The Longest Silence

Tony hesitated for a couple of seconds, mostly to annoy the man. Finally, he turned and took the three steps back to his chair. There was only one reason to continue this discussion after such a lengthy discourse of reasons not be concerned. “You know something you haven’t shared with the family.”

“I’m speaking to you in a professional capacity.”

Could have fooled me. “I appreciate that, Chief.”

“This goes no further than this room. We have to consider the welfare of our students and the last thing we want is to have them unnecessarily unsettled.”

What he really meant was he didn’t want parents calling to demand answers. “I understand.”

“There’s another freshman who didn’t show up for class yesterday.”

The rising tide of fear Tony had been holding back for the past nine hours threatened to push past his defenses. He needed a drink. “Any similarities?”

Phelps nodded. “Her purse, other personal belongings as well as her cell phone are still in her room. Her car is still in student parking, just like Tiffany’s. Unlike your niece’s, this girl’s confidential contact insists that something is wrong. Since this student has no history of failure to show up for class or of disappearing for a couple of days without telling anyone, her parents have already been contacted. The chief over at campus security, Ed Buckley, has started the missing person protocol.”

“Are my niece and this other student friends? Classmates?”

Phelps reached for a manila file on his desk. He opened it and pushed it toward Tony. “As far as we can tell, they don’t know each other. Had no classes together and look nothing alike. No friends in common. About the only trait the two share is that they’re both students who maintain a steady four point oh.”

Tony studied the file. Vickie Parton was eighteen. Her black hair was one of those feathery short cuts and her eyes were hazel. Other than being model thin, Parton and his niece had nothing whatsoever in common—on the outside.

Phelps scrubbed a hand over his somber face. “No one has seen or heard from her since her final class on Friday afternoon.”

Tony pushed the folder back toward him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Phelps nodded.

“You know,” the chief said, stopping Tony at the door once more, “I can already tell I’m not going to like you, LeDoux.”

Tony shifted to face him. “If it makes you feel any better, I was just thinking the same thing.”

One corner of the older man’s mouth quirked. “But if you can help, I’ll pretend for as long as it takes.”

Tony gave a nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

As he moved along the corridor, Tony gave himself a mental pat on the back. He might be out of the game but he hadn’t lost his touch. He would find Tiffany. If his niece had been harmed in any way, whoever did the deed better hope the locals found him before Tony did.

Antebellum Inn, 11:00 p.m.

“I wanted you close.”

Tony dredged up a smile for his sister. “Saved me the trouble of looking for a place.”

Angela LeDoux Durand looked so damned much like their mother with her fair skin and dark hair and those oddly pale eyes, more gold than brown. Sometimes even her voice made him have to look twice to ensure their mom wasn’t talking to him. Tony had inherited his lighter hair and darker eyes from their father. Right now, his sister’s eyes were filled with worry and fear—the same worry and fear he felt churning in his gut.

“I was afraid you’d be angry.”

Tony tossed his bag on the floor of the room. “Why would I be angry?”

Ang had been to Milledgeville several times to see Tiffany. She’d stayed at this historic inn every time, which was why she’d automatically called in a reservation on the way here. Only this time she’d reserved a room for him, as well. Not a problem. Really. He and Ang had always been close. As kids they’d been inseparable. Even as teenagers they’d shared many of the same friends. Adulthood hadn’t changed that—at least not until recently. Sharing the news of his divorce with his sister had been relatively easy; the career crash and burn, however, was a whole different ball game. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes. She’d always looked at him as if he was a hero, starting the day he’d kicked nine-year-old Lacon Turner’s butt for putting gum in her hair.

He did not want to fail her or Tiffany now.

Ignoring his question, she gestured to the room at large. “I knew you’d need some privacy. I hope this works.”

The pool cottage was behind the main house with its four guest rooms. A narrow rear yard, small parking lot and the pool stood between the cottage and the back steps of the hundred-plus-year-old home. The cottage accommodation was bigger than the rooms in the house and had its own kitchen. His sister had been right about the need for privacy. The last thing he wanted right now was for her to start worrying about his personal issues.

