
“It’s Sabre, with JP on speaker.”
“You got another text?”
“Yes.”
“Read it.”
Sabre glanced down. “You never finished Hannah’s case.”
“Do you recognize the name?”
“I’ve had several,” she said. “But the one that stands out was an early case with a child who went missing and was presumed dead, Hannah Caldwell.”
“I remember that case. The body was never recovered, right?”
“No. And she disappeared eight years ago.”
“Was anyone charged?”
“The mother’s boyfriend, Victor Hayes, was convicted.”
“Is he still in prison?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll check that for you,” Nelson said. “So, from a legal standpoint that case is closed.”
Sabre didn’t answer.
“Do you think it shouldn’t be?” Nelson asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But whoever sent this message thinks I missed something.”
“It’s a hook,” Nelson said. “They’re trying to pull you back into something specific.”
“What can you do with it?”
“Not much. There’s no direct threat and no identifiable victim tied to the message.”
“I figured.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll ignore it,” Nelson added.
“So, what do I do?” she asked.
“You dig. You said the case never sat right, so start there.” Nelson’s voice shifted. “JP, this is your specialty.”
JP leaned toward Sabre’s phone. “I’m on it.”
“And be careful. This person knows your past,” he said. “Knows your cases. That’s not casual.”
Sabre’s grip tightened slightly on the phone. “I know.”
“Keep me posted on anything that shifts,” Nelson said. “Anything that feels like it crosses a line.”
“I will.”
“And, Sabre, maybe you should just not take the case. It’s bound to get worse.”
“If I don’t, it will definitely get worse for Bay.”