by Roger Hayden
She held the girl gently and loosened the knots at her wrists. “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked, removing the rope and freeing the girl.
“Tara…”
“Tara, who else was with you? Who else does he have?”
“He took her!” Tara shouted. “He came down here and took April!”
Miriam pulled the girl closer and hugged her in a tight embrace. Her skin was cold and she was shaking. Most tragic of all was the wrapped nub where her index finger was. She had found the girls after all, but Trudeau was still out there. He wasn’t going to get far though. Not with Miriam on his trail.
The Abducted: Odessa - Book Two
The Letter
Odessa, Texas
Dr. Nicholas Trudeau sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room at the Sand Spur Inn, watching the five o’clock news. He had been in and out of the hotel throughout the week and often stayed there when conducting business. He was a known regular who had published three books on self-help therapy. He also owned a ranch house near Pleasant Farms, on the outskirts of Odessa, but had been spending much of his time in town, conducting research for a new book. His research, however, wasn't relegated to a book alone.
He had important business to conduct in Odessa—a complex plan he had been formulating for many years. There was much at stake, including his livelihood and reputation. April Johnson had been missing for a week, and her case was steadily gaining traction. Her parents were reportedly devastated and authorities were growing nervous, with good reason.
Dr. Trudeau hadn’t personally kidnapped her as she walked home from the bus stop the previous Monday afternoon, but he knew who had. His patient, Walter Browning, a bagger at the local Food Mart, had been hired to kidnap the girl with the promise of a hefty payday if their plan went through. A week after April’s kidnapping, they were ready to do it again.
Trudeau had no intention of kidnapping any of their victims himself. Instead, he acted as overseer and strategist of the ambitious operation. In doing so, he had enlisted the aid of two locals, Walter Browning and Ken Frohman, both court-mandated patients of his who were down on their luck and financially strapped. He had not yet encountered two people easier to manipulate.
Almost ready to meet with Walter, Trudeau buttoned the sleeves of his dress shirt at his wrist. He felt strangely optimistic and determined, unstoppable even. A map of the town lay on a nearby table next to an open laptop with multiple files and windows open. A GMRS two-way radio sat charging on the nightstand near his cell phone. After a brief traffic report, the newscaster presented the latest updates on the disappearance of April Johnson.
Investigators had yet to classify the case as an official kidnapping and there were no current leads at to explain her whereabouts. Trudeau smiled upon hearing the news, surprised at the lack of headway investigators had made in the case.
"A wide search was conducted yesterday by volunteers, community leaders, and law enforcement personnel for missing eleven-year-old April Johnson. Investigators are tracing the girl’s steps, who was last seen walking home from her bus stop after school. She never made it home, leaving her parents frantic and a community in deep concern. Police have stated that they are close to declaring foul play in her mysterious disappearance."
Trudeau rose from the bed and walked toward the third-story window overlooking the parking lot below. He scanned a line of buildings across the street and watched as two lanes of traffic moved in both directions. It was important that Walter Browning didn’t let him down. Attempting to kidnap another girl one week after the disappearance of April was a risky endeavor to be sure, but Trudeau wanted to create a threat. He wanted to spread fear. He wanted to declare upon each in every family in town that they were not safe.
He also felt heightened anticipation concerning Lieutenant Miriam Sandoval’s arrival—that was, if she were to show at all. He was confident that she would, despite changing positions at the Phoenix Police Department. He had been closely watching her for the past few months. She had a live-in boyfriend and a daughter. She was lying low after the infamous Snatcher case in South Florida. Trudeau, however, wanted to offer her a chance to get back in the spotlight.
He turned to the nightstand as his handheld radio crackled. It sounded like Walter had an update for him. With his dress-shirt sleeves rolled up, he hurried over, grabbed the radio, and spoke.
"Are you still there, Walter? What do you have for me?"
After a pause, Walter's voice blared over the tiny speaker, causing Trudeau to turn the volume knob down. "I'm still looking. Been here at the Food Mart parking lot for over an hour."