He gave her a nod. “It’s perfect.”

She summoned a weary smile. “Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She’d insisted he replay verbatim his meeting with the chief of police. To prevent the hysteria he noted beneath the surface of her carefully controlled expression, he’d done as she asked—except for the news about the other girl. He loved his sister and he would do anything to find Tiffany, but there were some things civilians didn’t need to know.

Civilians? He almost laughed at himself. You’re a civilian now, dumb ass.

Maybe so, but he’d seen things. There were things he couldn’t erase from his brain—things that haunted him every single hour of every day of his life. Those things were what really scared him where Tiffany was concerned.

Don’t go there yet.

Before his sister could go, he pulled her close and hugged her tight. “We’ll find her, Ang. I promise.”

She cried for a minute. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back his own emotion. He had to be strong for her and for Tiffany.

Tony stood at the door and watched as she crossed the property, returning to the main house. The night air had a chill to it. Once Ang was inside, he closed and locked the door. He plugged in the laptop Ang had carried in for him. The damned thing had been in the trunk of his car since the day he walked out of his office. The box of personal possessions from his office was still in his trunk, too. He hadn’t cared about looking at any of it. The few scattered personal items he’d kept on his desk were just a reminder that he’d screwed up. The photo of his ex-wife he’d shoved into a drawer months ago. The bag of peppermints he’d recently started using to conceal the alcohol on his breath. The keys to the house that was no longer his. His ex got the house and the dog and his best friend—who hadn’t really been a friend at all as it turned out. Tony had gotten nothing. Didn’t matter. He didn’t need anything. The townhouse he moved to suited his needs and friends were overrated.

Enough about the past. His new motto was to live in the moment.

He closed the blinds and dug into his bag where he’d stashed the pint of bourbon he’d found in the trunk—ironically in the box of personal effects from his office.

He opened cabinet doors until he found the mugs. A mug in hand, he made himself comfortable at the table. He fired up the laptop. While it loaded, he poured himself a healthy serving of bourbon. He’d been dying for a drink all evening.

The first sip burned like hell. But the promise of that burn allowed him to begin to relax. He downed another swallow and focused his attention on the laptop screen. Time to see what his niece had been up to on social media. He may have walked away from his career with the Bureau’s Behavioral Analysis Unit but he still had a few valuable contacts.

Even when the police had officially listed her as missing, it would take time to unlock all the barriers that prevented law enforcement from seeing what Tiffany had been doing online and on her cell phone the final days and hours before she disappeared.

Tony intended to know as much of that as possible before he closed his eyes tonight.

The chief had made a reasonable point when he mentioned Tiffany’s occasional disappearing acts. Tony got that. But this time was different. He trusted his sister’s instincts far more than he did those of Chief Phelps.

There were necessary steps that had to be taken before determining Tiffany’s status. As with unlocking her phone and social media accounts, each step required time.

If she was in trouble, time represented one of the biggest threats to her staying alive.

5

Milledgeville

Wednesday, April 11, 7:50 a.m.

Jo reached for her coffee but curled her shaking hand into a fist rather than risk picking up the mug.

She wasn’t supposed to come back here. Ever. In fact, she hadn’t set foot in the state of Georgia since she left eighteen years ago. Never coming back. Never, never coming back. She shouldn’t be here now. Deep breath. No choice.

Keep your head on straight, Jo.

From what she could see last night not that much had changed other than the old asylum had closed down. She’d read about the closure a few years ago.

Not soon enough.

Images flickered through her brain. She pushed them away. Don’t look. Don’t look. Have to look.

They should burn the whole place down. Every decaying building.

A complete contrast to the old asylum, Milledgeville was a quaint place that exuded small-town charm and promised parents of potential students that it was a safe and wholesome setting. In truth, it was, for the most part, despite the college campus and endless assortment of official and unofficial sorority and frat houses. Bars, clubs, restaurants, boutiques. All the things every college student needed handy for the launch into adulthood.

