“I hope this helps you, Captain.” He smiled and handed her the materials.
Linda rose to leave and shook Dave’s beefy hand before handing him her card. “I appreciate your cooperation. If you think of anything else, here’s my contact information. Then, if you will point out the car dealership you think Nicole went to, that would be great.”
Cars A Dealin’ wasn’t a dealership, but the kind of small used-car lot that specialized in getting cars sold quickly. Linda didn’t expect to find the Corolla still on the lot and wasn’t disappointed. The manager on duty, no older than twenty-one judging from his acne, confirmed her suspicions.
“I remember her because the Toyota was in good condition and very clean. It even smelled clean. That’s not normally the case with the cars we get.”
Linda queried him. “What do you mean by that statement?” she said, glancing at his nametag, which said Patrick. “I mean, can you be more specific, Patrick?”
His smile was sheepish, as though he wasn’t sure how much he should tell her, particularly since he now knew he was dealing with the police.
“I need you to recall your interaction with Mrs. Hansen that day,” she cajoled.
Patrick’s shoulders heaved, resigned to having to tell what he knew and hoping he wouldn’t be in any trouble. “You being with the police and all, you probably know places like this deal strictly in cash. We try to get a title, but if there’s none, we don’t ask a lot of questions.”
Linda wasn’t interested in Cars A Dealin’ and its business practices. She could tell she surprised Patrick with her next question. “Do you remember if inside the car there was a particular odor? Bleach, for example?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, as if it were stiff. “No, not bleach, but the interior had that ‘new car’ smell, which you can achieve with automotive cleaning products. Totally vacuumed out, washed, and waxed. We don’t see that very often.”
“What about a vehicle title—did Mrs. Hansen have that?”
“Yeah, she did. She signed it, and I paid her.”
“How much did you disburse to her?” she asked.
“I think $4,000,” Patrick said, the pitch in his nervous voice a notch higher.
“No need to be anxious, Patrick.” Linda smiled, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “I’m not here because you’ve done anything wrong. But I assume even Cars A Dealin’ keeps some type of financial records. Can you confirm how much you paid her?”
Patrick’s body relaxed. “I’ll find the receipt for you.”
She smiled reassuringly. “I’d appreciate that. And Patrick, if you’re worried what your boss will think of you talking to a cop, you won’t have to tell anyone I was ever here.”
Patrick’s relief came in a loud sigh. He went in back, and Linda heard a file cabinet open and papers being shuffled. He came out carrying a file folder. “She brought the car here on a Monday. Monday, April first—April Fool’s Day.”
That’s ironic. She’ll be the one that’s the fool. Linda pulled her notes from her bag to confirm some dates. The last day anyone saw the Hansen family was Sunday, March twenty-fourth. Eight days later, she sells the Toyota and disappears.
Linda looked at Patrick, posing a question. “Selling her car leaves her with no vehicle. Or did she buy another from you?”
“No, that was the weird thing. She asked me where the Greyhound bus depot was and called a cab to pick her up.”
Linda’s notepad was halfway into her bag. “Do you remember the name of the cab company?”
Patrick shook his head. “No, another customer came in; and by the time I was finished helping them, she was gone. But I can tell you we sold the car three days later to a couple from Oklahoma. Do you want their names?”
“Sure,” Linda answered but doubted it would do much good. Any forensic evidence was long gone. Patrick wrote down the buyers’ names, and she thanked him for his cooperation. She wasn’t surprised Nicole Hansen had resorted to the bus. It was the perfect way to slip off the grid into anonymity, as Linda had expected.
12
JUNE 29, 2002, SUNDAY MORNING ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI THE ROAD TO CALVARY SET
Five weeks earlier, Ray Williams had been resigned to failure, preparing to shut down The Road to Calvary and any attempts to find another way to spread the Word of Salvation. But as the result of meeting Susannah Baker, he had become willing to take unconventional risks, and the pieces were falling into place. They took advantage of any free advertising to raise their profile. Ray gave interviews on religious radio stations in the area and submitted articles to local suburban papers. The publicity paid off. The studio was nearly full, and Ray knew a good first impression increased positive word-of-mouth. The phone number “1-800-HE-SAVES” lit up the bottom of the TV screens.
Live on the air, Rev. Ray was a man renewed, as if he’d been sparked by the touch of God himself. Mid-sermon, he prowled the stage, delivering his revitalized message with fervor he hadn’t felt since Lorraine died. Scanning his audience, he saw more attentive faces than in the past, but the crowd needed a jolt to bring them home.
“Remember that the Lord makes His face shine upon you!” he proclaimed, the slight southern drawl slowly building toward a crescendo. “Jesus in your heart is the radiance of the Lord God shining upon your face in a dark room.”
The pastor paused, making deliberate eye contact with his audience, searching expectant faces. “I recognize that many of you are going through troubled times, but I tell you here and now that if you seek the loving face of the Son of God, you can walk through the most treacherous valley and not fear. You can face the greatest storm, and the water will not drown you, because when God is with you, the Light of Our Lord Jesus Christ will help you fend off the forces of darkness!”
In the brief recess, a voice rose from out of the audience. “I know that the Reverend Ray speaks the truth!” In the front row, Susannah had stood and announced to the audience, “My name is Susannah Baker, and without the reverend I would not be here today!”
Mesmerized, Ray watched her from his position on stage. Dressed in a modest navy suit, she clenched her fists, pulling her arms tight into her chest as she faced them. “I have walked deep into the valley of darkness—alone, broke, an alcoholic. I was clinging to life by a thread, ready to wash down a handful of sleeping pills with a bottle of Jack Daniels and end my troubles.”
Even though she faced away from him, Ray could see the rolling of Susannah’s shoulders as she began to cry. He stepped off the stage and walked alongside her, holding the microphone without being intrusive, so the audience could witness her story. From his breast pocket, he handed her a handkerchief.
Susannah accepted the gesture and dabbed at her moist eyes before resuming her story. “But for some reason, I turned on the TV in my dingy hotel room.” She laughed a bit self-consciously, wiping away a tear. “I guess I wanted company in my final hour. I came across this program and Reverend Ray, and you know what? I started to listen. He didn’t tell me I was a sinner or that I was a drunk; he told me that God was there with me! That Jesus Christ would help me—me, Susannah Baker! All I had to do was ask.”