Vanished(22)

“It’s not Henley’s writing,” Lilian stated. The blonde woman looked thinner to Ava. How had she lost weight in one day? She felt a bit guilty that she hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with Henley’s mother since their ride back from her apartment yesterday. She’d been focused on Jake and had let Lilian’s needs slide because she’d been quiet.

“It’s not a child’s writing according to our handwriting experts,” Wells said. “A full analysis is in process, but that was one thing we wanted clarified right away. We had to determine if this was worth following up.”

Lilian’s gaze flew up. “Of course it’s worth following up! It’s a goddamned ransom note! I’d hope the FBI would take something like that seriously!”

Sitting beside her, Lucas took her hand and rubbed it. “They’re taking it seriously. If it’d appeared to have been written by a ten-year-old, they would have handled it differently is all he meant.” He nodded at Wells, encouraging him to go on. Ava eyed Robin, wondering if she’d react to her husband holding his ex-wife’s hand. Robin had watched the action and then ignored it. Either she was extremely secure in her marriage or skilled at hiding her feelings.

“It was found on one of the play structures, folded up inside a plastic bag so that Henley’s name showed through the bag.” Wells flipped the note over, showing Henley Fairbanks printed in one-inch letters. “A mother found it. She took her two children to the school to play on the equipment this morning and discovered the plastic bag. Henley’s name caught her attention immediately, and she opened it, thinking it’d been left behind by Henley. After reading it, she called 911.”

“Why in the hell did she open it?” Lucas asked. “Why didn’t she call the police first?”

Wells shrugged. “She didn’t think it was anything. She was pretty upset when she realized she might have compromised some evidence. She said she hadn’t wanted to call the police simply because she found Henley’s name written in crayon on something.”

Ava nodded. As much as she hated that the woman had opened the note, she understood her reasoning. “It was left to be found,” she said. “I doubt she ruined any evidence. Whoever left it knew it’d be analyzed by the FBI, so they’d have taken steps to eliminate anything that could give them away.”

“No cameras on the area?” Callahan asked.

“None,” answered Wells.

“So what happens now? Will you do as the note asks?” Lucas’s voice trembled. “I don’t have that kind of money. Just because I own a business doesn’t mean I have a ton of money sitting around. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

If you wish Henley returned, leave two million dollars in a black backpack at the west side river walk in downtown Portland at 7 P.M. Saturday night. Place the backpack behind the second bench from the south end in front of the seafood restaurant. The child will be left somewhere safely Sunday morning before 8 A.M.

“Don’t worry about money,” Wells stated. “No one expects you to come up with two million dollars. That’s not what we’re focused on. We’re trying to figure out if this is a legitimate ransom note or someone taking advantage of the situation.”

“It’s not logical to ask for that kind of sum on a weekend,” said Ava. “Or expect us to wait until the next day for the child to be returned. And why did they wait so long to leave a note? This lacks credibility to me.”

“But we can’t just let it slide by!” exclaimed Robin. “What if they hurt her because we didn’t act?”

“We have negotiators here,” Wells reassured her. “And there is a negotiation specialist among the CARD team that we flew in.”

“But there’s no one to negotiate with. It’s a note! There’s no phone number or person to talk to. It’s simply ‘do this!’” Robin argued.

Ava sympathized. The note writer hadn’t left an avenue for communication, so the parents felt they needed to follow the directions of the note. Would it evolve into a hostage negotiation? She’d done the FBI’s specialized training for hostage negotiation and participated in three incidents while in LA. There was no bigger stress than realizing that your voice on the phone and the words you chose were the only things keeping a hostage alive.

She knew the negotiator from the CARD team; he’d been her instructor. There was no one better at talking down an angry person who wanted to strike out.

“We’re moving on it,” Wells said. “We’ve got agents headed to that area, and the actual note is being analyzed for any trace evidence the writer might have left. You’d be surprised what we can find on a piece of paper. Or on a plastic bag.”

“It’s not real, is it?” Lilian whispered. “It’s just someone trying to get some money out of us. There’s no proof here that this person has Henley. Wouldn’t a real kidnapper have known that’s the first thing we’d question? He would have put in some of her hair, or taken a picture to show he really has her.” Tears streamed down her face.

Ava leaned closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “There are going to be jerks out there who try to take advantage. They don’t care who they hurt along the way. Do you not want us to bring this sort of thing to you until we know for certain if it’s real?” She included Lucas and Robin in her question.

“Yes, we want to see this sort of thing,” Lucas stated after exchanging glances with Robin and Lilian. “We don’t need to know every trivial thing, but something like this is big. We need to see that things are being done.” He looked at the note again. “They’re very specific about how to leave the money. Black backpack. Which bench it should be set by. Someone seems to know the area very well.”

Wells nodded. “It’s typical for them to pick a site they’re familiar with. It gives them a sense of control over the event.”

“Do you think they work or live near the area?” Robin asked.

“It’s very possible. And we’ll look into that.”

“What did you find out on the stolen minivan?” Callahan asked.

“It was taken from a park in Salem,” Wells replied. “It belongs to a family with three young kids. Mom had the kids at the park and swears she locked the van, but she couldn’t find her keys when it was time to leave. She doesn’t know if she left the keys in the van, or if they were stolen out of her purse while the kids played.

“They were pretty shook up to hear it might have been involved in Henley’s abduction. The mother was rattled to find out that her kids might have been near a kidnapper,” Wells finished.

“Nothing on the AMBER Alert?” Ava questioned.

“All sorts of stuff.” Wells lifted both brows. “We’re getting calls about every minivan in the area. Our people manning the phones are trying to weed through the responses. You’d be surprised what people will call in. We posted the plate and color, but people are calling in with different-colored vans and completely unrelated plates.”

“Everyone wants to help,” Ava said with a sad smile at the parents. “Henley’s turning into the city’s child.” She turned to Wells. “Will the ransom be discussed at the press conference?”

Wells dropped his gaze and shuffled his papers around. “We’re gonna cancel the press conference. When this came in, it took priority and all available hands to process it as quickly as possible. I don’t think we should be using that manpower on a press conference.”

Ava saw Callahan’s shoulders relax. The man had been dreading the conference. Not everyone enjoyed pubic speaking, but Ava didn’t mind it. She’d welcome the chance to get up there and inform the public about the search for Henley. Should it really be cancelled? She bit her lip, not wanting to question Wells in front of the family. Judging by his behavior, Wells hadn’t wanted to break the news to them . . . Were there other reasons to cancel the press conference, reasons he was holding back? Callahan, his razor-sharp gaze on Wells, appeared to be having the same thoughts.

What wasn’t being said?

Wells pushed back his chair. “I guess that’s it for now. I’m going to find out where they’re at on the note.”

“Are they sending it back east to their lab?” Callahan asked.

“They will. They’re using the state police lab to run some tests first.”

“That lab is notoriously backed up,” Callahan pointed out.

“OSP is making this a priority. We’ve got a deadline of seven tonight.”



Mason munched the last of his Big Mac and washed it down with a Diet Coke. He crumpled up his napkin and shoved it in the white bag, then smashed the bag into a ball. He tossed the garbage into the can outside the door of the Oregon State Police building.

He didn’t feel right raiding Robin and Lucas’s refrigerator for food, even though they expected him to eat there. There was plenty of food because neighbors had dropped off casseroles left and right. When people didn’t know what to say, they made food and brought it over. He probably could have found something healthier in one of the casseroles. One of these days, his fast-food diet was going to kill him. Preservatives. Shouldn’t those make him live longer?