Jo went for her coffee again. This time she managed to lift the mug without the risk of spilling the hot brew. She downed a couple of swallows as she stared out the window toward Hancock Street. The first day of her freshman year she’d been so excited. No one in her family had ever gone to college. She was the first. Her parents had been so proud. Even her brother—a man who was far more contented with his head under a hood than in a book—seemed genuinely happy for her.

She’d arrived with big dreams and fully determined to prove she deserved the opportunity. She hadn’t bothered with friends the first semester. Her academic work had been her singular focus. Christmas had arrived and she’d stayed on campus to volunteer with local Christmas charities and to earn some extra cash. She’d gotten a job through the holiday season so she could afford a couple of new outfits and presents to send back home.

Every day had been a new adventure. She was so happy. Then winter started to fade and the promise of spring in the air had her hoping for more.

Her first mistake.

Ray had come to Milledgeville to help with the search on the ninth of March eighteen years ago. Her mother hadn’t been able to come. Their father had been too ill to travel. Cancer. He’d died a year later. She doubted her brother or her mother would ever forgive her for not coming to the funeral.

They didn’t understand.

How could they? She had never told anyone what really happened. She and Ellen had made a pact never to tell. Would it have changed anything if they had told the truth? Would Ellen and the others be alive? Probably not.

Jo shouldn’t have come back here. Had to. Two weeks, one day and six hours had been required for her to work up her nerve to begin the journey from Texas to Georgia. She’d rolled into town in the middle of the night last night. Slept in her twelve-year-old Celica. Nothing like traveling in style.

She was here. That alone was a freaking miracle. Eighteen years. Seventeen years, ten months and twenty-five days to be exact since she left this place.

Jo watched the cars on Hancock Street cruise by. This time of year prospective students were visiting the campus with their parents. Two young girls sat on the bench outside the Blackbird right now. Faces all smiles. Hearts full of excitement. Probably freshmen with that first awkward year nearly behind them or high school seniors hoping to start in the fall. Their futures were just beginning. Others rushed along the sidewalk. Most of the students lived on campus or in one of the sorority or frat houses and used bicycles to get around. Milledgeville was that sort of town. She’d had a bike eighteen years ago. But then she’d sold it when she decided to leave. A single backpack with a couple of changes of clothes was all she’d carried with her when she boarded that bus to anywhere but here.

At the front of the café the door opened and new voices filled the coffee shop. Jo scrutinized the group. So young. They had no idea how important the decisions they made today would be to their futures.

She’d made the wrong decisions and she’d paid the price. Every single night of her life she woke up at least once with her heart racing and her skin clammy with fear that someone was coming for her—that someone knew what she had done, that they would show up at her door.

No one ever came. After nearly eighteen years it was obvious that the only evil she or Ellen or any of the others had to face was their own reflections—the fear, the secrets. The truth. And the years of silence.

Jo started to push the memories away but stopped. She had come back to this place to confront the past. No more pushing it away. No more running. She picked up her cell phone and studied the screen. On the drive here she’d considered calling her mom. She’d only spoken to her once or twice since she left, but she did send her a card on her birthday every year. Disappearing without letting her mother know from time to time that she was okay had been something she couldn’t do.

Her hometown of Madison was less than an hour north of here. She turned her phone screen down on the table. Not yet. She had to take care of this first. When this was done, she would call her mother and maybe even drop by for a short visit. Ray probably wouldn’t speak to her and certainly wouldn’t want to see her. He was married now and had two kids. She didn’t know Tracey, the woman he married. According to Facebook, she was a nurse. Ray was still a mechanic at the same garage he’d worked at when Jo was in high school and then in college, only he owned the place now.

