Profile of Terror (7 page)

Kaitlyn had almost finished her search of the apartment when she'd heard the metal key in the lock that inspired her to hide in the bedroom closet. 

She'd already looked everywhere in the apartment for anything that would tell her where her sister was.  Kaitlyn found Abby's suitcases tucked away in the bottom of the pantry in the kitchen, so she ruled out an impromptu trip out of town.  Her sister's purse and iPhone were gone, but her car was still parked behind the building.  Kaitlyn had a terrible feeling that wherever Abby was, she did not go there willingly. 

There was one more thing on her list to search for.  It was something that Abby would never willingly leave behind.  Moving into the bedroom, she lifted the mattress and discovered a small, blue journal.  Quick tears trembled on her eyelids as she held the journal close to her chest and sat down on the bed.  There was no denying now that her sister's disappearance was not her choice.  Abby had recorded her thoughts in her journal since elementary school, and never missed a day.  If she were going away, she would never leave it behind. 

Kaitlyn retrieved her purse from the closet, tucked the journal inside, and headed toward the back stairs.  Once she reached the exit door, she noticed the man she saw in Abby's apartment talking on his cell phone in a black Dodge Ram Sport.  Finally, he finished his conversation and pulled out of the parking lot.

<><><> 

Gabe made the drive from West Lafayette to Morel in record time and rushed up the steps to the courtroom.  Reporters and those who hadn't won a courtroom seat in the daily lottery jam-packed the hallway, and it was difficult for him to wade through the crowd.  Once inside the courtroom, he spotted his two brothers along with Carly, who was saving a seat for him on the long bench closest to the prosecutor's wooden table. Michael Brandt stood talking with his wife, Anne, at the opposite end of the bench.  Ryder's defense attorney leafed through papers in a file before him.  The jury, judge, and Ryder had not entered yet.

Settling down next to Carly, Gabe greeted his brothers and looked around the room.  The only people seated behind the defense table were reporters who chatted with each other, predicting the jury's decision and Ryder's fate. 

Gabe's stomach clenched as he thought about his search of Abby's apartment, and his brain wouldn't let go of the suspicion that she'd been abducted from the parking lot.  If he were right, time was of the essence.  She'd been missing for four days. If he was going to find Abby alive, time was running out.

"What's wrong?" Carly whispered.

He glanced at her, noting Cameron and Brody deep in conversation about the trial.  "Abby Reece is missing."

"Wasn't she your date at . . ."

"Yes," Gabe interrupted.

Abruptly, a hush covered the room like a thick fog when a door at the right opened and Jim Ryder entered the room, accompanied by two deputies.  Ryder, wearing a navy suit and tie, walked into the crowded room as if he were making an entrance to a party held in his honor.  Smiling confidently at reporters aiming cameras, he walked to the defense table, where a deputy unlocked his handcuffs. 

"The bastard's enjoying this," Gabe said.

"He probably thinks he's getting a 'Not Guilty' verdict," Carly replied.

The bailiff, an older man, who looked close to retirement, called out, "All rise."

All rose from their seats as Judge Carlson entered the room.  The door leading to the jury room opened and the twelve jurors, two men and ten women, took their seats in the jury box.

The judge asked if the jury had reached a verdict.  The jury foreman, a small nervous man, stood up and cleared his throat before speaking.  “Yes, Your Honor, we have.”

His hand shook so badly the white piece of paper he was holding looked like a surrender flag.  It seemed the entire courtroom held its collective breath.  Fearfully, glancing at Jim Ryder, he said, “Guilty!”

Once the guilty verdict was read, chaos ensued.  The victims' families alternately cheered or sobbed, and reporters ran from the room to communicate the verdict. A small congratulatory crowd surrounded Michael Brandt, including his wife, and Judge Carlson pounded her gavel in an attempt to create order in the courtroom.

Ryder jumped to his feet, bumped against one of his guards, and snatched the man's gun out of its holster.  A second guard grabbed for Ryder unsuccessfully, just as a shot went off, grazing Carly's arm. A trail of blood ran down her arm, staining her white sleeve crimson, as she sank to the floor.  A second shot caught a deputy in the chest, and a third bullet disabled the second deputy, who tumbled to the floor.  The bailiff rushed the judge into her chambers; terrified screams were deafening as people panicked, pushing each other to escape the room.

On the floor, Brody radioed for back up and covered Carly with his body like a shield.  Cameron jerked out his gun as Gabe leapt over the wooden railing and tackled Ryder, slamming him to the floor, and struggled to grab the gun.  Gabe clamped his hand around Ryder's wrist and slammed it against the oak floor until the criminal howled with pain and released the weapon.  Cameron kicked the gun several feet away, out of Ryder's reach.  Ryder cursed and wildly bucked as he thrashed to get Gabe off him. 

Pointing his gun at Ryder, Cameron said, "Move an inch and I'll blow your head off."

