Stolen(41)

Caity nodded. “I agree. If Angelina was involved, that wouldn’t fly either. Hard to believe some homeless guy colluded with her to kidnap Laura. So that leaves us . . .”

“Thirteen years later with no viable suspects, and Laura gone missing again—only this time, it looks like she might not be coming home alive.”





Chapter 24





Friday, October 25

8:00 A.M.

Holly Hill College

Denver, Colorado



Laura’s luck was finally starting to change. The pickup she’d stowed away in last night had carried her all the way to Denver and parked in a lot just yards from a budget motel. The desk clerk hadn’t looked at her twice or asked for identification when she’d signed in as Ruby Rogers, paying cash for the room. Tonight, she’d move to a youth hostel. Even forty bucks was too steep a price to pay when she had to make five hundred dollars stretch indefinitely. But she wasn’t going to dwell on the negative.

She’d been given another chance at life, and as horrible as her mission might be, having one gave her a sense of purpose. She was bruised and sore and tired, but she didn’t recall ever awakening to a sweeter morning.

At a dive near the motel, she’d splurged on waffles and sausage and coffee. No one bothered her, or looked at her funny. A greasy paper lay on the counter, and she’d checked it and found nothing about her disappearance or about the dead body in the wilderness. She didn’t know if she had hours or days until it all hit the front page, but for now, it seemed she was free to come and go without attracting notice—as long as she was careful. As an extra precaution she’d bought a blond wig. Though she wasn’t wearing it now, she was quite looking forward to seeing a whole new Laura staring back at her in the mirror.

She climbed out of the cab, pulled the collar of her jacket over her neck and zipped it all the way to cover the marks on her throat. Then she tied her hoodie under her chin and ducked her head before entering the student union   at Holly Hill College. A directory on the wall told her the college newspaper office was in room 101, just down the hall. Ronald Saas was the student advisor, and she knew he kept office hours on Friday mornings.

She didn’t know for sure that she could trust him, but he’d been polite when she’d met with him for dinner on Monday. He hadn’t told her she was crazy, only that he found her theories unlikely. She’d been surprised by the way he’d reacted. He didn’t seem disturbed by anything she’d said—but then again, he was a professional. He’d neither encouraged her, nor discouraged her. In fact he’d said very little other than that she didn’t have any real evidence. But that was exactly what she might have in her backpack. She could only hope it would be enough.

She couldn’t risk going to the cops or to her parents, who very likely would lock her up in either a jail or a hospital respectively. At least Saas couldn’t slap her in cuffs right then and there, even if he did rat her out to the authorities later. She’d talk to the man first, feel him out, and then decide whether or not to entrust him with the locks of hair. The one thing she definitely could not do was destroy the evidence that might put a killer behind bars for good.

She took a deep breath, opened the glass doors to the college newspaper office and approached the receptionist. “Ruby Rogers for Ronald Saas.”

The receptionist typed something into a computer then shook her head. “I don’t see you on this morning’s calendar.”

“I have an eight o’clock with Mr. Saas. I’m doing a piece on the backcountry ski club.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have anyone down for eight o’clock. I’ve got a nine o’clock as his first appointment.”

“Oh, that’s mine. Guess I got the time wrong,” Laura tried. “It’s under my buddy’s name. We’re sharing a byline.”

The woman arched an eyebrow. “Not unless your buddy’s the dean of behavioral sciences.”

Laura dug her heels into the carpet. “Okay, look, I don’t have an appointment. But since he’s free until nine, maybe you could give me a break. It’s urgent that I see Mr. Saas.”

“You should’ve been honest in the first place.” The receptionist tapped her pen on her teeth, contemplating, then let out a long breath. “What was your name, again? And no more shenanigans if you want me to get you in.”

To stop herself from running around the desk and hugging the receptionist, Laura stuck her hands behind her back. “If you’ll just tell him his Monday night dinner companion is here, I’m certain he’ll see me.”