Sara Beth found it curious that the man didn’t seem to approach the far side of the room, where they heard the latest whatever it was being rolled to. Maybe there wasn’t someone there at all. Maybe it was something else entirely.
The man did something with the hose just in front of the crate she was in before tossing it aside. Sara Beth heard it land to her left as the boots thumped towards the door and the hinges whined as the door swung open and shut. Then, silence again.
“Are you guys okay,” asked Sara Beth quietly.
“Aside from having just been water boarded, yeah,” whispered Keera back.
“I’m freezing now,” said Meghan.
Sara Beth was about to say something more when she heard the muffled thumping of boots approaching the door again. This time, though, there was more than one pair. The men were talking to each other. Trying to listen, she couldn’t make anything out until the doors burst open with a bang.
“Take that one. You, that one,” said a voice.
It was the voice of the man that had been in just earlier with the hose. He had a gravelly voice – probably aided by years of tobacco use – with a southern drawl.
She heard Meghan scream followed by a barrage of profanity from Keera. Sara Beth was about to say something when the crate she was in shook. It rolled forward. Someone was moving her. Then she understood. They were all being moved.
“Stop it,” yelled Sara Beth almost instinctively, “What do you want? Just let us go!”
She didn’t expect an answer, but an answer of sorts came from across the room. Except whoever was speaking wasn’t talking to her.
“No, dumbass,” said the same gravelly voice, “The other one. Not that one.”
The crate she was in coasted to a stop. She listened as wheels on both sides of her squealed as they rolled away. Both Meghan and Keera were screaming things at the invisible people in the room. Panic came over Sara Beth. As scared as she had been just a moment ago, she was twice as terrified now. Meghan and Keera were being moved and it seemed she was staying put. Staying put with God knows what they just put in here moments ago.
The door banged open again and Sara Beth covered her mouth to keep from screaming. She was about to be alone. This is it, she thought, it cannot get any worse than this. But just as she thought that, one of the other men spoke.
“What’s with that one?”
The gravelly voice with the southern drawl answered.
“Don’t worry about her. She won’t be here long.”
Part II
Jackson No Middle Name Clay
23
Cole sat at her desk reviewing dashcam footage from a Harrisonburg Police Officer’s patrol car. Swirling the wooden stirrer in her coffee, she watched as the patrol car drove down High Street approaching the downtown area and stopped at the traffic light at Wolfe Street. The patrol car was half a block from the parking lot where Sara Beth Parker disappeared. The timestamp on the video read 10:11 PM. Ten minutes later, it might’ve been right there as the abduction itself took place. Cole scowled in frustration.
It had been two weeks since she first got the call about a missing teen named Sara Beth. Officially, the case was still very much open and the police were actively pursuing all leads. Unofficially, those leads had dried up and Cole had been given the nudge to move on several times by her superiors.
But Sara Beth remained missing, leaving Detective Cole grasping at straws, reaching into the haystack, hoping to feel the pin prick of a needle. She continued to work the case whenever she could. If that meant being to work an hour earlier and leaving an hour later, so be it. She’d continue to look for Sara Beth on her own time if she had to. Moving on wasn’t possible for her. Not on this one, anyway. Lying in bed at night, she’d see Anne Parker again, her head down as she clung to that poster with Sara Beth’s pictures. Then Cole would think about Sara Beth, walking that night when someone had done something awful to her. She imagined her screaming, realizing what was happening. Cole couldn’t help but think, wherever Sara Beth was, she was holding out hope that someone would come for her. Those around Cole seemed to have relinquished that duty. She would not.
Cole leaned forward in her chair, squinting at each person crossing the street, hoping she might catch a glimpse of Sara Beth Parker minutes before she was taken. A total of four people crossed High Street during the red light. None of them Sara Beth Parker. When the light turned green, the squad car drove forward, passing Wolfe Street.
“Come on, come on, circle back,” Cole said under her breath.
But the officer never did. A block later, a call went out for a person loitering in front of a First Virginia Bank after hours. The officer radioed back he was responding, took a right on Market Street, and headed away from the downtown area.
Detective Cole sat back in her chair and sighed. She closed her eyes, trying to think of another angle, when her cell phone rang. Looking at the screen, it wasn’t a number she recognized but had a Northern Virginia prefix.
“Harrisonburg Police, Detective Cole,” she said with her official and professional greeting.
“Angela, hi. It’s Jen Bailey, over at State,” greeted the voice on the other end.
“Oh, yes. Hi, how are you, Jen,” answered Detective Cole.
Jen Bailey was a detective with the Virginia State Police. She worked out of the Division VII Field Office, in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. commonly referred to as Northern Virginia. Cole and Bailey had met a couple years ago when Bailey had been working a murder of a state congressman and the suspect was believed to have fled to the Harrisonburg area. Mutual professional admiration had turned into a friendship as they stayed in touch, though Bailey admittedly made more of an effort than Cole did.
“I’m good, how are you,” asked Bailey.
“Also good,” replied Cole, “It’s been a minute.”
