Anne was imagining one of those warm, happy nights when the door behind her opened, sucking in a waft of cold morning air and snapping her back to reality.
“There you are,” Scott said, “I’ve been looking all over the house for you.”
“Sorry,” replied Anne, “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to bother you.”
Scott sat down beside her and rubbed his hands together. Anne offered him the cup of coffee but he shook his head at the gesture.
“Detective Doherty called the house,” Scott said, “Did you hear it ring?”
Anne looked at him with alarm. Immediately she felt a wave of guilt. How could she not have been waiting by the phone for news of her daughter? She shook her head as she looked at him desperately for some kind of good news.
“They want to do a press conference or something today,” Scott said, “Get her picture out there. Get it in the media that she’s missing and we’re looking for her. That sort of thing, I guess.”
Anne nodded, deflated that it hadn’t been news about Sara Beth.
Scott turned and looked at her, now seeing the finer details of stress. Her eyes red from crying, the dark bags underneath them from a sleepless night, the fidgety arms of a woman who had had too much caffeine and not enough food. He grabbed her with his right arm and pulled her into him.
“It’s going to be okay, hon” Scott said.
“You don’t know that,” Anne whispered back to him.
Scott didn’t say anything else. He wanted to console his wife, but he had always been a man of practicality and logic. It had always made him the one who kept a cool head in stressful times like this. But now it was also the thing telling him that his wife wasn’t wrong.
16
Doherty and Cole pulled into Thomas Harrison High School as the first classes of the day were beginning. Cole had called the school’s office before they left and confirmed Emily Green and Kevin Polk were in attendance that morning and asked that a room be set aside where they could talk.
Situated on a modest hill overlooking a grassy pasture, its red brick and cream façade with large pane glass windows was the kind of uninspired contemporary architecture that screamed municipal building. School buses lined the street, creating a wall between the school and everything beyond it. Walking around them, the two detectives went to the school’s office where they were greeted by Corporal Alex Rhys, the school resource officer.
“Detectives, how are you,” he asked as he walked them over to an empty conference room, “I’ll let you guys get situated and go track down Emily and Kevin. Who do you want to talk to first?”
“Emily Green, I suppose,” replied Detective Cole.
“You got it,” said Corporal Rhys, “Be right back.”
Cole sat down and looked over what little information the school had legally been allowed to provide her about the two students without obtaining some sort of judicial order. Like Sara Beth, they too were 16 years old and sophomores at the school. Detective Doherty ran a background check on both of them from the office. Neither had a juvenile record.
A minute later the door swung open and Corporal Rhys ushered in Emily Green. Already seeming defensive, she hesitantly stepped towards the two detectives. Detective Cole stood up and offered her hand.
“Miss Green, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cole said, “My name is Angela Cole, I’m a detective with the Harrisonburg Police.”
“Hi,” Emily replied shyly.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” said Detective Doherty.
“Emily, first off you should know you’re not in any kind of trouble. In fact, can we get you anything,” asked Detective Cole, “A water? A soda?”
Emily shook her head as she slipped into a rolling desk chair.
“Are you sure, hon,” asked Cole, trying to ease the obvious worry in Emily.
“No, thank you,” replied Emily.
“Okay, well if you want something, you just let me know,” Cole said.
“I will.”
“So, Emily, you know by now your friend Sara Beth is missing.”
“Yeah. People were talking about it all yesterday. And then I saw it on T.V. last night.”
“Anyone say anything that stuck out to you?”
“This guy, Tony, said she ran away. Another guy, Trevor, said she probably got kidnapped. I think they’re full of, I mean—”
“You can say it, they’re full of shit. What makes you say that?”
Emily smiled sheepishly.
“They don’t really know her,” replied Emily, “I mean, Trevor isn’t even in our class. He’s a Senior.”
“Uh huh, and what are their names again, just so I know,” asked Detective Doherty.
“Tony Tran and Trevor Marcum,” Emily answered.
Cole looked over at Detective Doherty. Both of them jotted down the two names.
“What about people who you do think might know what happened,” asked Cole.
“No,” replied Emily, “I would’ve said something. She was my friend. Is my friend.”
“You two seem close,” said Detective Doherty, “Let me ask, was she supposed to go out with you last night?”
Emily’s faced turned flush. She sunk deeper into her hoodie as she played with the zipper.
“Emily,” said Detective Cole, “I’m not here to get you in trouble. But if something happened, we need to know.”
“I,” began Emily cautiously, “I told my parents I was staying over at Stephanie’s house. To study. They don’t know we left her house.”
“So, you went out last night,” said Detective Doherty, “Was Sara Beth supposed to meet you?”
“We were trying to get her to come, but she was resisting. Eventually she stopped answering me. We never saw her.”
“When was the last time you heard from her?”
“I guess yesterday afternoon. I sent her a snap trying to get her to come out. She replied with a snap of her middle finger.”
Detective Cole grinned, amused, as she noted the last contact with Emily Green.
“What about actually talking to her,” asked Detective Doherty.
“Earlier that afternoon, I FaceTimed her,” replied Emily.
