Page 72 of Coming Home

Quickly, Jackson told him of his last client in California who had been accused of rape and murder and how he’d been found not guilty.

“It struck me when he tried to line me up for future representation, even before the verdict was read, Dylan. After it was, one of the jurors approached me, claiming she had been threatened to vote not guilty.

He explained the circumstances, how his client was tech savvy, and the messages had disappeared from the juror’s phone, which but she had found her dead cat as a physical warning.

“It was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me in wanting to leave L.A. I knew in my heart McGreer was guilty.”

“What does he have to do with Ainsley?”

Jackson gripped his phone. “McGreer told me he wanted to start a new life. He asked me how to go about changing his name legally. I told him how to do so, and he mentioned a name to me. Anthony Abbott. I didn’t remember until now. Ainsley has a client by that name, living in Crescent Cove. She was to deliver a wedding cake to Abbott this afternoon when the bakery closed before coming to Portland to pick me up.”

He had watched people boarding the plane and knew he would need to get on it soon. “I’ve got to board now, Dylan. You’ve got to find Ainsley. I called and voice-mail picked up. I haven’t been able to reach her. just saying those words caused apprehension, worry, and dread to run through him.

“I’m on it,” Dylan told him. “Text me your flight number and ETA. I’ll have one of my deputies, Raymond Garcia, pick you up and get you back to the Cove as soon as possible.”

“Thank you. Please. Find Ainsley. Keep her safe.”

Jackson rose and joined the dwindling line, boarding the plane, and then texting Dylan his flight info. As the plane rolled away from the gate and he turned off his phone, Jackson had never felt more helpless his entire life.

CHAPTER 26

Jackson stood next to Ainsley’s car, which was parked behind Buttercup Bakery. He called her cell and, as expected, heard the ringing inside the car. Dylan had located her locked SUV, with her purse and the cake she was to deliver to Crescent Cove, inside it. The bakery was also locked. Dylan and his deputies had scoured the square, talking to all the tenants on it, especially the ones on the side of Buttercup Bakery, asking if they had seen Ainsley in the alley with anyone or seen any vehicles they did not recognize. They had struck out. No one had seen a thing.

Dylan had notified his counterparts in Crescent City and Salty Point, giving them the heads up on Ainsley’s disappearance and the possible connection to Gerard McGreer, now going by Anthony Abbott. Deputy Linda Goodnight was a whiz with computers and had located McGreer’s petition to change his name with the State of California. She had also found the notices he had posted in public newspapers.

A squad car pulled up, and Deputy Oswald Jones got out, as did Gus. The baker rushed to Jackson’s side.

“I’m sorry, Jackson. I just didn’t know. The guy didn’t set off any alarm bells with me. You’d think he would have, me being a convicted felon and having spent enough time around men like him.”

Jackson said, “Don’t blame yourself, Gus. It’s not your fault. But we need to compare notes on this Anthony Abbott and his appearance. If he changed his name, I have a feeling he might have also altered his physical appearance.”

Dylan stepped forward. “I pulled up a few pictures from his trial. Ones that appeared in newspapers in L.A.” He turned his phone toward Gus. “Is this the man who came in the bakery?”

Immediately, Gus shook his head. “No. He looks nothing like the man we saw.”

“Give us a description then, Gus,” Dylan urged. “As detailed as possible.”

Gus closed his eyes tightly, his face scrunching up in thought. “Abbott didn’t have that receding hairline. In fact, he had a head full of hair.”

“Could’ve been hair transplants,” Jackson murmured. “What else, Gus?”

“His nose was different. Thinner. And his chin was stronger. More... square.” Gus opened his eyes and looked at the picture again. “He didn’t wear glasses. And I can’t tell what his teeth look like, but this Abbott fellow had a good smile.”

“Then he’s had dental work done,” Jackson noted. “Probably had them capped. Maybe contacts or LASIK because I know he was extremely nearsighted.”

Gus nodded vigorously. “His smile was... so easy.”

“Gerard McGreer is a psychopath,” Jackson said flatly. “He would have practiced that smile to disarm others.”

Dylan said, “Salty Point has a guy who’s a decent sketch artist. I’ll contact their chief. Gus, would you be willing to go over there and work with him on a sketch?”

“Anything you need,” Gus said fervently. “Ainsley means the world to me. She believed in me when no one else did. We’ve got to find her.”

Dylan signaled Deputy Garcia and asked him to drive Gus to Salty Point. He fired off a quick text and then looked to Jackson. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Dylan’s phone rang and he answered it, tersely asking a few questions before hanging up.

“That was Crescent Cove. They think they found where Abbott was staying. At a B&B. But he was using the name Sam Johnson. He checked out this morning. Nothing left behind. The woman who runs the place has already cleaned the room thoroughly. She did give a description of Johnson to the police. It matches what Gus told us.”

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