The Abducted Super Boxset: A Small Town Kidnapping Mystery

by Roger Hayden

  “Understood, sir,” Miriam said. He whisked past her while waving some other officers outside of the house. With his exit, she could feel the tension in the room gradually decrease, but there were still two detectives in front of her who weren’t happy themselves. “Just let me explain,” she said before they could say a word. “It’ll all make sense.”

  Detective Hayes glanced at his partner and then back to Miriam. “Let’s go, Lieutenant. To the car.”

  Miriam looked around, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  Hayes held a reassuring hand up. “It’s okay. We just want to go somewhere we can talk. The crime scene unit will take care of the rest…”

  Miriam shrugged and turned to the door, leading the detectives outside the house. As she walked down the driveway, she could see Agnes standing outside her front porch a few houses over, examining the scene, and she wasn’t the only one. Residents from all over the neighborhood were either watching from their windows or standing in their front yard with their curious attention on the house. She was surprised to see so many people home in an initially deserted-looking street. Hayes opened the back door to a squad car and beckoned Miriam to sit.

  “Where’s my car?” he asked as she stepped in.

  “It’s close. I’ll take you to it if you want,” she said.

  “Deal,” Hayes said, closing her door.

  Shelton walked around to the driver’s side and got in as Hayes sat on the passenger side. The engine roared to life and Shelton drove off, leaving the crime scene behind. Walter’s house passed by as Miriam turned to see Agnes curiously watch them drive away.

  “Natalie,” she said. “I found her.” She then placed her hand on the back of Hayes’s seat and signaled ahead to a three-way stop. “Take a left up here then you’ll see your car.” Or at least she hoped. The mystery man could be watching them from anywhere. If his intentions were to make Miriam paranoid, he had done a good job so far.

  Hayes sighed, deep and loud. Neither detective would turn and face her. As they approached the Crown Victoria parked on the side of the road where Miriam had left it, Shelton steered off-road and parked behind the car under the shade of a bushel of pine trees. “We’re not upset, Lieutenant Sandoval. We’re just a little…”

  “A little what?” Miriam asked.

  “Disappointed,” Shelton interjected.

  Hayes turned around with a sincere expression of concern. “We get it, okay. You like to do your own thing, and for all we know, that’s our guy on the floor back there. You could have very well solved the case.”

  “But there are ways to do and not to do things,” Shelton added.

  “Gentlemen, please,” Miriam said. “I understand your frustrations. None of this was planned.”

  “We were worried sick about you,” Hayes said, temper rising. “You went off the grid and distracted resources and hindered our investigation.”

  “That man had Natalie Forester handcuffed to a bed!” Miriam said with steadfast conviction. “But he’s not the only one. There’s more.”

  Both detectives went quiet. Miriam could see a look of uncertainty in their faces through the rearview mirror. The brief silence finally afforded her the opportunity to explain herself.

  “When I took your car, I had an ulterior motive, yes. All I wanted to do was explore April Johnson’s neighborhood.” She paused and then dug into her pocket, pulling out a small red bow. “I found this out there. It could have belonged to April or someone else.”

  She then pulled out her damaged cell phone and tried to turn it on, but the cracked screen gave her nothing. “I took pictures of some tire tracks right near the bow, but my phone was badly damaged when I fell when the suspect shot me. That’s why I couldn’t contact you.”

  Hayes turned around and glanced at the dried bloodstains on Miriam’s shirt and jacket from below her ear. “What were you doing there?” he asked. “That’s all I want to know.”

  “I went to that used car lot to ask the manager about the vans on their lot. He didn’t have any answers. Instead, he gave me something else.” She pulled the letter from her jacket and handed it to Hayes, who looked as confused as could be. “A letter from my number one fan, typed this time. It began to dawn on me that I was being watched.”

  Hayes nodded while reading the letter, visibly stunned. “You should have called us immediately. I don’t care if this letter says differently.”

