Trail of Secrets(18)

                She paused in remembering and turned her head to stare at the door leading from the den into the office. That room was where he kept all his important papers. Could there be something in his desk that would help her understand his obsession with the case she’d learned about tonight?

                Easing into the room, she switched on the light, placed her cup of milk on the desk and sat down in the chair behind it. She spread her hands out over the smooth wood on the desktop and closed her eyes for a moment. She could almost feel the presence of the man she thought of as her father.

                After a moment, she opened the right-side top drawer, but there was nothing inside except a collection of pens and pencils along with a stapler and an assortment of rubber bands. The drawer below held odds and ends, too. When she opened the bottom drawer, which looked to be the deepest, there were only a few papers lying inside.

                She was about to close it when something strange caught her eye. The drawer appeared deeper than the two above it, and yet it had little room inside to hold items. She leaned closer and stared at the interior before pulling the papers out and tapping on the bottom of the drawer. A hollow-sounding noise told her the drawer had a false bottom.

                She grabbed a letter opener from the desktop and slipped it between the edge of the bottom and the side of the drawer. The bottom of the drawer sprang open to reveal a large three-ring notebook inside.

                Her heart pounded as she pulled out the notebook and laid it on the desk. With shaking fingers, she opened it and gasped at the picture of a woman, her eyes closed in death, on the first page. Tears filled Callie’s eyes as she read the caption written in her uncle’s familiar handwriting underneath the picture.





                Hope

                You will never be forgotten.





                Callie swallowed her tears and turned the page. Entries that followed described the discovery of the body on the banks of the Mississippi River, the medical examiner’s report and facts about the investigation. It seemed every detail that had been known about “Hope” at the time of her death was listed on the pages. What pricked Callie’s heart was the fact that nothing about her identity had been added in the years since.

                She turned to the next section and read through what appeared to be hundreds of reports on missing persons near Hope’s determined age who had disappeared from various parts of the country about the same time as she had. Each entry contained notes on the victim, her uncle’s contact with the families and his conclusion that this wasn’t a match to the woman he was looking for.

                She frowned as she leafed through the thick stack of reports. He’d spent endless hours through the years tracking down dozens of leads, but nothing had yielded the identity of the one he’d buried in Memphis twenty-five years ago.

                Callie had never stopped to think about the number of people who disappeared in this country every year. Her uncle had known, though, and he had cared. She turned back to the picture of Hope and stared at it again. Who was she? Where had she come from? And how did she end up dead in the Mississippi River? Those thoughts must have run through her uncle’s head every day.

                She noticed a piece of paper that looked different from the others sticking from the back of the notebook, and she turned to it. It was a flyer advertising a homeless shelter near downtown. The name Dorothy Tipton, written in her uncle’s handwriting, was paper-clipped to the flyer. What was that about?

                She turned another page and frowned at the names listed with phone numbers beside them. She read through the names, but she’d never heard of any of them. One near the bottom had a check mark next to it, and she stared at it. Melvin Harris. Who could he be? She made a mental note to ask Seth if he knew the man.