Trudeau clenched the radio, thinking to himself as he paced the room, then said, in a soft but urgent voice, "This needs to happen today, Walter. Understand?"
"Hey, I'm trying."
Trudeau took a deep breath and calmed himself, aware of the rising risk of arguing with Walter. Both Walter and his co-worker, Ken, had little allegiance to the plan beyond financial compensation, and Trudeau understood that he could only push them so far. He walked past the TV and looked out the hotel window while glancing at his watch. "It's almost five," he said. "Just stay where you are, and I'll be there soon."
"What's the big deal about getting someone today? Can't we just pick it up tomorrow?"
Trudeau shook his head. "No. It has to happen today. Everything is mapped out accordingly. Where's your friend, anyway? He should be helping."
"He's working a double today."
Trudeau grabbed his jacket, phone, and car keys, stopping at a mirror on his way to the door. Only in his mid-forties and most of his dark hair was already turning gray. The bags under his eyes were no longer just temporary lines from just waking up. They were there for the long haul. He ran a hand down his freshly-shaved cheeks and turned toward the door, walking out and closing it behind him.
Behind the wheel of his shiny silver Mercedes, Trudeau raced down Main Street and toward the Food Mart, seeing its faded sign come into view. The parking lot was half-full and the store looked tired, with its flat roof and blue wooden siding. Trudeau circled the parking lot, finding a spot farthest from the store, which provided an overview of the many parked vehicles and steady assortment of customers walking to and from the store.
Hidden within the shade of his front visor, Trudeau peered ahead with a pair of small binoculars. Walter's blue van was in his line of vision a few parking aisles ahead. Walter sat at the driver's seat. Trudeau could even see Walter's yellow reflective vest. The plan was for Walter to canvas the parking lot asking for donations for an environmental charity. In his other hand, he'd hold a bucket of candy packed with a heavy sedative. For Trudeau, all the elements were in place. Walter, however, sounded highly confused as he spoke into the radio.
"Dr. Trudeau, are you there? Let me know if you can hear me."
Trudeau held his radio up. He was wearing sunglasses and a hat that made him feel like some kind of secret agent. "I'm here. Go."
"There's too many people, trust me. We should find another spot or just call it off for today."
Trudeau glanced at the sealed envelope, resting on top of the passenger seat. Inside was a letter that he hoped would further set his plan into motion. Unlike the abduction of April Johnson, he'd outright confirm the next girl's disappearance as a kidnapping.
The police would have no choice but to treat it as such, and then the game would truly begin. The Food Mart was a necessary location for the second kidnapping for a variety of reasons, few of which Walter seemed to understand.
"I don’t want anyone from work to recognize me," he added.
"Just be patient," Trudeau said. "This is the place. Understand?"
"Hold on…" Walter said. "I think I see someone."
"Who?" Trudeau asked.
Walter paused and then spoke in a hushed tone. "Some lady in a Jeep Cherokee. She parked in a hurry and ran out and left her daughter in the passenger seat."
"Perfect," Trudeau said, leaning forward. "
Now go talk to the girl. Just like we had discussed, okay?"
"Okay…" Walter said with slight hesitation.
"You can do it, Walter. I believe in you."
“Here goes nothing.”
Walter sighed and clicked off just as Trudeau raised his binoculars to his eyes and watched from afar. Walter exited the van, wearing a hat, sunglasses, and reflective vest. He carried a bucket, wore a smile on his face, and approached the idling Cherokee.
Trudeau took the envelope and waited, prepared to exit just as a Camaro drove past his windshield and temporarily blocked his view. Trudeau waited until the car passed, adjusting his hat and preparing to move quickly to the Cherokee and back without drawing any attention to himself.
