Another photo came on the screen, the only one Jesse had of his parents, from when they were in their early twenties.
“Their names at the time were Elizabeth Granger and Clive Best. I believe she’d be fifty-six now, and he’d be fifty-eight. I’ve never found a single trace of them anywhere, except for old court documents from arrests dating back thirty years. They both did time in prison in West Virginia but disappeared into the ether when they were released. I believe it’s possible they’re going by different names now, and this is a photo of what they might look like today.”
He’d paid thousands of dollars for an age-progressed photo of the couple in the old picture, which was also based on how he looked at thirty-seven. Next, Alicia showed the photo of what Jordan might look like today.
“What would you say to Jordan if you were able to speak directly to her?”
“I’d say that I love her a thousand times more than I did twenty-six years ago, and I’ve never stopped looking for her—and will never stop, as long as I’m alive. If she’s out there somewhere, or someone knows where she might be, please reach out.”
Alicia put up an image with his contact information, using the Gmail address and private cell phone number he’d provided.
“I’d also like to hear from my parents if they’re still alive and inclined to help find their missing daughter, although I’m sure that’d be a long shot, as I’m a U.S. Marshal who hunts fugitives. I’m probably the last person they’d ever want to be in touch with, especially if they’re still living as drug addicts or criminals. They can reach out anonymously to the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, if they’d prefer not to deal with me directly.” The organization’s website appeared on the screen.
“What is your life like twenty-six years after your sister disappeared?”
“It’s better now than it’s been in the past. I enjoy my work and have a few good friends. One, in particular, has become especially close. But even when I’m truly happy, it’s always tinged by sorrow for the one who’s missing.”
“I hope our listeners and viewers are able to help. If you’re listening rather than watching and would like to see the photos, go to my YouTube channel to view them, and please, if you know where Jordan Best might be, please report it to your local authorities or to Marshal Best. Your small piece of information could be the tip that solves this case once and for all. Jesse, thank you so much for being with us and for sharing your story. I hope you get the answers you’re seeking.”
“Thank you again for having me and for all you do to shine the light on cold cases. It’s appreciated.”
Jesse had signed off with Alicia and removed his earbuds when he heard sniffling behind him. He spun around in his desk chair to find Memphis standing in the doorway, propped up on crutches, tears running down her face.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Hearing that story again… My heart breaks for you, Jesse. And for Jordan.”
He stood and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders over the West Virginia Mountaineers T-shirt that she’d “stolen” from him. “You’re not supposed to get up without help.”
“I wanted to hear what you were saying.”
“You already know the story.”
“You hadn’t told me that you’d had age progression done for your parents.”
“It’s a somewhat recent development.”
“How much did that set you back?”
“A lot.”
She winced.
“It’ll be worth it if it produces a lead.”
“Will you be okay if nothing comes of this new effort?”
“Will you be here to make it all better?”
She laid her head on his chest. “I’ll be right here.”
He buried his hand in her thick, dark hair. “Then I’ll be okay.”
“What’re we going to do about work?”
They’d kept their relationship off the radar thus far, but with him staking out her hospital room for days and now both of them out on leave at the same time, tongues were probably wagging at the office.
“We’re not going to worry about that today.”