Sometimes she felt like a stalker following his wife’s social media activities but it made her feel better knowing they were all okay. Her mom had wanted grandchildren. She looked happy in the photos Tracey posted. Jo didn’t have any social media accounts of her own. Instead she used her neighbor’s. Wherever she lived there was always at least one neighbor who was careless. Leaving a door unlocked, drinking or drugging too much. Using the apps on their phones was easy. She could look at whatever she wanted, and then delete the history.

“You sure you don’t want something to eat, hon?”

Jo looked up at the server who’d asked that question about half an hour ago. She’d been here too long. Time to move. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

The server—Regina—frowned. “All right then.” She placed the check for the coffee facedown on the table.

Grabbing the check, Jo stood and headed for the register. She made it a point to avoid eye contact with those she passed. Not meeting people’s gazes had become automatic, like dressing nondescriptly and keeping her hair short so she didn’t call attention to herself.

Two customers were in front of her at the register so she waited.

“No,” a girl behind her insisted, “I’m telling you this is for real. I heard my father talking to the chief of police this morning. That girl is missing. She left class on Friday and never came back. I think,” she added in an attempt at a whisper that failed miserably, “there might be two missing.”

Jo pulled her compact from her bag and pretended to check her teeth. She scrutinized the girl seated in the booth across the aisle directly behind her. Young. Likely a student. She was huddled in the booth with a guy, maybe her boyfriend or a study partner.

The guy said, “Well, your dad’s the sheriff. I guess he would know.”

The girl looked around again before saying, “It’ll be all over the news by this afternoon. It’s cray cray. The one who’s for sure missing is a freshman so I don’t know her. Poor thing, she probably went home with the wrong guy. It happens, you know.”

“You’re gonna have to hand me that check, hon, if you want me to ring you up.”

Jo jerked her attention forward and passed the check to the server behind the register. “Sorry.” She dug for a bill from her purse and handed it to the woman. “Keep the change.”

“Are you sure?”

Jo was already headed for the door. She didn’t look back.

“This is a twenty! You only had coffee,” followed her out the door.

Jo forced her feet to slow. Running would only draw attention to herself. Deep breath. Another. She climbed into her Celica and locked the doors. More slow deep breaths. She needed to calm down.

At least one freshman was missing.

Didn’t mean the abduction was relevant to why Jo was here. Hundreds of people went missing every day all over the country. That would be way too big of a coincidence. Not possible. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Think.

If by some bizarre twist of fate, it was him, the girl had potentially been unaccounted for at least four days. That left another ten days—if she was like Jo, like Ellen—until it was too late.

Stop borrowing trouble, Jo-Jo. She had no idea the circumstances of the girls’ disappearances.

“Stay focused.”

She drew in a deep breath. Stick to the plan. Going to the cops at this stage would be premature—a mistake. She couldn’t help if she was detained for questioning or worse, arrested.

Can’t tell the whole truth yet. Can’t tell. Gotta keep quiet for now.

But if those two girls were taken by the same person who took Ellen and her, Jo had at best ten days to find the truth before someone died.

Only what the police didn’t know was that there wouldn’t be just two victims—no one knew about the other girl yet.

6

Georgia College & State University

Parkhurst Hall

12:45 p.m.

Tony moved slowly through the shared space where Tiffany had lived for the past nine months. The suite was reasonably sized. On her side of the room was a typical twin-size bed with nightstand, a desk and chair, bookshelf, chest of drawers and lockable closet. The closet had been unlocked when he arrived. The roommate, Riley Fallon, stated that Tiffany never locked her closet. He snapped photos as he went along to review later. This might be his only opportunity for access to the room.

The roommate and Angie had been allowed to view the closet before their official questioning for the purpose of attempting to determine if anything was missing. Both had confirmed that Tiffany’s belongings, as best either one could tell, were all there. Tony was amazed at Angie’s ability to remain so strong during the questioning that followed. She explained how Tiffany would never leave without her makeup, purse and cell phone. No one challenged that assessment. The birth control pills found in the nightstand drawer added yet another check to the missing column. Angie hadn’t known Tiffany was on birth control but didn’t appear upset about it. The date of the prescription and the number of missing pills indicated Tiffany had taken one every day until the day she was last seen in this room—four days and eighteen hours ago. Tony snapped a photo of the prescription just in case. Never knew what would turn out to be important.