“It certainly has,” agreed Bailey, “Actually, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I actually have meetings at the Area 16 Field Office in Harrisonburg tomorrow and the bosses are giving me an overnight. I was hoping maybe you’d be free for dinner or something.”
“Yeah, of course. I can meet up for dinner.”
“Great. Um, I should be wrapped up with everything by seven or so. Does that work for you?”
“Sure, that works great. I know a great pizza place down here.”
“Pizza it is. Just text me the info and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
“Sure thing. Looking forward to it.”
“Me too. Bye now.”
Detective Cole ended the call. She began to punch in the address for Bella Luna Wood-Fired Pizza into a text message when Detective Doherty came around the side of her cubicle.
“Hey, who was that,” he asked.
“A colleague of mine over at State. She works NoVa but is going to be down here tomorrow night and wanted to meet up,” replied Cole.
“Ah, cool,” said Doherty, holding a moment to change subjects, “So, listen. I was talking to my buddy in patrol and he says he’s pretty sure his old partner was assigned a sector near the appliance repair shop the night Sara Beth Parker went missing.”
“Will Halifax.”
Doherty made a face, surprised.
“Yeah,” he said, “How did you know?”
Cole nodded towards her computer screen.
“Just got done going over his dashcam footage,” she said, “Nothing there.”
“Really,” asked Doherty.
“Nope,” replied Cole, “He was on High Street headed in the right direction just after 10 p.m., but drives past Wolfe Street and then responds to a call up Market away from downtown. Doesn’t clear the call until after our time window for the abduction.”
“Well, damn.”
“Yeah, damn.”
Detective Doherty watched his partner staring at the still image on the screen. He wasn’t sure what she was hoping to find. Missing almost three weeks with no suspects, there weren’t many times this sort of
thing ended well for the family involved. For the life of him, Doherty couldn’t understand why his partner was so eager to get to such a moment.
“You got anything you need me to run down for you,” Doherty asked.
“I’m good, thanks,” Cole replied, “Appreciate it, though.”
“Well, if you think of anything, you let me know,” Doherty said.
Cole nodded as Doherty walked away. She righted herself in her chair, took a deep breath, and went back to work on the haystack.
24
The next evening, Cole and Bailey met up after work just as they had planned. It being a mild evening, the barn-style front doors to the pizzeria were open, giving the center corridor of the restaurant the feel of an open-air café. Here, the two detectives sat, enjoying dinner as a warm breeze welcomed itself in.
For the better part of an hour, the two women worked their way through a Margherita pizza that they had split as well as a bottle of Virginia Cabernet Franc. The conversation had meandered from work – both were doing fine – to family – both didn’t get to see their folks as much as they ought to – to dating – neither had much time for it. They laughed as they admitted almost simultaneously this was their first social get-together in at least a month.
“Is there any more wine,” asked Bailey.
“Just a little bit,” answered Cole, “You want to get another bottle? My treat.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” replied Bailey, “Even if you’re paying.”
Cole smiled, chuckling.
“Fair enough,” she said, “How’d you like the pizza?”
“It was fantastic,” Bailey answered, “Is this your go-to for impressing out-of-towners?”
“I took my folks here when they came down shortly after I moved,” Cole said, “My father ate one of those pies by himself. That’s when I figured it was pretty good.”
The two women laughed. Detective Cole sat back, taking a sip of wine. Bailey followed suit, steeling herself for what she knew would be an uncomfortable conversation.
“So, you caught that Parker case, right,” asked Bailey, “The abduction?”
Detective Cole nearly choked on her wine, surprised Detective Bailey knew about it.
“Yeah, I did,” answered Cole, “How did you know?”
“Oh, I caught you on the T.V. a couple weeks back,” replied Bailey, “Looked like a presser.”
“Oh, right. Yeah,” said Cole.
“How’s that all going?”
Detective Cole sighed as she looked down at the table.
“It’s not, actually,” answered Cole.
“Oh? How so,” asked Bailey.
Cole took another sip of wine as she sat up and leaned in towards Bailey.
“Between you and me,” Cole said, “We’re running out of ways to find this girl. If you can even say ‘we.’ My bosses are telling me to move on to more active stuff, and my partner half believes the girl is a runaway.”
“But you don’t,” asked Bailey.
“My gut tells me this girl is in real trouble,” Cole replied.
Detective Bailey nodded as she swirled the wine in her glass, watching it. Cole could now see she was struggling to say something.
“Have you ever thought about bringing in outside help,” asked Bailey.
“Like who? You can’t possibly be telling me State wants to get involved with a local missing persons,” Cole asked back.
“No,” replied Bailey,” Not us.”
“What then? The feds? I can’t prove this girl went anywhere in particular let alone that she’s crossed state lines.”
“I was thinking more outside.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean then.”
Bailey put her glass of wine to her lips and drank the last bit she’d been aerating during the latter half of their conversation.
“Maybe we should get the check before we continue this,” said Bailey.
Cole nodded skeptically.