  “For all I know, he could be someone on the inside,” Miriam said defensively. “He seems to know every move we make. How do you explain that?”

  At the wheel, Shelton turned to Hayes in agreement. “She has a good point there.”

  Hayes handed Shelton the note with growing frustration. “I don’t know. That’s a real long shot. We’re dealing with someone organized and meticulous. But he’s not law enforcement.”

  “What happened next?” Shelton then asked, obviously intrigued by Miriam’s story.

  “As you can see, the note instructed me to go to Food Mart, which I was already planning to do. I went there and bought coffee. While inside, I overheard the cashiers talking about how one of the employees was “weird” and suddenly called in sick. I had a hunch and started questioning the cashier. She told me the employee’s name was Walter Browning, and that he drove a red Datsun, not a blue van. I remember seeing the same model car driving past the diner on my first night here, so I thought it wasn’t a coincidence. And then, when I came out, there was this on my windshield. It was handwritten instead of typed.”

  She fished out the auto parts flyer with the message on the back and handed it to Hayes. “He instructed me to go to the auto parts store with a vehicle model code. Once there, I searched their parts catalog and found that model code was for a classic Datsun. It all fell into place. I got Walter’s address from the clerk.”

  Hayes shook his head again, biting his lip. “You should have called us, Lieutenant. I can’t stress that enough. That could have been your body on the living room floor.”

  “I know,” Miriam said. She had no real argument, but she wasn’t going to apologize. One of the girls was safe now, and all she cared about was finding the other one.

  Hayes rubbed his eyes, seemingly overwhelmed. “We need to get Forensics in here, but go ahead and tell us your version.” She could see that he had his notepad and pen out.

  “I arrived at the house and could hear screaming from inside. Faint and muffled, but they were screams. I knocked on the door and made my presence known. The door was slightly open, and I found Mr. Browning asleep in the living room. I followed the screams to a bolted door down the hall. Sensing probable cause, I attempted to arrest Mr. Browning, but he lunged for the Magnum. Facing an imminent threat, I fired and hit him twice in the chest, but not before he got a shot off.”

  “Probable cause?” Hayes said in disbelief. “Lieutenant, you must know how this looks. This could unleash a major internal investigation. You could go to jail.”

  “This is a conspiracy,” Miriam said, remaining indignant. “I received a call from Mr. Browning’s landline in the kitchen. A man spoke to me with a voice box. He knew I was inside the house. He knew there had been gunfire, and he cut the line after the call so I couldn’t call the police.”

  Silence followed Miriam’s impassioned explanation. The detectives exchanged glances as the dashboard police radio crackled with cross chatter. “Show her the pictures,” Hayes said. “She might as well know.”

  Shelton dug into a file folder at his side and presented four glossy 8x10s. Miriam took the photos and examined them with intense curiosity. They were official-looking evidence photos, showing a box on a table and aligned between measuring tape. She flipped to the next photo and saw the box opened. The next photo displayed what appeared to be a small finger in a sealed evidence bag.

  “We were about twenty minutes into the sting operation when this package was delivered on-site to Wendy,” Shelton began. “The bike carrier is in holding right now, but so far clai
ms to not know anything.”

  “We’re having the finger examined,” Hayes said. “But I’m afraid it could belong to any girl. Not just April.” He handed Miriam a photocopy of the letter, which had been typed, exactly like the letter she had received in the auto parts store. Perhaps there were multiple people writing different letters. It astonished Miriam to consider how one man could enact so many schemes at once.

  “Why is he doing this?” she said after reading the note. “What does he want?” But she suspected that his motives were no different than the average sicko: Fame. Notoriety. Personal amusement. It was all the same.

  “We need to figure out who we’re dealing with,” Miriam said, handing back the note. “He led me here for a reason. The man on the phone. And judging by the shocked look on Walter Browning’s face, he was not expecting me.”

  Shelton turned and made direct eye contact with Miriam as though undergoing an epiphany. “You think he wanted Walter Browning dead?”

