Chapter 26

26

Staring at his computer screen at the station, Ryan reminded himself that he'd faced seemingly insurmountable tasks before. Each time, it had taken patience, determination, and a willingness to go above and beyond in order to achieve success. He'd been involved in a number of missing person searches during his seven years in law enforcement. He'd volunteered when he'd been at the police academy during an Amber Alert, spent hours on the phone and computer when a couple had gotten lost in a snowstorm in Waterbury, and had even been at his lieutenant's side when they'd been at the scene of a particularly hairy drug bust.

Each time, he'd worked hard, followed protocol, and been emotionally involved enough to be sweating as each hour passed with little to no results. He'd gotten tears in his eyes when they'd found the couple alive after searching for almost thirty-six hours in a snowstorm.

But none of those situations came close to the emotional turmoil he was currently experiencing. Candace's disappearance was affecting him physically. He felt nauseous and achy. Honestly, he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin.

He was scared and guilt-ridden and angry at himself, her stalker, and, at times, even Candace. Why had she left the party with just her cousin by her side? Why hadn't she asked Lott or one of the men there to escort her? Any one of them would have done it in a heartbeat. Hadn't she learned anything during the last few weeks?

Of course, just as quickly as he'd thought such things, he'd pushed them out of his mind with a huge sense of remorse. She'd been abducted. Whoever had done it was at fault. Not Candace. Not even a little.

More importantly, all this was on him. He'd made a point of acting as if he were her protector. But what kind of protector was he?

"Any luck going through her high school yearbooks?" Chief Foster asked.

Ryan had been scanning the student pictures, hoping to find a teenager who looked anything like Candace's stalker. It was a last-ditch effort. They'd already asked her friends at the college and even neighbors if they'd spied anyone matching the general description.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I've marked a couple of the guys, but they're just vague possibilities. Boys' bodies can still change after high school."

The chief nodded. "I grew four inches and put on thirty pounds."

"I grew two and put on about that same amount, but I had a buddy whose body hardly changed until the summer of his senior year. When we saw him in September, we all just stared."

"I get it. But I do think, based on the way he's acted possessive of her on social media, that he's known Candace for a while."

"I agree."

"Deputy Ernst from the Crittenden County Sheriff's office is calling teachers. It's another long shot, but someone in that school had to be aware if a guy was fixating on Candace. Teachers usually see more than students think."

"That's a good idea." Ryan flipped another page. The pictures were of students three grades below Candace. Thinking back to the popular girls at his high school, he remembered one of his buddies saying that a senior girl he was crushing on would never say yes to a sophomore asking her to homecoming. Maybe if Candace had been nice to a junior classman but never gave him a second's thought when he wasn't standing in front of her, the kid might have twisted their interactions in his mind.

Liking that idea, he flipped to the pages of clubs and sports teams. Then he came upon sections for each class that were comprised mainly of candid shots submitted by students.

And there he was.

Ryan's heart seemed to stop as he stared at the image. On the freshman page, a lone student was standing behind a chain-link fence. He was probably a hundred and thirty pounds, maybe five foot seven, and his shoulders looked hunched beneath a hoodie that was probably two sizes too big. An expensive-looking camera hung around his neck. Below longish dark hair, his brooding eyes weren't looking at the photographer.

On this side of the fence, a group of girls in shorts and tank tops were working out together—maybe warming up before some type of sports practice. One of them was blond, hazel-eyed Candace. She was laughing. Even back then she was striking.

The picture's caption read "Scott Conway, the runner-up for the Horizons Photography Contest."

"I've got him!"

The entire room went silent as Ryan stood up.

Chief Foster strode toward him. "What did you find?"

He pointed to the picture. "That's him. And look, there's Candace."

"Are you sure that's our guy? This picture's from a long time ago."

"I know, but I saw him, Chief. I didn't see him up close and he's bigger now, but he has the same kind of slump. And Candace's impressions of him are right on."

"Why didn't she recognize him, then?"

"He never told her that they'd met. And as far as she was concerned, he was just a freshman when she was a senior. Why would she have anything to do with him?"

"But wouldn't she have recognized him? You put two and two together. Why hasn't she?" When Ryan frowned, the chief lifted a hand. "Hear me out. I'm playing devil's advocate here."

