Page 20 of Her Final Hours
“Yeah, when was that, the 1930s?” Callie joked.
“See what I have to put up with, Noah? These millennials don’t know how to respect their elders.”
“I was born in ’97.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes me Generation Z.”
“Makes you a damn idiot.”
Noah was quick to intervene. “Well, regardless, it’s impressive.”
McKenzie stepped back, admiring it. “Beats the old paper mugshots,” he piped up, taking out a cigarette he wouldn’t light and sticking it between his lips. “Everyone nowadays is trying to get away from cutting down more trees. I like to think I’m doing my best to help with the ozone layer and the walruses.”
“Walruses?” Noah asked.
“You know, the beasts in the Arctic. Someone has to save them.”
“You look like a damn walrus with that cigarette hanging out of your mouth,” Callie said, shaking her head.
“The feeling is mutual, lass.”
“Anyway, what have we got here?” Noah asked.
“I pulled the case files on each of the names on Jane Doe’s body,” McKenzie said, picking up a remote and tapping it a fewtimes. Nothing happened. He slapped it against his hand. “Why is this damn thing not working!”
“Because that’s a different remote,” Callie said, scooping up another remote as she passed him, and hitting a button a few times. “This controls them.” Before him, the screens lit up, divided into different sections, displaying photographs of young girls ranging in age from about thirteen through to seventeen.
Noah got closer, absorbing the visuals. The faces of several stared back at him, their names etched into his memory. Each image held a story, a potential connection to the mysterious girl who appeared in Westport. He scanned each face and all the details that went with them, location last seen, date of disappearance, family, friends, and potential suspects looked at over time. He continued strolling before stopping and fixing his gaze on Payton Scott. Frozen in time, a bright-eyed brunette, she was only sixteen when she went missing.
Callie sidled up beside him. “You never told me you were there the day she went missing.”
“Never felt the need to say. Didn’t speak about it much then either. My father said it was best to keep quiet. Words only got people in trouble, and he was already tackling it. He seemed confident he could find her or at least find out who took her. He came up short.” His chin dipped for a moment.
“Anyway, regarding the names etched into Jane Doe’s skin,” McKenzie explained. “Most were reported missing from nearby towns and cities; at least ten are from different counties but all within New York state. No bodies found.”
Callie chimed in, her voice steady and analytical. “We’ve been cross-referencing the details, looking for patterns, and digging deeper into their backgrounds. So far, the common thread among the victims, at least with the towns and cities nearby, is they attended the same summer camp here in the Adirondacks.”
Noah’s mind began to race as he absorbed the information. The pieces of the puzzle and the past were starting to come together, but many questions remained unanswered. Did the summer camp have anything to do with them going missing? Or was it just a coincidence? So many young kids went to camps. He was one of them, and in the Adirondacks, they were plentiful. The question was, how did Jane Doe fit into this twisted web?
McKenzie continued as he squinted. “One a year. No known witnesses. No strong lead barring our Jane Doe. I figured investigators would have made a connection by now.”
“It’s possible they did but didn’t find anything,” Callie added. “Besides, these girls are from different counties. They didn’t go missing at the camp. The camp was just one thing that connected them.”
Noah turned, a determined glint in his eye. “We need to look into that. Speak with camp counselors. Anyone who can tell us who was overseeing the girls.”
McKenzie looked his way. “I’d imagine we could glean a lot from your father. He was sheriff at the time when most of these girls went missing. The only other sheriff was the one you put away and is sitting behind bars. I’m not sure he’d be open to a conversation.”
“No, but it might explain why some of these cases were brushed under the rug,” he muttered.
McKenzie agreed, a steeling resolve settling across his features. “I’m not sure we will have much luck. We don’t know who this girl is, where she came from, what happened to her, or even if she’ll regain her memory.”
“Then our work is cut out for us,” Noah said.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Noah, McKenzie, and Callie were just about to delve into the digital crazy wall, their collective minds and skills intertwining to make connectionsand solve the mystery that had gripped Adirondack County when a deputy stuck his head into the room.
“McKenzie. We’ve got a lead on a male whose blood might be a match for the blood that was on the girl.”