“Right, yes. We see that on her phone,” Doherty said, double-checking the paperwork, “At 3:42 p.m. that afternoon.”
“I guess, yeah.”
“What did you talk about?”
“She was mad her mom wasn’t going to let her go on this trip to Mexico over Spring Break. I told her we were going out, and she should blow off some steam by coming out with us. Like I said, though, she never said she was going to.”
“You’re 100% sure she never said at any point that day she was coming?”
“I wanted her to come. If she said she was coming, I would remember.”
Detectives Doherty and Cole looked at each other.
“Emily,” Detective Doherty said, stepping in, “The reason we ask is we found Sara Beth’s phone. Coming from her house, she would’ve been headed towards the downtown area. You say she wasn’t going to meet up with you. Do you know of any reason she would go down there?”
Emily turned white as she processed what Detective Doherty said. She closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek.
“No,” she said, “Oh my god, do you think she was coming to meet us? Am I? Am I the reason she’s missing now?”
“No. No, of course not,” Cole said quickly, trying to stop Emily from getting too upset, “We don’t know why she left. But I tell you what, we’re going to do everything we can to get her back.”
Emily nodded as she lost the battle to hold back more tears. Corporal Rhys, who had been leaning in the corner, stepped over and offered her a tissue box from the table.
“I think that’s good for now,” said Detective Cole, “We’ll let you know if we need you.”
Corporal Rhys opened the door. Emily stood up, nodding, and was ushered out by Rhys.
“I’ll go get Kevin Polk,” Corporal R
hys said quietly as he shut the door behind him.
Detective Doherty stood up and walked to the window. An early morning physical education class jogged down the hill in grey t-shirts and purple mesh shorts. The teacher was getting on the few stragglers who seemed to prefer to socialize instead of run.
“You were good with Green,” said Detective Doherty.
“Thanks, I think I should take Kevin Polk, too,” replied Detective Cole, “If we don’t divide and conquer, we’ll be here all day running down every name these kids drop.”
Detective Doherty turned around and walked back over to his notepad for reference.
“No problem,” said Doherty, “You want me to run down this Tony Tran and Trevor Marcum separately?”
“Do you mind,” asked Cole.
“No, not at all,” answered Doherty.
“There’s probably nothing there, like Green said, but we better check it out anyway.”
“Agreed. I’ll get Rhys to find the two. See if I can’t find another one of these empty conference rooms.”
Detective Doherty grabbed his files and stepped towards the door just as Corporal Rhys was knocking on and opening it. He gave the detective a polite smile as the two passed each other in the doorway.
“Detective Cole,” said Corporal Rhys turning to look at her, “Kevin Polk for you.”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Detective Cole, “Kevin, why don’t you have a seat.”
Kevin plopped down confidently into one of the desk chairs. He didn’t seem nearly as timid as Emily had.
“Kevin, it’s nice to meet you,” said Detective Cole.
“Nice to meet you, too,” answered Kevin.
“Kevin, first of all, I just wanted to start by saying you’re not in any kind of trouble,” said Cole.
Kevin nodded.
“I assume you know by now Sara Beth Parker is missing,” said Detective Cole.
“Yeah, everyone at school is talking about it,” replied Kevin.
“Has anyone said that they know what happened to her,” asked Detective Cole.
“Everyone has their theories, sure. But it’s all just bullshit.”
“Like Tony Tran and Trevor Marcum?”
“Yeah, and others. People who didn’t know her.”
“What about you? How well do you know Sara Beth?”
“I don’t know. She’s in a few of my classes. We talk a bit.”
“You texted her two nights ago, a few hours before she disappeared.”
Kevin shifted uneasily in his seat. He looked less confident now, as he muttered a reply.
“I just said, you know, she should come out,” said Kevin, “But I never saw her. I didn’t even go out that night.”
“You didn’t,” asked Cole.
“No,” replied Kevin, “I mean I was going to. But then I didn’t. You can ask my dad. He found out I failed an English quiz. He grounded me that night.”
“You could’ve snuck out.”
“No way, you clearly don’t know my parents. In fact, you can ask them. My dad yelled at me to get off my PS4 later that night. At like eight. Ridiculously early.”
There was an edge to Kevin’s tone now, as if he felt Cole was accusing him of something and he didn’t appreciate it. Cole believed him, leaving her unsure where to go next.
“Look, can I go,” asked Kevin, “Like I said, ask my parents.”
Detective Cole let out a sigh and looked over the papers in front of her.
“Alright,” she said, “Thank you. If I need anything else, I’ll ask.”
“Okay,” replied Kevin.
He stood up and walked out. Now it was Cole’s turn to get up and look out the window. Detective Doherty and Corporal Rhys were standing out there. They were looking off in the distance as one of the kids in gym clothes walked over to them. Must be Tony Tran or Trevor Marcum, she thought.
She hoped they’d find more than she had.
