“Tell me.” Everything inside him was scraped bare. Hallowed out like one of the jack-o-lanterns displayed on the porches they were whizzing past. He’d never felt so helpless.
“When Bryce was interviewing Merry, she showed her pictures of the victims.” Gus exhaled a sharp breath. “The image of the fifth victim, who shares a serious likeness to Merry, was the same picture as the one in her locket. Calder gave it to her when she was young. Said her mom died in a car accident. Kinley is positive that Calder isn’t the person who abducted her.”
“His brother, Wayne.” Fucking hell. He should’ve stayed planted in his house with Kinley until this shit was over, but he’d wanted to make it right for her. Wanted to be her hero and not just from behind his computer screen. In doing so, he’d left her vulnerable.
“Maxwell Calder has a brother?” Gus’s gaze cut over to him, then focused back on the road.
“Found a box of old photographs in his attic. There are numerous images of three siblings. The look in the sister’s eyes…” He cleared his throat. “The pictures of the girl stop after 1955.”
“You think Wayne killed her?” Gus held the wheel in a white-knuckled grip.
“I do.” Easton rubbed his damp hands over his pants, his insides still turning, like his world was being torn from beneath his feet. “Maxwell confirmed she was dead, but he was adamant she passed in her sleep. When I mentioned Wayne called his victims by the sister’s name, I saw something important.”
“Doubt.” Gus’s lip curled in disgust.
He nodded. “Along with a healthy dose of horror. If that’s what was happening, he didn’t know.” The closer they got to Easton’s street, the more impatient he became.
“Or didn’t want to know.” Gus turned on his directional and turned right down the private drive.
“Exactly.” He punched the garage door opener as they careened toward the house.
Gus cut the wheel, tires squealing against the slick road. The vehicle lurched to a stop in the garage. He reached above and absently pressed the remote to seal up the garage.
“Tell me what you need,” Gus said from behind him as they rushed into the house.
“Get Merry on the line.” He paced down the hall, dragging his hand through his hair. “She might know something without even realizing it. I want updates from the scene. I’m not playing by the book here. No time for additional warrants. I’ll cover my tracks, but if you want to—”
“Don’t insult me by asking that.” His brother’s tone was clipped and pissed off. “I don’t give two fucks what rules you break to get her back.”
“Okay.” He nodded, pain putting pressure on his chest. No matter what, his family was there for him.
For the next hour, Easton dredged up everything he could on Wayne Calder. Records from every school he’d ever attended, every doctor’s visit, each run-in with the law. In the background, he was running a program of his own design, hacking into every satellite, traffic, and commercial security camera trying to get a hit on facial recognition.
“What’d you find?” Gus asked, pacing right outside the office door.
“Maxwell and Wayne were fraternal twins. Between the ages of seven and ten, there’s a trail of paperwork on Wayne from school counselors, the pediatrician, and even some local police reports. Neighbor filed a complaint that his cat had been butchered and left on the doorstep. He’d told Wayne not to ride his bike on the lawn. Said he knew it was him because the boy was always catching and killing squirrels in his backyard. When he was nine, he got expelled from school for setting a fire in the girls’ bathroom. Later that year, his mother took him to the doctor for repeated bedwetting. After that, all three Calder siblings were pulled out of the public school system. The pediatrician noted that the boy had old wounds and bruises and was concerned about the stability of the home. Nothing was done, though, until Janie’s death was declared suspicious. Still, neither of the surviving children were ever removed.”
Gus rubbed his hand down over his chin. “I haven’t been able to get Merry on the phone. Left her several messages.”
Easton’s computer chimed with a new notification. He jerked his chair toward the monitor. “Got something. Facial recognition at the scene. Accuracy is sixty percent because of the driver’s position, but it’s something. Another camera shows the same vehicle in westbound traffic. Tell Nilsson we’re looking for a compact truck. A green Chevy S-10.”
“Those were discontinued a hell of a long time ago,” Gus responded, looking down at his phone.
“Hopefully that means it’s not hard to find.” Please let them find it.
“Calling now.” Gus stalked out of the room, and Easton went back to searching.
With the multitude of residential and commercial cameras in the area, the truck was easy to track. The trail became more sporadic as the truck got out of the suburbs and into more rural areas. He lost the trail completely in Brookfield.
“Easton!” Gus bolted into his office, phone outstretched. “Merry Calder.”
He grabbed the phone, heart pounding in his ears. “Easton,” he choked out.
“Oh, God.” A woman’s pained voice broke over the line. “This is all my fault. I wanted her at the station. I-I—”
“Stop. Please stop,” he barked, and she went silent. “I don’t need your guilt,” he said more gently. “We’re all feeling it hard. I need your help.”
“Anything,” she sobbed.