Page 79 of Her Final Hours
Tears flowed freely down her face as she nodded, unable to voice the pain and confusion that plagued her.
“Was he holding Payton?”
She couldn’t answer.
In frustration, Noah struck the steering wheel with clenched fists. The sound echoed through the confined space, a futile release of frustration. At that moment, Noah recalled the words of Dr. Blake, who had cautioned him about the arduous amount of time it could take to unlock the girl’s memories: weeks, months, even years. The words reverberated in his mind, reminding him of the immense challenge. He took a deep breath, his determination resurfacing in the storm’s chaos. Unaware of Jane’s attention, he slumped over the steering wheel, consumed by dark thoughts.
His voice trembled as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Mia.”
Only the sound of digging in the snow could be heard when the girl responded.
“He hurt Mom.”
To his surprise, the girl’s voice pierced through his reverie. He glanced at her, his gaze filled with hope. “Who?” Noah asked.
Jane Doe pointed at his phone, a flicker of recognition in her tear-filled eyes. A spark of hope ignited again in his chest. Wasthis the breakthrough he had been waiting for? As the doctor said, could the familiar stimulus have triggered a long-lost memory?
Noah showed her the photo once more, his heart pounding. “Him?” he asked. “This man hurt your mother?” he asked, his desperation made even more apparent. Tears streaked her cheeks as she nodded, her voice choked with sorrow.
“Father.”
Noah’s breath caught in his throat. This man, the one they both recognized, was her father. Questions flooded his mind, his involvement, address, and ties to others in the community — including the summer camp. “Is Payton still alive? Is… your mom still alive?” he asked.
Before she could respond, the shrill ring of the abductor’s cell phone shattered the fragile moment. Noah hesitated for a brief second before answering, his voice strained.
“Hello?”
“You should have been there by now. Where are you?”
“I had an accident. The storm sent me off the road.”
The abductor’s voice crackled through the line, his words laced with frustration. “Are you playing with me?” he demanded, suspicion seeping into every syllable.
Noah’s voice trembled, his frustration mounting. “You have my daughter. Why would I do that? The road is terrible.”
The abductor’s voice grew colder, more menacing. “How much longer?” he demanded, impatience shining through.
“I don’t know. The troopers are trying to dig us out,” he replied.
“These troopers. They’re going to leave with you once you’ve dropped the girl off,” the abductor stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Noah explained,his voice raw. “I don’t have a say in it. They’re expected to stay there. I’m not above them.”
But the abductor’s command remained unyielding. “Make it happen.”
“Listen, this isn’t going to work. We need to make a new arrangement. I want to see my daughter and then exchange.”
The caller hung up, and his frustration boiled over.
A surge of helplessness washed over Noah. The realization that his plan was unraveling and that he was losing control consumed him. His fists clenched in frustration, a mix of emotions swirling inside. He knew the answer he sought, and the reasons behind it all lay deep within her fragile memories.
And time was running out.
29
Thursday, March 22, 9:12 a.m.
It was a complete rathole. Callie braced herself for what was to come as she and McKenzie stood outside Patrick’s apartment in Mountain Star Apartments. The building had seen better days, its weathered façade showing signs of neglect. The paint was peeling, revealing the worn-out bricks beneath, and the entrance door was chipped and faded. McKenzie had commented on the way up the stairs that it smelled like a horse’s ass. She didn’t even care to ask how he knew what that was like. The fact was the whole place exuded an air of dilapidation and poverty.
