“So if Sonja was forced back into her car and taken at gunpoint, she would have had to drive somewhere. How far could she get in a storm like that?”
“Her car had four-wheel drive.”
“Doesn’t mean it can get far on icy roads, a lot of which had been closed.”
?
??You think this guy is a local?”
“Could be,” BJ said, “and I have this feeling—call it gut instinct or feminine intuition, that Sonja’s disappearance could be connected to the Jane Doe case.”
Carter stopped wiggling the pencil and looked BJ straight in the eye. “Let’s not call it feminine intuition, because I had the same hit. It’s far-fetched, there’s no link to the two women or cases.”
“Except that both incidences are odd. Out of place for around here.” BJ’s nostrils flared slightly, as if she’d picked up a bad smell. “It’s all too coincidental for me.”
“The OSP isn’t buying it. But I did talk to Sparks about a possible link. He’s a good guy, won’t just ignore it. He’ll chew on the idea awhile. In the meantime, all the law enforcement agencies have been alerted and a be-on-the-lookout-for bulletin has been issued for Sonja and her car in Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and California. Sonja’s picture’s already been on the news.” He drummed his fingers, was well aware of the time passing, the promise of even more bad weather, and the ever-slimming chances of finding Sonja alive.
“How’s Lester?” BJ asked as she stretched out of the chair.
“Holding together. Barely. But he has to. For the kids.”
“What a mess.” BJ walked to the window, looked out in the direction of Danby’s Furniture. “It’s the damned weather. It’s making everyone crazy.”
“Is that what it is? And here I was blaming the water.”
“Funny, Carter,” she mocked, but managed to scare up a grin as she left his office. “Real funny.”
“I thought so.” But he was lying. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t find anything funny these days. Nothing at all.
“…I’ll be sure to tell Robert you called,” his secretary promised.
“Do that.” Jenna hung up the phone. “Perfect.” Once again, during a crisis, the kids’ father was nowhere to be found. Once again, she’d handle things her way. Which would probably make things easier in the long run.
It was ten in the morning, and neither one of her girls was yet awake, but that was about to change. Jenna climbed the stairs quietly and passed Allie’s room before rapping lightly on Cassie’s door and pushing it open. The room was a mess. Even with the blinds drawn and the lights out, Jenna noticed that Cassie had peeled off last night’s clothes and left them in a heap at the end of the bed. CDs and books were scattered over the floor, jars of makeup, fingernail polish, creams, and perfume cluttering up the desk and bookcases. Plates and glasses, soda bottles and empty cartons took up floor, desk, night-table, and window-ledge space. The wastebasket was overflowing.
Either Cassie was an inveterate slob, or she was depressed.
Probably a little of both. Which Jenna understood.
Cassie had suffered through her parents’ separation and divorce. Moving to Oregon had been difficult for her. Nonetheless, there was no excuse for open rebellion and living like a pig.
“Cass, wake up,” she said softly and sat on a corner of the rumpled bed.
She was rewarded by a confused growl coming from under the comforter.
“We need to talk.”
“Now?” Cassie raised her head, opened a bleary eye, focused on the bedside table where her clock radio glowed red. Groaning, she grumbled, “Mom, I’m sooo tired.”
“I imagine. But you know what I say about ‘soaring with the eagles.’”
“Yeah, yeah…‘If you want to soar with the eagles at night, you have to rise with the sparrows the next morning.’ It’s a dumb saying.”
“Yeah, but words we’re going to live by. So come on downstairs before your sister wakes up.”
“But it’s sooo early.”
“I don’t think so. I’ll make breakfast.”