"Uh-huh. Go ahead." He frowned. "Are you sure?" A pause. "All right. On our way."
Callie came out with two cups of coffee and stopped when she saw his face. "What's up?"
"We got part of the background back." He took the coffee from her but didn't drink it. "Samuel Bridger died seven years ago. Cancer."
Callie stared at him. "Well that brings a whole new meaning to what Marisol said."
Noah nodded. "He's not who he says he is. Which begs the question, who is our guy?"
The station was buzzingwhen they got back. Officers moving between desks, phones ringing, the energy that fills a building when a case breaks open and everyone can feel it. Ray met them in the corridor before they reached the office. He had a folder in his hand and looked like he had been waiting for them to walk through the door.
"The reason ViCAP and CODIS came back clean was because Samuel Bridger kept his nose clean his whole life," Ray said. "Worked in the logging industry up in Vermont. Had nothing to do with modeling. Never so much as a parking ticket."
"So who is our guy?" Noah asked.
"David Hughes. That's his real name."
Noah stopped walking. "Hughes? David Hughes?"
"The name sound familiar?"
"Sue Braxton told us that Seraphine's mother, Jessie Maddox, was going to marry someone called David Hughes."
Ray pointed at him. "That explains the connection between the agency and Three Pillars."
"Did he do time?" Noah asked.
"Not a day. But he has a history." Ray opened the folder and handed it over. "Classic case of a survivor's case going south. David Hughes ran a modeling agency in Colorado called Elite Frames. Operated out of Denver for about four years. Had a decent client list, local magazines, commercial work, nothing national but enough to keep the lights on and attract a steady flow of young women looking for a break. Then six years ago a nineteen-year-old recruit named Emma Lawson accused him of rape during a locked private fitting session. She claimed he drugged her drink, assaulted her, and took compromisingphotos. Media went after it hard. 'Model Mogul's Studio of Secrets.' It was on every local news station. Picked up nationally for a few cycles."
"What happened?" Callie asked.
"Before trial, Emma recanted. Cited bipolar disorder. Said she'd fabricated the whole thing for attention. Had a psych evaluation to back it up. Charges were dropped."
"Recanted or was pressured to recant?" Callie said.
Ray shrugged. "That's the question everyone asked. The psych eval came from a private practice, not court-appointed. Someone paid for it. Draw your own conclusions."
"But the damage stuck," Noah said.
"He was done. Didn't matter that the charges were dropped. The agency hemorrhaged clients overnight. Sponsors pulled out. The models scattered. Lawsuits piled up from other women, civil claims, breach of contract, one alleging inappropriate conduct during a shoot that never made it to criminal court. David declared bankruptcy and vanished. Dropped off the map completely."
"And shows up here," Noah said.
Ray nodded. "Resurfaces in upstate New York with Strutz Agency. Keeps a low profile. Scouts ambitious college girls."
Noah opened the folder and scanned the Colorado case file. He read through it, muttering pieces aloud. "Girl cried rape, recanted, but Hughes' agency was basically toast." He looked up. "Now modeling-obsessed college girls are vanishing after auditions? One of them managed to get away."
"Hailey Benton," Callie said.
"And he's not letting another girl survive to talk." Noah closed the folder. "So David Hughes takes on the identity of Samuel Bridger. More than likely the real Bridger was connected to the Three Pillar Community. Hughes works out some arrangement with Three Pillars to refer girls to him. Opens anew agency. And now he has the perfect cover. Girls go missing, maybe they joined the community, which is already known for helping people disappear from their families and..."
"You have the perfect cover," Callie finished.
The three of them stood in the corridor and the noise of the station moved around them. Phones ringing. An officer laughing at something on a computer screen, oblivious to what was about to happen. The hum of a building that was about to shift from investigation to action.
Ray looked at both of them for a moment, then motioned over his shoulder toward the back of the building where the tactical unit kept their gear.
"SWAT is already getting ready. We hit his home and the agency. Both at once. Simultaneous entry." He held up a finger. "There cannot be any problems with this one. No Garrett Finch situation where we grab him and have to let him walk. No Derek Hollis where he slips through our fingers. We go in clean, we come out with David Hughes in cuffs, and we take apart every room he's ever set foot in."
