Chapter 45
Thursday morning
Sabre spotted Daniel Rourke outside a small coffee shop in Vista with a paper cup in one hand, relaxed against the railing like he had nowhere pressing to be.
Time had silvered his temples and put lines at the corners of his eyes, but it had also given him the kind of confidence that didn’t need polishing.
When he saw her, his face brightened. “Sabre.”
He crossed to her and pulled her into a hug. It was warm, familiar, and just a little longer than she expected.
Sabre stepped back first. “Hello, Daniel.”
He smiled at her openly. “You somehow look exactly the same and nothing like you used to.”
“That sounds like nonsense.”
“It sounded better in my head.”
JP came up beside her, relaxed posture, expression calm.
Rourke turned and offered his hand. “JP Torn. Nice to see you again.”
JP shook it. “Likewise.” No edge. No challenge.
Rourke gestured toward the shop. “Can I get either of you coffee?”
JP said, “I’m already over-caffeinated enough to make mistakes.”
Sabre smiled. “I’m good too. We’re here to work.”
“Then let’s work.” Rourke held the door for them.
They took a table on the patio where traffic noise softened the spaces between words. Rourke angled toward Sabre. JP sat where he could see both of them and the street.
Rourke looked at Sabre. “How have you been, really?”
“Busy.”
“That means overworked.”
“That means busy.”
He laughed softly. “Still translating yourself.”
“She charges by the hour now,” JP interjected, “so we should probably get to the mystery.”
Rourke smiled at that. “Fair enough.”
Sabre said, “I received this bracelet in a special delivery at my office.” She showed him a photo on her phone.
“I remember that bracelet.” Rourke examined the photo more closely. “Where is the ladybug?”
Encouraged, Sabre asked, “You remember that?”
“You gave the charm to Hannah the day she went home.” He looked at Sabre, his voice soft. “You were angry that they cleared reunification so fast, but you didn’t want her feeling that.”
The memory landed hard because it was true. Sabre had forgotten that she had said any of it out loud.
Rourke continued. “You told her ladybugs always find their way home.”
“Do you know if Hannah ever repeated that to anyone else?”
Rourke thought a moment. “Not that I heard.”
JP stepped in. “You continued to investigate even after Hannah disappeared to try to help Sabre find her, right?”
“That’s right. The case was still open. She could still bill for my services, and she wanted desperately to find her.”
“So, you saw things the cops may not have seen?”
Rourke intertwined his fingers, stretching them. “Different things, I suppose. The problem with Hannah’s case,” he said, “wasn’t that no one had access to her. It was that too many people did.”
JP waited.
Rourke looked toward the street a moment, then back. “For example, there was Nigel Gates, the registered sex offender. He lived close enough to matter. His alibi held, but I never liked it.”
“Why?”
“It was too neat. And even though he had an alibi, the timing wasn’t perfect. He was supposedly with a friend who vouched for him, but it was sketchy.”
“I’ve talked to other witnesses that didn’t trust him either.”
“I’m sure most hated him because of his past behavior.” Rourke’s mouth tightened. “But that doesn’t make Gates guilty, although it moved him pretty high on my list.”
“What do you know about August Keating?” JP asked.
Rourke’s eyes flicked up. “Hannah’s half-brother was an interesting kid.”
“Did you suspect him?”
“I suspected everyone.”
“You know August was a kid himself. He was angry, scared, and trying to be useful. I’m not chasing him.”
“Good.” Rourke’s voice softened slightly. “I had the same reaction to that kid. He had enough taken from him.”
“Did you ever come across the name Charles Field?” JP asked.
“Nope. I can’t say I did, but I’ll double check my notes if you want. Who is he?”
“He’s a guy who was helping August after the fact. I don’t like him for the crime.” JP moved on. “And Yvonne Caldwell?”
Rourke’s face changed at Hannah’s mother’s name. “Yvonne was a mess,” he said. “But not evil.”
“Those aren’t opposites.”
“No.” Rourke looked down at his cup. “She lied when she was afraid. She minimized things. She made bad men sound harmless when admitting otherwise made herself look bad.”
“Do you think she knew who took Hannah?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But?”
“I think Yvonne knew danger was closer than she wanted to admit.”
“There was very little in the file about Hannah’s father,” JP said.
“Marcus Caldwell was never clean,” Rourke said. “He was just absent enough for the cops to lose interest.”
“Where was he?”
“In and out of custody. Mostly out of Hannah’s life. He had opinions about Yvonne, opinions about court, opinions about Hannah when it suited him.”
“Was he violent?”
“He was capable of it.”
“Did he want Hannah?”
“That depended on who was asking and whether wanting her cost him anything.”
“Was he a suspect?”
Rourke paused. “He was in jail at the time, but could’ve had someone else take her, I suppose. I never had anything solid on him. And, frankly, I don’t think he cared enough to take her.”
“Where is he now?”
“Last I heard? Arizona or Nevada, but that was a long time ago. He drifted.”