She paid the check – the two fought pleasantly, but Cole insisted – and they headed out to Cole’s car on the top deck of the two-story parking garage across the street. Parked in the angle spot at the edge of the deck, the two women got to Cole’s Jeep Liberty, walked past it, and leaned up against the brick wall. Bailey pulled out a cigarette as the two of them watched people pass by below. She offered one to Cole who shook her head.
“So, this outside help,” said Cole.
Detective Bailey nodded, taking a drag from the lit cigarette.
“There’s a guy,” said Bailey, “A – I don’t know how you would describe him.”
“A private eye,” asked Cole.
“No,” answered Bailey, “Not officially, anyway.”
“Ok, so then what are we talking about here? A bounty hunter?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“He’s a—”
Bailey swirled her hand with the cigarette, conjuring up the word she was looking for.
“A finder, of sorts,” Bailey finally managed to say.
“A finder? That’s pretty cryptic,” replied Cole.
“I don’t know what you’d call him, but he can help,” said Bailey, “This guy. He takes these cases when it seems like the vic is gone for good and he finds them. He goes into whatever hell took them and brings them back.”
Detective Cole stared at her, a bit stunned by the picture she had just painted. In the years she had known Jen Bailey, she’d known her to be a down-to-earth, pragmatic woman. Not the kind to peddle the services of some vigilante.
Bailey took another long drag from her cigarette, killing it. She dropped it onto the concrete parking deck and rubbed it out with her shoe.
“Did you hear about the Ashley Sudfeld case,” asked Bailey.
“Yeah, I think,” replied Cole, “Girl disappeared out of Loudoun County, right? She was found a couple weeks back.”
“That was him,” Bailey said.
Cole snorted in disbelief.
“C’mon, Jen,” she said, “And how do you know this?”
Bailey pulled out another cigarette from her purse, lit it, and blew the smoke into the twilight sky. She turned and made direct eye contact with Cole, as if a confession was about to come forth.
“I handle him,” said Bailey.
“You what,” asked Cole.
“I’m his contact within the police or whatever,” replied Bailey, “At least, I think I’m his only police contact. I don’t know, the guy’s not exactly an open book.”
“Jesus, Jen. You’re leaking information to a civilian?”
“I guess if you want to be technical about it.”
“Why on earth would you be so reckless?”
“Look, I’m telling you. This guy takes abduction cases that are cold and he finds them. He finds them and more times than not he finds the people that did it with enough evidence to convict. I don’t know what your guys’ cold case clearance rate is but ours is shit like everyone else’s. And I’m telling you, this guy can help.”
Cole turned around and looked at the parking deck behind them. A couple walked to their car across the way. Cole tried to process what Bailey had just told her.
“What makes you sure he even wants to do this,” she asked.
“He called me,” replied Bailey.
Cole smirked, incredulous, and shook her head.
“That’s what this whole thing was about, wasn’t it,” said Cole, “You found out you knew the detective on the case and you figured you’d make an approach.”
“Yes,” replied Bailey, “I mean it was nice to see you again, too. But, yeah, I’m not going to lie to you. I told him I’d contact you.”
“You worked me over like a witness,” said Cole, “Like a suspect.”
“Ange, it’s not like that. You see how unorthodox it sounds. It’s not exactly something you shoot out in an email.”
“C’mon, get in. I’ll drive you back to your hotel.”
“Ang
ela.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
Cole hit the unlock button and Bailey opened the passenger door. Cole fired up the Jeep.
“You knew you were about to pull all that, and you let me pay,” said Cole.
“I tried to pay,” Bailey retorted.
“Yeah,” replied Cole, “Well next time try harder.”
25
A half hour after dropping Bailey off at her hotel, Detective Angela Cole found herself circling the neighborhood in which the Parker family lived. She knew she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She needed to drive. She needed to think.
The homes in the area were pretty, she thought. Two-story split levels that were erected as the area boomed along with its titular generation. Half a century later they still looked out over manicured lawns and trimmed hedges, shrines to the suburban lifestyle. It hardly seemed like the setting for the kind of nightmare the Parkers were enduring.
Cole took a right on Wolfe Street and slowed as the Parkers’ house came into view. She pulled over and killed the engine.
The Parkers house now stood out from those around it. A large canary yellow ribbon was tied into a bow around the oak tree that shaded the front yard. A sign like a realtor’s sign had been staked into the yard near the sidewalk with Sara Beth’s sweet, dimpled face smiling at people that passed by. A sign attached below in red bold letters read HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
Cole could see the electric blue glow of a television in the living room. A part of her wanted to walk over and see if Sara Beth’s parents were up and check in on them, but she resisted. Every time they had met or talked on the phone in the last week and a half, she hadn’t had answers for them. Tonight wouldn’t be any different.
Her mind circled back to Detective Bailey and the man. This finder of sorts, as she had put it. She couldn’t shake the voice in her head telling her it was a bad idea. Detectives had lost their badges for less. Much less. She’d seen it herself a number of times.
The Woodsman (The Jackson Clay & Bear Beauchamp Series Book 1) Page 9