“She was at a mixer with him a couple of weeks ago,” I say. “Did she happen to mention whether she’d planned on telling him then or not?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she did though. She was still trying to figure out the best way to tell him,” she replies.

It might ultimately be nothing, but it’s an interesting little factoid that I tuck away. It means we’re going to have to take a closer look at Archibald Richter. I didn’t get a bad vibe off the guy, and he seemed genuinely torn up about her ghosting him, but that’s a feeling—not proof—which is far from conclusive. If he found out she had been lying to him about her age and identity, that could be a motive to make her disappear. Never mind it getting out that he was trolling for a sugar baby—if it got out that his sugar baby was a sixteen-year-old girl, it would absolutely ruin him in a thousand different ways, both personally and professionally.

“Nicole, did Ashley ever mention anybody else she was having trouble with?” Astra asks. “Anybody she was afraid of? Anybody who’d threatened her or was perhaps following her around? Anybody making her feel uncomfortable?”

She screws up her face and looks away, seeming to be thinking about the question. A minute later, she turns back to Astra and nods excitedly, as if she’d just remembered something.

“Yeah, you know, now that you mention it—a few weeks back, we were at the mall, and there was this weird guy who was following us around. Or at least, we thought he was. He kept turning up in stores we were in,” she says. “He gave us both the creeps, and we ended up leaving just to get away from him.”

A jolt of lightning shoots through my body at her words. “Can you describe this man?”

“Umm… he was older… maybe forty or something. He had shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. And he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days—he was all scruffy,” she says.

“Can you tell us anything else about him? Height? Race?” Astra presses.

“He was white. And I don’t know… a few inches taller than you guys? So, maybe six feet? And he was pretty lean. But he was pale—had this unhealthy look and scars on his cheeks. I think he was like a drug user or something.”

It’s vague, but it gives us something solid to chase. Far from being a waste of time, it’s a stroke of luck that Nicole showed up at the Barlow house. She didn’t give us solid answers to our questions, but she’s provided us with some interesting nuggets of information to follow up on. It’s not much, and it’s not definitive, but it’s a start.

“I want to thank you for talking to us, Nicole,” I tell her. “But it’s critical that you don’t share this conversation with anybody you talk to. And it’s just as important that you don’t mention Ashley being missing. To anybody. Do you understand?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“I mean it, Nicole. I can’t stress the importance of you keeping silent about all of this,” I tell her. “If you tell people about this, it might make finding Ashley more difficult or even impossible.”

“I understand. And I won’t say anything to anybody. I promise. I swear.”

“Okay. Good,” I say. “Then go ahead and get out of here. And again, thank you for talking to us. We really appreciate it.”

Tears spill down her cheeks as she gets to her feet. “Please find Ashley,” she says. “Please find my best friend.”

“We’re going to do everything in our power to bring her home,” I reply. “I promise.”

Her gaze lingers on us for a moment, and the corners of her mouth curl downward. She’s smart enough to know we’re not promising that we’ll bring her home, only that we’ll try. But she nods. Nicole turns and walks out of the kitchen, and we listen to her footsteps recede until the front door closes, and she’s gone.

“Okay, we’ve got some things to work with,” I say to Astra. “So, let’s hit it.”

“Let’s get to it.”

FBI Operational Black Site, Foggy Bottom District; Washington DC

“So, Archibald Richter is back on the menu?” Paige asks.

“Wanting to cover up the fact that he was engaging in a potentially sexual relationship with an underage girl seems like a pretty good motive, yeah?” I ask.

“But what about Peter Olange?” Astra asks. “If Richter is responsible for Ashley’s abduction, why would he snatch Peter too? I mean, we’ve got definitive proof that the same guy took both of them.”

“Yeah, I haven’t worked that out yet,” I reply.

“Then there’s the fact that Richter isn’t a physical match for the man we saw in the videos taking both of the kids,” Astra reminds me.

“I don’t think he did it personally. If he’s involved, he obviously has somebody working for him who actually did the deed,” I say.

“Are you thinking he’s running a trafficking ring?” Mo asks.

“Maybe. Honestly, my gut tells me no. I don’t think he’s involved,” I say. “But my gut feelings aren’t enough. We need to be sure.”

“Well, his calendar checks out. They gave us everything we wanted and then some,” Nina tells me. “We’ve run down his schedule the days Ashley and Peter were taken and confirmed his alibi. He wasn’t anywhere near the abduction sites.”

“Okay, good. That’s a start,” I say. “Nina, I want you and Rick to dig into his financials. I want to know about any unusual money transfers, any shell corporations, or anything that might indicate he’s got a side income from running kids.”

“Copy that, Boss,” Nina replies.

“It’s going to take a little time, but we’ll get on it,” Rick says.

“Good. Thank you.”

Arms folded over my chest, I pace the floor of the war room. The pictures of Ashley and Peter are up on the monitor, their eyes boring into me in silent judgment… their gazes a quiet accusation. We’re no closer to finding them today than we were the day we arrived, and the pressure that’s settled down over me has a physical weight so great I feel like I’m suffocating beneath it. I’m flailing for answers and failing these kids with every second that passes.

“What’s next?” Astra asks.

I replay our conversation with Nicole in my head. “The man she mentioned was watching them in the mall. I want to look at him.”

“Okay, but how do we go about finding him?” Astra asks.

“Rick, can you get into the Enfield Mall’s security footage?”

“Probably. Their digital archives aren’t exactly like Fort Knox,” he replies.

“Good. Get into it,” I say. “Mo, get us a digital warrant while he’s working on that. We should probably cover our butts just in case.”

“On it,” Mo says and sets to work on it.

Rick’s brow furrows, and his fingers fly over his keyboard. As each second ticks by, the knot in my stomach gets a little tighter, constricting until it’s painful. This is a long shot but like I always say, it’s better than no shot. Mentally crossing my fingers, I say a silent prayer. Unless we can find this guy on video, we’re not going to have any other way to ID him.

“Paige, get into Ashley’s credit cards,” I say. “I want to know what stores she was shopping in the day Nicole said they were being followed.”

“You got it,” she replies.

I take a drink of water, then resume pacing, giving them both a few minutes to work. The tension in the room is thick, and frankly, I’m feeling a little penned in. The war room feels a little claustrophobic, and the walls seem a little too close for my liking. I want to get out and pound the bricks. I want to be anywhere but standing here in this room staring at the pictures of the two kids who are missing… and I can’t find.

“Okay, I’m in,” Rick says.