In his opinion there was more than enough evidence to confirm the status of missing. Phelps as well as Chief Buckley of campus security were now equally convinced. A press conference was held at eight this morning and the alerts were issued. The Georgia Bureau of Investigation as well as the Federal Bureau of Investigation had been notified. Setting up a joint task force with Chief Buckley as lead was the next order of business for the local authorities. Something else that would burn valuable time they didn’t have to spare, but it was a necessary step. The more eyes they had on the case, the more boots on the ground, the better.

Tony sat down in the chair on Tiffany’s side of the room and waited for Riley Fallon, the roommate, to return to the dorm. In this morning’s interview she had stated that she came back to the room for lunch Monday through Friday. She used the break in her schedule for relaxing and studying. According to Riley, Tiffany often did the same thing. Only Angie didn’t think so. Not that Tiffany’s mother called the other girl a liar or even countered her statement, it was the expression on Angie’s face that alerted Tony to her feelings on the matter. Later he’d asked her and she’d mentioned that Tiffany talked about the quad and the many wonderful places provided by the college for students to chill. He’d noticed the benches and tables. Lots of places for students to hang out besides trudging back to the dorm.

Riley Fallon hadn’t been completely honest. Even without Angie’s thoughts on the matter, Tony had watched the young woman’s gaze avert when asked a direct question and the way she fidgeted. Fingers tugging at cuticles, then clasping and unclasping. Reaching up and adjusting her hair repeatedly. Chewing her bottom lip. Clearing her throat again and again. Looking anywhere as she spoke except at the person who’d asked the question. Classic signs of deception.

The question now was whether what she was hiding was relevant to the investigation into Tiffany’s disappearance.

Residue from the search for fingerprints still littered surfaces in the room. Since the roommate needed to use this room and no indication of foul play had actually occurred in this space, the forensic techs had made quick work of going over the room and clearing out so as not to disrupt the resident. Extensive photos had been taken as well as the sheets from Tiffany’s bed and the few items from her laundry bag.

Coming back for a second round of questions was motivated by more than the idea that Tony thought Riley Fallon was lying, it was the lack of sincere concern for her roommate that bothered him most. It was the way that, when the interview was over, she looked directly at the person asking the questions and presented a worried face without the first drop of moisture appearing in her eyes and insisted she hoped Tiffany was okay.

The key turned in the door lock but the door only partly opened. “I need the money before we go in.”

Riley’s voice.

“Sure.”

Male voice.

After a few seconds, Riley said, “Okay. Ten minutes. That’s all you get for twenty bucks.”

“That’s all I need.”

Well, well. The roommate had decided to try her hand at entrepreneurship while she was still a freshman. And right here in the dorm. How ambitious of her. Tony sat back and waited.

The two came into the room and Riley closed the door and locked it. The impatient young man was already unfastening his fly when Riley turned and spotted Tony. Her eyes rounded behind her nerdy glasses and he saw the first hint of genuine emotion there.

“Give him his money back and send him on his way and we’ll pretend this—” Tony gestured to the two of them “—never happened.”

“Holy shit, is that your dad?” the guy asked, hands going up in front of his chest as if to protect himself from a coming attack.

“Just go.” Riley shoved the twenty at him. He almost fell over his own feet trying to reach the door while fumbling with his fly. Another half a minute elapsed with him struggling with the lock before escaping.

Once he was gone, Riley said, “I told you all I know about Tiffany.”

“Sit.” Tony indicated the other chair. No matter how much psychology he forced into his brain, the idea of how mankind survived, considering survival required the species to go through puberty and adolescence, remained a mystery to him.