Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,29
back of the bike. Her cell started ringing as she ran up the front steps to the entrance. The call displayed on the screen was an out of area number. An international call. She hoped it was Mike Stiller calling back and not Svetlana on a mission to guilt trip her.
She answered and waited.
“Ingrid? Are you there?” Mike sounded tetchy.
“Did you find anything for me?”
“Not much. I was going to call when I had more information. They found three women in the property, two in their twenties, the third they’re guessing is in her thirties.”
“Guessing? They don’t know?”
“If you let me explain all will become clear. Clearer, at least.” He took a deep breath. “So, two women have identified themselves. At present those IDs are being verified. They’re not from Minnesota, it’s taking a while to track down their next of kin.”
“What about the third woman?”
“I’m just coming to that.”
Ingrid skipped back down the steps and started to pace up and down the sidewalk.
“The third woman hasn’t said a word. She looks older than the other two, and has been there the longest. Neither of the other two women knows anything about her.”
“I need to get pictures of the third woman sent to someone in my home town—a lady called Kathleen Avery. She’d recognize Megan in a heartbeat.”
“You know the drill. It doesn’t work like that. Maybe the local feds can arrange for this Avery lady to visit the medical center the victims are staying at.”
“That’s not possible. Kathleen Avery hasn’t left her house since 1999.”
“What is she, sick or something?”
“It’s complicated. Ever since Megan disappeared her mother has suffered from agoraphobia. Plus she’s morbidly obese. She has serious mobility issues. For her, leaving home just isn’t an option.”
“Jeez. I don’t know what else to suggest.”
“There must be something the Bureau can do. What about a DNA test? They could take a sample from Kathleen, compare them with this woman’s.” Ingrid knew that eighteen years ago, taking DNA samples hadn’t been part of regular police procedure in a missing person case. If it had been, making a match now would have been straightforward.
“I’ll make some calls.”
“And what about the interviews? Can you get me the video recordings?”
“I’m still working on that. It may take a while.”
“Can you at least send me a photograph of the mute woman?”
“Sure. I’m attaching it to an email as we speak. But this is for your eyes only—at this stage I can’t have you distributing it to anybody else. Is that clear? I shouldn’t even be sending it to you.”
Ingrid’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure she’d recognize Megan after so many years. “Mike?”
“You get it yet?”
“I’m not at my computer—it’ll come through on my phone—I’ll look at it later. The woman who’s not speaking. Is she… heavy?”
“You mean like, morbidly obese?”
“Just heavy?”
“No. All three women were fed strict rations in captivity. Their abductor had specific tastes when it came to body shape and size. They’re all pretty skinny.”
“Thanks, Mike. You will keep me posted, won’t you?”
“Sure—don’t I always keep my word?”
“Eventually.”
“Harsh! Why do I continue to come to your rescue? You cruel woman.”
She appreciated Mike trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t manage an appropriate retort before she hung up.
As she navigated to the email app on her phone, her mouth became very dry. She found a half bottle of Evian in her purse and finished it. She stared at her phone, paralyzed with dread.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the attachment. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not to see Megan’s face staring back at her after all these years. Instead, she hurried into the hotel.
DS Tyson was inside, chatting to the receptionist. Beyond him Ingrid saw several tables in the lounge-cum-bar area occupied by plain clothes cops interviewing a handful of guests.
Ingrid waited until the receptionist had to answer the phone before she approached Tyson. “Hey, detective, how’s it going?”
Tyson spun around and took a moment to respond.
“Agent Skyberg. From the US embassy?” Ingrid prompted.
“Oh I hadn’t forgotten you, believe me.” He peered toward the hotel entrance. “Where’s Lurch?”
“If you mean Major Gurley, he had business elsewhere.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Have your CSEs finished up?”
He nodded. “Just this morning. Hotel room door has been secured.”
“Made any new discoveries since yesterday afternoon?”
“You will be sent the forensics report when it’s ready, you know.”
“I can’t wait that long.”
The receptionist finished her call and Tyson led Ingrid away from the desk, past the groups of guests and cops and through to