“That’s right.” Cummings slid a pair of reading glasses into place and looked over a report from the file in front of him. “As far as we can tell there’s not a single connection between the two vics. Arnold’s husband is certain his wife didn’t know Prescott. He wasn’t even aware Prescott was missing.” Cummings lifted his gaze to those seated around the table once more. “His wife had been out of town, and with watching the kids, the laundry and meals, he said he’d had no time to catch up on the news.”
“Was Penny afraid of the water?”
Wyatt’s attention shot down the table to Addy. He hadn’t brought that up. He’d hoped to discuss that privately with Cummings, but the man hadn’t arrived until the rest of the group was already assembled.
Cummings drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “That hasn’t come up in the interviews.” He looked from Addy to Wyatt. “Is that relevant somehow?”
“Cherry Prescott,” Ferguson put in, “only a few weeks before her disappearance related certain fears to her closest friends. Fears she hadn’t experienced in the past. Drowning was one of them.”
True to the family’s requests, Ferguson had veered away from specifics. They were way past protecting anyone’s image at this point. Wyatt clarified, “She’d started having dreams of drowning her daughter. We’ve considered the possibility that she disappeared in some sort of desperate attempt to protect her child.”
Cummings looked totally bewildered now. “You’re saying there’s some chance she wasn’t a victim? That she just ran off? What about the letters?”
“That is absolutely not what we’re saying.” Ferguson blasted the point. “We don’t believe that any more than you believe Ms. Arnold stayed in Phoenix an extra day to carry on an illicit affair. Even if there was some question, the letters undeniably connect the disappearances.”
“In light of Arnold’s disappearance,” Wyatt intervened, “and the continued threat to Detective Cooper, the possibility that Prescott disappeared of her own accord is no longer a viable scenario.”
“It was never,” Ferguson pressed, “a viable scenario.” Wyatt conceded to the detective’s assertion with a nod. This case made maintaining objectivity next to impossible. His gaze settled on Addy once more. No one understood that better than him.
“I don’t see the relevance then,” Cummings tossed out. “What does Prescott’s fear of drowning have to do with anything?”
Addy pushed back her chair and got up. She rounded the table and snatched the pack of cigarettes from Womack’s shirt pocket on her way out the door.
“Carry on, Detective Sullenger.” Wyatt got up. He didn’t need to hear the rest of what theydidn’thave. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Here,” Womack called after him.
Wyatt turned back to the table. His deputy pitched him a cigarette lighter. “She might need this.”
The frustrated voices in the conference room followed him down the corridor. All present were sick with the idea that there was not a single piece of evidence that provided any hint whatsoever to the perp or his motive. Not a damned thing to lead them anywhere.
How the hell were they supposed to stop this guy if they couldn’t find a damned link between the victims much less to him? A pained laugh erupted from his chest. Hell, they even knew the identity of the next victim and they still couldn’t do shit except wait for the bastard to act.
Wyatt passed through the lobby, disgusted with the cheery Christmas decorations. There wasn’t a damned thing to be happy or festive about. He couldn’t remember having such a screwed-up holiday ... not since the first one after she left.
Then again, as bad as this one was, at least she was here.
His chest tightened at the idea that she would be leaving again. There was nothing he could say or do to stop her.
She had a life six and a half hours north of here.
The distance felt like another universe away ... for him it was exactly that.
Addy stood on the sidewalk, the unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.
He moved up beside her and offered the lighter. “Womack said you might need this.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to smoke it. I just want to feel it in my mouth.”
Nine years ago Addy had smoked. He’d been surprised that she didn’t now but asking about her decision to quit was out of the question. She’d made it loud and clear that she didn’t want to talk about the past or her current personal life. He seriously doubted this morning had changed her mind.
He tucked the lighter into the pocket of his jeans. “You okay?”
She cut him with a dagger-sharp glare. “Are you out of your mind?” She snatched the cigarette out of her mouth and waved it in the air. “Some asshole is abducting women without leaving the first clue. He could be anybody. Anywhere!” Her arms went up, then dropped to her sides in a gesture of resignation. “We don’t know the first thing about him. The links between the victims are anorexic at best. The perp’s evidently getting off on playing this princess game. And he claims I’m next. Hell no, I’m not okay, Wyatt. That’s the dumbest damned question I’ve ever been asked.”
He tried another tactic. “So you’re scared.”
She sent another of those cutting looks. “I’m not scared!” She pawed at his pocket. “Gimme that damned lighter.”