by Roger Hayden
“Cover me,” she said to Keely, who looked frazzled and upset about the pursuit.
“Wait!” he protested with a hand up. “Let’s look up the license plate before you go out guns blazing.”
Miriam lowered her pistol while keeping an eye on the driver. She studied the Arizona license plate and read it back to him. “RJUC12K.”
Keely typed in the plate number and ran a check.
Keely huffed and shifted with a sigh. “Barbara Robinson. Sixty-two years old. No prior record.”
The entire scenario was too similar to the horrifying ordeal she had endured two and a half years ago with the loss of her partner in Palm Dale. Vivid memories flashed through her, and for a moment she felt like she was back there, only moments from when Deputy Lang was shot by the unidentified driver in a blue station wagon who fled the scene.
Miriam opened her door. “I’m not taking any chances. Are you going to cover me or not?”
Keely grabbed the mike. “Let me call for backup first.” He spoke while examining the van. “We’ve got a van blocked in the Safeway parking lot. Make and model match the AMBER Alert description. License plate…” He paused, turned to the laptop and began typing. “Barbara Robinson, 117 Antelope…” He looked over toward Miriam, expecting to see her, but the seat was empty. His head whipped to look out the windshield, where he saw Miriam inching toward the driver’s door with her back against the van and her pistol in the air.
“Damn it!” Keely said. He opened his door and hopped out, grabbing his own pistol from the side. “How about you not dive into anything on your own? Think you can do that for me?”
Miriam stopped and glared at him, putting a momentary halt to her take-no-prisoners plan. Keely nodded in mocking appreciation. He then walked around to the other side of the police cruiser as its lights flashed silently. He opened Miriam’s door, held his pistol out, and took cover, yelling: “Driver of the vehicle, open the door and step out with your hands up!”
Both he and Miriam waited. The silhouette behind the tinted glass made no movement.
“I repeat,” Keely continued. “Step out of your vehicle with your hands up or we will use force.”
They waited again. Miriam looked at him—her face consumed with urgency and what looked like hidden anger. He had never seen this side of her before. She was almost another person.
“I’m going in,” she mouthed, signaling to the driver’s door.
Keely shook his head. “No…” he mouthed back.
Before he could dissuade her, she leapt forward, swung the door open, and yanked the driver out, tossing her to the ground. When the elderly woman hit the ground, Miriam looked more shocked than either the woman or Keely.
“Detective Sandoval, stop!” he said.
Miriam froze as she could feel herself shaking as everything began to rush back to her. The elderly woman lay flat on her stomach, a tangled shawl around her neck, afraid to move. Her purse had flown from her arms and sat open ahead of her with its contents spilled on the asphalt.
“What has gotten into you?” Keely said, stunned beyond words.
Miriam snapped out of her daze, holstered her pistol, and knelt beside the woman, helping her up. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Keely holstered his weapon as well and lent a hand. They helped the frazzled woman to her feet as she brushed her shoulder-length gray hair out of her face.
“Goodness. What did you do that for?” she asked, dusting off her red blouse.
Still in detective mode, Miriam looked at Keely. “Search the van while I deal with her.”
Keely stood back, hesitant. “Umm. I kind of think we need permission for that.”
“Just look in the windows,” she replied in a frustrated tone. Keely walked away, not wanting to argue, as Miriam tended to the elderly woman. She introduced herself as Barbara. Miriam knelt down and put all the belongings back in her purse.
“Again, I’m very sorry,” she said, handing the purse to Barbara. “Are you okay?”
Barbara took the purse and stood as if everything was fine. She didn’t have any noticeable marks and seemed to be coherent. “I’m fine, I guess.”
Miriam looked around the parking lot for witnesses. If anyone had their phone out recording this, she was certain that it would be problematic. Miriam offered to take Barbara to the hospital to get checked out, but she refused.
“Nonsense. I just need to go grocery shopping.” She turned to see Sergeant Keely looking through the windows of her van on the other side.
