Free The Missing by Chris Mooney Page A

overlooked piece of evidence that would break open the case. After two full sweeps, the only thing she had to show for her efforts was mud on her boots and pant cuffs.
    Standing back in the driveway, next to the boyfriend’s car, she breathed away her frustration. The fading sunlight reflected a deep, dark red against the windows and puddles.
    Okay, we know you pulled into the driveway and then entered the house, most likely using a key because there’s no evidence to suggest you tampered with the locks. You shot the boyfriend and then grabbed Carol and struggled briefly inside the kitchen door. Even though it was late, raining hard and thundering, you couldn’t risk dragging her kicking and screaming outside because it might wake someone up and call them to the window, so you knocked her unconscious before taking her out. You tossed Carol over your shoulder – it would be easier to move that way, and it would keep your hands free. Then you ran down the stairs to your van. You use a van because it can transport one or more bodies in privacy. You opened the back doors and put Carol inside, next to Jane Doe – only she wasn’t there.
    Darby imagined Carol’s abductor running down the driveway, panicking, his head whipping around the sheets of driving rain as he searched for Jane Doe.
    How far had he searched? And for how long? Did he drive around the streets looking for her? What made him decide to give up and go home?
    Another thought hit her, causing Darby to reach for the notebook and pen tucked in her shirt pocket: What if he had stayed close by and saw Jane Doe being escorted out of the porch? What if he followed the ambulance? She made a note to tell Banville to increase security around Jane Doe.
    Darby wondered about the intruder’s reaction when he learned Jane Doe had only been a few feetaway, hiding behind the garbage barrels underneath the porch.
    Why was Jane Doe in the van?
    Possible answer: He was planning on getting rid of her because she was sick.
    But where was he going to dump the body?
    No, he wouldn’t dump the body. He’d bury it someplace where no one would find it. Was the plan to abduct Carol first and then bury Jane Doe somewhere in Belham?
    Too risky. What if Carol woke up? If he had Carol, he’d want to bring her home.
    Maybe he had changed his mind about burying Jane Doe and decided to abduct Carol instead.
    Darby moved to the porch. The small white door was sealed with evidence tape. She pressed her forehead against the cool, damp wood.
    I fooled him real good this time, Terry. I knew what he was going to do when he put me in the van, and I was ready.
    A car door slammed. Darby turned and saw Dianne Cranmore marching up the driveway, a framed picture of her daughter clutched in one hand.
    Dianne Cranmore was somewhere in her mid- to late thirties, with bleached hair and a round face heavy with makeup. She reminded Darby of the women she sometimes spotted in the nicer bars in Boston, women from Chelsea and Southie who fought hard to appear charming and sophisticated as they trolled for men who could transport them awayfrom their crummy jobs and even crummier lives.
    Carol’s mother spotted the badge dangling around Darby’s neck. ‘You’re with the crime lab,’ she said.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘May I talk to you for a moment?’ The woman’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying.
    The patrolman Darby had talked to earlier was now standing in the driveway. ‘Miss Cranmore, why don’t we –’
    ‘I’m staying right here,’ Carol’s mother said. ‘I want to ask her some questions. I have a right to know what’s going on – and don’t you tell me again I don’t. I’m getting goddamn sick and tired of the way you people keep pushing me around.’
    ‘It’s okay,’ Darby told the patrolman. ‘Why don’t you give us a minute?’
    The patrolman adjusted his cap and walked away.
    ‘Thank you,’ Carol’s mother said. ‘Now please tell me what’s going on with my daughter’s