Page 11 of The Missing Couple

“Seems the sheriff is taking the situation seriously. I mean, it’s obvious Briana and Martin were taken by force. But I would have liked to hear more about his strategy.”

“Agreed.” He made the turn onto Blount Avenue. “The usual protocol once a kidnapping is confirmed is to call in the FBI.”

“But usually with a kidnapping—if it’s not personal—it’s for some sort of ransom, right?” she tossed out. It was reasonable to see kidnapping at the top of the list of potential causes for the couple missing. The motive behind the move remained a mystery in this case.

“Yes.” He exhaled a big breath. “But I haven’t received a call or text to suggest there’s a ransom request, which is troubling. Generally, that would have happened by now.”

“This would be a pretty stupid kidnapper if he didn’t know who the target he intended to exploit was before taking anyone as collateral.” A new thread of uneasiness stitched its way through Charly. “Unless this is more about what the victims offer.”

Of course it was possible the kidnapping was some random event related to wrong place/wrong time, but the scene was far too clean for an unplanned event. This felt more like an experienced kidnapper who knew what he was after before selecting the target.

Billie slowed again, this time to turn onto Taylor Street. “If this was a spur-of-the-moment grab,” he said as he parked at her cabin, “then their bodies would have been in that SUV.”

His words sent a chill through her. “That’s it, then. You’re worried it’s not a ransom situation, not a random act of violence, but something related directly to Briana and Martin.”

Like their value as a marketable commodity, she didn’t say out loud. The idea made her sick.

“Human trafficking is real—even in small communities with low crime rates,” he explained. “You get a lot of tourists—with that kind of influx there’s bound to be trouble once in a while. Then there’s the possibility of revenge against me or my sister or her husband.” Another look arrowed Charly’s way. “Or maybe you. Finding the something that triggered this event—the motive—will take time, and time is our enemy.”

She got the point but… “I hope I have never done anything that would prompt this kind of act.”

“Just saying,” he offered, “there are lots of reasons people go missing. Sometimes the cause is the last thing we expect.”

She nodded, then frowned as she surveyed the street they’d turned onto. Where were they going? She started to ask but then he pulled into the short driveway at a little white house located only a short distance before Taylor turned into Albert Smith Drive. She had obviously missed something.

He shut off the engine. “I have a resource at the agency who will be sending me a complete list of where and when their credit and debit cards were used since leaving Chicago.” He set his full attention on Charly. “Until I get that list I need to be doing what I can. This is the home of the delivery guy, Teddy Sowell, who dropped off the food bag we found in the trash at the cabin. You want to go in with me? Having someone local with me could go a long way on gaining trust.”

“Definitely.” She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the information, but she was glad he had. She scanned the place as she reached for her door. A privacy fence shrouded the backyard. Parked next to the house was a compact car. Hopefully, that meant someone was home.

They met at the front of his SUV. “I’m operating on the assumption that Briana and Martin will have encountered the perp somewhere here after their arrival.”

Made sense. “I wish I could be more helpful about their comings and goings,” Charly offered, “but the truth is they could have gone anywhere at any time without me noticing.”

She was getting cameras even if only at the entrance to her retreat. It was the single way in or out of the property via anything other than a utility vehicle or on foot.

A little late for Briana and Martin.

Charly pushed aside the depressing thought and walked alongside Billie to the front door. The first thing she heard was a deep, threatening series of barks. Beyond that, and at a somewhat lower volume, was the chatter of a television. Billie knocked and the television volume lowered while the barking grew louder.

Definitely someone home.

The wood door opened and a middle-aged man wearing nothing but gym shorts peered through the screen door. “I have my own religion and I don’t need your pamphlets.”

“Mr. Sowell, my name is Billie Jagger. I’m looking into a case involving a couple who was staying at the Bradly Retreat.”

The man glanced at Charly and his expression shifted as if he recognized her on some level.

“Yeah? What’s that got to do with me?” The raucous barking started again. “Hang on a minute.” He disappeared into the house. The sound of him scolding his dog and ordering him into the backyard drifted to where they waited at the front door.

When he returned to the door, confusion and distrust lined his face. “What’s this about?”

“You made a delivery from a local restaurant to the Willow Cabin on Saturday night at around seven-thirty.”

The man’s gaze narrowed in on Billie. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Sowell…” Charly stepped forward, nearly pressing her face into the screen mesh that separated them. “We’re not here about your work. This isn’t about you. We’re here to ask you about what you saw and anything the couple staying at the Willow said while you were there.”

The man was clearly suspicious of their abrupt appearance at his door and didn’t feel comfortable being questioned about his work. Charly got it. There were folks around here who didn’t like anyone nosing into their business. Billie might not understand that considering he was from such a large city.