“Okay, okay. Intense about solving these crimes, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Tess said, realizing she was sounding a bit shrill, as if she had to defend Gabe.

“So, is the town as diverse economically and socially as Grace has been telling you?” Kate blessedly changed the subject.

Tess explained the great divide in town and how that had changed things. But she told her how seeing Etta Falls at the old library made her feel as if she was in a time warp.

“She was so encouraging to me about reading and learning,” Kate said. “Especially the months you were—were gone—she tried hard to distract us with books Char and I would love, books for Mom on how to cope with loss, things like that. I remember our first-grade class went on a field trip to her house, because it still had one of the first pioneer cabins way out in the woods on their land. She showed us an old pistol and a family graveyard out back, but the tombstones were so old you couldn’t read a thing on them. And that mother of hers is like a historic relic herself.”

They talked too long, but Kate could probably afford it. Despite the great divide between her and her sisters—in education and ambition—she loved hearing their voices. Whatever her differences with them, she wished so much they were here to help and to hug.

* * *

Gabe recognized the older of the two BCI agents the minute he got out of the plain black car that had pulled in next to the blue-and-white mobile crime lab truck in the police parking lot. Despite it being two decades later, Gabe saw it was Victor Reingold, the agent who had worked with his father on Teresa Lockwood’s abduction, though he hadn’t been back to help with the second abduction nor had Gabe brought him in on Amanda’s case.

Gabe hurried over to meet the agents. Reingold’s shock of unruly hair had gone white, but his brown, hooded eyes looked as sharp as ever. He walked with a slight limp, and almost always dressed in black, like Batman without a cape, Gabe used to think. The man in the lab truck was a lanky blond wearing rimless glasses and a dark blue jacket with BCI emblazoned on the back. He looked as uptight as Reingold looked at ease and in control. Gabe thought the younger guy might as well have Forensics Techie tattooed on his forehead.

“Glad the posse’s here,” Gabe told them, shaking first Reingold’s hand and then the other man’s. “Sheriff Gabe McCord,” he told them, though he guessed that was pretty obvious.

“Mike Morgan,” the younger man said. “I usually do lab forensics, so I’m glad to be out in the field, especially on this one. I have three young daughters, so I’m all in.”

“Remember me, Gabe?” Reingold said as Gabe led them toward the building.

“I sure do, Agent Reingold.”

“You were pretty young on that first case and pretty upset about being so close to it. Tough on you and on your dad as sheriff. He was a very good man, Gabe. My sympathies on his death. Glad to be back on the job with you to get this longtime pervert, but sorry it happened again. I was on special assignment in Washington, D.C., on the second abduction, but I kept up on things. So let’s do this. And call me Vic, okay?”

“Thanks, Vic. Mike, you too,” he said as he opened the door to the station for them. He knew the BCI agents liked to assess local facilities and staff before possibly calling for more help. He introduced them to Ann and Peggy, then, pointing things out, gave them a brief tour of the station.

As he walked them back to his office, he gave them the rundown. “The crime scene’s a cluttered storage room of a gift shop, where we bagged the doorknobs.”

“Good work,” Mike said. “We can even track palm prints now. Ohio was the test case for that. And our databases for fingerprints use the automated APHIS system and are FBI connected.”

“Outside of that storage room,” Gabe told them, “it’s a long shot, but I’ve got a local guy coming in, a tracker with a good nose dog to sniff the child’s doll and see what that gets us. But I figured you’d want to fine-tooth comb the crime scene first. We did an exterior search with local volunteers beyond the alley that runs behind the stores near the creek, and dragged the water where it’s deep. We found nothing—just like the other two or three takes.”

“Or three?” Vic demanded, scrutinizing the huge map taped on the wall of Gabe’s office. It was a site map he’d inherited from his father and had been updating. “I thought I’d read up on everything—but three previous to this Sandy Kenton?” Vic asked, turning to stare at Gabe.

“I think the possible number three, Amanda Bell, was a child snatched by her father, who left the country. He’s hard to find but we think he’s in South America. I’ve worked on the case, and the family has hired a private detective. The mother will probably be after you as soon as she hears you’re around.”

“Hard to believe it’s been twenty years since that first abduction—my case,” Vic said, turning back to the map and thumping his index finger on the site of the Lockwood house. “But Teresa Lockwood’s surviving was pure chance, so I intend, just like you, to solve this fast.”

“Teresa goes by Tess now and she’s back in town briefly to sell her family homestead, the crime scene.”

“Recall the place well, and her, when we finally got her back,” Vic said, turning to look at him with narrowed eyes again. “Traumatized, drugged, been beaten, a real pretty little girl. Were the others blonde and good-looking too?”

“Not a common factor. I’ve got dossiers and all kinds of stuff on each victim you can look over.”

“Great. You bet I will.”

Gabe saw the man still had an unusual habit he remembered. He chewed wooden toothpicks to a wet pulp, then spit them out. If only these abducted kids had had some sort of habit where they left a trail, other than maybe a scent.

“Yeah, the dog on the scent trail’s worth a try,” Vic said as though he’d read Gabe’s mind. “We could call in a K-9 unit, but time’s of the essence. We’ll just have to make sure you’re with the guy, step for step. But remember, he ain’t nothing but a hound dog, and we’ve got two leads right under our own noses. Number one, the abduction scene. Let’s see the gift shop storeroom, where Mike can start working, but then let’s you and me, Gabe, go pay a call on our ace in the hole, Teresa Lockwood.”

Gabe’s head snapped around. “She still has retrograde amnesia on the whole thing. Still delicate. I’ve been trying to establish a good relationship with her, but so far—”

“Then let’s see if we can take it farther than so far,” Vic said and spit a chewed-up toothpick into Gabe’s wastebasket.

Gabe stared the man down. “I think she’ll bolt if we press her.”

“You been trying another approach besides a frontal assault?” Vic challenged, coming closer. “You want one more try with her, using your method?” he said, raising one eyebrow. “If so, okay, but make it quick, before I go busting in. Ticktock, and you know it.”

“Tess came back from her abduction after almost eight months away, so I’m hoping the others have been kept alive—are still alive for all we know. Maybe someone just wants a little girl to raise.”

“Odds are against that, but maybe. Still, if the kidnapper’s local, where are the girls? And since you once told me you wished you’d have rescued Teresa when she was snatched, I don’t know if you’re still feeling guilty about her, handling her—so to speak—with kid gloves. Take a little time today to try again with her, okay? Just a suggestion, of course, ’cause we’re here to work with you, and you know the situation best.”

Gabe just nodded, though he got the undercurrent of what Vic had said. Maybe the man did read minds, did sense how protective he felt about Tess. “I’ll take you to the site, let you do your thing,” Gabe told them. “This is the twentieth anniversary of the day Tess was taken, and I wanted to see if she’s all right anyway.”