Hide and Seek Read online

  He scratched his head. “One of her slippers was missing,” he said finally. “It was weeks after she was gone, and Cathy came in here to clean. She wanted the room just right when Tobi came home. She found the one pink slipper under the bed but not the other one. She looked everywhere, but it didn’t turn up.”

  “Did you keep the one?” Macy asked.

  “Sure.” He knelt by the bed, fished under the red duster, and pulled out a pink knitted slipper. “Cathy was sure it would turn up like Tobi and kept it. I’m not so different than my wife. I kept it all the same for Tobi, but I suppose I don’t need to do that anymore.”

  “Did you find anything in her room that didn’t belong?” Macy asked.

  “Nothing that caught my eye, but in the early days I couldn’t come in here. Cathy took care of it.”

  “Was the study session planned?” Macy asked.

  “No. It was last minute,” he said. “Why would that matter?”

  “Again, I’m just asking a lot of questions right now.”

  He swallowed. “Sheriff Nevada, when can I have my daughter? It’s time she joined her mother.”

  “In a few days,” Nevada said. “Agent Crow and I are visiting her in Roanoke tomorrow. Then we’ll know better about a release day.”

  Turner drew in a breath. “Tell my Tobi that her daddy loves her, would you? Tell her.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Macy said softly.

  In his car, Nevada was nearly to the main road when he asked, “Are you fishing when you ask about Cindy Shaw, or do you really think something happened to her?”

  “I suppose I’m fishing. One of those loose ends that keeps nagging me.” She glanced at her notes. “I want to talk to Jenna Newsome.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Nevada located Jenna Newsome easily. She had married a decade ago and her last name now was Montgomery, and she worked in a law office as a paralegal. She told Nevada she was working late and they were welcome to come by. The law office was nestled in a century-old Victorian home that had been gutted and remodeled.

  Macy and Nevada climbed the front steps and entered a room decorated in sleek grays that accentuated thick crown molding and a white marble fireplace. A receptionist’s desk, made of polished mahogany, offered the only slash of warmth in an otherwise cold room.

  The two waited only a moment before a plump redhead clad in a navy-blue dress appeared. She wore pearls, black kitten heels, and a jeweled watch on her left wrist. “May I help you?”

  Nevada and Macy each showed their badges, and her smile faded just a bit. “We’d like to speak to Jenna Newsome Montgomery.”

  “That’s me. This is about Tobi, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Nevada tucked his badge back in the breast pocket of his coat. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “Sure. There’s a conference room to the left. Let me get someone to watch the phones for me.” She ducked into an office before returning and sitting, smoothing her skirt with manicured fingers. “When I read the news she’d been found, I knew it was a matter of time before someone came looking for me.”

  “You were close friends with Tobi Turner?” Macy asked.

  Frown lines deepened. “We were good friends. We were both nerds, liked debate and playing in the band.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Macy asked.

  “The day she vanished. I saw her at school.”

  “And not after?” Macy asked.

  “She said something about a study session, but I couldn’t go because I was babysitting my little brother.”

  “The kids at the school said she didn’t show for the study session. Do you know where she went?”

  “Sheriff Greene asked me the same question. Like I told him, I don’t know where she went. It wasn’t like her to skip study sessions.”

  “Was she dating anyone?” Macy asked.

  “No. She liked a few guys, but it was always from afar.”

  “Who did she like?”

  “Like all the other girls at school, she was crushing on the guys playing on the Dream Team. They were hot as hell that year. Even slightly cynical geeks like us weren’t immune to their aura.”

  “Dream Team?” Macy asked.

  “The local football team made the state finals that year,” Nevada explained. “There were four guys that year who were extremely talented. Rafe Younger, Paul Decker, Bruce Shaw, and Kevin Wyatt.”

  “Wyatt as in the Wyatt barn?” Macy asked.

  “Yes, the same family,” Nevada said.

  “Small town.” Macy jotted down all the names. “Did you ever see Tobi hanging out with anyone on the Dream Team?”

