Chapter 6 - three names and two missing women)
The first disappearance happened when Travis was nineteen.
His mother, Elaine Bennett, vanished from a rural town in Pennsylvania.
At the time Travis told police she had left voluntarily.
Elaine had recently divorced his father, sold her house, and planned to move west.
There was no evidence of violence.
No body.
No arrest.
Travis left town within months.
At twenty-four, he began using the surname Hale after marrying Hannah.
After Hannah vanished, he became Travis Morgan.
Rachel listened while Detective Ruiz explained the timeline.
“Changing surnames isn’t a crime,” Ruiz said. “But the pattern matters.”
Rachel stared out the hospital window.
“You think he killed both of them.”
“I think we need evidence.”
Rachel turned.
“Hannah said he was responsible.”
“That makes him a suspect.”
“You’re still saying suspect.”
“Because if I arrest him for murder without enough evidence, I risk giving him opportunities later in court.”
Rachel hated the answer because she knew it was correct.
“Where is he now?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“We don’t know.”
Rachel stood.
“What?”
“He left his vehicle near a bus terminal last night. Cameras show him entering, but not boarding under his known identity.”
Rachel looked toward Lucy.
“He could come here.”
“We have officers stationed outside this floor.”
“He knows where my sister lives.”
“We’ve contacted her.”
“He knows my friends.”
“We’re taking precautions.”
Rachel pressed a hand against her forehead.
For years Travis had insisted on controlling practical details.
He knew passwords.
Addresses.
Work schedules.
Family routines.
He knew everything.
Rachel suddenly understood how dangerous that knowledge could become.
Megan called again that afternoon.
This time Sophie sat beside her.
Rachel had not expected to speak to the girl.
Sophie looked older than ten.
Not physically.
In the eyes.
She held a small black-and-white dog in her lap.
“Hi,” Rachel whispered.
Sophie studied her.
“Is Lucy okay?”
Rachel swallowed.
“She’s getting better.”
“Good.”
Neither knew what else to say.
Then Sophie asked, “Does she like rabbits?”
Rachel looked at the stuffed toy beside Lucy.
“Yes.”
“I did too.”
Megan’s eyes filled.
Sophie continued.
“I had a yellow one.”
Rachel remembered the photograph from the hospital record.
Sophie had been holding something yellow.
“Do you remember Travis?”
Megan quickly said, “Sophie doesn’t have to answer.”
But Sophie nodded.
“A little.”
Rachel waited.
“He didn’t like when Mom went places.”
The simplicity of the sentence made it more painful.
“What do you remember?”
“Mom wanted to work.”
Rachel’s breath caught.
Sophie looked down at the dog.
“Whenever she had something important, I got sick.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
The same pattern.
“Do you remember the church?”
Sophie nodded.
“He told me Mom would meet me there.”
Megan covered her mouth.
Rachel felt cold.
“Travis left you?”
Sophie nodded.
“He said wait for Mom.”
“Did you see your mother after that?”
“No.”
Rachel wanted to stop.
She wanted Sophie protected from every question.
But the girl looked up.
“There was a basement.”
Megan turned sharply.
“What basement?”
Sophie frowned.
“I remembered because of the storage room picture.”
Detective Ruiz, who had joined the call, leaned forward.
“What do you remember about it?”
“A blue door.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Anything else?”
Sophie thought.
“Train sounds.”
Ruiz wrote quickly.
“What happened there?”
Sophie’s face tightened.
“Dad took Mom there once.”
Rachel’s heart pounded.
“Were you with them?”
“In the car.”
“Did your mother come back out?”
Sophie went very still.
Megan put an arm around her.
“You can stop.”
Sophie whispered, “No.”
She looked at Detective Ruiz.
“Dad came back alone.”
The call ended shortly afterward.
Ruiz began contacting investigators from the old case.
Blue basement door.
Train sounds.
A place within driving distance of the church where Sophie was abandoned.
The search area was still enormous.
Then Rachel remembered something Travis once said.
It had been years ago.
They were driving through Ohio to attend a wedding.
A freight train blocked the road.
Travis stared through the windshield and said, I used to sleep through that sound every night.
Rachel had asked where.
He said his uncle owned a machine shop near Dayton.
Ruiz looked up.
“Do you remember the uncle’s name?”
“No.”
“Did Travis ever mention him again?”
Rachel searched her memory.
“He said the shop closed.”
“Anything specific?”
Rachel thought of old conversations.
An address written on a Christmas card.
A photograph in a box.
A story about fixing motorcycles.
Then she remembered an old metal key Travis kept on his key ring.
Stamped with the letters H M.
“He had a key.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
Rachel pictured the kitchen.
A ceramic bowl near the door.
Travis often dropped spare keys there.
“Maybe at home.”
Police searched the house.
They found the key inside Travis’s desk instead.
H M.
Detective Ruiz traced old business licenses.
Hawthorne Machine Works.
Owned by Henry Mercer.
Elaine Bennett’s brother.
Travis’s uncle.
The property had been abandoned for twelve years.
It stood beside an active freight line.
And according to archived building plans, it had a basement.
May you like
With an exterior door.
Originally painted blue.
