The Abducted: Odessa – A Small Town Abduction - Book One

by Roger Hayden

  It was time to follow the last remaining lead they had—directions from Frohman’s suicide letter. Miriam, however, stressed caution first.

  “We need to go, Detective. But we also have to be ready for a trap.”

  Hayes tugged at his jacket and looked around the garage, thinking. “Well, it’s hard to believe that he would give up those girls out of the kindness of his heart.”

  “He wants us to go there. That doesn’t settle with me,” Miriam said.

  “But he’s dead now,” Hayes said. “What does he care?”

  It was clear that he wanted to wrap up the case every bit as much as she did, but there was no sense in rushing to judgment. They needed to strategize each move, assess the risks, and ensure that they were in control of the situation. Years as a detective had taught Miriam that much. In their line of work, miracles were few and far in between.

  “We still have that aerial drone, correct?” she asked Hayes. “Let’s find a position and send it in. See if there’s a van actually waiting for us or if it’s a hoax.”

  On cue, Shelton entered the garage with his attention shifting between his partner and Miriam and the cell phone in his hand. Miriam could sense a troubled expression in his eyes.

  “Everything okay, Detective Shelton?”

  He stood between them and nodded, placing his phone in his coat pocket and then pulling out a sealed evidence bag with Frohman’s alleged suicide note. “No one else saw this. I just don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?” Hayes asked.

  Shelton took a deep breath, eyes fixated on the ground. “I’m hearing some rumblings from back at the station. They don’t have the details, but some guys are gearing up to search for this red van. That station is organizing a search party.”

  “What?” Hayes said, angered. “No, no, no. They need to stand down. Lieutenant Sandoval and I were just discussing the possibility of using the drone.”

  “But who would have told them?” Miriam asked. She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to the detectives. “Is someone working against us on this?”

  Suddenly, Sergeant Bennett’s booming Southern drawl startled them from the walkway. “There you are. Been looking for you folks everywhere.”

  Miriam glared as the two detectives turned around, eyes piercing through the police sergeant.

  “Have you talked to anyone yet about this supposed van?” Hayes asked.

  Sergeant Bennett shifted his aviator glasses and shook his head, dumbfounded. “What do you mean? I don’t know anything about that van.”

  Shelton inched toward him. “What’s this noise about a search party? This could be nothing but a ploy by an unstable individual to have the last laugh.”

  “The point is, Sergeant, we’re in charge of his investigation. Got it?” Hayes said.

  Sergeant Bennett stared ahead with a hurt expression and nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I haven’t told anyone.”

  Desiring anything but an endless back-and-forth with the police sergeant, Miriam held her hands out and addressed the detectives. “We need to get a small team together and get moving on this. Keep it quiet until we know for sure.”

  The detectives agreed, and they blew past Sergeant Bennett, who still seemed hurt by even the slightest implication of his interference. “Thought we were a team,” he said as they went inside the house. But Miriam had little time to console him. They had to move ahead and piece together the pieces as they came. The girls were counting on them.

  ***

  To find the van with the girls:

  Take 385 South toward Crane County

  Fifteen miles south, turn right at sheet metal plant

  Two and half miles east, turn right Durbin Street

  Past the cattle ranch and take dirt road on left past silo

  Five miles down road, take sharp right toward hill top

  Van is parked near a canyon. You can’t miss it.

  Hurry though. Those girls won’t last long in the desert heat.

  -K

  Miriam read the directions several times over as they led a three-vehicle convoy toward an uncertain destination. The mission had been hastily organized, but time was of the essence. The detectives had assembled a team of Ector County investigators to accompany them. She sat in the front seat of Sergeant Bennett’s police cruiser as he sped through the streets of Odessa, toward the outskirts, siren wailing and lights flashing.

  Detective Hayes and Shelton sat in the backseat, quiet in their own thoughts. Though no one really knew what to expect, there was a glimmer of hope between them.

  The encased aerial drone was secured in the trunk. Two white off-road Toyota Land Cruisers followed with their lights flashing above the windshield, four detectives per vehicle.

  Few were privy to the details surrounding their covert mission. There had been too many leaks so far within the department. Captain Vasquez had enough to deliver a statement. Two suspects were dead. One of the three girls had been found. That was all they had to go on.

  Miriam and the detectives agreed that no one within the department needed to know about the van until they could verify it. Miriam hoped to God that it would be true. Anticipation was killing her; however, the steady hand of the police sergeant was guiding them quickly through town.

  He had adamantly denied leaking information, but someone was talking. The thought of an insider working against them troubled Miriam. Then the craziest theory entered her mind: perhaps someone involved in the investigation was the mastermind behind it all. That would explain the collapse of the sting operation. It would also explain several other strange coincidences.

  Get your head right, Miriam said to herself after the idea came to her. Quit being so paranoid and focus. But she couldn’t shake the thought no matter how hard she tried.

  ***

  Captain Vasquez stood outside the Odessa police station in front of a microphone stand flanked by two high-ranking officers and prepared to deliver his statement to the press. Several local news vans were on site, and the parking lot was crawling with reporters from several towns over to include some major Texas affiliates. The missing girls had received a substantial amount of coverage over the past few days. It had all the makings of a national news expose: a mysterious child predator terrifying a small town.