  Jenna smiled indulgently. “Geeks didn’t hang with the guys on the Dream Team.”

  “Did you see her talking to anyone in particular at the games or during school that fall?” Macy asked.

  “I saw her once with Paul Decker. He was hanging around her locker a few days before she vanished.”

  “Did Tobi ever say what they were talking about?”

  “He thought she was cute, or at least that’s what she told me later. I was suspicious. Decker was known for chasing the cheerleaders.”

  “Did you tell Sheriff Greene about Decker talking to Tobi?” Nevada asked.

  “The sheriff came by once, and I told him everything I just told you. He took notes, but kept shaking his head as if he doubted what I’d seen. No one ever talked to me about it again.”

  “Was there anyone else out of the ordinary who hung out with Tobi those last few weeks?” Nevada asked.

  “Like Decker? No. Do you think Decker killed Tobi? He was arrested for something, I heard,” Jenna asked.

  Macy didn’t answer the question, instead asking, “Did you know Cindy Shaw?”

  “Kind of,” Jenna said. “She was an odd duck. She was a hard partier, and she was really into the goth look. Very into the football team that last year and was thrilled that her brother was on the verge of doing really well for himself.”

  “Did Cindy know Tobi?” Macy asked. “Did she talk to Tobi at all?”

  “Not that I know of. Cindy wasn’t popular, and she didn’t fit with the geeks or the popular kids.”

  “What happened to Cindy?” Macy asked.

  “Everyone knows Cindy ran off. You’re FBI. Can’t you just track Cindy down and ask her?”

  “It’s not that simple. But I would like to find her,” Macy said. “Any idea where she moved to?”

  “I heard Colorado.”

  “Anybody ever hear from her again?” Nevada asked.

  “Not that I know of, but I don’t keep up that much. You should talk to Bruce. I’m sure she’s talked to her brother at some point.”

  “I’ll be sure to talk to him,” Macy said.

  “We always thought whoever took Tobi wasn’t from around here,” Jenna said.

  “Why do you say that?” Macy asked.

  Jenna shuddered. “Because this isn’t the kind of place where killers live. It’s a nice, peaceful place.”

  “Where do you think killers live, Ms. Montgomery?” Macy asked.

  “In the big cities.”

  “Sometimes they do. And sometimes they live in places like this and they look very ordinary.”

  Jenna shuddered. “That’s unsettling.”

  Macy flipped the pages of her notepad back in place. “Yes, it is.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Monday, November 18, 8:15 p.m.

  When Nevada pulled away from Jenna Montgomery’s office, Macy was exhausted and her body ached. Climbing up the tall set of steps to Jenna Montgomery’s office had been rough for her. And descending had taken her full concentration.

  Macy had remained on point and she had felt sharp during the interview, but now that she was alone with Nevada, she dropped her guard a fraction. The long day was taking its toll, whereas a year ago she’d have blown right through it with energy to spare. Nevada hadn’t made a comment, but his frown suggested he was worried about h
er.

  “What did you think about Jenna Montgomery?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. Appeared helpful and all smiles.”

  “But?”

  She ran her hand over her short hair as if it were longer and still draped her shoulders. “At this stage I don’t fully trust anyone’s account. If Jenna knows something that contributed to Tobi’s death, she might be afraid to talk even after fifteen years.”

  “Or she was shooting straight with us.”

  “Time will bear it out.”

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “I want to talk to Hank Greene. He was sheriff at the time of these attacks,” Macy said. “This is a small town, and word will travel fast. I don’t want him overly prepared for when we meet.”

  “We’ll go right now.”

  “I want to be the one to question him,” she said.

  “Your reasoning?”

  “You just beat him in a contentious race, which I’m sure is still bothering him. And how does he feel about women in law enforcement?”

  “He hired Deputy Bennett, and according to her, he was a solid mentor and treated her like all the other deputies.”

  “Good. At least we won’t have to jump that hurdle.”

