by Willow Rose
“Got it.”
I returned to my own computer and sat back down with a fresh cup of coffee, then looked at the clock. It was three a.m. There was still a long time until sunlight broke, and we could get out there and search for Cole again. I prayed a silent prayer that he was just hiding in a bush somewhere, where he had maybe fallen asleep, and that he would show up in the morning. But I knew it was a long shot. The fact that he had met someone who told him he was a secret spy rubbed me the wrong way. It could hardly be a coincidence that both he and his sister had met a guy who said those exact words, could it?
Dang it, he’s still out there, isn’t he?
I kept wondering about this and how anyone from the outside could know about this particular part if they weren’t the same guy. I was so certain it was Odell that had said that to Maggie that day at the pool. He was a guest at the resort with them and had been seen by the pool that morning when Maggie met this guy, and he had told her that he was a secret spy.
“I think I found one,” Brad suddenly said from behind his screen.
I turned to face him.
“Found one?”
He turned his laptop so I could see the picture. I recognized the guy in the picture immediately.
“Emmeret Schultz. I’ll be darned. He worked at the resort in Key West as a lifeguard and was a registered sex offender who managed to hide it from his employer when applying for the job.”
Brad nodded. “Today, he owns a small tire shop; guess where?”
“Here in Orlando?”
“Bingo. As a matter of fact, it’s right around the corner from here, just a few miles to the east on Oak Ridge Road.”
I rose to my feet and grabbed my phone.
“Let’s go pay the guy a visit.”
Chapter 20
We didn’t take any chances. We brought a local team with us, and I had Isabella make sure we had a warrant to search the place. The fact that he was a registered sex offender was enough. I didn’t even have to add the fact that he was also a suspect ten years earlier.
Warrant in hand and Kevlar vest on, I knocked on the door to the apartment above the tire shop that he had registered as his address.
“Mr. Schultz? This is the police. Please, open up.”
I looked at Brad standing next to me briefly, then knocked again. It was always a balance when to move in. You wanted to give the guy a chance to get out of bed, get dressed, and open the door himself, but at the same time, he could be getting rid of important evidence if we waited too long.
“Mr. Schultz, I need you to open the door right now, or we’ll open it for you,” I yelled. “Don’t make us knock down the door.”
Still nothing but silence. I looked at Brad, then nodded. He signaled the team, and someone kicked in the door. It flew open, splintering in parts, and the team moved in. Seconds later, one of them returned.
“Place is cleared.”
“And Schultz?”
He shook his head. “It’s empty.”
We walked inside to take a look for ourselves, putting on plastic gloves. I walked directly to his bedroom and opened the door. The place was disgusting, but the bedroom was the worst. Clothing was lying everywhere; old pizza boxes were in stacks amid plates that should have been cleaned a long time ago and still had leftovers on them; flies buzzed around the old dried up food.
The bed was a mess, and the drapes were closed. I turned on the light and looked around. I picked up a piece of clothing, then threw it on the bed. I went to the drawers and pulled them out, then rummaged through their contents. I found old pictures and old keys that probably weren’t any use anymore, along with coins and pens. I spotted his computer on a desk and handed it to a guy to secure it as evidence. Other than that, it didn’t seem like there was much there.
Until I spotted something blue poking out from the floor, then I reached down and picked up the clothing item, then held it in the air as Brad came inside.
“What’s that?”
“Looks a lot like a pair of blue trunks, doesn’t it?” I asked. “Size eight years old?”
He gave me a look. “Like the ones Cole was wearing when he disappeared?”
I nodded. “Could be.”
I placed the trunks in a plastic bag and put it with the rest of the evidence. I then went through all the closets and small spaces where one might hide a kid, continuing for at least another hour, then gave up.
“If he has the kid, then he’s not here; that’s for sure,” Brad said, coming up to me. “We’ve combed through the entire apartment and the shop downstairs. No other sign of the kid being here.”
“He might have taken him somewhere. Put a search out for his car,” I said. “I want him found before morning.”
Chapter 21
Brad and I hurried back to the hotel room and knocked on the door to the Marshalls’ bedroom. Peter opened the door, and we walked inside, holding the bag with the trunks inside of it.
“I am sorry to burst in like this,” I said and showed them to Mary. “Do you recognize these swim trunks?”
She sat up. Her eyes were bloated and red. I guessed she hadn’t slept at all. I know I wouldn’t be able to in a situation like this.
She looked at the bag, then turned it in the sparse light. Seeing this, Brad went to the light switch and flipped it. As the light came on, she gasped.
“Are they his?” I asked, sounding harsher than intended, but I was in a hurry to get this confirmed. If they were Cole’s shorts, then we had some real hard, solid evidence to nail the guy on.
She looked up at me, eyes wide and teary. “I…I’m not sure, but it looks a lot like them…I think.”
“I need you to take another look,” I said. “Are these the trunks Cole was wearing when he disappeared?”
She stared at them, biting her lip, then showed them to Peter. “They are his, aren’t they? Honey?”
