Page 78 of Her Final Hours
Time. It was all he had.
Noah understood why the abductor hung up without allowing him to speak. It was a form of control often used in negotiation. Psychology 101, really — he who directed the conversation held the upper hand.
And yet time was running out.
Once he delivered Jane Doe to Athena Blake’s farm, the abductor would expect him to leave and stay clear of the place. No doubt Athena would then become the focus of his game. Hewould be bending her to his will to lay hands on Payton’s daughter.
But why?
Alicia was right; it made no sense.
Never before in his career as an investigator had he seen someone take these risks. Waltzing into a hospital? Abducting an investigator’s daughter? Using surveillance to monitor and control? There was something he wasn’t seeing or understanding, and he couldn’t help but think that the answers lay inside the young girl’s mind.
For these reasons and more, his instincts told him he needed to stall, to unravel the mystery surrounding Jane and the cryptic instructions from his daughter’s abductor — and the winter storm offered the perfect opportunity.
Noah stole a glance in his rearview mirror, his heart skipping a beat as he made out the dim outline of the state troopers’ car through the swirling snow. It trailed cautiously behind, two troopers braving the storm within its protective shell.
In a calculated move to gain precious time and speak with her, Noah intentionally provoked the unruly forces of nature. With a sudden jerk, he steered the Bronco off the treacherous back road, its tires struggling to maintain traction on the slippery terrain. The vehicle careened into a ditch, snow spraying in all directions as it skidded to a halt.
The troopers’ car pulled behind him, its emergency lights casting an eerie glow against the cascading snowflakes. The troopers sprang into action, their forms hazy in the storm. Noah’s heart raced, his mind calculating every move.
As they approached, their heavy boots sinking into the snow, Noah masked his true intentions beneath an air of confusion and desperation. They drew nearer, their expressions a blend of concern and authority. Noah brought down the window, the biting cold seeping into the cabin, and shouted above thehowling wind. “Lost control of the damned thing. I couldn’t see a thing!”
The one trooper exchanged a glance with his partner, assessing the situation. “Yeah, it’s getting worse. We may have to call for a tow truck if we can’t get you out,” he responded, his voice strained against the storm’s cacophony.
“I’ll give you a hand.”
“No, you stay with the girl. We’ll try to dig you out and push the vehicle back on track. Happens all the time in this weather.”
Noah feigned gratitude. The first part of his plan was working. He had the troopers occupied. Now he could only assume that the abductor would call him when he didn’t arrive. There was no way he had someone out here or had planted a camera in the Bronco. At least now he had a chance to converse with Jane, to pry open the door of her mind to her shattered memories. Noah forced a worried smile, glancing at the girl beside him, hoping against hope that she could give him the key to Mia’s salvation.
As the troopers shuffled back to their cruiser to get what they needed, Noah leaned towards her, his voice low and urgent. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“They should have us out soon.”
The girl’s eyes flickered, a hint of recognition lurking. The storm roared on around them, the muffled sound of shovels against snow blending with the distant howls of the wind. Time was slipping away, and Noah couldn’t afford to lose this lifeline of hope.
Hands trembling, Noah reached into his pocket and retrieved the worn pad of paper given to him by Alicia. The words scrawled across the pages represented the only tangible clues he might have to unravel the truth. He held them out to her, his voice filled with desperation. “Is any of this familiar?”
She looked at the words, her brows furrowing in concentration. A flicker of recognition and Noah’s heart leaped in his chest. “You do know, don’t you?” he pressed, urgency throwing caution to the wind. “Look, I know you’re struggling to remember. But think. I need you to think. What can you tell me about the night you were found?”
As her memories attempted to assemble, her composure crumbled. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the words on the pad. Noah sensed her distress and backed off; his gaze filled with empathy, but his heart was frustrated. He had to find a different approach to coax the truth out of her fractured mind.
Noah withdrew his cell phone, fully aware of the potential risks. He reasoned that, amid the blizzard, it was unlikely Mia’s abductor could see him let alone hear him. The phone’s screen illuminated his face as he spoke. “I have a daughter, roughly your age. Her name is Mia. Do you want to see a photo of her?”
Jane Doe stared at him, her eyes searching his face for sincerity. After a moment, she nodded, a glimmer of curiosity lighting up her tear-streaked features. Noah opened the photo gallery, revealing an image captured during happier times. Mia’s radiant smile, forever captured in that frozen moment, tugged at his heart. He fought back the ache that swelled within him, the painful reminder that he hadn’t seen his children truly happy since Lena’s passing.
“That’s her,” he murmured, extending the phone towards her. “I don’t know your name, but I knew your mother. I don’t know if she called herself this, but her name was Payton. Payton Scott. Do you remember?” He showed her the same photograph of her mother as he had the night before, hoping that the fragmented pieces of her memory would fall into place.
A whisper escaped the girl’s lips, barely audible but carrying a profound weight. “Mom.”
Noah’s heart skipped a beat, relief washing over him like abalm. “That’s right. That’s your mother,” he affirmed. “I was a good friend of hers. She was a good friend of mine. Then someone took her away, just like they’ve taken away my daughter Mia. I’m trying to get her back, but I can’t without your help. I need you to remember.”
The girl gazed back at him, her face etched with anguish. She sniffled, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. The desperation in her eyes mirrored his own. Seeking answers, he again showed her the image of the deceased man, Joseph Collins.
“Have you seen him before?”
