Evie found herself reviewing once more the known facts of her case as she drove back to the hotel. Like an oyster forming a pearl, it had become an irritant she couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t chasing a ghost. Someone had made Jenna disappear. She wished she could see him more clearly—the outline of a person would make it easier to fit a name to the shape.
“I don’t think it’s my guy’s first time,” she whispered to herself. She needed to dig into similar events tomorrow—the last remaining line of inquiry she hadn’t actively pursued yet, beyond asking the FBI to generate data.
The missing driver’s license might be a trophy that could cross between cases. Choosing someone at a concert, that might be a pattern. The clean abduction without witnesses might point to method. The better she understood Jenna’s situation, the easier it would be to spot related cases.
The car’s radio shifted to a Triple M song, and Maggie’s clear, strong voice caught her attention. She focused on listening to enjoy the song. Knowing Maggie’s history with David, Evie understood now the deep well of emotion Maggie drew from to put into her songs. She had a lot to offer people who were also waiting for love in their lives.
“God, if Maggie can accept that Jesus loves her, she’s going to find herself in an ocean of love, not only married to David, but enjoying a love relationship with Jesus forever,” Evie whispered.
She wished she knew how to solve truly hard problems like Maggie’s questions about God. How did you explain that when God raised Jesus from the dead, it was the sign Jesus was in fact His son and savior of the world? It was the proof Jesus was who He said He was, that He had the authority on earth to forgive men’s sins as He claimed and could give eternal life to everyone who called on Him. The call of Jesus was so simple—“Follow me”—and yet it took a step of faith to say yes and trust that He would be there to meet you. If Maggie could take that step, she’d find that Jesus was indeed there. But no one could do it for her. Evie could only imagine how deep the ache was in David’s heart as he yearned and prayed for Maggie to believe.
“God, would you help Maggie find you this year? Please help somebody describe you so clearly that she can see your outline in their words, realize you are really there, and accept you. Please plant that seed of faith in her heart. I know how richly you love her. This is something you are eager to accomplish. Let it all come together this year, however it needs to unfold. That would be such a relief to David, and a blessing to Maggie. Thanks, Dad.”
She was so relieved God understood people better than she did. Maggie’s questions came from a lifetime of experiences, and somewhere in that history was the obstacle that needed to be cleared away. There was a way to reach faith in God. Evie wished for both David and Maggie’s sake that their journey moved forward in the next months.
As she turned toward the hotel, her thoughts drifted back to the questions she wanted to ask Jenna’s boyfriend during their conversation. She would be speaking with him in about thirty-five minutes.
At two a.m., Evie draped her arms around a pillow and considered getting up to watch an old movie. If her brain didn’t shut off soon, she was going to have to do something. She’d finished both books she had brought with her, a nice break, but then reality had returned. This case had theories churning around like a storm-tossed sea.
The interview with Jenna’s boyfriend had been a spectacular bust. She’d thought Robin had been hard to shepherd through an interview. Steve . . . he was willing, even eager, to talk about Jenna, but Evie had vastly underestimated the crosscurrents and undertow within him.
Over the last nine years Steve had pushed hard to solve what had happened to Jenna. He was now such a walking conglomerate of mashed-together interviews he’d had with others, that whatever he had known at the time was layered over and intermingled with hundreds of conversations he’d had with Jenna’s friends and neighbors after her disappearance. Whatever original facts he had for investigators were only going to be found in the notes from his initial conversations with cops.
That realization had buried her hopes that their conversation would be useful, but it had taught her something she’d need to better grasp as she worked numerous cold cases, and so the time spent had been helpful in that respect.
She’d seen three major facets to Steve tonight. He was a guy still grieving the loss of someone he’d loved. He was still a reporter—sports at the time—but Jenna’s disappearance had moved him into news reporting where he still remained, and he asked probing questions of his own. Finally, he was still very much the wary, careful, non-named suspect, the boyfriend cops had repeatedly talked to in informal and formal interviews, trying to break his alibi or show him as somehow complicit in Jenna’s disappearance. This case was history, but for Steve it was very much part of his personal history, his life story, with pain for his loss, and pain at the question marks still hanging over him.