  The last thing Vasquez wanted was his precinct in the news with speculation on how they were handling the case. He took his job seriously and that of his police force and investigators, but he was skeptical of the scrutiny they were under. It certainly didn’t make the investigation easier.

  The sun was steadily descending, and several news crews brought spotlights just in case. His statement would be as brief and as concise as he could make it. So much new information had recently flowed into the station, and he had to try his best to be selective and inform the public of the most important details. Wearing his dress blues, Vasquez approached the microphones affixed to the stand and nodded at Major Kelly to his right as a gust of wind kicked a dust cloud through the parking lot, stinging his eyes.

  “Are you ready?” the silver-haired, bespectacled major asked him.

  He nodded and cleared his throat as the chatter of the gaggle of reporters drew down.

  “Give ‘em hell, Elian,” Chief Rivers, the officer to his left, said. There were county officials from as far as Midland on-site, everyone eagerly awaiting his words. Vasquez brushed dust from his trim crew cut and leaned into the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “There have been some new developments in this case that I’d like to share with you. I know you’ve heard some conflicting reports the past couple of hours about the apprehension and/or death of the suspected kidnapper and the recovery of the missing girls. It is with immense relief that I announce that Natalie Forester, kidnapped only two days ago, was found safe and unharmed in the home of local resident, Walter Browning.”

  The captain paused and cleared his throat again.

  Should have brought a bottle of water, he th
ought. His throat was dry, and the last thing he wanted to do was go into a coughing fit on live television.

  “Dedicated officials are currently searching day and night for the whereabouts of April Johnson and Tara McKenzie, the latter taken from her home and allegedly placed into a van that matches descriptions of our suspect here in Odessa. Walter Browning was shot and killed by an officer after he violently resisted arrest.

  “I believe that an internal investigation will clear this officer of any suspected use of excessive force. Unfortunately, with the death of Mr. Browning, our investigators are left with the challenging task of searching for a second kidnapper. Today, we found that man.”

  Applause rang out from many of the police officers standing nearby. The captain then held his hand up. “It’s not time for us to celebrate just yet. The second man, whose name we cannot release right now, was found deceased in his home. We do not have details on the circumstances surrounding his death or whether he is directly involved with the kidnappings. As of now, April Johnson has not been found.”

  Clear confusion covered the faces of the reporters across from the captain. Vasquez was admittedly confused himself by the investigation, but had tried his best to sort things out before addressing the press.

  “And there is also no new information on the whereabouts of Tara McKenzie. Midland PD has been enlisted in the search, and we’re confident that we can get to the bottom of this. I wish there was more I could tell you, but the investigation is still ongoing and details are still coming in.”

  Suddenly, a female reporter raised her hand, taking the captain by surprise. “Is it true that both men were Food Mart employees, and that they plotted together to kidnap Natalie Forester?”

  Captain Vasquez shook his head. “I can’t confirm or deny that now. We do know that Walter Browning worked there.”

  A man then cut in. “What’s the latest on this rogue officer joining the case, Miriam Sandoval? She’s been reportedly addressed in two of the kidnapper’s alleged letters. Why do you think that is?”

  Vasquez’s eyes widened and he appeared taken aback by the question. The last thing he wanted to do was to discuss this. “Lieutenant Sandoval is an advisor, yes. As you know, she solved the Snatcher case last year, and I’m sure whomever wrote those letters singled her out because of that.” He paused and pointed at another reporter with her hand up.

  “Captain Vasquez, do you believe this to be a conspiracy? Are there more suspects? And if so, how many?”

  Captain Vasquez thought to himself for a moment and then tried his best to answer. “I’d say it is unlikely, but we just don’t know at this point. The important thing is to let the investigation run its course and ensure that the fine people of Odessa are safe. Especially their children.”

  “Captain, who is Kenneth Frohman?” a reporter bellowed.

  “I’m not familiar with that name,” Vasquez said, looking down.

  “His name was provided to us as the second kidnapper,” the man said.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Vasquez said, pointing at another reporter. The questions kept coming and the conference lasted another ten minutes before Vasquez wrapped up and promised to update them accordingly. It appeared to be not the slam dunk the local news was hoping for. Instead, there was now more speculation than ever.

  As Vasquez turned from the microphone and walked back into the station, he turned to his lieutenant and spoke into his ear. “I want an update on our recon team. Have they found the damn van yet?”

  “Not yet, sir. Looks like Detective Hayes and Shelton are on their way out there as well,” the lieutenant said.

  “Ms. Sandoval too, I imagine?” he said, pushing the door open.

  “That’s correct.”

  “I want her kept under control. Find the girls and send her back to Phoenix posthaste.”

  “Sure thing, sir.”

  Vasquez ran a hand down his face as he entered the station lobby, officers following behind him. “She’s proven to be more trouble than she’s worth.”

  “We’ll keep her at bay, sir.”