“Other relatives?”
Rourke nodded. “I wondered about Aunt Rochelle, Yvonne’s sister. Rochelle thought Yvonne should never get Hannah back. She said it to anyone who would listen and a few people who wouldn’t.”
“Did she want custody?”
“She wanted control. Not always the same thing.”
“Did she have access?”
“Yes.”
“After Hannah went home?”
“Enough.”
JP eyed him. “You didn’t trust her.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She was too certain, too controlling, and Hannah didn’t really like her.”
“Could she have taken Hannah?”
Rourke held his gaze. “In the beginning, I thought yes, but the more the case unfolded, the less likely she became.”
“That didn’t make the file?”
“It made my notes.”
“Where is she now?”
“Gone.”
“Gone how?”
“Moved away years ago. No forwarding address that held. No active socials under the name I knew. She disappeared from the family’s orbit, maybe out of grief, or guilt, or a new marriage. Or she got tired of being questioned.” Rourke lifted one shoulder. “People vanish for ordinary reasons too.”
JP wondered how Rourke would know she was no longer around. “Are you still working this case?”
“I never quite recovered from all this. That little girl was so precious. She didn’t deserve the hand she was dealt.”
“None of them do.”
“Over the years,” Rourke said, “I let most of it go, until you and Sabre stirred it up again. I hope you find more answers than I did.”
“Do you think Hannah could be with Rochelle?”
“That would have been my best theory ten years ago,” he said. “A relative convinced she was saving a child from everyone else.”
“And now?”
“Now?” Rourke’s eyes met his. “I think if Hannah lived this long, whoever kept her knew how to stay boring.”
JP heard that. “Did you ever look for Rochelle after she moved?”
“I tried. Maybe not hard enough.”
“Why not?”
“Because the case was already coalescing around Hayes. By then, every hour I spent chasing Rochelle was an hour Sabre couldn’t bill and the court wouldn’t understand.”
Sabre cut in. “What else do you remember?”
Rourke glanced at her, then gave her a quick smile. “There was a lead I never liked losing.”
Sabre leaned forward. “What kind of lead?”
“Shortly after Hannah disappeared, a woman in Oceanside called me and said she’d seen a little girl at an apartment pool who reminded her of Hannah.”
Sabre frowned. “Why did she call you?”
“I’d put my number on her missing-child flyers.”
JP nodded. “What made her think it was Hannah?”
“Her age. Hair. Mannerisms. She said the girl kept rubbing her left wrist when she got nervous.”
Sabre felt a chill. “I don’t remember that being in the reports.”
“It wasn’t. That’s why I was so interested. But by the time I got there, the family was gone.”
“Did you speak to anyone at the complex?” JP asked.
“The manager. He rented month-to-month. Cash only. He said there was a man in his late thirties or early forties who had two girls. One was older than the one who looked like Hannah.”
Sabre’s gut clenched. “Two girls and a boy?”
Rourke nodded. “That’s what the manager said.”
“Did you tell law enforcement?” A slight edge in JP’s voice.
“I passed the info to a detective, but he treated it like another crank sighting.” Rourke gave a small shrug. “I don’t know if it ever made paper.”
“Did you get a name?” JP asked.
“Danny Price, likely fake.”
Rourke reached into his coat pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper. “I drove by the complex after meeting JP. The ownership had changed, and the old management company had been dissolved.”
He slid the paper toward the middle containing the manager’s name and address, as well as the woman who reported it. “Here’s the info you’ll need. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
JP looked the document over before handing it to Sabre.
Rourke continued. “The woman who called said the younger girl never spoke. The older one answered for both.”
Sabre looked up sharply. “How much older?”
“A year, maybe.”
Bay and Hannah would have been close in age, Sabre thought.
“If the sighting was real, Hannah wasn’t alone,” Rourke said.
“And if she wasn’t alone,” JP said quietly, “then someone had already started collecting children.”
A moment of quiet as they processed the implications.
Rourke nodded. “That was my fear then.”
Sabre stood first. “We’ll check it out.”
Rourke rose with her. “I meant what I said. I’ll help however I can.”
She gave a professional nod. “We appreciate the lead.”
“I hope you find her. I mean that more than anything I’ve said here today. That little girl deserved a life, not to be frozen in everybody else’s worst day. There hasn’t been a day since she disappeared that I haven’t thought about that child and what may have become of her.”
His voice roughened. “She was just a little girl. Whatever was done to her, whatever years were taken from her… none of it was hers to carry. If she’s still out there, I pray she’s known some kindness and love.”
“I know you were as invested in this as I was,” Sabre said.
Rourke held her gaze a second too long. “Good seeing you, Sabre, and you too, Torn.”
JP stepped beside her, easy as ever. “Likewise,” he said pleasantly. “And thank you for the info.”
They walked to the truck. Sabre waited until they were inside before speaking. “Well?”
JP started the engine. “He was helpful.”
“And?”
JP pulled out into traffic. “He hugs a little too long.”