He photographed every screen with his phone. Then he called Detective Alma Reyes, the investigator the hospital social worker had told him to expect, and read her the number.
The Tennessee Department of Children’s Services opened its case before noon. A caseworker named Priya Nambiar met him in the pediatric ICU family room with a clipboard and a kindness that didn’t feel rehearsed. She explained that Annie’s condition required a mandatory report and that the children would stay in Brent’s care while the investigation went forward.
“I’m not here to punish you,” she said. “From what I can see, you’re the one who did everything right.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I should have driven by that house a week ago.”
“You answered the phone,” she said. “That’s the part a lot of people miss.”
Detective Reyes arrived at two. She was a tall woman with a gray braid and a manner that suggested she’d seen worse and would see it again. She spent an hour on the iPad, then told him what she’d found.
Whitney’s phone had last pinged a tower outside Chattanooga on Saturday morning. After that it went dark. Dale Pruitt’s phone had gone dark the same day.
“Is she with him?” Brent asked.
“We don’t know. But I did something the minute I got those messages.” Reyes opened a folder. “I called every hospital within a hundred miles and asked about unidentified women admitted since Saturday. I got a hit at Erlanger in Chattanooga. A woman found unresponsive in a motel parking lot. No ID, no phone. They’ve been calling her Jane Doe.”
Brent’s hands went cold.
“She’s alive,” Reyes said at once. “She was found by a housekeeper, and a motel employee had the presence of mind to give her naloxone before the ambulance arrived. She’s been in the ICU for five days.”