Two deputies rushed into the room and gave handcuffs to Gabe, who quickly secured Ryder's wrists behind his back.  Jerking the man to his feet, Gabe handed him over to the deputies, who pushed Ryder toward the door leading to the cell block in the basement.

In a dark rage, Ryder struggled with the deputies and screamed, "You Chase brothers are going down.  If it's the last thing I do, I'll kill all of you, and your profiling bitch gets hers first. This is her fault.  She and that Alison Brown bitch set me up!  This isn't over!  Not by a long shot!"

<><><> 

Gabe waited with Cameron outside the emergency department at the Morel Hospital for three hours.  Finally Brody emerged to announce that the bullet had grazed Carly's arm and she'd received some stitches to close the wound.  Thankfully he'd soon be able to take her home.

Back at his office, Gabe retrieved the external drive where he'd stored Abby's laptop information, and connected it to his computer's USB port.  First he searched Abby's recent emails to see if she'd communicated about any plans she may have had on Friday.  There was nothing.

Next, he opened her Internet browsing history and discovered she visited Facebook a couple of times per day, so he opened the site, then quickly found Abby's page.  Gabe didn't use Facebook, so he'd never visited her page.  Her banner at the top of the page was a horizontal photo of Abby lying on a beach in the tiniest of string bikinis.  When he clicked on her photo albums, he found they were filled with nude or partially nude photos of Abby in various positions.  Anger swept through him.  He could care less that Abby had these photographs of herself, but that she posted them in a place easily accessed by an Internet filled with countless predators was crazy.  What was she thinking?  Why didn't she just paint an online target on her back? 

Just last year, he was contacted by a distraught mother who'd discovered a man in his forties was sending sexually explicit messages and photos to her fourteen-year-old daughter.  The woman brought the girl's cell phone to Gabe, and he was able to use the man's photos to trace the phone number they came from and identify the sender.  Right-clicking on each photo, he looked for evidence of an EXIF date, or data about the camera that took the photo, and the exact location and time the photo was taken.  Since the geotagging feature was enabled on the suspect's phone, each image had a latitude and longitude of exactly where the man was when the image was taken.  When Gabe handed the case over to Cameron, he was able to provide the man's name and address, and the date each photo was taken.

Unfortunately, people like Abby didn't know that when they posted photos on the
w
web on social media sites like Facebook, with the geotagging feature enabled, they were sharing their names and locations to tech-savvy sexual predators, who use the data to track them to their doorsteps.

Gabe examined Abby's photos.  Most were taken at Abby's apartment.  Each revealed her full name and apartment address.  This added a new element in his search for Abby.  Was she targeted and abducted by a sexual predator?  Was his rich imagination working overtime, fueled by fear that Abby may be in danger?

Reading the messages on her Facebook home page, he noticed the last message from Abby was written at five o'clock last Friday.  In it she shared her elation on getting an 'A' in English.  A Facebook friend named Emily Smith commented with the message: "That's great.  Let's go out tonight to celebrate."  To which Abby responded, "You're on."

Gabe knew Emily Smith was Abby's former dorm roommate.  He slipped his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and called her.

"Emily, this is Gabe Chase.  I'm looking for Abby—"

"Oh my God, I can't believe she's missing.  I've been upset about it since the police were here," she interrupted.

"I visited Abby's Facebook page and noticed that last Friday you and Abby may have been making plans to go out that night.  Did you?"

"We were supposed to meet up, but as I was leaving my apartment, I ran into my boyfriend and spent the night with him.  I texted Abby a couple of times to tell her I couldn't make it, but she never texted me back."

"Where were you supposed to meet?"

"Hoosier Sports Bar and Grill."

<><><> 

Fishing Abby's photo out of his pocket, Gabe slid it across the bar to the Hoosier Sports Bar and Grill owner, Cliff Olsen.

"This woman was in your bar on the twelfth of October.  Do you remember seeing her?"

"Sure, that's Abby Reece.  She's here most Friday nights.  Why do you want to know?"

"Abby is missing.  I'm a private investigator, and I'm trying to find her," Gabe responded.  It wasn't the whole story, but Gabe didn't think his dating Abby was anyone's business, least of all this bar owner.

"Abby was here alright.  She had a couple of drinks at the bar.  She was waiting for someone.  Didn't say who.  But once the band started, she was on the dance floor until she left around closing,” Olsen replied.

"What time do you close the bar?"

"Two in the morning."

"Was there anyone here who seemed to pay a lot of attention to Abby?"

"Are you serious?" Olsen asked incredulously.  "First of all, she had on a red dress that fit like a second skin.  Secondly, her moves on the dance floor are the sexiest I've ever seen.  Who in his right mind
wouldn't
pay a lot of attention to Abby Reece?"

"Did you see her leave?" 

"Yeah.  We said good night."

"Did anyone leave after her?"

"No, I think she was the last one out the door before I closed up."

"What kind of surveillance do you have?  I noticed the camera outside facing the parking lot. 

"The front and back door and the parking lot are the only surveillance taping we do."