If the candy worked as it was supposed to, the girl would be passed out in a matter of seconds after ingesting the sweet, taffy-like substance. Trudeau closed his door and walked in-between cars, crossing the aisles and gaining ground. Impressed, he could see Walter at the door and delivering the piece of candy through the crack in the window, all in record time. Trudeau slowed down and stood beside an unoccupied pick-up truck, close by but out of sight. He scanned from left to right, keeping watch for when the crucial moment was upon them.
A couple walked past Trudeau from behind, alarming him, just as Walter swung open the passenger side door, lifted the young girl up against his chest, and ran across the aisle to where the blue van awaited. The moment of realization was upon them. For a moment, part of Trudeau couldn't believe that the plan seemed to have worked. He snapped out of his dazed admiration for Walter's stealth and walked quickly toward the Cherokee, its door open and the girl's sandal on the pavement next to an iPad.
Trudeau crouched and placed the envelope on the seat, turning away in an instant and walking back toward his car. He could hear the roar of the van's engine as Walter drove off in haste. His heart was leaping in his chest as he neared the Mercedes. They had gotten another girl. Trudeau couldn't believe it. A stroke of luck in the final hour of the day. Their next meeting place would be an abandoned warehouse off the industrial road a few miles outside downtown—a place where they could regroup, out of sight and safe from the search for the girl that was destined to happen.
He swung open his driver's side door and slid inside while taking another glance at the curious idling car. He was amazed that no one else had taken notice. Busy people were a distracted people, and the afternoon early-dinner grocery store rush was at its peak. Still, it surprised Trudeau to see the Cherokee remain unnoticed, even as its open passenger door swayed in a light breeze.
He turned his car’s ignition just as the girl’s mother curiously approached her vehicle in the distance. She studied the open door and then swung around, calling out, first calmly, then with growing panic. Trudeau's presence at the scene was growing risky, so he backed out of his space and drove off slowly, passing a young couple pushing a cart full of groceries.
He drove out of the parking lot with his eyes on the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of the girl's mother rushing back toward the Food Mart. He almost felt bad for her. To lose a child was a horrible thing.
"Dr. Trudeau, are you there?" Walter's voice said over the handheld radio.
Trudeau stopped at the red light of an intersection. "Yes, go ahead, Walter."
"So far, so good," he continued. "I got the girl. It worked out perfectly."
"I’m glad to hear that," Trudeau continued. "Great work. Meet me at the rallying point as planned."
"No problem," Walter said. He then paused with a question. "Hey… how long does this sedative last?"
Trudeau thought to himself. "I'd give her two, maybe three hours."
"Wow…" Walter said. "That's a long time."
"Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. I'll meet you there soon.”
“Okay. Thanks. Um. Over and out.”
Trudeau turned the car stereo to the news. His cell phone rested on the dashboard as he awaited the first alerts. They would soon come, followed by a swift county police presence, and hopefully the arrival of Lieutenant Miriam, or whatever she was now. Slightly exhausted, Trudeau smiled. He could feel proud for a moment, but there was still much work to be done if everything was going to turn out as he wanted it to.
House of Secrets
Three Days Later:
Lieutenant Miriam Sandoval sat on the side of a thin mattress with Tara McKenzie crying in her arms. Tara had just been found after being kidnapped and missing for two days. April Johnson, the other missing girl Miriam was looking for, had been kidnapped a week and a half earlier and had not been found in the strange underground confines where Miriam had discovered Tara. She’d done it by piecing together a series of suspicions that had led her there.
The elegant ranch house belonged to Dr. Nicholas Trudeau, therapist to their suspect. The detention lockup was everything Miriam had expected to find: a dimly-lit room with stale air and beds on both sides. The empty mattress across from them had its blankets tossed to the side. Miriam had hoped to find both girls, but Dr. Trudeau had managed to take April and flee his house before she could stop him.
Everything had happened so fast and without warning that Miriam had been taken off guard, despite her suspicions of Trudeau’s involvement in the kidnappings. Earlier that evening, she had arrived at his isolated home to ask some questions. There had been an explosion—a setup—with at least three casualties in its wake.
