by Roger Hayden
One right turn ahead, and she had less than a mile to go. Her heart raced as she envisioned the house: small, probably, and indistinctive, like many of the carbon copy homes on the block. She had believed that their suspect lived on the outskirts, isolated from others, and was surprised to consider that he was operating in plain view of a busy neighborhood.
His name repeated in her mind: Walter Browning. Food Mart employee. It all made sense. Of course, however, he could very well turn out to be the wrong man, causing Miriam to end up back at the drawing board.
Such a notion ended when she turned onto Alamo Drive and saw a four-door red classic Datsun parked in the narrow driveway leading to a single-car garage with a closed door. The numbers on the house near the front door matched those she had been given at the auto parts store: 2051.
Ever cautious, Miriam coasted past the house and parked across the street. She noticed that the two windows in front had their blinds drawn. There was no sneaking a glance inside, but she was confident that the occupant was home. He had called in sick, after all. Was this her mastermind? The man behind the letters? Were two girls being held against their will behind the brown wood clapboard siding of the house? There was only one way to find out.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. It was Detective Hayes. He must have tired of sending her text messages and receiving only vague responses in return. She answered, prepared to hear his frustration.
“What’s your ETA?” he asked, omitting a greeting.
Miriam hesitated for a moment and did the best she could. “I’m on my way back now. But I saw something, and I’m going to check it out.”
“What thing? What are you talking about?”
“When we were at Maddy’s Diner last night, a Datsun crept past the parking lot like it was watching us.”
“Okay?” he said after stunned pause. “So what?”
“There’s this house that I’ve got a gut feeling about. I’m just going to circle around and get a license plate, then I’ll be back at the station in no time. I’ve got the coffee.”
“Where are you at?” he asked directly.
“I’m on Alamo Drive.”
“We need you back at the station. We’ve got a major operation to plan.”
“Ten minutes is all I ask,” she said. “The address is 2051 Alamo Drive.”
He sighed and then spoke like a stern father. “You have my car. Not just my car, but the department’s car. We need your help with this. Please hurry back.”
“I will,” she said. “I’m sorry to keep everyone waiting.”
There were other voices coming through in the background, and Hayes sounded distracted. “I have to get things started. We’ll be waiting,” he said, hanging up.
Miriam understood his frustration and felt torn between returning to the station and pursuing the address further. However, there was only one clear answer. She turned off the engine and stuck her phone in her pocket. The pistol she hadn’t fired in six months rested against her hip in its holster. She had her badge, her notes, and her wits. It was time to ask Walter Browning some questions. There were houses along both sides of the street, but no one was outside. The sun was shining bright and everything was quiet—peaceful even.
A six-foot wooden privacy fence surrounded Browning’s backyard. The front consisted of patches of dirt and overgrown weeds. She scoped the area out before getting out of the car. No one had followed her as far as she knew. It appeared that, for the moment, she was safe.
Miriam exited the car swiftly and walked straight toward Browning’s driveway. If Walter was indeed waiting for her, she would be ready, but she was also prepared for it all to be hoax. Birds chirped from above as a quiet breeze caused the trees in between the houses to sway slightly.
In a neighborhood where most of the yards were beds of stone, she heard a lawn mower in the distance. She walked up his driveway with a sharp eye, seeing that the front windows had their curtains drawn. A cement path led to a patio screen with a front door that appeared to be opened a crack. He was home after all!
There were a few plastic lawn chairs on the small porch next to a potted cactus. As she neared the door, she heard something faint and indistinctive coming from inside. The television was on, but there was something else—a muffled, drawn out sound. She stopped inches from the door and listened. Part of her wanted to storm inside and drag Walter Browning out for questioning. Instead, she opened the patio screen and knocked against the door, waiting with her hand near her pistol. There was no answer, so she knocked again. A strange feeling came over her as though something wasn’t right. Had she been lured into a trap? If so, she’d never forgive herself.
Stay focused, she said to herself. She slowly pushed the door open and looked inside the darkened house. She could see a small foyer with a living room around the corner and light from the television flashing. Her attention then went past the living room and toward what looked like a kitchen where the muffled noise persisted. She tried to block out the background television noise and focus on what sounded like a person calling for help.
“Mr. Browning?” she called out, but again no one answered.
She slipped inside as daylight shone into the gloomy interior of the small house. The door creaked with a coming breeze and Miriam crept toward the living room, where the edge of a recliner came into view.
“Natalie?” she whispered. “April?”
There was no response, but the sound continued from past the living room and toward the kitchen. It sounded like someone crying. Upon closer inspection, it sounded like someone was yelling for help. Miriam’s pace quickened when she suddenly halted upon the sight of a man sitting in his recliner with the back of his head toward her, not moving. She went for her pistol, gripping the handle and waiting. Whoever was sitting in the living room in front of the flashing television hadn’t noticed her yet. He could be sleeping, and Miriam wanted to keep it that way until she found the source of the noise.
