"Thank you for your cooperation. We'll send someone by to collect the tape. If we need anything else, we'll be in touch."

  The cashier nodded, still looking somewhat shocked by the revelation of the missing women. Nicky and Ken quickly made their way out of the store and towards their car.

  "We have to put an APB out on this," Nicky said, her voice urgent. "If it's the suspect's vehicle, we'll finally have something to go on."

  Ken nodded, his eyes determined. "I'll call it in. Get an APB on him stat."

  Nicky felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe they were finally getting somewhere. Maybe they could catch this guy before he hurt anyone else. But the feeling was short-lived. As they made their way back to the car, Nicky couldn't shake the feeling that they were running out of time. Whoever this guy was, he was smart, he was calculating, and he was dangerously fixated on love.

  Nicky got behind the wheel of the car and settled into the seat, breathing in the clean smell of the rental while Ken called in the APB outside the car. She leaned her head back and tried to breathe, collecting her thoughts. This was a potential lead, but there was still so much she didn't know. She thought about the victims, and how different they all were. She opened up her phone and briefly glanced over Moira's file. She was twenty-five, and her parents lived across the state, but she had a roommate. A girl named Josie.

  Ken opened the door and hopped into the car, buckling his seatbelt. "The APB is out," he said. "Let's hope we get a hit sooner than later."

  Nicky started the car, taking note of the address on Moira's file. "Sounds good, but I think we should go learn more about Moira. She had a roommate, Josie."

  Ken nodded in agreement, "I was thinking the same thing. Josie might have some valuable information on Moira's activities before she went missing. Maybe she had a boyfriend or someone she was seeing who could be a suspect."

  Nicky drove towards the address; her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important. The suspect was too careful, too calculated. There had to be a reason why he chose these women and why he took them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When they arrived at the apartment complex, Nicky parked the car, and they both got out. She could feel the tension building in her chest as they made their way to Josie's apartment. This could be a dead end, but it was worth a shot. They needed to follow every lead, no matter how small.

  They knocked on the door, and after a few moments, a young woman opened it. She was around Moira's age, with curly brown hair and a tense smile that was clearly trying to hide her pain.

  "Hi, can I help you?" she asked.

  Nicky showed her badge. "I'm Agent Nicky Lyons with the FBI and this is my partner, Agent Ken Walker. We're investigating Moira's disappearance and we were hoping to ask you a few questions, if that's okay."

  Josie's forced smile faded, and she nodded. "Of course, come on in."

  Nicky and Ken followed her into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. Josie sat across from them, looking nervous.

  "Do you know anything about Moira's disappearance?" Nicky asked gently.

  Josie shook her head. "No, I wish I did. She just didn't come home last night, and the police called me, saying she was taken by that... well..." Josie took a shaky breath. "The Casanova Kidnapper."

  "He's notorious in town," Nicky noted. "Had Moira heard of him before too?"

  "Oh, yeah," Josie said. "It makes it all so much more creepy. We watched a video on it together last week..."

  Nicky leaned forward, her heart racing. "What kind of video?" she asked.

  Josie looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers nervously. "It was just a news clip," she said. "About the kidnapper. They've been talking about him on the local news for weeks now. Moira was really freaked out by it."

  "Did she mention anything else? Anything that might help us find her?" Ken asked.

  Josie shook her head. "No, I wish I knew more. But Moira had been acting strange lately. She was always on her phone."

  The phone—right. The police had attempted to ping it, but nothing had come up. Nicky made a mental note to request as much data from Moira's phone as possible, and she hoped warrants wouldn't stand in the way. This was a clear and cut kidnapping case, and whatever was on Moira's phone might be able to help.

  "Was she dating anyone?" Ken asked.

  "I don't think so," Josie noted. "Honestly, she was kind of secretive with that stuff."

  Nicky furrowed her brow, thinking hard. Do you have any idea where Moira might have gone or anyone she might have been seeing?" she asked.

  Josie shook her head, looking worried. "No, I'm sorry. I promise if I knew anything, I would tell you."

  "What was the last thing she said to you?"

  "She said she was going to the movies," Moira said. "She didn't say who with, and to be honest, I didn't ask."

  "Was it usual for her to go see movies alone?" Ken asked.

  "Maybe. Honestly, we were roommates, but we weren't exactly best friends. I don't know her that well, you know, as a person."

  Nicky nodded, understandably. "Do you mind if we take a look around her room?" she asked. "Maybe there's something there that can help us."

  Josie hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, go ahead."

  As they made their way towards Moira's room, Nicky couldn't help but feel like Moira had her share of secrets. She was entitled to her privacy, but was it possible she had unwittingly put herself into the sights of a serial kidnapper? Or was the kidnapping truly random?

  Nicky pushed those thoughts aside as they entered Moira's room. It was neat and tidy, with a few posters on the wall and a bookshelf filled with novels. Nicky walked over to the desk and started rifling through some papers, hoping to find something that would give them a lead. Part of her felt bad for invading this girl's room, but if it helped save Moira's life, then it was —her contacts and everything—were kept in her phone. Without that, they were likely out of luck.