  “Want me to call ahead?” he asked.

  “No. If he’s any good, he’ll know we’re coming.”

  Ten minutes later Nevada parked in front of a two-story home that stood at the end of a long gravel driveway. The house was painted a deep gray with white trim and black shutters. An American flag hung from a polished silver pole by the front door, and smoke meandered out from a tall chimney. The upstairs rooms were dark, but the downstairs front room glowed with the light from a large-screen television.

  Nevada had nestled the car close to a sidewalk, making it easier for her to exit the vehicle. Though he was trying to slow his pace for her sake, she forced herself to keep up.

  Macy rang the bell. They both stood to the side as a matter of course, thanks to so many years in the field.

  Heavy footsteps thudded inside, a curtain flickered back, and then the front door opened to Hank Greene.

  An outsider might write off Hank Greene the moment they saw his plaid shirt stretching over a big belly, the Sig Sauer holstered to a worn belt holding up crisp jeans and dusty work boots. But to discount the former sheriff would be a mistake. A former marine, Greene had returned to Deep Run in his midthirties and served as a deputy for ten years before running for sheriff, a position he then held for nearly twenty years. He’d planned to serve one more four-year term until Brooke Bennett discovered the untested evidence kits in the storage locker.

  Macy still wasn’t sure why Greene hadn’t sent the kits for testing. Best case was due to budget concerns. Worst case ranged from incompetency to conspiracy.

  As Macy raised her identification badge, she said, “Special Agent Macy Crow.”

  Greene didn’t bother to glance at the badge. “I was wondering when you’d find your way out here, Agent Crow. Sheriff Nevada, have you been hired out as her guide and driver?”

  Macy and Nevada remained silent, letting the comment pass.

  Greene shook his head, making a sucking sound. “Come on inside.”

  “Are we intruding?” Macy asked.

  “You know you are. You’d think losing the election would mean I could watch a television show in peace, not worry about interruptions, but I guess not.”

  Nevada seemed to accept Greene’s bluster, as if sensing Greene liked being in the action and hated the sidelines. She and Nevada were no different, and she’d bet, like her, he didn’t want to end up tossed aside.

  Inside the house, the spicy scents of coriander and cumin from what must have been a Mexican dinner hung in the air as the sound of a dishwasher came from a now-darkened kitchen.

  Greene waved them down a narrow hallway filled with dozens of pictures featuring the former sheriff in his uniform at a variety of local events. There was also a picture of Greene leading the Christmas parade with the cruiser Bennett now drove.

  Greene flipped on the kitchen light. “Can I make you some coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Macy set her bag on the counter as if she were staking a claim.

  She made it a habit to refuse all offers of refreshments from victims. She always insisted she not impose. And as pointed as her questions were, she tried to soften every word and syllable with compassion. However, with Greene, she was willing to show up without calling, accept his hospitality, and drop her belongings on his counter.

  As Greene set up the coffee maker, she walked around the room, studying more framed pictures hanging neatly on the walls.

  She leaned closer to a picture featuring a fitter Greene from a couple of decades ago. “It’s clear you love this town, Mr. Greene.”

  The coffee maker began to hiss and gurgle. “I’m not ashamed to admit it. I love Deep Run.”

  “You were sheriff for twenty years?” she asked.

  “Twenty-five.” He leaned against the counter and folded his arm over his belly as if he were humoring her. “I bet you were in grade school when I got my start.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I was reading Nancy Drew when you were doing the real work.”

  “Well, I guess we all got to start somewhere.” The pot filled and he poured three cups, setting them on the counter. “Milk, sugar?”

  “Yes, to both,” she said.

  Greene dug both out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter, along with a blue spoon.

  “Thank you.” She ladled two heaping teaspoons into her cup and filled it the rest of the way with milk. Taking a big sip, she closed her eyes. “Delicious.” Cradling the cup, she returned to the pictures. “I was up most of the night reading the case files of the three rape cases and Tobi Turner’s murder.”

