“Also, there’s no video of him before he entered the luggage area, and nothing on the parking garage tapes,” stated Sanford.
“So he probably didn’t park in the garage. What about one of the shuttles? Did he park in the economy lot and take a shuttle? They’re located in the same direction he’s walking,” said Ava.
Duncan shook his head. “We checked the video feed there, too. Our theory is that someone must have given him a ride and picked him up, which we’ve searched for and can’t find a visual record of.”
Mutters of disappointment rumbled in the room.
Their suspect vanished into thin air?
“We’re still looking. We’ll figure out where he went,” promised Duncan. “It could be a fast thief that’s totally unrelated to this case. Just like the ransom note. Or it could be something more.”
“But why did he take the bag?” Ava asked. “What was in the bag that he wanted? He kidnapped a young girl. How does that connect with her stepbrother’s bag?”
“Good questions,” answered Duncan. He scanned the group. “Any theories?”
The investigators looked at one another.
“Maybe this is focused more on the family, not just on Henley. Perhaps Henley is just part of what he’s doing. Are any other family members missing things?” an agent tossed out.
Ava noticed several agents nodding along with the theory. Were the other family members in danger? She swallowed and fought an urge to dash back to the house. Clackamas County had deputies outside the Fairbanks house and at Robin’s parents’ home, where her two younger daughters were staying.
A number of agents shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, feeling the same unease about danger to the children.
“Nothing like that has turned up in their interviews. No oddities reported,” answered Wells from the front row. Ava leaned to the left to see Wells. She hadn’t noticed the agent in the room.
“Let’s ask them specifically if they’ve noticed anything is missing,” suggested Duncan. “Anything at all.”
Ava raised her hand. “What about Detective Callahan? He’s had some weird things happen at work.”
Duncan nodded at her. “I’ve been following that.” His gaze covered the room. “One of Detective Callahan’s confidential informants was murdered the night before Henley vanished. I’m keeping in touch with his supervisor.”
Ava’s personal phone started vibrating, and a few cops glanced her way. She pulled it out of her pocket and turned it off after seeing Jayne’s name on the screen.
“Another focus is Lilian Fairbanks’s ex-boyfriend,” Sanford stated. “He doesn’t have an alibi for Friday morning. Basically, he was alone in his apartment, asleep after a late night out watching college football at a sports bar in Tigard.”
Wells picked up the narrative. “He interviewed well. He was shocked about the child’s disappearance and seemed genuinely concerned about her welfare and Lilian’s. He wanted to contact Lilian and join one of the volunteer groups searching the parks, but we discouraged it for now. He understood why we were talking to him, and he wasn’t defensive at all.”
Duncan was nodding in agreement. “He’s not too high on our list. He allowed us to search his home and talk to his friends and family. He’ll be talking later today with one of the BAU agents who is a child-exploitation expert. We’ll see what kind of read he gets from him.”
“Did the mother have any other past boyfriends?” asked a deputy.
“She gave us two other names, but the relationships were pretty old,” Duncan stated. “One has been married for two years, and the other lives in Florida. We’ve talked with both and consider them low on our list.
“We’ve got the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children involved. They’ll be handling a big media push to get Henley’s face out there and expanding the coverage to neighboring states. Local media has been helpful, but they’re wanting an in-depth press conference. We gave them a statement last night about what happened at the waterfront, and we’ve told them we support the candlelight vigil at the park tonight. In my opinion, the more people who know, the better.”
“Who’s in charge of the security coverage at the vigil?” asked a Lake Oswego officer.
“We’re coordinating with the Portland Police Department since it’s on their turf.” Duncan made a face. “It’s a few hundred yards from where the ransom drop took place last night.”
Ava’s brain rapidly processed those two facts. Was there any connection between the two locations? “Who organized the vigil?” she asked.
“The Parent Student Organization at Henley’s elementary school,” answered Sanford.
Ava deflated a bit. It was doubtful that there was a relationship between the parents who made up the PSO and a busboy who failed to trick the FBI. Sanford nodded at her. “Yes, we found the location odd, too. But I think it’s a coincidence. The busboy is from Troutdale, miles away from Lake Oswego. He doesn’t know anyone in Henley’s neighborhood or school. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. I’m surprised he managed to find the school to drop off the ransom note.”
Duncan wrapped up the meeting, and Ava waited until she’d reached her car before checking her phone. She listened to Jayne’s lengthy voice mail and tried not to roll her eyes. Jayne’s car wouldn’t start and she needed a ride this morning. To a job interview? Who had a job interview on a Sunday?
Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she tried to decline the call but hit “Answer.”
Shit.
“Ava?” asked Jayne.
Ava closed her eyes. “Yes, I was just listening to your voice mail. I was in a meeting when you called earlier.”
“A meeting? On Sunday? Are you going to church now?” Her sister laughed.
“No. It was work.”
“Can you come pick me up? I need to get there before eleven. You don’t have to give me a ride home.”
“Who has job interviews on a Sunday?” Ava asked. She’d learned the hard way not to believe a word her sister said. Where did she so badly need to be on a Sunday?
“It’s a restaurant. They want me to come in before the lunch rush. They need a bartender.”
“Is that a smart job to consider?” Jayne’s history was littered with drug and alcohol addiction. Every time she told Ava she was clean and never getting high again, she’d lose a job because she was too stoned or hungover to show for her shifts.
“Jesus Christ. Don’t get all bossy. I need a job, and they’re hiring. You don’t know what it’s like not to have any income. You managed to find a great job.”
Jayne had special skills; nothing was ever her fault, and she could make Ava feel guilty about her own success with one sentence—and imply that Ava only had a good job because of luck. Not because she worked her butt off and made personal sacrifices.
While Ava was running obstacle courses and studying her brain out at the FBI Academy, Jayne was flitting from boyfriend to boyfriend and trying every drug they laid in front of her.
“Where is your interview?” Ava looked at the clock in her vehicle. She’d told the Fairbankses she’d be back by noon. She still had a few hours.
Jayne gave a squeal of joy and gushed with love for Ava.
Ava gritted her teeth.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up in front of Jayne’s apartment building and sent a text that she’d arrived.
She waited, tapping her steering wheel as she debated the wisdom of doing her sister a favor. Every encounter with her sister seemed to cause some havoc in her own life. Ava would drop her off at the restaurant and leave. End of event. That couldn’t cause any repercussions, right?
Jayne dashed from the building, and Ava caught her breath. She hadn’t seen Jayne in several months. She was blonde again. And extremely thin.
Ava reached to move her purse from the passenger seat, but Jayne grabbed it. “I’ll hold it. It’s not in my way. Good to see you, sis!” She leaned over the console between the seats and gave Ava a hug and kissed her cheek. She prattled on about the job while Ava took stock of her sister’s appearance. Jayne’s hair was long and curled, parted on the side and dyed a bright blonde that made Ava’s eyes hurt. Her brows were shaped into strong dark wings, and her top was cut way too low. Especially for a job interview. She had to be wearing the best push-up bra in the United States. Her sister was deep in a Jayne Mansfield phase.
Ava wanted to cry.
When Jayne embraced the image of the actress, it meant she had lost touch with herself. She became someone else, an actress who’d died violently in the prime of her life.
The phases terrified Ava on a visceral level. Jayne demonstrated what Ava could be capable of. She hated her sister for displaying how low Ava’s genetics could take her. Only sheer willpower and determination kept Ava on a different path than Jayne.
She focused on the road, holding the steering wheel in a death grip as Jayne continued to talk. She couldn’t look at her sister anymore; she saw herself with platinum hair and boobs that screamed for attention.
I’d never be like that. I’ll never be like that.