“Or both.”
John heaved a sigh, about to hand back the small bag containing Imogene Prescott’s necklace when he paused, squinting at the delicate chain.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Was the necklace found this way?”
“Yes. The benefit of a cop’s wife uncovering it, I suppose. She knew the importance of not disturbing it, so she left it where it was in the grass. After it was properly photographed, I placed it into this evidence bag.”
“Just like this?”
“Just like this,” she confirmed. “Why?”
“The clasp.” He manipulated the chain, showing Agent Hawkins what he was referring to.
“What about it?”
“It’s attached.”
“And…” She furrowed her brow, not understanding what he was getting at.
“If it fell off as she was being moved from this location to another, as one would assume was the reason it was found in the grass, either the chain would be broken or the clasp would be undone.” The more he spoke, the more excited he became. “That’s not the case here. This is together.”
“What do you think it means?”
He licked his lips, wracking his brain. He didn’t know much about Imogene, but he’d picked up on a few things from talking with her mother. One thing was certain. They were quite a lot alike. Tenacious. Determined. Resourceful. Even under pressure.
“I think this was intentional,” he stated. “The girl’s version of leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.”
Spinning on his heel, he strode toward the shed, a half-dozen techs bagging anything they deemed relevant.
“Everyone stop what you’re doing right now,” he ordered, voice echoing against the rafters.
A silence fell over the shed, not so much as a camera shutter to be heard.
“What is it?” Agent Hawkins pressed.
“This necklace.” John lifted the bag. “What if it’s not the only one?”
“We looked. We haven’t uncovered any more necklaces. Or other jewelry. It—”
“No.” He quickly shook his head. “Not a necklace. Anything strange or unusual. Imogene Prescott is a very bright girl. She may have been young when she learned who her father truly was, but she still remembers certain things. Like how he used to play hide-and-seek, where he’d hide Imogene and make Julia find her.”
“What does that have to do with this?” Agent Hawkins frowned. “I’m not sure I—”
“Because as Imogene got older, she realized what her father was doing. Realized he was intentionally hiding her from her mother. I could be wrong, but I think this necklace is part of a trail Imogene left behind to lead us to something important.”
“Maybe to where they took her?” Agent Hawkins suggested.
“Let’s hope so.” John scanned the shed, analyzing every nail, every footprint, every piece of wood.
“What are we looking for?”
“She wouldn’t have made it obvious,” he suggested, hoping his theory was correct. “It would be out of place, but not entirely conspicuous.” He surveyed the cramped space, dust floating in the air as rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks between the siding. Then he squinted, stepping cautiously toward the workbench, a small piece of colored tape stuck to the edge.
He sucked in a breath, yanking his cell from his pocket and finding the photo that had been on Imogene’s phone when Julia learned she’d been taken —Imogene bound and gagged in what looked like a trunk. And around her wrists was blue tape.
Thistape.