“Excuse me, what is he doing?”
Miriam gently touched the sleeve of Barbara’s jacket to put her at ease. “Your van matched the exact description of an AMBER Alert.”
Barbara covered her mouth in surprise. “Oh no!”
“Sarah Bynes is the girl’s name. She’s eleven years old.”
“When did this happen?” Barbara asked.
“Just now,” Miriam said.
Keely came back and reported nothing out of the ordinary. Miriam looked at Barbara and spoke as politely as she could. “Do you think we could have a look through your van?”
Confused, Barbara looked around. “I-I don’t know. You don’t think I have anything to do with this, do you?”
Keely nudged Miriam. “Let it go,” he said under his breath. “This department does not need a lawsuit.”
Miriam could remember all the deception—the disguises that Phillip Anderson had worn. The wigs he donned to get young girls to come closer to his vehicle. Even on her best day, she couldn’t avoid thinking about him at least once. It was her own personal curse.
Barbara shuffled off to do her shopping, leaving them behind. Miriam pushed her no further. Keely was right—mostly. The license plate didn’t match and a petite elderly woman hardly fit the bill for a child predator. And the more time they stood around questioning Barbara, the more time the real culprit had to get away.
“All right,” Miriam said, tossing Keely the keys. “Let’s sweep the area, see what we can come up with.” Their backup still hadn’t arrived, and Keely thought it a good time to call them off.
“Three Six, ixnay on the backup. False alarm. Still looking for that van.”
“They have an APB out on it yet?” Miriam asked. Normally that was the protocol with AMBER Alerts, but Miriam wanted to be sure.
An officer cut in over the radio. “Twenty-Two, that’s a copy. We have all units currently looking for blue van, Arizona license plate…”
Keely pulled out of the parking lot, seemingly in better spirits now that he was behind the wheel. Strange looks from customers pushing shopping carts past met Miriam’s gaze. But all she cared about was finding the right van.
Anything that slightly resembled a van caught her eye. They continued west toward Interstate 10. Their culprit may have already gotten on the highway headed toward California, Colorado, or New Mexico. If the culprit didn’t flee, that would make their job that much easier.
Miriam grabbed the hand mike and called the station to request aerial support to widen their search. A few helicopters would do the trick, she thought. The dispatcher told her that such support was currently unable.
“Will send request up the channels,” he said.
“Negative. Time is critical here. We need that support now,” Miriam said, defiantly.
Suddenly another voice cracked in. “Detective Keely. Need you both at the station ASAP.”
They looked at each other, curious, but it was all too clear who it was: Investigations Officer Lieutenant Vargas. “Copy that,” Miriam said, hanging the mike on its dashboard hook. She noticed Keely turn on his right blinker at the approaching intersection, heading to the station.
“No. Let’s search some more. Vargas can wait,” she said, placing her hand on the dashboard.
Keely glanced at her and then back to the road, turning his blinker off. “You know, you’re going to get me in trouble one of these days.”
He continued past the light, going straight
. Miriam scanned the downtown area as they drove through. They passed vehicle after vehicle parallel parked in front of shops and businesses. They passed the county library—a large, dome-shaped building—which Miriam loved to frequent when she had the time. Still no blue van in sight.
Or any van for that matter. Pedestrians were out in droves, walking along the sidewalks—the lunchtime rush was in full effect. Miriam’s mind was on overdrive. Every person, every movement was suspect. Suddenly, a white van passed them in the opposite lane.
“Turn around,” she told Keely.
His eyes glanced into the rearview mirror, watching the van pass. “It’s white.”
“So what?” Miriam said. “These alerts aren’t always accurate, you know.”
Keely held a hand up in protest. “I can’t turn around and chase every van on the road. Let’s stick with blue van and go from there.”