"I recognized him because I've been searching for similarities. This guy would've meant nothing to her. There were almost a hundred people in each class at that high school, and she was three years older."

"Still..."

"Sir, forgive me, but she would've been eighteen and he would've been fifteen. Now that she's twenty-two and he's nineteen, it doesn't sound like that much of a difference, but at those ages, it's practically a lifetime. The guy's voice probably hadn't even changed. Unless she had a reason to do so, she wouldn't have noticed him." He tapped the camera in the black and white photo. "Plus, this kid has a camera. A good one. We know he's been taking pictures of her."

The chief stared at him for several moments before finally nodding. "All right, then. I agree. He's a good possibility. Let's go see where he's at."

Pure relief surged through Ryan. He knew in his gut that he'd found Candace and Bethanne's abductor. He knew it. It was all he could do to not throw both of his hands up in the air in relief. "Yes, sir."

As Chief Foster led the way to the computer at his desk, he glanced at Ryan. "Before I forget to tell you this, that was good thinking."

"I agree," Sheriff Johnson from the Crittenden County Sheriff's Department added as he joined them. "I wouldn't have thought to go through high school yearbooks and I sure wouldn't have thought to look so carefully at the underclassmen—or pay special attention to the candid shots. Your detective work is impressive."

Ryan didn't know if it was impressive or not. All that really mattered to him was that they find Candace and her cousin in time. "I just hope I'm right."

"We all do, son. We all do."

Minutes later, they had an address. Scott Conway, age nineteen, had graduated high school in May and had recently moved into a rental unit in a house just off Main Street. And—his mother was Peggy Conway, personal assistant to Walker Burkholder.

Ten minutes later, Sheriff Johnson, Deputy Ernst, Chief Foster, Ryan, and two other officers were putting on bulletproof vests, securing their weapons, and racing out to their vehicles. The lieutenant and sergeant still at the station were on their phones, calling in additional resources. They would be ready to go as soon as they heard plans for the next steps.

The house Ryan pulled up to was as nondescript as any other on the street. White paint, black trim, black front doors. Quaint, older Craftsman style. Likely built in the fifties after the war, it was two stories with an addition and second entrance that looked newer. The landscaping was efficient and easy to maintain. "What's the story on this place, Chief? Do you know?"

"I've never had the occasion to be inside, but when I was growing up, the Hendersons owned it." He scratched his head. "When Mrs. Henderson passed on, her daughter converted it into three rental units." He glanced at his phone. "Scott is listed as a tenant of 1B."

"All right. What's the plan?"

"We're going to knock on the door. Ask some questions. If he's not in, we're going to have to wait until the DA gets done talking with Judge Verona to get that search warrant. He's there now."

"Yes, sir."

They exited the vehicle as the other officers parked their vehicles behind them. As they walked up the front walkway, Ryan noticed several small brass plates with the unit numbers on the black doors. "Chief?" Ryan turned to him for direction.

"Go ahead and knock."

He exhaled, reminding himself to remain calm and steady. Candace needed him to be smart, not barge in half-cocked. He rapped on the door twice, then waited, listening for footsteps.

It was silent.

After about thirty seconds passed, he knocked again.

"May I help you?"

They turned to see a woman in her late forties heading their way. She had on jeans, a matching jean jacket, and a pair of designer tennis shoes. Her hair was cut short in a fashionable pixie cut.

"Hey, KJ," Chief Foster said cordially.

Eyeing their uniforms and obviously feeling the tension in the air, the faint smile on her face faded. "Is there a problem, Blake?"

"We're looking for Scott Conway. Is this his apartment?"

"It is." She glanced at Sheriff Johnson and Deputy Ernst before focusing back on the chief. "What's going on?"

"Do you still own the building?"

"I do. What is going on?"

Ryan stepped in. "Ma'am, what can you tell us about Mr. Conway?"

She looked down at her feet. "Well, first of all, he's hardly a ‘mister.' He's just a pup. The guy won't even be able to have a beer for another few years. Is that what you want to know?"

"When was the last time you saw him, ma'am?" Deputy Ernst asked.

She glared. "I'm not a real fan of the way you gentlemen are answering my questions with questions."

"KJ, you know—oh, hold on," Chief Foster blurted before answering his cell phone. "Doug, you got it? Uh-huh. No, I've got someone who can let me in here. Yeah, yeah. Bring it on over. Thanks."

