“That can be true, but also, things resurface, other crimes happen that might be tied in. Connections are made. Cold cases are solved all the time. Especially if the crime is ongoing.”
A slight chill made her cross her bare arms over her breasts. “Is that what you think?”
“Haven’t you ever wondered about that?”
“I . . .” She closed her mouth, really considering the question. “I guess I try not to, because there’s nothing I can do about it, but in the back of my mind . . . maybe.” Maybe it’d lain there, unexplored. She’d put it away and labeled it Torturous material. Handle with care. Because she could think about that all day and night if she let herself. But who was that going to benefit? Certainly not her. And certainly not Callie.
She’d fought hard for her mental and emotional health. She wasn’t going to hand it off so easily. Especially to something purposeless.
“I tried not to go there for a long time either. But I also . . . I don’t know. I felt a responsibility, too, especially once I became involved with law enforcement and had the means. I asked a police officer I know at the department to keep her eyes open for any crimes across the country that even remotely resembled ours. A few weeks ago, she came up with something.”
“What?” she breathed, her heart giving a sharp knock.
Noelle listened wide eyed as he told her about the Vietnam veteran he’d flown to Texas to interview. About him being locked in a cage, another man locked up in the same room. About the sick and horrific choices they were told to make. The torture. The terror. And, ultimately, the escape.
The police had doubted his story, especially when they found the building where he’d claimed to be kept devoid of any proof. She wondered if that would have been the case with the building where they’d been caged, too, if she hadn’t set the place on fire.
Noelle let out a gust of air as he finished. She’d held her breath for much of his description, even though he’d made it as short and void of details as possible. She understood why he’d made the connection, though. She recognized the similarities too. They were hard to miss.
“Are you going to notify the FBI about that case?”
“The police didn’t even notify the FBI. They investigated and deemed it the rantings of a drunk with mental health issues.”
“But you believed him.”
“I did. I looked in his eyes, and I believed him.”
She played with the label on the beer, considering grabbing another. But she had to work in the morning, so she’d stick to one. She offered Evan another, though, but he declined. “I didn’t just come here to put that case I described in your head, Noelle. I came because of something else. I’m hoping you can help me with it. I thought about calling you, at first . . . that’s exactly what I planned on doing. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed weirder somehow to call you on the phone than to come in person and ask for your help.”
She got that too. And as much as she’d felt unprepared to disclose the fact that they had a daughter she’d never told him about, she was somehow also glad that he’d unintentionally ambushed her. If he’d called, she’d either have had to choose to directly lie to him about her life, about Callie, or if she had decided to tell him, she’d have had to live with the fear of his reaction before she did. No, it was better that he’d surprised her. She hadn’t feared it, because it’d been sprung on her. And he was still here, still asking for her help, even after realizing he’d been denied his child for over six years. “What do you need help with?”
“I’ve always come back to the fact that we knew each other. We have a connection through our fathers. I can’t believe that wasn’t known by whoever abducted us.”
She nodded. They’d talked about that way back when. Before their escape . . . before we learned to speak in code.
“I agree,” she said. “Didn’t we wonder if it was what made things more interesting?”
“Yes,” he said. “But if we were chosen purposefully for that connection, then someone knew about it.”
Right. This all sounded familiar. They’d picked all these possibilities apart long ago. “We have no proof of any of that, just our suspicions,” she said.
“I looked into your father.”
Her gaze shot to him, and she saw that he was watching her. “My dad. My dad is dead.” She heard the resentment in her tone and took in a breath, letting it out slowly.