out of rehab, and you weren’t sure whether he was using again.” The question came from England this time.
“I wouldn’t say recently. He was in rehab two years ago. But that’s right. I do think he might be using again.” She looked down, frowning absently. “Sean has had an on again, off again problem with drugs since he turned fifteen. He goes into rehab…he comes back out. He’s clean for a few months and then—” she sighed, looked up, her eyes unflinching. “He was clean for longer than normal this time. I’d really hoped that last rehab had stuck.”
“So you don’t know whether his absence at your wedding was because he was using and blew it off, or whether he’s in trouble. Nor do you have any actual evidence that places him in Dark Falls.”
Sarah stared back. “No. I don’t. My kidnapper’s comment is the only location I have. What was I supposed to do? Sit home and wait for Sean to call? A call that might never come? I had to do something, so I came here to look for him.” She shifted her gaze between the two detectives. “If he is using, maybe he was arrested. Maybe he’s in jail? Maybe that’s why he didn’t show in San Diego for my wedding.”
“We ran his name through the database,” England said, his green eyes watchful as they drifted between Sarah and Tag. “If he has a record, his prints would have been flagged.”
“He’s never been arrested,” Sarah protested. “His prints wouldn’t be in your database.”
“He’s never been arrested?” Evans leaned forward with a frown. “Never? Not even during a drug bust, or a theft?”
Grimacing, Sarah rubbed her eyes. “I never filed charges against him. I threatened to do so, that’s how I got him into rehab last time. But I never actually carried through.”
Tag swallowed a curse. He could see the guilt creeping across her face. The realization that if she’d taken that step even once, Sean might be easier to find now. At least he’d be in the police database. There would be a record of him—mug shots and fingerprints.
Her gaze suddenly hopeful, Sarah leaned forward slightly, pressing against the edge of the table. “Do you think he could have been arrested under a different name? If he didn’t provide identification, and he told everyone a different name, he could still be in your system, right?”
Tag knew exactly what she was thinking. If her brother had managed to escape his captors and had subsequently been arrested, he’d want to evade being identified. He’d want to avoid giving the police the means for Mitch’s associates to find him again.
“Fingerprints would make it easier to check. Without them, we’ll have to rely on facial recognition. Do you have a picture of him?” England asked.
Both detectives studied the photo Sarah pulled from her wallet and slid across the table toward them. It was a small picture. Credit card sized. And old, from what Tag could see of it. It looked like a high school graduation photo.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think to bring anything bigger.” Sarah’s voice was a combination of embarrassment and apology.
Neither detective looked surprised. Maybe most of the photos they were provided with where old and small.
“How about a description? Age. Height. Weight.” Evans picked up a pen, his hand hovering over a white notepad.
“He’s twenty-two. Blondish-red hair and brown eyes. About five ten. Maybe a hundred and eighty pounds.”
England jotted the description down. “Any tattoos? Birthmarks?”
Sarah nodded. “He has a tattoo across his chest. Rosemary and Robert, surrounded by barbwire. It was Mom’s and Dad’s names. He had it done right after our parents died, so he’d remember them.”
Evans went still, the look in his eye sharpening. He stared at Sarah a moment, and then looked away.
Hell…
Tag had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. When both detectives pushed back their chairs and rose to their feet with an absent “Wait here,” that bad feeling warped right into an Ah, Fuck feeling.
They’d recognized the tattoo. And how many fucking tattoos in Dark Falls would include the names of Sarah’s parents? Only one, that’s how many.
Sarah’s face was white as she watched them leave the room, her freckles a blazing band of gold stretching across her cheeks and nose. Her fingers started twisting together in her lap. “They recognized the tattoo.”
She’d picked up on the detectives’ reactions too. He shifted his chair closer, reaching for her hand. But then Mitch’s voice rose up in his mind like