The Missing

Darby held up one of Samantha Kent’s photos. ‘This is the woman I saw in the woods,’ she said. ‘Do we know what happened to her?’

‘We have no idea what happened to her, or where her remains are,’ Banville said. ‘Did Ma

‘Just that she was missing.’ Darby didn’t want to hold the pictures anymore. She placed the envelopes on the corner of the desk and wiped her palms on her jeans.

‘Do you want to hear the rest of it?’

Darby nodded. She took in a deep breath and held it.

‘The basement you were in was wired with cameras,’ Banville said. ‘Boyle stored the videos on his computer. They go back about eight years, roughly around the time he returned east. In the begi

‘That’s how Rachel Swanson had survived for so long,’ Darby said. ‘She had figured out a way through each door.’

‘If I had to guess, I’d say Boyle did the kidnapping while Evan worked on planting the evidence based upon whatever case he was working on – Victor Grady, Miles Hamilton, Earl Slavick. I’m sure there are others we don’t know about.’

Coop said, ‘How long have they been doing this? Do we have any idea?’

Banville stood. ‘I’ll show you what we’ve found.’

Chapter 73

Darby followed him through tight corridors humming with conversations and ringing with phone and fax machines.

Banville brought them into the large conference room where he had outlined the details of the trap to catch Traveler. The chairs had been stacked together and pushed to one corner to make space for presentation-style corkboards mounted on wheels. There were about a dozen boards in here, and each one held 8 × 10 pictures of severalwomen.

‘Someone from the computer division came out this morning and broke the security on Boyle’s laptop,’ Banville said. ‘All these pictures you’re looking at were stored on there. We transferred the pictures to CDs and printed them out here. Fortunately for us, Boyle had the pictures organized in folders named after the states he visited. We think Boyle started here after he left Belham.’

Banville stopped in front of a board marked ‘Chicago.’ The top picture was of a pretty blond woman with a bright and inviting smile. Her name was Tabitha O’Hare. She had been missing since 10/3/85.

Underneath Tabitha O’Hare’s picture was another 8 × 10: Catherine Desouza, missing since 10/5/85.

Next: Janice Bickeny, missing since 10/28/85.

Four more women were listed, but they didn’t have any names or dates, just pictures. Seven women, all missing.

‘We called Missing Persons in Chicago and had them email all their cases from eighty-five and matched the pictures to the ones stored on Boyle’s computer,’ Banville said. ‘So far we’ve identified three of the seven missingwomen.’

‘Where are they buried?’ Coop asked.

‘Don’t know,’ Banville said. ‘We haven’t found a map.’

Darby looked to the next board, ‘Atlanta.’ Thirteen missing women, all prostitutes, according to the information posted beside their pictures.

Boyle’s next stop was Texas. Twenty-two women went missing from Houston over a two-year period. After Texas, Boyle moved on to Montana and then Florida. Darby counted the pictures on the two boards. Twenty-six missing women. No names, no dates to indicate how long they were missing, just pictures.

‘We just started contacting police agencies across the country,’ Banville said. ‘They’re going to fax or email their missing persons cases. It’s going to be a massive effort. It will take weeks – months, probably.’

Darby found the board marked ‘Colorado.’ Kimberly Sanchez’s picture was up at the top; eight more women were tacked underneath her.

‘What I can’t figure out is the story Ma

‘Yes,’ Darby said.

‘He was already planting evidence to pin it all on Slavick. Why go through the trouble to stage that?’

‘By attacking Ma

‘And Boyle needed to keep Ma

‘Allowing Ma

Darby nodded. ‘Of course, we could be wrong. Unfortunately, the only two people who can answer any of these questions are dead.’

A cop poked his head into the room. ‘Mat, you’ve got a phone call. Detective Paul Wagner from Montana. Says it’s urgent.’

‘Tell him to hold, I’ll be right there.’ Banville turned back to Darby. ‘They did Boyle’s and Ma

Banville left them standing in the room full of missing women. Darby looked off at a board marked ‘Seattle,’ more pictures of missing women, more boards ru

‘Take a look at this one,’ Coop said.

This board held the smiling faces of six missing women. There wasn’t a state listed at the top. None of the women had names.

‘Judging by the hairstyles and clothes, I’m guessing these pictures were taken in the eighties,’ Coop said.

The woman with the pale skin and blond hair looked familiar for some reason. Something about the woman’s face, Darby felt as though she knew her –

Darby remembered. The picture of the blond woman on the board was the same picture the nurse had given her – the one the nurse had found inside the clothes Sheila had donated. Darby had shown the picture to her mother. ‘That’s Cindy Greenleaf’s daughter, Regina,’ Sheila had told her. ‘You two played together when you were kids. Cindy sent it to me one year in a Christmas card.’

Darby took the picture down from the board. ‘I want to make a copy of this,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Chapter 74

As Darby walked back through the corridors, searching for a color copier, she saw a patrolman escorting an older woman toward Banville’s office.

No question the woman holding on to the patrolman’s forearm was Helena Cruz. Mel and her mother both shared the same prominent cheekbones and the small ears that always got red when it was cold.

‘Darby,’ Helena Cruz said in a dry whisper. ‘Darby McCormick.’

‘Hello, Mrs Cruz.’

‘It’s Miss Cruz, actually. Ted and I divorced a long time ago.’ Melanie’s mother swallowed, fighting hard to keep the painful memories from reaching her face. ‘Your name was on the news. You work with the crime lab.’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you tell me what happened to Mel?’

Darby didn’t answer.

‘Please, if you know something –’ Helena Cruz’s voice broke. She quickly regained her composure. ‘I need to know. Please. I can’t live with not knowing anymore.’

‘Detective Banville can tell you. He’s in his office. I’ll take you there.’

‘You know what happened, don’t you? It’s written all over your face.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I wish I could tell you how sorry I am.

Helena Cruz stared down at the tops of her shoes. ‘This morning, when I arrived in Belham, I went by my old house. I hadn’t been there in years. A woman was outside raking leaves, and her daughter was playing in the sandbox – it’s still there, in the same corner of the yard where you and Mel used to play. The two of you used to sit there for hours when you were little. Melanie liked to make sandcastles, and you used to smash them. Only Melanie never got mad when you did it. She never got mad at anything.’