Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,83

the cups.

“Caramel macchiato with an extra shot.”

Her eyes widened, as did her smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Baz took a sip of his own coffee, turned around to face them. “Sorry I didn’t get y’all somethin’.”

“Sure you are,” Brantley joked, then lifted his own mug. “We’re set though. Thanks.”

Baz nodded, smiled.

“Any news from the crime scene guys?” Reese asked, hoping to get the conversation rolling.

“Not yet. I should hear from them this mornin’.” Baz glanced from him to JJ then to Brantley. “Anything on your end?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Reese said when no one else answered.

“That’s not entirely true,” JJ announced, her voice growing louder, her attention on her computer screen. “Holy shit. I think I found somethin’.”

Reese and Baz moved around to stand behind her, Brantley joining.

“It’s a piece of property owned by a Bill D. Martin. And yes, before you say anything, I know that’s not his name. But he is William, which people sometimes refer to as Bill. And D would be for Dugan. Martin’s his father’s name.” JJ tapped a few keys and a map appeared on the large monitor on the wall. All eyes turned toward it as JJ got to her feet, moved over to the other keyboard.

“Before I left last night, I started a property search.”

“On Dugan?” Baz asked.

“No. In general. I took in the details of the houses we know William Dugan’s owned in the past. I honestly didn’t expect much because my main parameter was houses with basements. And we all know how rare those are in this area. I added in any that had storm cellars. There were a few, so I pulled up the owners. This one’s about half an hour north of here.”

The map on the screen zoomed in, changed to street view.

“Let me put in a call to—”

“No,” Brantley interrupted. “Let’s go there now.”

Baz frowned. “Now? It’ll take us a good hour to get there with traffic.”

“Your point?” Brantley was already moving to his desk, tapping something on his computer.

Because he was not about to let Brantley go on his own, nor did he want to get left behind, Reese followed.

“JJ, stay here and stay available,” Brantley called out on his way to the door.

“I will.”

“You know he’s right,” Reese told Brantley when they were in the truck. “With rush-hour traffic, it’ll take an hour to get there.”

“You got anything better to do?”

Well, when he put it that way…

***

Cori was cold. She was shivering despite the fact she had the scratchy wool blanket draped over her.

It was due more to fear than temperature, she knew.

Lauren.

She still couldn’t believe Lauren was here, living in this house with Principal Dugan. Granted, she called herself Emily, as did he. And when Cori had accused him of kidnapping Lauren all those years ago, he had argued—actually argued—that she was wrong, that the woman who clearly looked like Lauren wasn’t who Cori claimed her to be.

Of course, he was right to a degree. Lauren was no longer that sweet, kind, innocent girl Cori had grown up with. No. She’d been gone too long for that, held prisoner by this lunatic. Her mind was now warped and she honestly believed her name was Emily Dugan. Professor Bill Dugan’s wife.

Another chill raced down Cori’s spine.

The woman who was wandering around this house was definitely Lauren. The moment she saw her face, Cori had recognized her, although she had changed drastically in the nine years since she’d gone missing. Her hair was longer, nearly to her waist, but still the same interesting shade of brown it had been. Her face had filled out, no longer radiating with adolescence. But it was her eyes that made her look like an entirely different person. There was absolutely no life in them. As though a part of her had died.

Cori had been hoping Lauren would come back so she could talk to her, but Principal Dugan—Bill—wasn’t letting her. No, he had taken over bringing her food, sitting with her while she ate. The man liked to talk, mostly about how happy he was that she was here, how he knew one day she would come to think of this place as home the same way Lauren—Emily—did.

The guy was a complete lunatic. Absolutely batshit crazy.

But Cori had learned that telling him as much wasn’t conducive to survival. The first time she’d told him had been when he had Lauren bathe her while she was strapped down to the bed. After he had stripped her of her clothes, cutting them off