After giving the other law enforcement officers a nod, the chief faced the woman. "KJ, we have reason to suspect that Scott Conway might be involved in a case we're investigating. Doug just obtained a search warrant allowing us to enter his residence. Will you let us in, please?"

Everything in her expression changed. All the hot air and bluster seemed to evaporate. "Blake, what is going on?"

"You know I can't answer that. Do you have the keys?"

She looked him over, then glanced Ryan's way too. "All right, but I have to tell ya, I don't know what he could be involved in," she said as she fished in her jean jacket for her keys. "He keeps to himself most of the time and always calls me ma'am. You can't trust anyone these days, can you?"

"We're still gathering information, ma'am."

She looked at him. "So I see." After stepping forward, she unlocked the door and knocked loudly two times. "Scott, you inside? This is KJ." She moved to one side.

Chief Foster opened the door. "Stay out here." He drew his gun as he followed the sheriff inside.

"Hey," she said to Ryan. "Will you let me know if there's trouble?"

Ryan knew better than to promise anything. "Excuse me, ma'am. Another officer should be here momentarily."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll tell Doug where you're at."

He shut the door and drew his gun. "Chief?"

"We're clear, Ryan," Chief Foster called out. "Come on in the bedroom, son. You've got to see this."

Dread filled his insides as he headed to the bedroom. "Sir?" he said when he spied the expressions on both the sheriff's and chief's faces.

"I'd say you found our guy." Chief Foster's voice was flat.

Shifting his attention to the wall beside him, Ryan felt every muscle in his body tense. Dozens of photos of Candace were taped on the wall. Pictures of her in high school, at a pool in a bikini, around town, in one of her college classes. Even with Bethanne.

But the most disturbing of all were the photos taken most recently. Maybe her getting crowned Miss Crittenden County set him off? These photos were less flattering, taken from awkward angles or when she was frowning or in the middle of speaking.

"Ryan, I'd say he knows who you are," Sheriff Johnson said as he pointed to a pile of cut-up photo scraps. They were all of him. Scott had cut him out of Candace's pictures—and then cut him to pieces.

He felt sick. Why couldn't he have protected her better?

"She's in bad trouble, Blake," the sheriff drawled. "They're obviously not here. Any idea where else he might have taken them?"

"Ryan?" Chief Foster bit out. "Any idea?"

Barely able to do anything but imagine Candace in the grips of this guy, Ryan had a hard time speaking. Only after taking a fortifying breath did he answer. "No, sir."

Chief Foster gripped his arm. "Listen, Mulaney. I know she's special to you, but you've got to hold it together."

"I'm trying. It's just ... I think I love her."

"Then she really needs you right now. You can go on a guilt trip later. Punch walls. Whatever. Right now, though? We need you to focus."

"Yes, sir."

"You sure you're with us?" the sheriff asked.

"Positive."

"Okay, then. You got gloves?"

"Affirmative." He pulled them out of a pocket and put them on.

"You start taking pictures, then let's go through this place inch by inch. My gut's telling me that Scott's not going to take Candace anyplace open. Not only does he not want to get caught, but he wants her to himself."

"What about Bethanne?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know. The only time she's on this wall is when she's with Candace. I think it's a given that she doesn't mean anything to him. That means she's expendable."

And that thought made everything in their investigation go up another notch. No way could Bethanne's family take something else happening to her.

No way could Candace lose Bethanne.

There was no way he could lose Candace either.

"Ryan?"

Pushing his worst fears to one side, he swallowed hard and concentrated on his job. He was going to find them. No matter what, he was going to find them and finally tell Candace how he felt.

"Officer?" Chief Foster bit out. "You with me?"

"Yes, sir. I've got my phone out. I'll be taking pictures now."

"Good. This is not the time to get emotional, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope so." His voice softening slightly, he added, "Do your job, son. God gave you some skills and it's obvious that you're putting them to good use. You're doing Him proud. Don't give up."

The reminder eased him in a way few other words could have. His boss was exactly right. He hadn't gotten this stroke of luck in their search by accident. The Lord had to have been working with him. With all of them.

Now it was up to him to do what he needed to do.

He opened the camera app, focused it on the wall, and did his job.

One piece of evidence at a time.