  “I don’t know,” Hayes said, opening the passenger-side door and stepping out. He then leaned in and extended his hand. “Keys please…”

  Miriam dug into her pocket and relinquished the Victoria’s keys. She knew that he wouldn’t be loaning her the car again. “I’ll be at the police station. I need to get my thoughts together. Be sure to get every piece of evidence from Mr. Browning’s house. Looks like it’s going to be an all-nighter.”

  He closed his door as Miriam exchanged glances with Detective Shelton. “I’m happy for Natalie,” she said. “But I do apologize for curtailing protocol and getting us in trouble.”

  Shelton nodded in understanding. “Just remember, Ma’am. The rules are there for a reason. They protect both the criminal and the lawman. We’re responsible for you out here, and we owe it to your family to get you home safe.”

  “I know,” Miriam said and stared out the window. “I just got wrapped up in it all. I felt so close to solving this thing.”

  Shelton shifted into drive. “We are. Let’s just take a breather and examine this case from scratch. We’re bound to nail this guy sooner or later.”

  He then circled around the street and headed back to Walter’s house with a newfound confidence Miriam hadn’t seen yet. They arrived to see another ambulance parked with Natalie in the back, lying on a wheeled gurney. A forensics team had recently arrived as well in two white vans. The crime scene had taken on a life of its own.

  Miriam felt apprehensive about her current role and the trouble she could get into for defying protocol. Her actions had put them under more scrutiny than she could have imagined. The mysterious second-party kidnapper had manipulated both her and the detectives, leaving them at square one.

  Stranger in the Room

  Tara McKenzie woke up feeling cold, light-headed, and dizzy, not knowing where she was or remembering how she had gotten there. She rolled to one side of the twin bed as its frame rocked and squeaked. There was something lodged into her wrist, a long tube running into a dripping bag above. There were wires suctioned to her arm and chest, leading to an electronic monitor at the side of the bed. Was she in a hospital? She hadn’t a clue.

  The room was dark and the air stale. She could see the faint shape of another bed next to hers, roughly ten feet away. The walls were cement and there was not a single window. A fluorescent long bulb flickered from a casing above. Ahead at the end of the room, she could see the shape of a staircase leading up. There were several boxes under the staircase and a bunch of equipment stacked along the walls in the room.

  There was an oscillating pedestal fan in the center of the room blowing air and a tall air humidifier plugged in across from it. She was in a storage room, but everything felt like a strange dream. Faint rumblings sounded from above—footsteps maybe. Tara had never been in a basement before. They certainly didn’t have many of them where she was from.

  She stretched with an exhausted moan. The grogginess was overwhelming. Her eyes widened upon closer examination of the bed next to hers. There was someone else in the room, a young girl like her, sound asleep. She moved her leg over the mattress, prepared to get up, but she couldn’t muster the energy to do so. Her head simply fell back against the pillow. She tried to call out to the other girl, but she could barely speak above a whisper. Her throat was dry and her voice sounded faded and distant. “Hey…” she said. “Hello?” But the other girl didn’t answer.

  Tara held her hands up in front of her face and noticed something severely wrong. Her right hand was wrapped in a bandage, with all her fingers exposed except for one. Missing was her index finger. Now it was nothing more than a stub concealed in gauze. The sight was unreal. Her senses were numb and painless. There was no indication that anything was missing beyond what she could see.

  “What is this?” she said, with her voice getting louder.

  She lowered her trembling hands and rose, looking around panicked and frightened. Escape was paramount. She yearned for home immediately, but the IV cord acted as a sort of restraint. She swung her bare legs to the side and took the first daring step off the bed, feeling the hard, cold floor below.

  The hospital gown she had been changed into was foreign, her underwear the only thing familiar. What had happened to her clothes? Her legs wobbled and she had to lean against the bed for balance. Lightheaded, she turned to the girl in the other bed and attempted once again to speak. “Hey… where are we?”