Miriam said no more. As they continued heading east, she could feel momentum fading. For her partner, it might have been just another AMBER Alert, but for her, it was something entirely different. Thoughts of Anderson reemerged in her consciousness. Had he found her again? What kind of sick game was she involved in now? They never had recovered a body.
Lee County investigators reported that the blast had decimated Phillip, but without leaving verifiable physical evidence behind. It was possible, but Miriam had her doubts. Now six months later, in a new state, a new city, she was facing another child kidnapping. Were they dealing with a child predator or something else altogether? Miriam was well aware of possible cartel activity, but an eleven-year-old girl? If that was the case, she was sure that a ransom demand was soon to follow.
Keely turned down a couple of back roads and alleyways, driving through the shadier parts of town—their go-to spots following any APB. There were questionable types of all sizes, men mostly, who squatted under building canopies or loitering behind store dumpsters, not showing the slightest interest as the cruiser passed them.
Miriam told Keely to slow down when they entered one particularly crowded alleyway. Most of the men dispersed, but a few remained behind. Miriam swung her door open and stepped out, just as Keely parked. She approached two Hispanic men who leaned against the wall with blank, indifferent expressions on their face.
“Habla usted Inglés?” she asked.
“Si,” the man on the right said. He was short, with a black goatee, dark eyes, and a scar across one cheek. He wore a beige ball cap and baggy, mismatched clothes. His counterpart, a taller, heavier-set man, had run off the minute Miriam mentioned a blue van.
The other man shrugged in response, not implying whether he had seen the van or not. She pulled a twenty from her wallet. His eyes widened as though he was staring at the Lady Madonna. “Listen, Pedro,” she said in a serious tone. “I don’t hand out money for cheap talk. We have a little girl missing. Eleven years old. Now, have you seen a blue van around here or not?”
“No, but I know who may have,” he said with a Spanish accent—Mexican, Miriam believed.
“Good,” she said, taking him by the arm. Miriam had little patience for stalling—as everyone she had encountered her so far that day had found out. She opened the back passenger door and beckoned the man to get in. As he hesitated, she slapped the cash into his hand, pushed him inside the car, and closed the door. Once she sat down in her seat, she noticed Keely staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
Keely looked into the back seat then at her. “Right now, I don’t even want to know. Let’s go to the station.”
Miriam nodded in agreement as he gunned the car forward, leaving a trail of exhaust in their wake.
The Informant
They arrived at the station with their passenger in the back seat humming to himself. Though Miriam had called him Pedro, his name was actually Guillermo—a drifter and who had been living on the streets for some time. He claimed to be a man who knew and saw things—the kind of man who had info for a price. But he was also a careful and cautious man who insisted on sitting low in the car, out of sight.
“It’s best that I keep our time together to a minimum,” he said as they parked. “I hope you understand.”
“You give us what we need and you can leave at any time,” Miriam said, making her intentions clear.
Detective Keely shut off the ignition and turned, placing his arm over his seat. “You know, if you want, we can put you in handcuffs and make this thing look authentic.”
Guillermo looked around confused. “What’s he talking about?” he asked Miriam.
She told him that the Keely was just joking… sort of.
“Ah,” Guillermo said. “Very funny.”
Miriam leaned against the passenger window and studied their reluctant guest. She was out of patience and wanted to learn something of substance—every minute counted while Sarah Bynes was still out there. “What exactly do you know, Guillermo?” she asked.
He smiled, exposing a chipped front tooth. “Call me G.”
“G…” she said, slowly. “What can you tell us?”
He scratched his chin, seeming amused with all the attention. It was best to get something out of him ahead of time, before parading him into the lieutenant’s office, and risking the chance he would bottle up and play around with them.
“You looking for a blue van, si?”
“Si,” Miriam said.
G thought to himself again. “Let me see who I know who has a blue van.” He looked to Miriam as though he’d just remembered but then shook his head. “Not personally. I know I seen one though.”
Miriam continued to probe him, feeling as though they were slowly getting somewhere. “Can you think of a face? A name? Anything?”