17
Jackson was listening to a news report on Ashley Sudfeld as he entered the sleepy village of The Plains, Virginia and pulled into a parking spot at Hart’s Diner. He waited for a moment, listening to the end of the news story. The suspect, Walter Scruggs, was expected to be arraigned in court tomorrow. He was identified as the man authorities arrested when they found Sudfeld. There was no mention of someone capturing him before authorities arrived.
Satisfied, Jackson killed the engine and climbed out of his truck. He lifted up his left pant leg and examined the, bluish-purple bruise extending down to his ankle. Finding and freeing Ashley Sudfeld had not come without a cost to his body. He lowered his pants leg and stretched, trying to ease the pain away. As he did so, Frankie Hart, owner and operator of Hart’s Diner, saw him and waved.
Jackson waved back before walking in and grabbing his usual seat at the counter.
“Jax,” greeted Frankie, “How’s it going?”
“Frankie,” said Jackson, tersely returning the salutation.
“You want your usual for lunch,” asked Frankie.
Jackson nodded. Frankie chuckled, flashing his signature beaming smile. These days, Jackson was a mostly private man, but Hart’s Diner was one of the few places he had allowed himself to become known. He appreciated the low-key restaurant where he could get a decent cup of coffee and a bite to eat. It didn’t hurt that it was less than 20 minutes from his timber-frame cabin nestled in the Bull Run Mountains.
“Turkey and swiss on wheat, bowl of corn chowder coming up,” said Frankie, “You looked sore out there.”
“Yeah, not going to run any triathlons any time soon,” replied Jackson, “That’s for sure.”
Frankie disappeared into the kitchen as Jackson pulled out the copy of The Washington Post he had brought with him. He flipped through the pages, looking for more news on the Sudfeld case. He stopped when the words “Missing Girl” caught his eye, but to his surprise it wasn’t an article on Sudfeld. A girl had apparently gone missing in Harrisonburg some time Monday night. Jackson flipped the paper over, folding it, and began reading.
“Sad thing about that girl,” said Frankie, peering at the newspaper from the kitchen window.
“Looks like it,” replied Jackson, “You know anything about it?”
“Just that some girl disappeared the other night,” said Frankie, “Same night they found that other girl. Now that was a weird one. You hear about it?”
“I think I saw something on the news.”
“Some dude calls 911, says there’s this missing girl over in god knows where. Cops show up, find the dude that took her tied up.”
“The girl tied him up?”
“No. Apparently some dude did. Didn’t stick around for the cops to show up.”
“I didn’t hear about that. Where’d you hear that?”
“Ah, on Twitter man. Police won’t say it, but there was someone else there. That’s the one who called the police.”
“Weird. Well, you know you can’t believe everything on the internet these days.”
“Shoot, the cops not wanting to admit some guy did their job for them? I’ll believe that every damn day of the week. I wish that dude would come out and say it, too. I’d buy that man a damn beer.”
Jackson grinned as he continued to read the article.
The police hadn’t released much information other than to confirm she was a missing person with her physical description, but the article noted there had been a large police presence around an appliance repair shop less than half a mile from the missing girl’s home.
The lack of information struck Jackson as odd. That usually meant they were sitting on something they didn’t want to share, he thought. The other option was there wasn’t a lot to go on. If it was the latter, that was bad news in a missing persons case.
Frankie pushed open the double doors to the kitchen and came around with Jackson’s soup and sandwich.
“You want something to drink with that,” asked Frankie, placing the food in front of Jackson
�
��Iced tea, unsweetened, please,” Jackson said
“Man, you never change,” Frankie replied, shaking his head as he smiled.
The article ended with a note that a press conference was scheduled for later today. If it hadn’t already happened, Jackson wanted to catch it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and googled the latest news on the case. Nothing mentioned a time let alone the press conference itself.
Frankie came around with the iced tea and placed it in front of Jackson who nodded as he took a bite of his sandwich.
“You know the girl or something,” asked Frankie.
“Nope,” replied Jackson.
“Awfully interested for someone that doesn’t know her,” Frankie said.
“Just curious, I guess.”
“Uh huh, I see,” Frankie said, “So you think someone took her?”
“Don’t know, I’m not a detective.”
“But you’re curious, like you said.”
Jackson was curious. In his experience – experience neither Frankie nor almost anyone else knew about – people didn’t just disappear. Someone almost always saw something. If not a person then a camera, especially these days. But that didn’t seem to be the story here. The more he thought about it, the more it made that gear inside of him tick.
He thought again about that press conference. He checked his watch; it was a little after one in the afternoon. If he hadn’t missed it already, it was going to happen in the next few hours.
“Tell you what Frankie,” said Jackson, “Can I get something to wrap up this other half of the sandwich.”
“What’s wrong,” asked Frankie, “You got a hot date all of the sudden?”
“No, just forgot I had some stuff to take care of,” replied Jackson.
“You didn’t even touch your chowder.”
Jackson smiled and patted his stomach.
“Probably for the best,” he said.
Frankie laughed and shook his head again as he handed Jackson a Styrofoam container. Jackson pulled a 20 dollar bill out of his front pocket, told Frankie to keep the rest, and headed out.
The Woodsman (The Jackson Clay & Bear Beauchamp Series Book 1) Page 6