  The girl was lying on her back, eyes closed, and motionless beyond the steady rising of her breathing. She was draped in a hospital gown as well, and upon closer inspection, Tara could see that her arms and legs were strapped to the belt-like restraints. Tara grabbed the IV bag stand, taking notice of its wheeled base. She could move after all. Mustering her energy, she yanked the suctioned cords off her body and left them hanging to the side.

  The electrical activity on the monitor near her bed suddenly went dormant. Tara felt the possibility of escape. Moving freely motivated her to shift toward the other girl’s bed and untie her restraints. She dragged the IV bag stand along with her, using it for balance, hobbling closer toward the sleeping girl.

  “Wake up!” she tried to scream in a strained voice. “Please…”

  Warm tears streamed down her cheek, though she didn’t even realize that she was crying. The girl was within an arm’s reach. Tara could see wires and tubes all over her body, much like her own. She grabbed the girl’s arm, nearly falling, and shook her with fierce determination. The girl’s head simply turned to the opposite side, unresponsive.

  Tara pulled at the leather straps and began unfastening the first one around the girl’s left wrist when a creaking door sounded from the top of the staircase. Tara froze, with her breathing rapidly increasing. She turned toward the stairs, wide-eyed and alarmed. Footsteps followed, along with the sight of two legs descending each step.

  Adrenaline fueled Tara’s hasty return to her bed as she dragged the IV bag stand back with her. She fell to her knees and crawled under the bed, gripping the cement floor and staring ahead where a pair of black slacks and shiny dress shoes entered her vision with the person’s approach.

  “You really shouldn’t be out of bed,” a man’s voice said.

  There was no denying that he knew she was hiding, and Tara felt more trapped than ever. She crawled against the corner and wished that she could just disappear. The man stopped at the end of the bed and spoke in a calm voice. “Come on, Tara. Come out from under the bed. It’s almost lunchtime.”

  “No,” she said defiantly. “I want to go home.”

  The man chuckled in response. “But you are home. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  More tears flowed from her eyes as she trembled. She felt stuck to the ground, paralyzed with fear and unable to move. His knees cracked as he bent down, exposing a pair of gloved hands that touched the ground. She could barely make out his face beyond its shape—long and thin. His hair was short and neatly trimmed like a businessman. He had large glasses that seemed to reflect the
faint light in the room. Tara was sure of one thing: he was an absolute stranger. His hand patted the ground in a reassuring way. “Come one, kiddo. We could be here all day. Why don’t you come on out from under the bed?”

  “No!” she said again.

  The man shook his head and then reached into his pocket as if remembering something. He held up a cell phone that Tara immediately recognized as hers. Its screen glowed bright with her flower-patterned wallpaper. “You want your phone back, don’t you?” he asked.

  Tara nodded almost immediately.

  “Come on out, and it’s yours.”

  She remained in place, suspicious of his intentions, and then crawled forward slightly and extended her hand.

  The man, however, didn’t make any real effort to meet her halfway. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  “Who are you?” she said. Her bandaged hand still felt like something unreal. The missing half of her index finger hadn’t fully settled in yet.

  “I’m a doctor,” he replied.

  “Why am I here? H-how did I get here?”

  “I know you have a lot of questions. I’ll answer them as soon as you stop this foolishness and get back in bed.”

  Tara inched closer and grabbed the phone with her unsullied hand. To her surprise, the man relinquished the phone without resistance. She swiped her security pattern and immediately scrolled through her contact list, calling her mother, but within seconds of ringing, the call dropped.

  “I apologize, but there’s no signal down here,” the man said.

  He then rose from the ground and stood over the bed, waiting. She could feel his sinister presence and the danger he presented. But how long could she really hold out? Her yearning for answers propelled her forward, crawling from the bed like a soldier leaving his foxhole. She pushed herself up against the bed and saw that the man still towered over her. She was a child and he was taller than even her own father. He motioned to the bed, waiting.