He sat next to her, grabbed the bag, and turned it. “Yes. I think they’re his.”
“You think?” I asked.
“I…can’t say I am one hundred percent certain, but it looks a lot like them.”
“It’s the same brand, same size, and the same color,” Mary said. “I think they could be his, yes. Where did you find them?”
“Thank you,” I said and grabbed the bag from between their hands, then walked out with the phone clenched to my ear, calling Isabella.
“Parents confirmed it; they are Cole’s trunks.”
“We need to find this guy, then,” she said.
“I’ve got all the men on it. Local law enforcement all around us is receiving his picture as we speak and will be on the lookout. He can’t hide anywhere. We’ll get him.”
“I love your optimism, and I wish I shared it. Don’t forget that this guy could be smarter than we think. If it was really him back then as well, then he managed to get away with killing two little children right under your noses.”
“Thanks for rubbing it in,” I said.
“I didn’t mean to. It’s just…be careful with this one, okay? Don’t let him trick you again.”
“I won’t. I’m getting the boy back in his mother’s arms before sunrise.”
I hung up, then stared at the display, wishing I shared my own optimism. I remembered interviewing Schultz ten years ago, and he had been a real sleazeball. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him, but I also knew that Isabella was right, and it annoyed me greatly. If Schultz was able to get away with this ten years ago, chances were he wouldn’t just walk into our hands. He’d make sure to be hard to find.
The question was whether we could get to him before he killed the boy if he hadn’t already.
Chapter 22
Things had gone quiet in the suite, and so he snuck back up to his room. Agent Thomas was working on her computer, along with most of the other agents, when she wasn’t on the phone. They had a possible suspect that they were searching for, and that meant they weren’t looking at him or searching the hotel again, which suited him
very well.
He slid the card in the holder, then opened the door to his room upstairs and snuck inside. He walked to the closet, then pulled the door open. The bundle was in there, left untouched. He reached inside and grabbed it in his arms, then carried the sleeping boy over and put him on the bed. Carefully, he unwrapped him so that he could see all of him. A shiver of delight went through his body as he watched the boy.
He looked so much like his mother—the same straight nose and slim face. He didn’t resemble his brother Blake much but was the spitting image of Maggie.
Beautiful, beautiful Maggie.
He looked at the pictures from the old articles again on his phone, using his fingers to zoom into her face. What a gorgeous girl. Almost as beautiful as Cole on the bed. He stared down at him, wondering how long he could hold himself back. He looked at the area around his neck and felt a deep desire stir inside of him to just finish him off here, now. But it was too early. This wasn’t the time. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned over and kissed the boy on the cheek. He smelled heavenly. The boy blinked his eyes and looked at him.
“W-where am I?”
He smiled, enjoying those worried blue eyes staring up at him. He needed a haircut soon as his bangs were falling into his eyes. He lifted his hand and swept them away, so he could better see him. Then he stared at the throat and imagined where he’d place his hands.
“Mommy?” the boy said.
“Shh,” he said and placed a finger on his lips.
The boy’s eyes stared at him, his small lips vibrating slightly while he tried to hold back the tears.
“We’re gonna play a little game. Are you ready for that, Cole?”
“I don’t want to,” he said defiantly. “I want my mommy.”
“I know. I know. But right now, we’re going to play a silent game, okay? If you want to say something, you have to whisper. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Oh, maybe not, but you have to.”
The boy stared at him, and he recognized that same look that Maggie had in the old pictures that her parents had let the newspapers print back then. He couldn’t believe he was about to recreate the magical moment from ten years ago.
He leaned forward and whispered in the boy’s ear. “You better do everything I tell you to. You don’t want to end up like your brother and sister, Blake and Maggie, do you?”
The boy’s eyes grew wide, probably from all the stories he had been told over the years of what happened to his siblings. Then he began to cry, sobbing heavily while speaking with as low a voice as he could: “I don’t want to die, please. I’ll be quiet; I promise.”
Chapter 23
THEN:
They decided to have the wedding in the backyard of their house. On the big day, Roy’s home was changed entirely. There were people everywhere he looked, most of them he didn’t even know. They were decorating, removing things, putting flowers on all the tables and in all the corners, even in places Roy knew no one would ever see. Pamela was in charge of it all, bossing people around, telling Roy’s dad they’d never finish it in time, that there was so much to do, there was no time for him just to sit around and drink coffee. Meanwhile, her small annoying daughter was put in Roy’s arms, and he was told to keep an eye on her while the grownups were busy getting ready.
Roy didn’t want to be a babysitter; he wanted to play his Gameboy, so he gave her a bag of chips and put her on the floor so she would be busy for a little while, even if she made a mess on the carpet. Meanwhile, he tried to play his game when she—apparently bored by the chips—staggered toward him, reaching for his Gameboy.
“No,” he said and pushed her away. “This is mine.”
