Chapter 13
Wednesday morning
JP sat at his desk, Hannah Caldwell’s file spread open. Old cases bothered him, not because of what the file said, but because of what it didn’t.
JP flipped back to the beginning and read it like he was looking for what didn’t belong.
Hannah Caldwell was five years old when she went missing.
Her mother reported it. After school was dismissed, she was supposed to walk home with some older kids that lived next door.
The older kids left without her when she wasn’t there to walk with them.
The mother’s boyfriend, Victor Hayes, wasn’t home until twenty-five minutes after she was last seen at school. His story changed as to where he was.
But first, JP had to figure out if Hannah and Bay were the same person. He read through the witness statements again—neighbors, teachers, students, even a crossing guard. Everyone had a version. None of them lined up clean.
He pulled a legal pad toward him and drew a line down the center. On one side, he wrote: Hannah Caldwell. On the other: Bay
He stared at the second name for a moment. “Or whatever your name really is,” he muttered.
He started with what little he knew about Bay. Female, maybe fifteen. Street-smart. Careful. Protective. Dark hair. Brown eyes.
He thought about Hannah. If she had lived, she would be the same age.
He made a note: Age works.
He flipped through the file again, looking for something else, her personality, behavior, anything.
He found a teacher’s note. “Quiet, but observant. Follows directions. Watches more than she speaks.”
That certainly described Bay. She watched everything, measured every word, and didn’t speak unless she chose to.
JP wrote: Observant—possible match.
He flipped another page. There were some medical notes, all routine, nothing remarkable. No long-term injuries they could compare.
JP read the family notes. Mother had a boyfriend and lived in an unstable environment.
JP shook his head. He looked back at Bay’s column. She was a possible runaway, independent, and didn’t trust the system or anyone for that matter, except Sabre.
That part isn’t a clean fit. He wrote it anyway. Selective trust doesn’t match early profile. But by now, the missing/runaway girl could be very distrustful.
Physically, they could match. According to descriptions by witnesses, Hannah had small bones. Bay did as well, and the brown eyes matched. Hannah’s hair was blonde when she was young, but it could have darkened, or Bay might have dyed hers.
He studied both sides. There wasn’t enough information to prove or disprove the connection. He wondered if Detective Nelson had found anything that might help from the crime scene. He picked up the phone and called him.
The detective answered on the third ring. "Nelson."
"JP Torn."
"It’s been a while. DuBois said you might call.”
"He warned you about me?"
A chuckle. "He said once you got interested in a case, I'd either answer your questions or trip over you asking somebody else."
"He's known me too long."
"I'll give him that. Does he always call you McCloud?"
“I can’t seem to break him of it. You got a minute?"
"Sure."
"I'm trying to figure out who Bay Mercer really is."
"So am I."
"What'd you find at Maddox's place?"
Nelson shuffled papers before speaking. "More than you'd expect. Less than I'd like."
"Meaning?"
"The apartment showed signs of a struggle. Bay's fingerprints are all over the place. That's expected."
"And?"
"We recovered DNA from other females."
JP straightened. "Where?"
"Hair on the couch. Touch DNA on the bathroom sink and inside the front doorknob. Enough for a profile on one. Others could belong to anyone."
"Did you identify anyone?"
"There was no CODIS hit, no criminal history, no missing persons. Nothing."
"So, Bay may not have been alone?"
“It’s hard to say.”
"What about the guy she keeps calling her guardian?"
Nelson laughed once, without humor. "I'd love to meet him."
"You can't find him?"
"I can't find anybody."
"What do you mean?"
"When we questioned Bay, I asked her where she lived. She said with her guardian, but wouldn’t give a name, address, or phone number. Nothing. We can’t find any record of school, medical records, social media. It's like somebody raised this kid without letting her exist."
"Anything else?"
Nelson hesitated. "There was one thing."
"What?"
"The Medical Examiner says Maddox didn't just get stabbed."
"I know about the head wound."
"It's more than that." Nelson lowered his voice. "The scene suggests two separate assaults."
“So, the stabbing and the blunt-force injury may not have happened at the same time? Well, that’s somethin’. Thanks, Nelson.”
JP hung up and checked his watch. He still had time to do a little more research before Sabre called after court.
He read through the witness statements again, including the kids she was supposed to walk home with.
Everyone accounted for what they saw. Or thought they saw.
But there was twenty-five minutes of nothing when they didn’t know Hannah was missing. This bothered JP the most.
“Kids don’t just disappear into nothing,” he said under his breath.
He flipped another page. Police notes. The focus had been on Victor Hayes. He had an inconsistent timeline and prior issues. He was good enough to look guilty, more so than anyone else.
“Yeah,” he said. “I see how you got there.”
He turned another page and stopped on a supplemental report about the school pickup area and a conversation with a crossing guard.
Statement by the witness: I saw a girl matching Hannah’s description get into a vehicle. It was an older model and a dark color. I didn’t see the driver clearly. I thought it might be a relative.
JP frowned. It wasn’t nothing.
He flipped the page. The follow-up was minimal. It read: Lead not pursued. Believed witness mistaken. Timeline inconsistent with known movements of suspect.
It didn’t fit Hayes, so the police had tossed it. JP’s eyes narrowed, focusing on a handwritten note in the margin that read: Vehicle doesn’t fit. Keep primary focus.
Had Sabre’s investigator written it? JP sat back, wondering: Where was he going with this? JP wasn’t second-guessing him. He knew that when you’re in the thick of an investigation you always know more than what is on paper. He just wanted to figure out where to look next.
He read through Hayes’ statements again.
The boyfriend had claimed to be at home waiting for Hannah but was caught in that lie.
He then said he stopped at a bar and stayed longer than he should’ve.
He didn’t want to admit the bar-stop to his girlfriend so said that was why he lied.
The cops found no witnesses who could confirm Hayes had been at the bar.
JP spread the pages out.
“Hannah leaves the classroom,” he said, thinking out loud now.
“Heads toward the pickup area.” He tapped the statements from the other kids.
“They say she never showed.” He tapped Hayes’ timeline.
“The boyfriend says he was at home waiting, then he says he was at a bar. But if Hayes was actually at the bar, he couldn’t have picked up Hannah in an older model dark car, which is what he drove.”
JP shook his head. There were still too many unanswered questions.
Did Hannah get in that car? Did she miss the other kids because she was late?
Or did she not make it to their meeting spot?
Was Hayes at a bar? When did Hannah actually disappear, between dismissal and the meeting spot?
Or, did she start home and was picked up?
Or another possibility was that she made it home and Hayes was there and that’s when she disappeared.