G nodded. “He’s a big man. Grande hombre. Bald.”
Miriam stopped. “Bald?”
“Si. I remember. He come down the street. Ask about action.”
“Action?”
“Yeah. Real pervertido. Wanted young niña. He don’t talk to me. I just hear him talk to Ricky.”
Miriam pulled a pen and pocket-notebook out, flipping it open. “Who’s Ricky?”
G’s eyes lowered as he tensed up. “Nobody. He has nothing to do with this.”
She didn’t press him further. His story sounded convincing—at least most of it. If they could get him inside to do an artist’s sketch, that would be a great first step.
Miriam and Keely both stepped out of the car and shut their doors. She then opened G’s door and guided him out by the arm. He looked at the station, marveling at the building as though he couldn’t believe what he had gotten himself into. Miriam and Keely proceeded down the walkway with G between them toward the Maricopa County Crime Investigative Division. Once inside, Miriam wanted to go straight to the sketch artist, but Keely reminded her of their current priorities.
“Best to see the lieutenant and get that out of the way before he harasses us.”
“Very well,” she conceded. “But he better make it quick,” she said, but her feelings didn’t match the confidence in her words. They received glances from police officers passing by. Apparently G had a reputation around the department—to them, it was amazing that he wasn’t in cuffs this time. Miriam turned and spoke softly.
“Stay close. We’ll make this worth your while in the end.”
“You mean like a bottle of tequila?” he said, laughing.
Miriam winced. “Sure thing.”
They continued walking down the long hall. All seemed quiet. Maybe too quiet. If Miriam’s gut told her anything, there was trouble in the air. She wondered why child abductions seemed to follow her. Was it her fate? Or was there something more sinister at hand?
They approached Lieutenant Vargas’s office, where they could see two other detectives sitting, Detectives Summerson and Wright. Summerson, a black female, was new to the force and a few years younger than Miriam. What she lacked in experience she made up for in eager tenacity. She hated unsolved cases, and Miriam could relate, rememberi
ng far too well how that felt when she first joined the Palm Dale PD as a patrol officer.
Detective Wright, an astute Asian man, had been the force for years. He had a calm, comforting aura about him which always made Miriam feel a little better. He and Summerson sat across from the lieutenant as he talked on the phone. Miriam poked her head in and knocked on the door. Summerson and Wright turned around and nodded.
Lieutenant Vargas—a large Hispanic man with a booming voice and dark, slicked-back hair—talked rapidly into his phone as they waited.
“Yes, it’s a real alert. The girl is missing. Last seen getting into a blue GMC van.” He paused as his anger rose. “Well, if you already know this, why the hell are you asking me?” He paused and calmed himself, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Look… Sergeant. I want all hands on deck. This girl. Let’s just say that her parents have influence.” He nodded and told the sergeant on the phone to get to work. “Get ‘em out there and find this girl before it’s too late.”
He hung up the phone and looked up as Miriam and Keely entered the office and stood near the seated detectives. They had left Guillermo in the interview room with a soda and bag of chips, hoping that would suffice. Miriam wasn’t sure if G could really help them, or if he was just taking them for a ride, and she wasn’t going to spend all day trying to find out.
“Sir, we have someone. A man who claims to know something,” she said.
Vargas looked up, intrigued. “Who is he?”
“Guillermo Gomez,” Keely answered. “Slick character. We don’t know his angle, or if he has one.”
“Gomez?” Vargas leaned back in his creaking leather swivel chair. “Sounds familiar. Homeless guy?”
“We believe so,” Miriam said. “Certainly not a millionaire.”
Vargas looked less than convinced. “You guys should know by now that most of these vagrants are just looking for a handout. They’ll say anything to string you along.”
“They’re also the ones who see what goes on in this city,” Miriam said.
Vargas sighed, as though he had been through a similar song and dance with Miriam before. “You wanna put him on payroll?”