  Just as Nicky was about to give up, she noticed a small notebook sitting on the nightstand. She picked it up and flipped through it, seeing that it was filled with lyrics and poetry. But as she kept turning the pages, she saw a page with names on them. Some of them were scratched out, or the first and last names were switched, as though she were brainstorming:

  Sarah Smith.

  June Hynes.

  Sarah Hynes.

  All female names, all seemingly random. Was she brainstorming for a creative paper, a novel she was writing?

  "Do you know anything about this?" Nicky asked Josie.

  Josie came up behind her and looked at the notebook, then shook her head. "No, I have no idea."

  "Was she a writer?"

  "Not that I know of," Josie said.

  Nicky put the notebook back down, her mind racing. Could these names be important? Or were they just a coincidence? She made a mental note to look into these names further, wondering if any of them were connected to Moira's disappearance.

  She turned to Ken, who had been searching through Moira's closet. "Did you find anything?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "Just some clothes, nothing out of the ordinary."

  Nicky nodded, heading toward the door, and Ken followed suit. They had what they needed for now. Nicky glanced back into Moira's bedroom as they left, hoping that the poor girl would have a chance to sleep in her own bed again. A bedroom was a safe space, and without its occupant, it felt more like a grave.

  She shook the thought away. No, Moira could still be alive. She had to hold onto that hope.

  "Thank you for your time, Josie," Nicky said once they were at the front door. "We'll keep you updated if we find anything."

  "Thank you," Josie said. "I hope Moira's okay. I'll let you know if I hear anything that might help."

  With that, Nicky and Ken left. As they made their way out of the apartment, Ken's phone rang. Nicky glanced at him as his brows furrowed, and he nodded, listening intently to the voice on the other end. He hung up and looked at her, his eyes blazing with intensity.

  "They found the car."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nicky sped the car down the highway as they drove toward the alleged spot the truck had been seen. Sweat formed on her brow, even though the day was slightly chilly in Ohio, a contrast to what she was used to living in Florida. Ken held onto the door as Nicky sped off the highway and down a dirt road, causing a cloud of dust to fly up from beneath the wheels.

  "Hey, slow down," Ken said. "We're gonna make it."

  But Nicky couldn't slow down. She needed to catch this guy before he did any more harm. As the leader of this team, she felt responsible for every life that was lost in every case she worked. She had hopes that this truck would lead them to some form of truth.

  As they approached the end of the dirt road, Nicky spotted a patrol car parked outside of a forest, along with a small fire truck up the road, and beside it, what looked to be the burned and charred body of a white pickup truck.

  Nicky's stomach fell. This was where the truck was? Had the kidnapper ditched it and tried to burn all the evidence?

  Nicky pulled up next to the patrol car, her heart pounding in her chest. She could see the charred metal and the still-smoking embers of the pickup truck, although it had been doused in foam from the fireman. It was clear that whoever had been driving it had wanted to destroy it completely.

  Ken got out of the car and approached the officer standing guard. Nicky followed, trying to keep her emotions in check. The officer looked at them curiously, his hand resting on his gun.

  "Agents," Ken said, holding up his badge. "We're here to investigate the abandoned truck."

  The officer nodded and stepped aside, allowing them to approach the truck. Nicky could feel the heat radiating off of it, the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline filling her nostrils.

  "When was this found?" Nicky asked the officer.

  "Today," he replied. "Someone reported seeing smoke, so it looks like whoever ditched it did it today. We found no evidence of any people inside."

  Nicky's heart squeezed. Right here, on this road, the kidnapper had set the truck ablaze. Maybe only short hours ago.

  Ken bent down and touched the metal, examining it closely, then looked at the charred license plate. "This truck matches the one from the security footage," he said.

  Nicky nodded. It certainly did. "We need to trace the plate and see who owns it."

  "Already did," the officer cut in, walking over to her. He brought out a large tablet and showed it to Nicky. On it was a photo of an elderly woman with a short white perm and glasses, eyes squinty from age.

  "Martha Gibbons," Nicky said, frowning. She shot the officer an incredulous look. "This is the owner?"

  "It was reported stolen two weeks ago," the officer said. "We haven't contacted Ms. Gibbons yet, but it was in our records."

  Nicky's mind raced. This didn't make sense. For one, why did an elderly woman even have a pickup truck? Secondly, it meant that the kidnapper was smarter than Nicky had given him credit for. He clearly had worked hard to cover his tracks.

  Nicky stepped over to the truck. She ran her fingers along the hot metal, studying the burned-out windows and buckled hinges. She searched for any clue that might provide an answer, but all she found was soot and ashes. Still, she kept looking, hoping that some hint of who had been in this truck would reveal itself. There wasn't much that remained of the interior; the seats and dashboard burned beyond recognition.

  She turned back to the officer. "I want to talk to Martha Gibbons myself," Nicky said, "but first, we need to arrange a team and search the area. This wasn't torched that long ago. Maybe he's still around, or maybe someone saw something."

  The officer nodded and made a call on his radio, requesting backup. Nicky looked at Ken and gestured toward the dense forest behind them.

