Currently Ava was having a long discussion with Special Agent Wells in the backyard. Mason had a good feeling about Zander Wells. The quiet agent seemed competent and focused, his sharp eyes missing nothing. The two agents came in through the French doors at the back patio, a rush of icy air blowing in with them.
Was Henley outside somewhere? Was she cold?
Lilian flinched as the cold air hit her, and Mason knew she was having the same thoughts.
He put an image of the freezing child out of his brain.
He moved to intercept the agents as Ava moved with Wells toward the front entrance. The two stopped, regarding Mason with wary eyes.
“Is there something else I can update the family with?” Mason asked.
The two exchanged a look.
“Our focus has shifted to the neighborhood as you know,” Wells said. “We’ve had teams of agents knocking on doors and searching the green spaces. Three of the homes have turned over their home security cameras, but none of the recordings show Henley this morning.” He took a deep breath. “I just heard that they found her lunchbox an hour ago.”
“Where?” asked Mason.
“It was actually up in a tree a few houses down from the bus stop.”
She’d been so close. “She almost made it,” Mason stated. “But up in a tree? How?”
“It was pretty well hidden between the dense fir branches and a good eight feet off the ground, which explains why no one spotted it for a while.” Wells made a face, acknowledging the bureau’s frustration with missing the clue and the several hours of lag time. “My guess is someone threw it. I don’t think it could have been planted after we searched that area. We’ve had people in the neighborhood nonstop.”
“Could Henley have thrown it?” Mason asked.
Wells nodded. “We think so. Maybe she was trying to leave something behind as she was being snatched. It doesn’t make a lot of sense for a kidnapper to try to leave something so obvious.”
“Are you sure it’s hers?” Mason asked.
“It matches the description the mothers gave us. They sent me a photo of it, but the actual box is on the way to the lab for printing.” He showed Mason a picture on his phone of a pink lunchbox made from synthetic fabric, with a top that folded over and buckled closed. “I’ll send it to you, and you can show the parents.”
“What was inside? Does it match what Robin said was packed?” Mason’s brain spun. Who threw it? Henley or her kidnapper?
“It practically pinpoints where she was grabbed. He wouldn’t have left something like that behind on purpose,” Ava muttered, shaking her head.
“It held what Robin had listed,” Wells answered. “And I know what you mean, Ava. It makes no sense. My best guess says that she threw it as he grabbed her.”
The three nodded in agreement.
“What about vehicles spotted on the home security cameras?” Mason asked.
Wells nodded. “We’re working on enhancing some images they caught.”
“Anything else I need to know?” Mason asked.
“Just reassure them we’ll be working through the night. Three members of the CARD team landed already. You met the one from BAU. Three others will be here within a few hours.”
“What do they bring to the case?”
“Experience. One is a hostage negotiator, another is evidence recovery, and there’s a computer-forensics expert. A few more agents from BAU.” Wells glanced at McLane, who nodded again.
“No indication yet that this will be a hostage situation?” Mason asked.
“Not yet,” answered Ava.
“I almost wish it was,” mumbled Mason. “Then maybe we’d know she’s . . .”
Ava’s gaze softened. “We’ll deal with whatever arises.” Her gaze went past Mason. “How’re you holding up, Lucas?”
Mason turned. Lucas looked like hell.
“Fine. Is everything okay?” He looked from Wells to Ava.
“I’m just updating Special Agent McLane and Detective Callahan. I’ll let them relay what I’ve said. I’ll say good night now. I’m going back to the command center.”
He shook hands with them and vanished out the heavy front door. A small rumble could be heard from the pack of reporters.
“What gives?” Lucas asked.
“They found Henley’s lunch box not too far from the bus stop,” Ava said gently. “It looks like it was hurled up into a tree. It could have been done by Henley or the kidnapper.”
Lucas scowled. “I don’t get it.”
Mason nodded. “Join the club.” He pulled up the image Wells had sent and handed Lucas his phone. “Does that look right?”
