^^ The late afternoon sun shines brightly against powdery blue skies. Lush green mountains zip past. Rachel's phone tumbles onto the floor, unnoticed. Her face loses all color as the killer's threat echoes in her head.
"It'd be a shame if something happened to them."
A vivid image flashes behind her eyes—her children's tiny bodies in a shallow grave. Her father and younger sisters lay beside them in a narrow trench.
The killer's chilling threat confirms Rachel's fear that the killer is watching her, waiting for the right moment to strike.
She clenches her jaw. With a determined look on her face, Rachel says, "I won't let anything happen to them. I won't. I won't."
Jerry glances over, startled to see her trembling, tears streaking her pale face. He pulls onto the shoulder with a sharp skid and turns to her, panicked. "What's going on, Sergeant?
"He threatened to hurt my kids," she says, her voice cracking.
Jerry pushes on the gas as he flips on the light bar. "We'll be there in twenty, Sarge." A thick cloud of dust billows in his wake as Jerry speeds away.
Rachel pictures the miles separating her from home. "It'll be too late by then." She shakes off the dread. "I'll call my sister and tell her to get somewhere safe. Then I'll call Joe and tell him what was said."
Digging through the clutter scattered across the floor, Rachel locates her phone. Scooping it up, she presses the call icon. Seconds tick by. The line remains dead. She stares at her screen.
"I don't have any bars." She mutters. Panic rises as she turns. "I don't have a signal. Jerry," she says, on the verge of tears.
"Hang on." Jerry pushes the cruiser up the nearest hill. "You should be good now."
Rachel dials her sister's number again. The call rings twice before going to voicemail. Rachel tries again and finds Becca's mailbox is full. "Damn it, Becca."
"Can't get ahold of her?"
"No. I'll ask Mrs. Grimshaw to have Becca call me." Rachel dials her neighbor's phone. "Mrs. Grimshaw, this is Rachel. From next door."
"Hi, hon! How are you and those adorable kids?"
"We're fine," Rachel says as the killer's voice claws at her thoughts.
"Could you ask Becca to call my cell? She should be at my apartment—or hers across the hall. It's urgent."
"I would, sweetheart, if I were home, but I'm not. I'm at the doctor's office. It seems to be one health issue after another with me. It's all part of getting old, I guess. Enjoy that youth while you can." She sighs.
"I will." Rachel hangs up and dials Joe. "It's me. Can you do a wellness check on Becca and the kids? The killer threatened them, and I need to know they're alright."
"There's no need to worry, honey. They—"
"Didn't you hear me, Joe?" Rachel snaps. "He threatened our kids!"
"Becca and the kids are fine," Joe insists.
"You don't know that for sure."
"I do, Rachel. Because they're standing right here."
"Becca and the kids are at the station?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried, but you were too panicked to listen."
"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Joe. It's just." She begins to cry again. "The killer has been watching us. I think one of us might be next."
"You're sure it's not another twisted game?"
"I'm sure." She wipes the tears from her cheeks as she explains. "Yesterday, the killer mentioned that I'd left in such a hurry I didn't kiss anyone goodbye. And today he called the kids by name, claiming little Joe looks like you and Lulu likes me. That's when he said that it'd be a shame if something happened to either of them. How devastated our family would be."
"He said that?"
"He did, and when I couldn't reach Becca, I imagined the worst…"
"They're all three safe."
"They are—for now. What happens when they go home?"
"I'll double the detail until he's caught."
"That makes me feel better, Joe. Wait—you said double?"
"Mike's been watching them since this started."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want you to make a big deal out of it like you always do. So… how did the notifications go?"
"One mom was devastated over her daughter's demise. The other mother came to the door drunk, maybe high. When we told her, she acted like she didn't care."
"Some women aren't cut out to be a mother. You know that."
I know it too well, Rachel thinks.
"One of the mothers gave us a general location of where the 2012 kidnapper took the girls. She also gave us a description of the man. So we're reopening that case."
"I thought you liked cold cases?"
"I usually do, but I've read this file enough to know there isn't any evidence and no leads."
"At least you've got more now than before."
"The description's so generic I'm not sure how much good it'll do."
"We've cracked cases with less."
Rachel remembers a case from a few years back. They had very little evidence and a poor witness description—but solid police work made it happen. "True."
"You got a location too, right?"
"Old farmhouse, off Seven South."
Joe pulls up Google Maps on his computer. He types in the address and clicks the street view. "We're talking about hundreds of miles of wilderness and over two dozen properties."
"Needle in a haystack," she mutters. "That's assuming that the home hasn't been torn down. And after thirteen years…"
"True. But what if there's a connection between the kidnapper and the killer?"
"I doubt if there is. The crimes are decades apart, their MO doesn't match, and only two of the kidnapped children were murdered."
"One kidnaps kids, the other kills, but both perps think they're cleaning up the world—vigilantes, in their own twisted ways. That's why I think we follow your lead and see where it goes."
"It might be a waste of time, Joe, and we could lose more lives chasing a ghost instead of stopping the current perp."
"Normally I'd agree with you, but my gut says we should follow it." He glances at his screen again. "I'll gather a team tonight. We'll start searching in the morning."
"I've got a better idea. We'll split the two cases. You work the old case, and I work the new, briefing the other on what we find."
"You negotiate effectively, Sergeant." He smiles. "But I'll agree—for now."