All signs pointed to a conspiracy by the criminal psychiatrist, Dr. Nicholas Trudeau. He was her lead suspect. But if she had made her suspicions clear, she was certain that Trudeau would have covered up any involvement ahead of time. His contacts in the police department would alert him. Miriam hadn’t wanted to give him any notice, and that’s why she had acted secretly and on her own in confronting and investigating him.
However, there had been obvious problems with her plan from the beginning: she had no warrant, and the other detectives leading the kidnapping investigation had no knowledge of her whereabouts. It was a scenario eerily like her pursuit of Walter Browning, which resulted in gunfire and a dead suspect. Trudeau clearly had no intention of going down.
Tara trembled as Miriam tried her best to comfort the traumatized eleven-year-old girl. She didn’t know why Trudeau had kidnapped the girls or what he had done to them. Before confronting Trudeau, she had been operating on a hunch while arriving at his house unannounced and alone. Trudeau had initially displayed a calm, polite front, but the more questions she asked him, the more cracks she detected in his facade.
Miriam had noticed blood droplets near the pantry, and when she tried to arrest Trudeau, he ambushed her with a shotgun and a beanbag round fired into her chest. The round pummeled her to the kitchen floor where she lay immobilized, unsure if she was going to live. Trudeau towered over her, angered by her sheer audacity of skirting proper procedures once again. She was a menace, he explained, and she was going to face the consequences of her actions.
Before he could act, however, Miriam fired a round into his shoulder, sending him crashing into the counter with glass plates shattering onto the floor. Despite being wounded, he soon escaped, leaving Miriam stunned on the kitchen floor, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. She pulled herself together, but too late, and discovered the hidden door inside the pantry, leading to a secret room where Trudeau had held the girls. Part of her had hoped to find that Trudeau had nothing to do with the kidnappings, but it was now clear that she had come far too close to the truth.
Though Tara was okay, April was still missing and Trudeau was on the loose. Miriam knew that she had to contact Senior Detective Hayes or his partner, Detective Shelton, who were both at the scene of the improvised vehicle explosion. They were looking for the two kidnapped girls. Instead, what they found was a coordinated terrorist attack, presumably by a well-respected therapist and author, who had worked closely with the Ector County Police Department through the years.
“Did he harm either of you?” Miriam asked Tara
as she stroked the girl’s long brown hair.
She shook her head as her tears continued to flow. “He just held us down here. I don’t know why. Said that one of us would be chosen eventually.”
“Chosen for what?” Miriam asked.
“I don’t know,” Tara said. “He never said.”
It seemed as though April had the misfortune of being his chosen one after all, but Miriam still couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps the evidence inside his home would offer a window into Trudeau’s twisted psyche. “We need to get you out of here,” she said to Tara, looking around the underground room.
She then took Tara by the hand and helped her off the bed. She had many questions to ask, but Tara needed medical assistance and her parents needed to be notified at once. Miriam expected fallout from her actions but felt stubbornly defiant. She had found the girls on her own, but that wasn’t good enough, and she knew it.
She was far from her jurisdiction and might not even have a job when she returned to Phoenix. This was a reality she had become accustomed to when playing by her own rules. The case had spiraled into something she had never imagined.
Tara limped toward the stairs, and Miriam saw that she needed help. “Come on. I’ve got you,” she said, lifting Tara up and holding her against her chest.
Tara’s oversized T-shirt went down past her shorts and down to her knees; the clothes didn’t seem to be hers. As they left the room, Miriam took a parting look at April’s empty bed with its sheets hanging to the side and the body indentation on the mattress. A trail of blood led from down the stairs, straight to April’s bed. He must have grabbed her up in a frenzied haste. It was a heartbreaking sight, and Miriam wished she could have stopped him.
“How long have you been here?” Miriam asked as she ascended the creaky stairs, holding Tara against her chest.
“I don’t know. Like a day or two?” she said.