The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [48]
“Say it anyway.”
“I think the people who kidnapped Sara made it a point to take my books.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because Sara’s other schoolbooks were left behind in the motel room. Detective Burrell told me so. They were in the evidence locker.”
I felt myself stiffen. Jessie had stumbled upon something. I said, “Well, that certainly sounds strange. The books you loaned Sara … what were they?”
“My nursing books. Manual of Medical-Surgical Nursing Care and Taber’s Medical Dictionary. Sara sometimes borrows them from me when we travel. They’re a real pain to lug around.”
“Are they big?”
“Yeah, they’re both doorstops.”
I spent a moment processing what Jessie had just told me. Sara’s abductors had purposely removed two nursing books from Sara’s motel room during her abduction. They were big books, and had been taken for a reason. I found myself thinking back to Naomi Dunn, who’d also been a college student. Dunn’s books had been scattered around her apartment, and I didn’t remember the police taking an inventory of them.
The police file of Dunn’s case was in the trunk of my car with the rest of my belongings. I decided it was time to take a look at it.
“I need to go,” I told my daughter. “Thank you for calling, and telling me this.”
“I hope it means something,” Jessie said.
“It does. You did good, honey.”
I went to my Legend and popped the trunk. The cardboard box containing all my earthly possessions stared up at me. It should have given me pause, but it didn’t. Life was too short. I pulled out Dunn’s file and slammed the trunk shut.
I got into my car for some privacy. The interior was as hot as an oven. I looked at the thermometer on the dash. The interior was 96 degrees, and I was parked in the shade.
I started up the engine. Soon cold air was blowing through the vents. Buster climbed onto the passenger seat and promptly fell asleep. I opened Dunn’s file on my lap and sifted through the pages. A list of Dunn’s classes at Broward Community College had been included as evidence, along with the names of her classmates who’d been interviewed by the police.
The list had been typed on a typewriter, the block letters badly faded. Dunn had been taking four classes at BCC. One was in contemporary American literature, the other three medicine-related. Her major was listed at the bottom of the page.
Nursing.
Thank you, Jessie.
I flipped to the evidence log. Forty-eight items had been removed from Dunn’s apartment and cataloged by the police, including her clothes, toiletries, jewelry, a tennis racket, several pieces of expensive camera equipment, and a stack of novels written by Ayn Rand, Norman Mailer, and Saul Bellow. It was heavy reading, and no doubt part of her American literature class. Yet her nursing books, which was her major, were nowhere to be found.
I combed through the report. If I remembered correctly, the police had searched Dunn’s car, an old Mazda that she parked outside her apartment. Perhaps her nursing books had been found inside the trunk.
The car’s items were buried in the back of the file. The police had found five items in the trunk. Two beach blankets, a tube of suntan lotion, a straw hat, and a portable radio. Dunn’s nursing books weren’t there either.
I slapped the file shut and cursed. I’d been looking at Dunn’s file for eighteen years, yet somehow I’d failed to see the discrepancy. Dunn’s abductors had taken her nursing books, just like they’d taken Sara’s nursing books.
I’m sorry, Naomi.
Linderman materialized beside my car. He’d undone the knot in his tie, and giant drops of sweat dotted his brow. The look on his face was anything but happy.
I lowered my window. “What’s up?”
“Good news, and bad news,” Linderman said.
“Why don’t you climb in? It’s nice and cool.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
I made Buster get into the back, and Linderman took his place. I let him enjoy the cool air for a few moments, then said, “What’s the good news?”
“TirePrint just made the vehicle. Sara’s abductors are driving a 2006 Jeep Cherokee with Goodrich tires. I called the