  “The murder and rapes weren’t connected,” Greene said.

  She watched him closely. “We both know that’s not true.”

  Genuine shock flashed in the old man’s eyes as he tapped the handle of his cup with his index finger. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Instead of answering, Macy asked, “Why didn’t you test the rape kits from 2004? If the budget was that tight, why not seek federal grants?”

  “I didn’t think it was an option for us,” Greene said.

  “You applied for other federal grants during your tenure,” she said. “One was for a school safety program, and the other one was for body armor for your deputies. Why not DNA testing?”

  He sipped his coffee while her eyes sharpened. “What’s your point?” he countered. “Why do you care so much about those attacks?”

  “When a woman is raped, then has the forethought to save her attacker’s DNA and call the cops, it damn well better be tested.”

  He shook his head. “You make it sound like we didn’t try to solve these cases. We talked to dozens of men. We had a couple of suspects that we leaned on hard, especially after Rebecca Kennedy was nearly strangled to death.”

  “Who were the suspects in her case?”

  “Her ex-boyfriend, Paul Decker, for one.”

  “Paul Decker of the Dream Team?”

  “That’s right. They were a volatile couple. Fought like cats and dogs when they dated in high school.”

  “You remember them fighting fifteen years ago?” Macy asked.

  “Sure. I worked every Friday night football game. Those two were constantly at each other’s throats. I even broke up one fight behind the bleachers, and they both had their share of cuts and bruises. Both swore it was nothing. And they kept on seeing each other. It was crazy.”

  “Were they seeing each other around the time of her attack?” Macy asked.

  “They were,” Greene said.

  “Paul Decker was arrested five years ago,” Nevada said. “His DNA would be in CODIS, and our offender’s is not.”

  Greene shifted his gaze to Nevada. “The DNA test results are back on those cases?” he asked.


  “They are,” Macy said. “Of the eight cases we sent off, three were committed by the same offender.”

  “What?” Greene asked.

  “That’s right. You had a serial rapist in your own backyard.”

  Greene’s brow furrowed. “There was a greenkeeper at the school,” he said. “He was picked up. More than a handful said he liked to watch the young girls a little too closely. The man’s name was Dave Potter, and he knew two of the three rape victims. But he ended up having an alibi for the first attack.”

  “Did you do a buccal squab?” Macy asked. Buccal meant mouth or cheek, and the test entailed using a Q-tip to swab the offender’s cheek to collect DNA.

  “No.”

  “Where is Mr. Potter now?” Macy pressed.

  “He passed away a couple of years ago.”

  “Does he have family in the area?” Macy asked. “Anyone we could talk to?”

  “I can find a name for you.”

  “Sooner would be best,” Macy said.

  “You said those rapes were connected to Tobi Turner?” Greene asked. “How?”

  “We found DNA on her backpack. That DNA matched our serial rapist.”

  “What?” Greene’s face paled, and some of the swagger left his shoulders.

  She didn’t speak as she sipped her coffee. She hesitated because she wanted the full weight of her information to sink in. “We’ve not made that information public yet.”

  “Sure. I won’t say anything,” Greene said with a more measured tone.

  He appeared thrown off, but she didn’t care. “When I was doing background on the murders, I read about another girl who vanished about that time. Cindy Shaw?”

  “She didn’t vanish,” Greene said. “She ran away.”

  “Where did she go?” Macy asked.

  “She said to anyone who would listen she wanted to go to California, but I never knew for sure.”

  Jenna Montgomery had said Colorado. “Did it ever occur to you that someone killed her?” Macy asked.

  “No. That girl could take care of herself just fine.” He shrugged, his smile sly. “If you want to know more about Cindy, talk to her brother.”

  “I’ll do that.” She held up her cup. “Thank you for the coffee.”

  Greene looked up, holding her gaze. “I might have made mistakes with those test kits, but I busted my ass looking for the person who hurt those three girls. And we turned this valley upside down looking for Tobi.”