Once the first pages were arranged side by side, Ellie began scanning, starting with the legitimate report in front of Jillian. The inconsistencies between the two popped out before she reached the second half.
Ellie wrinkled her brow. “Ready for the next page?”
“Yeah.” Jillian was frowning too, but they continued their inspection, waiting until they were both finished with a page before flipping to the next.
About halfway through, Jillian expelled a breath. “Well, at least we know that the file Kingsley left you wasn’t copied verbatim. There are parts that sound like something out of a bad movie script.”
Ellie nodded. “Right? This definitely wasn’t written by anyone in law enforcement.”
“I don’t get it. What was the point of creating such an obviously fake file, much less risk leaving it at a crime scene for you to find?”
While she’d examined the last few pages, Ellie had racked her brain over that very same question. “I honestly have no idea on either count, and that worries me.”
Surprises and Kingsley never mixed well.
Jillian shoved the file aside and shifted sideways in the chair to face Ellie. “On a scale of one to ten, with one being floating away in a state of pure bliss and ten being hurling yourself naked and screaming into the abyss, how are you doing?”
Despite the awful morning so far, Ellie’s lips twitched. “Just for my own personal reference, what happens at level nine? Hurling myself screaming into the abyss, but I’m fully clothed?”
“Obviously. Now, quit stalling and answer.”
“Okay. But for the record, I have more questions about this rating scale.” Ellie’s amusement faded. “I’d say I’m at a six. But that score will improve once we find Bethany. And improve even more when we haul Kingsley’s ass in.”
“But for the most part, you’re okay?”
“I will be, just as soon as everyone stops asking me that question.” Ellie was half-joking when she said it, but Jillian reached over and gave her another hug before burying her head back over the file.
Ellie pushed the folder away and stared up at the ceiling, wishing she understood what Kingsley was playing at this time. Because without a doubt, that was exactly why he’d left the file on Fortis’s passenger seat. The doctor loved nothing better than to force unwilling participants to take part in his macabre mind games.
One thing was almost certain, though. The clues to solving this latest riddle were hidden inside the phony file.
Ellie cracked her neck before scooting forward and getting back to work, starting from page one and scrutinizing every line.
The beginning was pretty cut and dried. Names, locations, dates. Nothing much jumped out at her until she flipped to page two. “Hey, check this out.”
Jillian craned her neck to inspect the line above Ellie’s finger. “All I see is an address. What am I missing?”
“That’s not my home address.”
Jillian peered closer and frowned. “It’s not an old one either?”
Ellie shook her head. “No. I’ve never lived there. I don’t even know where that is.”
The laptop squeaked when Jillian dragged it across the desk. “Let’s fix that right now.” Her fingers clicked on the keys as she typed the address into the search engine.
A list of entries popped up. Ellie zeroed in on the first few and discovered that the address belonged to Far Ridge Boy’s Academy.
As she read, her pulse picked up.
Not just any boy’s academy, but one with a sordid past.
The top hits were all articles with salacious headlines.
Three Boys Dead Under Mysterious Circumstances at Exclusive Boarding School
Headmaster Gives No Explanation for Student Deaths at Far Ridge Boy’s Academy
Students Locked Out of Rich Prep School Overnight Die of Exposure
“Yikes,” Jillian murmured.
“Can you open that fourth one?” Ellie pointed to the entry she wanted, and Jillian slid the mouse and clicked. The page opened to the About Me section of a blog. The author bio beneath the banner claimed the blog owner was a former student and survivor of the Far Ridge Boy’s Academy.
Ellie’s pulse kicked up as she read on. Beneath the bio was a section titled “Support My Work,” which contained brief descriptions and links to a podcast and book. Based on the list of awards next to both the podcast and book, Nickolas “Hank” Crawford was well-regarded in the field of true crime.
“We need to talk to this guy, see what, if anything, he knows. Can you pull up the contact info?”
Jillian clicked on the heading. “You think he’s linked to Kingsley somehow?”
“He has to be. Why else leave me this Easter egg hunt?”
“With Kingsley, who knows? Didn’t he send you on a wild goose chase once already, when he had someone pretend to be the long-lost daughter from one of your cold cases?”
Beyond her screaming gut, Ellie couldn’t explain how she knew this time was different, so she didn’t waste time trying. “Yes, but that tip did lead me to solve another case.”
“After sending you to a meth trailer that could have exploded if you’d sneezed wrong.”
Ellie bristled at the memory. “The bomb squad went in first, so I was okay on that front. Dying from inhaling toxic fumes was the real concern.”
Jillian jabbed Ellie’s ribs with her elbow. “Gee, I feel so much better now that you’ve cleared that up.”
After a brief lull, the page pulled up. Ellie frowned at the contents. “An email address, that’s it?”
“Sure looks that way.”
Grumbling under her breath, Ellie tugged the laptop closer, copied the address into her email account, and began typing up a message.
“Do you really think this Hank guy will be able to help? He clearly has his own trauma issues to work out.”
“All I know is that Kingsley directed us this way for a reason. If this Hank Crawford knew him, or if Kingsley had something to do with that boy’s academy, then questioning him can only help. Maybe they were old school buddies or something, and he’s aware of one of Kingsley’s hidey holes. I feel like the fastest way to find him is by talking to the