  "I'll head into the woods," Ken said. "You search the area around the truck."

  Nicky nodded, and Ken disappeared into the woods, his footsteps crunching on the leaves.

  Nicky walked around the truck, scanning the ground for any clues. She noticed tire tracks leading away from the burnt truck, heading deeper into the woods. Following them, she found a small clearing with a firepit. She knelt down, examining the area. There were cans of food, a sleeping bag, and a few articles of clothing scattered around. It all seemed hastily abandoned.

  Nicky stood up, her heart racing. Had the kidnapper been living out here? She glanced around, trying to see if there were any signs of the kidnapper. But all she could see was the dense forest around her.

  She pulled out her radio. "Ken, I found a campsite. Looks like it was quickly abandoned. Can you come over here and take a look?"

  There was a crackle in her ear, and then Ken's voice came through. "On my way."

  Nicky waited as she surveyed the clearing, trying to piece together what had happened. This could just be a homeless person's camp, but the proximity to the site was enough to give her pause.

  Ken arrived at the clearing, his hand on his gun. "What did you find?"

  Nicky gestured to the cans of food and the sleeping bag. "It looks like someone was living here. They left in a hurry, though."

  Ken frowned. "We should search the surrounding area. Maybe we can find a trail."

  Nicky nodded, and they started to search. The forest was dense, and the undergrowth made it difficult to see anything beyond a few feet. They zigzagged through the trees, scanning the ground for any signs of the kidnapper.

  Suddenly, Ken stopped and pointed to the ground. "Look," he said. "Footprints."

  Nicky knelt down and examined the ground. There were muddy footprints leading away from the campsite, heading deeper into the woods. She gestured to Ken, and they started to follow the footprints, careful not to make too much noise in case the kidnapper was still nearby. The footprints led them to a small stream, and there, hunched over the water, was a scrawny old man with sinewy arms, and barely any meat on his bones. The man looked back when he saw them, his face sunken and confused. He slowly stood. Was this the kidnapper they'd been hunting? This frail, fragile old man? Nicky couldn't believe he was capable of assaulting and capturing healthy young women, but stranger things had happened.

  She and Ken flashed their badges.

  "FBI," Nicky said. "We're canvassing this area for a suspect in a kidnapping investigation. Please identify yourself."

  The man raised his trembling hands. If Nicky had to guess, he was coming down off some kind of high, and that had probably been his camp they'd found back there.

  "My name is Harry," the man said, his voice shaking. "I ain't done nothing wrong, I swear."

  Nicky studied the man closely. He seemed genuine enough, but she couldn't take any chances. She took a step closer, her hand hovering over her gun. "We need to search you, Harry," she said. "For our safety and yours."

  Hank nodded and slowly lifted his arms, allowing Nicky to pat him down. She found a small pocket knife in his pocket, but nothing else of note. She sighed, relieved that he wasn't armed.

  "What is a man your age doing out here in the woods?" Ken asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.

  Harry shrugged. "Just trying to survive, I guess. I lost my job a few years back and never found another one. This is all I have."

  Nicky watched him carefully, trying to decipher if he was telling the truth or not. At this point, they had no evidence to connect Harry to the kidnapping. But he was still here, and he could know something.

  "I've been homeless for a long time," Harry said. "I try to keep out of the city. Don't bother no one. I'm just minding my own out here, I swear."

  Nicky believed him. A man in this physical state wouldn't be capable of the crimes they were looking into.

  "Okay," Nicky said, "but sometime today, somebody came and lit a truck on fire out here. Did you hear or see anything?"

  The man frowned. "Well... I thought I smelled smoke, and there was this guy I thought I saw running through the field."

  Nicky's heart raced. "What guy?"

  "I didn't get a good look," Harry said. "He was tall, maybe. Not that old, I don't think, but not a kid either."

  Nicky sighed. So, as general as it could be.

  Either way, Harry was a potential eyewitness. He could have seen the Casanova Kidnapper first-hand.

  "Are you sure there's nothing else?" Ken asked. "Hair color? Anything?"

  Harry scratched his head. "I don't know, it all happened so fast. I didn't get a good look."

  Nicky exchanged a look with Ken. It wasn't much to go on, but it was better than nothing. She took out her card and handed it to him. "If you think of anything else, give us a call. We need to know who that man was."

  Harry laughed, showing decaying teeth. "You think I got a phone just kicking around here?"

  Nicky clammed up. She hadn't meant to offend. "I apologize."

  Harry laughed. "No problem. I got legs. I can walk to a gas station if I remember anything, but I don't think I will."

  Nicky nodded, still feeling slightly guilty. "Alright, well, if you do remember anything, please do reach out."

  Harry nodded and watched as Nicky and Ken walked away. As they made their way back towards the truck, Nicky couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. They were so close--walking the same path as the kidnapper had—and yet they had nothing.

  "What do you think?" Ken asked, breaking the silence.

  Nicky sighed. "I don't know. He's not physically capable of what we're looking for, that's for sure."

  "I agree," Ken said. "I don't think that guy is hauling anyone around, and he definitely has no place to keep them. It's just not realistic."

 

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