Naomi Kittle’s energy wasn’t lingering here, nor, she thought, had it ever been.
She felt no remaining aura.
Not even in the slightest.
No, she thought, bending down to pick up a little of the moist soil touched by the river, rubbing the fine grains between her fingers.
They wouldn’t locate Naomi Kittle here.
No matter how long or deep they searched.
Chapter 34
Pierce watched as his friend emotionally collapsed.
“I just don’t understand why we haven’t found her!” Jamison said, pacing back and forth on the patio surrounding his pool. In running gear, he appeared haggard, his face more lined than Pierce recalled, his overall demeanor tense and agitated. Unshaven and with dark circles beneath his eyes, Jamison looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
He probably hadn’t.
Which was no surprise.
The news wasn’t good.
Naomi was still missing, and as it was Monday, nearly two days had passed since her car had been dragged from the river.
Now the sun was sinking ever lower in the western sky, a few fading rays glinting off the waterfall that fed the deep end of the pool. Mockingbirds called from the nearby trees, a yellow jacket buzzed determinedly over the lip of the pool, and in the distance, a train was rumbling on its tracks.
Meanwhile, the effort to find Jamison’s missing wife was ongoing.
Helicopters and dogs had been brought in, and a search team had been scouring the shoreline and forest around the bend in the river. More divers had delved into the water, only to come up empty, andJamison had arrived to pace the shoreline and stare, grim-faced, at the river.
Currently, the forensic team was still going over every inch of the Mercedes. Her phone had been located in her purse inside the vehicle, and Jamison had provided them with her password, so her texts, messages, scrolling history, and calls were being studied. More investigators had descended on Jamison’s home, with his blessing, and he’d supplied access codes to all of the computers and electronic equipment in the house. The investigators had promptly unplugged the computers and taken them to be analyzed.
“We’ll locate her,” Pierce said. “But we could use the public’s help.”
“I know, I know. I’ve got a press conference scheduled,” Jamison snapped, his nerves obviously strung to the breaking point. “In front of the station. I’m just waiting for Naomi’s parents. They’re settling into the condo they keep in town. They never sold it when they moved. They use it as an Airbnb and are going to stay there with the girls. Then all of us, as a family, will make a plea for her safety.”
“Including your daughters?” Pierce asked, surprised. “You’re going to have them there? In front of the cameras?” He’d heard that Jamison was making a statement to the media from Vivian Johnson, the public information officer, but he hadn’t known that Naomi’s daughters were going to be involved.
“They won’t speak, of course. I wouldn’t make them go through that. But I’ll talk, and possibly Roxie or Naomi’s mom will. I figure if someone’s got her, if she’s been kidnapped or something else has happened, and we make a public plea for her safety, it will help for the girls to be visible. Maybe the culprit or someone who knows what happened, but wasn’t going to say anything, will come forward. An accomplice or confidante or someone who wasn’t planning to get involved. Maybe they’ll see my girls and have second thoughts and crack.”
When Pierce didn’t respond, Jamison threw up his hands as if giving up. “I really don’t know what to do here,” he admitted. “It’s not like I’ve ever been on this end of a missing-person case.” He exhaled in frustration and squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to erase a painful image.
“Whatever you think is best,” Pierce said.
“I wish I knew.” His eyes opened, and he squinted into the setting sun. “I just wish I knew.”
In the distance, beyond the tree line, the Kittles’ dogs began to put up a ruckus. First one, then several of the dogs commenced barking.
“Those damned hounds!” Jamison said, his gaze swinging to the tree line. “I started out with one hunting dog, then another younger one, and Naomi, she went wild. Bred the two and started this … this family of hounds. She really got into it. Was all about their bloodlines or whatever.” He glared at the thick copse of pine and live oak as if he could quiet the dogs by simply willing it. He was a powder keg, looking for an excuse to blow up. Not a good time to bring up a bad subject, but Pierce had a job to do.
“Was?” Pierce repeated, noting the past tense.
“Gave up on it. A few months back. Lost interest. She still takes care of them, but without the same passion, I guess you’d say. Maybe now … well, hell, who knows?”
Pierce decided to broach the subject that had been weighing on him. “You know that Naomi was seeing Knox Quinlan?”
Jamison’s head whipped around. “What?” he snapped. “What do you mean, seeing him? Like she was running into him?”
