He smiled and lowered his gaze for a moment, visibly flattered.
“I collect certain cases that pose interesting forensic challenges,” he explained. “There are a couple of hundred cases in my filing cabinet, mostly child abductions. When I was younger and more ambitious, I thought I could figure out a way to improve the rapid response procedure in preteen abduction cases.” His gaze veered sideways. “Nothing much came out of that effort other than a collection of cold case files I’ve been moving along with me wherever I go. Sometimes I reopen one of them, unofficially, of course, and start digging.”
“Should we ask the sheriff to give you a badge, Doc?” Kay asked, smiling.
“Nah, I’m just an old and bored retiree criminalist who can’t let go.” Pulling a four-legged stool closer to the autopsy table, he picked a scalpel from the instrument tray. He rested his arm on the side of the table, the scalpel frozen midair. “Science has delivered so many new forensic tools we can use in crime investigations. DNA is the single most important one of them, and some of my cold cases precede the wide-scale use of DNA in forensics. When I have time to spare, I run a test or two,” he said with a shrug.
“Do you remember hearing anything about Rose Harrelson in the year or years after her kidnapping?”
He ran his sleeve across his forehead, where white hair strands touched the ridged skin of his brow. “Unfortunately, I don’t recall that much. I remember hearing of her father’s suicide; that was disheartening. But nothing else, I’m afraid.” He tilted his head and frowned. “There was one thing. For as long as he lived after Rose’s disappearance, Elroy Harrelson papered every tree in Mount Chester with posters of his missing daughter. I recall those clearly. If she stayed local, it’s amazing no one recognized that sweet child. My wife and I had just bought our cabin here, and everywhere we went, we saw those posters.”
Kay touched the doctor’s arm gently, just as he was lowering the scalpel to the girl’s chest.
“Thanks,” she said with a heavy sigh Elliot rarely heard coming from her. “Seems to me we have to solve the fourteen-year-old kidnapping case before we can learn anything about this girl’s life.”
“You two have your work cut out for you,” Dr. Whitmore said, and Kay turned to leave. “By the way,” he added, “have you noticed that KYBC news crew parked outside my shop? They won’t leave until I give them the girl’s ID.”
“We’re going to see Mrs. Harrelson next,” Elliot explained. “We’ll confirm when next-of-kin notification has been delivered and you can throw them a bone.”
When they exited the building, the news crew rushed toward them and a young, slender brunette planted a mic in front of Elliot’s face, irritating him worse than a dry burr under a stallion’s saddle.
“Is it true that Blackwater River Falls girl is connected to Rose Harrelson? Rumor has it you’re looking into that case.”
Thank you, Martha, Elliot thought bitterly, thank you very much.
“Who is the waterfall girl?” the brunette insisted. “Is she Rose Harrelson? Where has she been all this time?”
Kay wriggled her way between the three newspeople and climbed behind the wheel, Elliot quick to take the passenger seat. From there, through the open window, she said, “I only have one comment at this time: I’d get out of the way if I were you.”
She revved the engine enough to get their attention, then shifted into gear and peeled off in a cloud of dust and fallen leaves.
He couldn’t help but smile. There was no slack in Kay’s rope. Not a single, skinny inch.
9On the Road
Five Days Ago
A large drop of water rolled on a withered maple leaf then fell, hitting her forehead with a splat. She woke, instantly hypervigilant, pulse throbbing in her throat. With her senses revived, Kirsten started to feel the wet cold that had seeped through her clothing and numbed her limbs, the sore muscles stiff from so much trembling, and the dull ache in the pit of her stomach.
Unsure her legs would be able to sustain her weight, she remained crouched to the ground, hugging her knees tightly, breathing into the collar of her soaked jacket. She looked around, wary of every sound and every movement, thankful for the break of dawn putting an end to darkness, at least for a while.
The grayish light of early dawn revealed a thick layer of moist, fallen leaves at her feet, their once bright colors already fading to brown. Wet tree trunks loomed around her like dark, ominous giants, but she’d found shelter against an oak’s wide girth, the few remaining leaves up in the majestic crown shielding her from the rain, at least in part.
When she could see clearly ahead of her, she stood, faltering, unsure on her numb legs. As blood started to rush to her extremities, pins and needles reminded her she was still alive. She stomped her feet a couple of times, welcoming the warmth brought by movement. Then, as traffic picked up on the highway, she dared leave the cover of the woods and headed to the road. She crossed over the guardrail and put her hand out with her thumb raised, hailing passing cars in the hope someone would stop. Who would take a soaking wet hitchhiker in their car, only to soil their seats and mess up their carpeting with the thick mud on her sneakers?
The threat of tears burned her eyes, but she willed it away. She needed to survive, to get as far from that place as possible, before her uncle and all his coworkers hunted her like a posse hunts a wanted fugitive.
The rain had stopped, making room for the scent of wet earth and soaked, fallen leaves, and a fine mist lifted from the ground under the sun’s filtered rays. Heavy clouds lingered, threatening more rain, but Kirsten’s heart swelled when a delivery truck slowed its speed and pulled
