“Why are we out here, Noelle?” Thomas asked her.
“Because I need to understand Lawrence. He came back here to this exact spot to start his new life, for a reason.” She dropped to her knees and pushed aside the blankets that covered the trunk. Then she saw the padlock. The trunk was old and weathered from time, but the padlock was shiny. New.
“If the senator had something valuable, he wouldn’t leave it out here.” Thomas’s words were clipped. “That’s probably just some kind of equipment in there he used on his land. He didn’t want it stolen so—”
She’d spotted a hammer hanging on a nearby shelf. Noelle grabbed it and started pounding at the lock.
“Noelle! Hell, wait, we can get the sheriff to—”
The lock broke. Noelle shoved it aside. She wasn’t even sure what she’d expected to find but—
Photographs.
There were dozens of photographs inside the trunk. The old, Polaroid type. The white edges surrounded the images.
Her fingers were shaking when she reached for the first one. The light from her flashlight bobbed as she tried to focus in on that photo.
A photo of a young girl, a teen, blindfolded, tied to a chair.
A girl with red hair.
The print fell from her fingers, but then Noelle dove forward. Her light shined on all of those snapshots.
Red-haired girls. Teens. Bound. Blindfolded.
“Noelle!” Thomas’s fingers curled around her, and he yanked her to her feet.
But it was too late. Because she’d just found another photograph, only this photograph was familiar.
“That’s me,” she whispered as she stared down at her picture.
Like the other girls, she was blindfolded and tied to a chair.
That image... Dear God, had been taken fifteen years ago, during the two lost days of her life.
* * *
“THERE ARE TEN different girls in these pictures.” No emotion entered Noelle’s voice, and it was that complete lack of emotion that worried Thomas the most.
They were back at the sheriff’s station. It was long past midnight, and Noelle—she’d pinned all of the photos to the wall in their makeshift office. Those images had already been faxed to the EOD. But...
“Are you okay?”
She flinched at the question, and instead of answering, she said, “They’re all about the same age. Sixteen or seventeen, females, with red hair—”
His fingers curled around her shoulders and he turned her, forcing her to face him. “Are. You. Okay?”
Her pupils were too big. Her face too pale.
“We have to operate under the assumption the photos are—are trophies that Senator Lawrence kept close because he wanted to relive the abductions—”
“Noelle, you’re in the damn photo!”
Her gaze fell to his throat. He saw her swallow. “We always knew that a second man had to be involved in my abduction.” Her voice still had no emotion. “I was tied up, so I couldn’t have been the one to kill him. Someone else was there the whole time.” Slowly, her lashes lifted. “It’s possible Senator Lawrence was that someone.”
No, it wasn’t.
“This is the first lead I’ve ever had.” Her lower lip trembled, but she caught it between her teeth. After a moment, Noelle said, “This is my life, and the man who could’ve told me the truth is dead.”
Thomas wasn’t exactly mourning the guy.
She pulled in a deep breath. “The EOD is searching Missing Persons databases now, using image-recognition software, but this—this isn’t the usual type of case for Mercer’s team.”
No, it wasn’t.
“The FBI should be investigating, and Sheriff Hodges, he thinks he’s got the FBI.” She shook her head. “We have to call them in. The real FBI. If any of those girls are still alive—”
“Do you think they are?”
Because he was watching her so closely, Thomas saw her eyelids flicker.
No, she doesn’t.
“Tell me why killers keep trophies,” Thomas demanded. Because, yes, he knew exactly what those images were.
“To remind them of the crimes.”
“Cadaver dogs are on the way.” He’d been pulling some strings of his own while she worked to identify the victims. “There might be more than just photographs buried in that old shed.” There had been no floor there. Just earth...
A graveyard? Maybe. He’d be finding out soon.
“I got away.” Her voice was a thin whisper. “Maybe some of them did, too. If there’s another survivor, if we can find her, then we can figure out how the senator fits into all of this.”
Provided Mercer didn’t yank them off the case. Because Noelle had been right about the EOD not handling missing-persons cases, and with a potential serial killer involved— Hell, no, this wasn’t business as usual for them.
Thomas was used to facing terrorists, arms dealers, but this... This was beyond his realm.
But it was exactly where Noelle thrived.
She’d turned back to study the photographs. “He used a Polaroid so that he wouldn’t have to develop his film.” Her fingers hovered over the image of herself. “Technology wasn’t so advanced back then, he couldn’t just snap a picture with his phone, and he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know what he was doing.”
“It’s possible that all of those images are from at least fifteen years ago.”
She nodded. “But a killer like that, he wouldn’t just...stop.” Softer, she added, “He couldn’t. The compulsion to kill would be too strong.”
This whole situation wasn’t making sense to Thomas. “The guy was a senator. You don’t get much more of a high profile. He had guards, reporters, hell, nearly everyone dogging his steps. Wouldn’t someone have noticed if the guy was abducting girls?”
The image of Lawrence Duncan as a serial killer just wasn’t fitting for him.
“He was a hunter.” Noelle was still looking at the snapshots. “Maybe he just found something that he really enjoyed hunting. Something...or someone.”
Thomas stiffened at her words as memories flooded through his mind. A forest. Darkness. A girl’s scream.
Damn it, he had to tell her. Mercer could fire him; Thomas didn’t care. The photographs changed everything. We always thought it was just her.
But it was now obvious Noelle hadn’t been the only victim.
“There’s something you need to know,” Thomas told her, aware his voice had come out a bit rough.