He picked up one of her toys and gave it to her, but she had her heart set on the Gameboy in his hand and kept grabbing it. She looked up at him, giggling. She was pretty in her little pink dress with flowers on it. She was supposed to be a flower girl, and he would walk up the aisle with her, him carrying the ring, her carrying a basket of flowers, looking adorable, and everyone would go oh and ah and clap when seeing her cute face. Meanwhile, they’d all ignore the clumsy no-good teenage boy who was with her.
While staring at her now, as she was grabbing his Gameboy and pulling it, Roy didn’t see anything cute about that little monster. All he saw was snot running from her nose and little piglet eyes staring defiantly back at him like she knew she owned him from now on, that she ruled his very existence.
He pulled it out of her hand and held it high in the air.
“No!”
The sound of the no made her face crumple, and seconds later, the girl burst into tears. Roy didn’t feel pity for her and let her cry. He knew the grownups fussed about her when she made even the slightest sound, but not him. The girl had to know that she wasn’t going to get her way, at least not when he was around.
Roy turned his game back on and played for a few seconds while the girl continued to cry. She came up to him, her cheeks red with agony and anger, screaming into his face aggressively while still trying to get the game from between his hands. Roy simply lifted it too high for her to reach, and she tried hard to stand on her tippy toes to get it from him, but he didn’t let her.
Then his gaze landed on that little soft spot underneath her chin, the area under it where the skin was silky smooth. For one quick second, he wondered how long it would take to make her shut up if he placed his hands around it and just squeezed.
“No!” he said again, then rose to his feet so she couldn’t reach for the Gameboy anymore. That made the girl throw an even worse fit, and Roy felt the anger rise in him to a boiling point when the girl suddenly laid eyes on something else and forgot all about the game. She reached for his Gatorade on the table, and he let her have it. He was done with it anyway. The girl took off the lid, then poured the drink all over her face and spilled it onto her pink dress.
A second later, Pamela stood in the doorway, staring at her daughter’s dress, saturated in red sticky Gatorade. Her face went pale, and her lips became tight like had she just eaten something that surprised her by being sour.
“What’s going on?” his dad said, coming up behind her. Then he spotted the girl in the dress. She was smiling widely from ear to ear, the area around her mouth turned red from the drink.
“Are you kidding me, Roy?” his dad said. “All you had to do was keep an eye on her, and you let this happen? Are you deliberately trying to sabotage the wedding, huh?”
Pamela put a hand on his chest.
“Mark, it’s not his fault.”
“Of course, it is. He’s fifteen now; he should be able to look after a little girl. But he doesn’t want to. He just wants to ruin everything for everyone. It’s in his nature, just like his mom. Now, get dressed. Guests will be here in fifteen minutes. Do you think you can manage that? Or is that too much for you too?”
With that, he turned around and left. Pamela grabbed her daughter, and they all left his room. Roy sat down, biting back his tears.
A few minutes later, he walked down the stairs, dressed for the wedding, hair combed back the way his dad liked it when he noticed that all the pictures of his mother and him were gone from the walls by the stairway. So were the ones by the fireplace in the living room.
There wasn’t one single picture of his mother left anywhere.
Outside, the guests had started to arrive, and he could hear his dad greeting them, welcoming them, while Roy stood inside, clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into his skin in the palm of his hands, and the blood dripped onto the floor below.
Chapter 24
As daylight came back, the hotel suite was soon buzzing with activity again. A cart with breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, yogurt, and fruit along with fresh coffee and croissants was brought in. The Marshalls tried to eat, but Mary only drank coffee while their friends, James and Brittney Cork, sat with them.
I grabbed a quick plate with a little of everything
and filled up on fresh coffee. I called Matt to check if he was up. He was on duty today, preparing a drug sting at the port that he had been working on for months along with the sheriff’s office. They were getting ready to make their move soon, and he couldn’t wait.
“I miss you here with me,” I said, walking into the hallway to talk in private, the phone clenched against my ear.
“I miss you too. You all right?” he said, his voice sounding sleepy.
I sighed. “I will be once we find Schultz and the boy. They can’t be far away.”
“And you’re sure he’s your guy?”
I scoffed and rubbed my forehead underneath the bangs. During the extended quarantine from the Coronavirus, I hadn’t been able to go to the hairdresser, and I desperately needed something new to happen, so I had cut my own bangs. It looked awful, and I never could get them straight, but Matt loved it and said it really brought out my eyes. Christine had then wanted me to cut hers as well and dye her hair pink, so I had done all that. And much to my surprise, she had liked it, and amazingly enough, I had lived to tell about it.
“We found the trunks, so I have to assume he has him.”
“But does he fit the profile?” Matt asked. “I bet you have this guy profiled, am I right?”
“I don’t know Schultz enough to be certain,” I said, trying to cut him off. I didn’t want to have this conversation now. I wanted Schultz to be found and him to have the boy, so this nightmare could be all over. “All I know is he’s a registered sex offender, he was there ten years ago, and he had the trunks. That’s enough for me.”