  They continued past the front counter and into the cubicle area where Ector County PD had planted its flag. The sense of urgency in the room had reached a fever pitch. There was information coming into the station from all over in addition to anonymous calls, steering them from one direction to the next. If the investigation found evidence of a third culprit, the case might prove to be the most elaborate crime in Odessa’s recent years. Two men were dead, two girls were missing, and the day was far from over.

  ***

  Sergeant Bennett’s police cruiser raced down the open desert road as they neared their mystery destination. The plan was simple: position themselves at a safe distance from the location, deploy the aerial drone, and then investigate. It was the only way to be sure that they weren’t walking into a trap. Hayes had his doubts that Ken Frohman could have pulled off something so elaborate.

  It looked as though the twenty-nine-year-old stock boy had simply given up. But Miriam knew better. The person who had called Walter Browning’s house after she shot him didn’t sound like someone who was prepared to surrender and then kill himself. There was something else at play.

  Their three-vehicle convoy turned down a long dusty road near a cattle ranch. Miriam could see mountains in the far distance. Dusk sky would offer an hour of daylight at best, and they had to get set up before the desert turned to shadow. Sergeant Bennett turned right after the wooden fence of the ranch ended, just as the directions indicated. Ahead, Miriam could see a small hill, ideal for staging their surveillance operation.

  The wide-open desert surroundings would expose anyone watching them. She hoped that Ken Frohman was the mastermind investigators thought he was. She hoped that things would soon be over. But it just seemed too simple. It didn’t add up. Her anticipation increased as Sergeant Bennett slowed and steered off road, onto the slope leading up the hill.

  The Land Cruisers followed on the bumpy terrain. The police captain had just finished his briefing. Miriam was grateful he didn’t linger too long on her involvement. She had found many of their questions strange. How did they know Frohman’s name? Who was leaking information? Who had told the station about the suicide note? It made little sense. Someone was spreading information, and Miriam wanted to get to the bottom of it. Shelton expressed as much as they traveled the winding rocky road up the hill overlooking the desert below.

  “Strange that they knew his name already,” he said.

  Hayes had the phone to his ear to call the station and give them an update. He hung up, frustrated, and lowered the phone. “Can’t get a signal out here. How about you?”

  “Nah,” Shelton said. “We’re in no man’s land.”

  Miriam opened her satchel and pulled out a pair of binoculars as a thought occurred to her. They had been led to a place where there was no cell phone signal. They were officially cut off from the world, which was probably the point. They reached the top of the hill where Sergeant Bennett parked next to a large cactus patch, concealing most of the car from view.

  Miriam immediately held up the binoculars and looked out into the barren valley below. There were hills and rocks and even patches of forest, but she didn’t see any van parked atop anywhere.

  She did, however, see something moving far ahead.

  “There’s someone out there,” she said, binoculars pressed against her eyes.

  Sergeant Bennett leaned ahead and squinted. “What?”

  The two Land Cruisers pulled up on both sides of their car and parked as their exhaust wafted into her vision.

  “There’re vehicles out there,” she said. “Two of them.” She paused, trying to make out the models amidst the cloud of dust trailing them. “Two SUVs,” she continued. “Black.”

  Hayes opened his door immediately and stepped outside as Shelton leaned forward. “Two SUVs?” he said, thinking to himself. He held his hand out. “Hand me the mic, please.”

&n
bsp; Miriam reached for the hand mic attached to the police radio and passed it to him. The other detectives stepped out of the Land Cruisers, none of them known to Miriam, but all vouched for by Hayes and Shelton.

  Hayes walked ahead and scanned the barren land below. “I see it! Dust cloud. Two vehicles, just like she said.”

  Shelton clicked on the mic. “This is an APB. If you’re outside the Pleasant Valley Cattle Ranch, radio check, over.”

  Shelton waited and then repeated himself, but there was no answer. “I repeat, this is Detective Shelton.”

  “Roger, Detective,” a voice suddenly said. “This is Dawson. We’re here for backup. Got a lot of nervous people back at the station.”

  “Backup?” Shelton said, astonished. “We never requested any backup.”

  “Where are you?” Dawson asked.

  Hayes swooped in and stuck his head inside, furious. “What the hell are they doing out here?”

  Shelton shook his head in disbelief as Miriam kept watch through the binoculars. Sergeant Bennett seemed stunned to silence, unless, of course, he had something to do with the unwelcome visitors.

  Miriam lowered her binos and turned toward the sergeant, eyeing him. He glanced over and held his hands up without hesitation. “It wasn’t me! I haven’t talked to anyone at the station.”

  “Who requested the backup?” Shelton asked into the mic.

  “Come on, buddy,” Dawson said. “I think you know who.”

  Flustered, Shelton blinked his eyes rapidly then huffed. “Vasquez?”

  “That bastard,” Hayes said, face reddening.

  “Give the man a break,” Dawson said. “He just wants to keep an eye on you. Press is so far up his ass, he can’t see straight.”

  Shelton, however, was dismissive. “Listen, Dawson. Turn back around. We’ve got this.”

  Miriam could see their dust trail getting thinner and thinner as they were gradually fading from sight. It was getting dark outside fast, and they were going to have to get the drone set up—if that was even an option. She reached into the satchel, searching for a flashlight, when she felt a paperback book.