She continued past the kitchen and turned to see two rooms, one with its door closed with several locked deadbolts and one open. She peered inside the open room and saw a nightstand with a digital alarm clock and an empty beer can on it. Next to the bed was an open closet displaying several men’s shirts on hangers. There was also a computer table. She then moved toward the closed door and listened against its surface. Her heart raced upon hearing the cries of a girl inside. “Let me out of here!”
Miriam’s hand immediately went for the doorknob, but it was locked. It even had a keyhole, which was odd for a bedroom door. She began unlocking the deadbolts when she suddenly heard movement coming from the living room. She backed away from the door and moved swiftly past the kitchen again and went to the edge of the living room entrance.
The raucous daytime talk show cheering suddenly cut out and everything went silent except for the sobbing that continued from the room. She heard the man groan as he stood, causing the recliner to squeak. She peeked around the corner and saw him standing in the dark room, scratching his head and yawning. He was a tall, skinny man with stubble on his acne-scarred cheeks. His bathrobe was open, exposing bandages wrapped around his waist and over his white undershirt. For a moment, he just stood there in a daze as though he had awoken from a deep sleep. He then looked around in confusion at the sound of his front door creaking.
Miriam’s breathing intensified as she drew her pistol and waited. To fail at her mission was to fail not only the two captive girls but her own family as well. Lou would be enraged to find out she had taken things so far. Her entire career could end in a second with one false move.
On a table next to the man were bandages, bottles of antiseptic, and a pair of scissors. Most frightening of all, however, was a .45 Magnum sitting out in the open within an arm’s reach of the man. He turned around and faced the blank television, stretching, and Miriam saw her chance.
She rushed into the room, pistol aimed, and went immediately into arrest mode.
“Freeze!” she shouted.
Terrified, the man spun around with shocked ferocity. “What the fuck!” His face was stunned beyond words. Miriam kept her aim steady as her index finger caressed the trigger.
“Who are you?” he shouted even louder.
“Hands up!” she said.
She could see his legs tremble as his hands went slowly into the air. His face was a mass of confusion and disbelief.
“Walter Browning?” she asked.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“Are you Walter Browning?” she repeated in an authoritative tone.
He shrugged as though her question didn’t make any sense. She then had the slight feeling that something was off. Someone had led her to this destination, and the last person who looked responsible stood four feet from her.
“Yes,” he responded. “What the hell do you want?”
“I’m with the Ector County Police Department, and you’re under arrest. Where are the girls?”
Walter appeared gawky and nervous, with youthful bangs hanging to the right side of his face. She glanced at the bandages wrapped around his waist as he grabbed a nearby pair of scissors.
“Drop it!” she shouted.
They fell to the ground in an instant as his arms wavered.
“Turn around and put your hands on your head.”
Rather than nervously complying, Walter stayed frozen. The house was cluttered with old furniture, and a dank staleness was in the air on account of most of the windows being closed.
“Don’t make me ask again!”
She noticed fear in his eyes, which led her to believe that she had come to the right place. He repeatedly glanced over her shoulder, staring at the door behind her with great concern. For a moment, it looked as if he might be signaling to someone. Miriam turned in an instant and saw no one there. When her attention went back to him, Walter jumped to the side in a fury and grabbed the Magnum, swinging his arm in her direction.
“No!” she shouted.
On instinct, she fired two rounds into his chest at the same time he took the shot. Gunfire exploded in deafening blasts on both sides. His shot grazed her ear and sent her tumbling back just as his body collapsed with a heavy thud, two gaping holes in his chest and blood gushing onto the floor. His gun lay on the ground, still in his hand.
Miriam rushed over and kicked it away. A sick feeling permeated her gut as though something had gone terribly wrong. Everything had happened so fast, she barely had time to think.
“Why?” she asked in an anguished voice. “Why didn’t you just listen?” But his lifeless body gave no response. His eyes remained as wide as they had been when she stormed into his living room, his mouth agape in shock.
Miriam backed out of the living room in haste and did a sweep of the adjacent kitchen and then turned to the hall, where one room remained locked. Her hands moved quickly with the turn of each deadbolt. She swung the door open and then pressed her back against the wall. No one came rushing out. The air was still. Silence followed.
Miriam leaned halfway past the door frame and peeked inside. Below a flickering light and a ceiling fan, she could see a girl curled into a ball under the covers and whimpering softly. Miriam’s heart dropped at the sight, and she rushed inside.
She reached the bed and could see that the girl’s right wrist was handcuffed to the bed railing. She looked desperately around the room for the other girl but only saw the single frightened child below—one bed, one girl, and nothing else.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Miriam said while leaning on the bed. She lightly touched the girl’s exposed head, causing the child to recoil under the sheets. “I’m Miriam. I’m a policewoman, and I’m here to take you home.”
The girl paused and then looked out from the covers with her frightened eyes exposed. “Where is he?” she whispered.
“He’s gone. Don’t worry, no one is going to hurt you.” She brushed the girl’s stringy hair back with a calm look. “Can you tell me your name?” she asked.
“Natalie,” the girl said nervously.
“Nice to meet you, Natalie. You’re going to be all right. Is there anyone else in the house? Do you know a girl named April?”
Natalie shook her head with dried tears showing on her face. “No one. Just him.”