Lucas stared at the image. “I honestly don’t know. I think so. I’ll show it to Robin.”
“Maybe when they check the prints we’ll have a better lead,” Ava said. “The best thing you can do is get some rest.”
“But it’s something, right? At least they found something.” Lucas clutched the phone with white fingers, looking at Mason and Ava with hope in his eyes, and ran a hand through his mussed-up hair. He didn’t seem interested in resting.
“It helps,” Ava said noncommittally. “Why don’t you go ask Robin and Lilian? And then try to convince them to get some sleep. I’ll wake them if I hear anything else.”
Lucas nodded and left.
Mason held Ava’s gaze. “What else? What are you not saying?”
She sighed and smoothed her ponytail. “There’s a heated email exchange on Lucas’s work account from two weeks ago. They’re interviewing the client tomorrow.”
“Lucas mention that in his interview?”
“Wells had to bring it up. Lucas brushed it off. Said that’s how that client always communicates. Sounds like he’s a bit of an asshole, and Lucas took a strong stance to deal with him. Lucas claims that there’s no bad blood there, but we’re looking into it.”
Mason waited.
Ava simply looked at him. She was finished. If she knew more, she was keeping it to herself. For now.
Mason glanced at his watch. “It’s late. I’m going to bed. Good night, Special Agent McLane. I hope tomorrow’s a better day.”
“You and me both,” she whispered.
8
23 HOURS MISSING
Mason woke to the vibration of his work phone. It echoed through the wood of the little white nightstand next to him, sounding like a jackhammer next to his head. He snatched it off the table and glanced at the digital princess clock. Six thirty. “Callahan.”
“Mason. You up?” Ray Lusco’s voice barreled through the line.
“I am now.” Mason rubbed his eyes. “What’s up?”
“Schefte call you this morning?”
“Not yet.” Mason pulled the phone from his ear and touched the screen, blurrily checking for any missed calls or texts, knowing he couldn’t have missed anything vibrating on that little table. He was tired, but not that tired.
“There’s some weird evidence in Josie’s case,” Ray said.
The morning shifted into crystal-clear focus. “How weird?”
“There’s another eyewitness placing a guy in cowboy boots and a hat at her place the day before the murder.”
“So? Schefte mentioned other people had seen something similar. I’m not the only one who dresses like that.” An odd buzz burned in his gut. Another sighting?
Silence.
“Well, yeah, not many guys dress that way in downtown Portland,” Mason backtracked. “What of it?”
“Your fingerprints have turned up in three places in the apartment.”
Ice encased Mason’s spine, but he kept his tone neutral. “I’ve been there, remember? Hunsinger and Morales knew that. My prints shouldn’t surprise anyone. What’s the point here?”
“On the toilet handle?”
Mason sat up, alarms clanging in his head. “I didn’t touch that when we were there yesterday.”
“I know! But if you hadn’t been there for months, why would your prints show up there? They should be totally blurred out.”
“I never used Josie’s bathroom.” Mason thought hard, trying to remember what he’d done on his short visits to the woman’s apartment. He’d looked in the fridge, sat on the couch, put money under the saltshaker. “They might find my prints on the fridge handle and the saltshaker. I probably touched the front door handle, but surely that’s been touched several hundred times since I was there last.”
“This isn’t right,” Ray said. “Something’s up. You need to figure out when you were there last.”
“Christ.” Mason rubbed his eyes. “I’ll have to look back at my log. I know it was relatively hot, because I remember her complaining about not having air conditioning. Probably at the end of September, during one of those freaky hot weeks we get before the fall weather fully kicks in. I’ll have to look on my computer in the office.”
“Do you remember what cases we were working on? Does that help with the time period?”
Mason thought for a long moment. “No, I don’t remember. I only remember that it was really warm in her place and that I got a bottled water out of her fridge.” His mind jumped through hoops, searching for an explanation. Yes, he’d been there. But it’d been forever ago. There was no reason for his prints to show up. No reason at all.