Miriam felt strangely defeated despite finding Natalie. She couldn’t imagine how she would even begin to explain everything to the detectives. She took a moment, holstered her pistol, and wrapped her arms around Natalie, hugging her tightly as the girl cried. “There, there,” she said. “We’ll get you home in a jiff.”
She released Natalie and dug for her cell phone, ready to call Hayes and tell him the news, but she couldn’t find it. They had a dead kidnapper on their hands, and no matter which way they sliced it, the outcome would be problematic. They’d ask what an out-of-state investigator from the Phoenix Family and Children’s division was doing in the house in the first place.
She went back into the living room for her cell phone and found it cracked and busted on the floor where she had fallen. Her hand swept her earlobe as warm liquid soaked through her shirt. She’d been hit and was bleeding. Her head hurt and she began to panic. She needed a phone. Any phone. She did a quick search of the kitchen, and she saw a landline affixed to the wall, much to her relief.
Before she could call the police, however, the phone rang with a loud old-fashioned clang. Miriam answered quickly and was met by crackling static.
“This is Lieutenant Sandoval. Hello?”
There was no response, and she considered hanging up. As she brought the phone away from her ear, she suddenly heard a distorted voice on the other end.
“Who is this?” she asked, her patience nearing an end.
“Very well done. You found the house,” the man began. The low distortion on his voice covered any trace of personality, and she had the sudden realization that the person on the other end of the line had been the one who led her to Walter’s house.
“You saved the day, Miriam. You should be proud of yourself. We make a great team, don’t we?” He paused for a response, but Miriam was too shocked to provide one.
“I knew I could steer you in the right direction. Imagine my surprise when I saw you pass by Walter’s house. I helped you, sure, but you figured out a lot on your own. I had you at a fifty-fifty chance.”
“Who are you?” she repeated. “How did you get this number?”
A satisfied laugh came from the other end. “I don’t think I’ll be sharing that information with you, unfortunately. Did you kill him? Did you kill Walter?”
Miriam didn’t answer. She only listened as the insanity of the situation unfolded.
“Oh yeah. I bet you couldn’t wait to pull that trigger.”
“W-Why…?” was all she could muster.
“To get you back in the game, Miriam. Poor, young, susceptible Walter. I told him to be more careful. I hope little Natalie is okay. Pity that April can’t share in your moment of success.”
“You son of a bitch,” Miriam said angrily. “You wrote those letters? If you know anything about April’s disappearance, I demand that you tell me now.”
He responded with more calm and measured laughter. “Demand? Yes, I know plenty about her disappearance. In fact, I have her right here. Where that is, you may never know. Walter was just a primer to get things going. Think you can solve this thing without my help? It’s going to be exceedingly difficult, but I wish you luck.”
“Please…” Miriam pleaded. “This has gone far enough. You have the power to make a difference here. Let April go. Her family is worried sick about her. The entire town is up in arms.”
“I know,” he interjected, “and it gives me great satisfaction.”
Miriam glanced into Natalie’s room. The girl still lay in bed, frightened and under the covers. The call was surreal and filled Miriam with disbelief. Who exactly was she dealing with? The sickness in her gut engulfed her, causing a momentary faintness.
“A
pril’s not the only one,” the man continued. “I’m just getting started. You passed the first phase. Are you good enough to stop me? Time will tell.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Miriam said. “I’m going to find you and kill you for what you’ve done to these girls.”
“I’m sure you will try,” he said.
The call cut off, leaving Miriam with mass confusion swirling around in her head. The dead man in the living room may have been taken Natalie, but there was someone else out there—someone cunning and possibly more demented than she had ever encountered. She was a huge part of the case now, whether she liked it or not.
The Abducted: Odessa – A Small Town Abduction - Book One
Stranger
Midland, Texas
School was finally over, and Tara McKenzie was looking forward to getting home to rest and relax. Her teacher, Mr. Carson, didn't assign any homework, which had surprised Tara. Normally, he'd assign a hefty amount of reading, especially on a Wednesday. It must have slipped his mind. As the bell rang, Tara could sense similar relief on the faces of her classmates, even exchanging smiles with her friend, Jessica, as the class herded out of the room.
Tara hurried to the bus loop, holding the straps of her backpack. She wanted a seat in the front where she could exit the bus with ease and then walk the two blocks home from her bus stop. The smell of exhaust in the air and the rumbling of idling buses filled Tara with anticipation. Her older brother, Derrick, wasn't going to be home. He had football practice. Both her parents worked and wouldn't be home until after five. She wasn't going to have friends over though. She wasn't going to do anything but lie on her couch and enjoy the peace and quiet.
Other students piled into the bus, heads down and scrolling through their cell phones. Tara had started the eighth grade only a month prior and found it not much different from the seventh. At the end of the school year, she'd be ready to go to high school where her brother was. She hoped that he would look out for her.
Contemplating the rest of her day, Tara brushed one side of her long brown hair behind her ear, thinking of getting it cut. Just as the bus filled, Jessica ran up the steps, carrying a small satchel over one shoulder.