by Platt, Sean
She figured that was the situation with Benny.
It was this sympathy, this ability to appreciate the suspect’s plight, to make them see her as someone who understood them, that got most people talking.
Mal put her hands on the table, palms down.
“Listen, Benny, I like you, so I’m gonna shoot straight. Can I do that?”
He met her eyes.
His lip was trembling.
He was swallowing a lot. She wasn’t sure if it was a nervous tic or if he was experiencing some sort of withdrawal.
“Yeah.”
“We’ve got people who saw you go in their house earlier. Saw you climbing in the window and cutting yourself.”
His face looked on the verge of collapsing.
“Now you seem like a nice guy, Benny. I saw your rap sheet, and it looks like you’ve just had a lot of bad breaks. Am I right?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You never meant any harm. You were just trying to get by. And it’s not easy these days, I know. I see a lot of heinous shit, let me tell you. Plenty of good people forced to do terrible things.”
Mal nodded as she spoke.
Benny mirrored her.
“I’m thinking you didn’t mean to kill them. That something went wrong. Am I right?”
He looked down at the table, his face twisted in anguish, fighting tears.
“It’s okay, Benny. I’m here. You can tell me what happened. I’ll help you work things out.”
He met her eyes, then broke down crying.
She waited.
Finally, he said, “They weren’t supposed to be there. They were supposed to be on vacation.”
He continued, telling her that he only wanted money for Oxycontin. He never meant to hurt them, but they’d caught him breaking in. They’d recognized him and were going to call the police.
“I’m so sorry,” he bawled. “They were nice people. They didn’t deserve this.”
Mal listened. The camera recorded Benny’s confession.
Times like this, when the killer showed actual remorse, Mal felt terrible. It would’ve been easier interviewing a stone-cold killer than someone like Benny — someone who never really had a chance. Someone who started from Go with shitty parents, no support system, and a learning disability that got him bullied in school.
Guys like Benny didn’t go on to become productive members of society. They ended up on the fringes, doing whatever they could to cope or get by. Perhaps the cruelest twist was that Benny was confessing because of Mal’s kindness and mercy, or her pretending to be kind and merciful to extract that confession.
It was hard not to wonder how his life, or the lives of any number of people she’d interviewed over the year, might have turned out differently had they experienced a genuine kindness or mercy earlier in their lives—before it was too late.
Still, no matter how bad Benny’s life had been, and regardless of his blame, there was never any excuse for murder.
He chose each of his wrong decisions.
Plenty of people had it worse than Benny and managed not to murder anyone.
She flashed back on the Horowitz’s bodies, then looked at the hands that had committed those crimes.
Anyone capable of that didn’t deserve to be free, and it was her job to put Benny behind bars.
**
Mike met with Mal in the hallway after the interview. “That’s some good work in there, partner.”
“Thanks.”
“But don’t think I’m letting that wrestling thing go. Hmm, what would your wrestling name be? Mad Dog Mal?”
She lifted her left hand and extended her middle finger.
Mal felt a buzz in her pocket.
She didn’t recognize the number, but saw that it had called earlier and that whoever it was hadn’t bothered to leave a message. She let the number go to voicemail.
“I hate this phone,” she said, dropping it in her pocket.
“What’s going on?”
“Remember how I got that new iPhone and the new number?”
“Yeah. I told you to get an Android.”
“Yeah, screw that. Anyway, I keep getting bill collectors looking for whoever had the number before me, some bitch named Allison.”
“Bitch?” Mike laughed.
“Yeah, she has like twenty different creditors looking for her ass.”
“Yeah, fuck her, then.”
Mal remembered what she was doing three hours ago before they got the call about the Horowitz’s.
“Shit. I forgot about the doll. Can you start the paperwork while I run back to the toy store for Ashley’s gift? They only had two left.”
“Yeah, no problem, Mad Dog.”
Mal flipped him off with a smile that Mike couldn’t see.
* * * *
CHAPTER 4 - ASHLEY BLACK
“Did you invite Dante to your birthday party?”
“Noooo,” Ashley said, turning to wrinkle her nose at Rebecca. They were halfway home, and her best friend was getting annoying. “Why would I invite him?”
“Because you like him, idiot.”
“Do not,” Ashley said, feeling her face getting hot.
“Oh my God, you are such a liar!” Rebecca said, laughing.
“Shut up.” Ashley punched her lightly in the arm.
“Besides, he doesn’t even like me. He likes Brooke.”
“No, he doesn’t. He told Carrie Vartan that he can’t stand Brooke.”
“Really?” Ashley said. “I’ve seen them hanging out like allll the time.”
“I’m just tellin’ you what I heard. Whatever. So, is your mom doing cake or cupcakes?”
“I think she’s getting cupcakes from that new place.”
“Cool. My mom took us there last week. It’s so pretty.”
Ashley had been looking forward to this weekend for months, ever since her mom said she could have her birthday at the Algonquin.
Ashley’s friend, Brianna, had a birthday there last year, and it was the most amazing place, with fancy food and a room where you could dance. It was also going to be the biggest party that Ashley had ever had. She was allowed to invite fifteen people — five more than the ten she had at her seventh birthday.
“Will your dad be there?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s cool. My dad had to work and couldn’t come to my birthday last year.”
“That stinks.”
“It’s okay. He felt guilty. That’s why I got my iPhone.”
Ashley laughed. “Well, as much as I’d like an iPhone, I want my dad to come more.”
“Divorce sucks.”
“They’re not divorced!” Ashley argued. “I hate it when you say that.”
“Sorry,” Rebecca said, looking at her shoes. “I’m sure they’ll get back together.”
Ashley wanted to walk the rest of the way home alone. She didn’t like when Rebecca wanted to talk about the “D” word. Her parents had separated two years ago, then divorced last year, right before her birthday.
But Ashley’s parents weren’t like Rebecca’s.
For one, they rarely fought, and Rebecca’s fought all the time.
For two, they were still friends. They talked on the phone almost every night. You didn’t do that if you hated the other person. Friends could still work out their problems — whatever they were.
Ashley had asked both of them why they broke up five months ago, and they both always said the same thing, as if rehearsed.
We just need some time to figure things out.
Ashley turned to Rebecca. “Yeah, they just need to work things out.” After a long pause, she added, “Being an adult is confusing. I think after this weekend, I’m going to stay ten forever.”
Neither of them spoke for a while, walking along the busy road beside the park. They were about three blocks from their street, but neither was in a hurry. Ashley’s mom wouldn’t be home until around six, and Rebecca wasn’t in a r
ush to deal with her mom, who’d been crabby all week.
Ashley took in the oaks and maples lining the street, leaves changing color, though not yet autumn’s prettier oranges, yellows, and reds. A cool breeze blew through her long blonde hair. Ashley inhaled, smiling. She loved the first cool days of fall because they reminded her of happier times, dressing up for Halloween and trick-or-treating with her parents, Thanksgiving, then Christmas with her family.
She couldn’t help but be happy when the weather started to change.
She wondered how different this year’s holidays were going to be.
“Hey,” Rebecca said, pointing to a car, slowing on the next street. “You know him?”
Ashley looked up and saw a black sedan. It looked like the undercover cars that the sheriff’s department sometimes used. A dome light sat on the dash, though it wasn’t turned on.
It slowed to a stop fifteen feet away.
The tinted window rolled down revealing a good-looking young man in a deputy’s uniform and hat.
“Ashley?” he said with a kind smile.
“Yeah.” Her stomach was a nest of angry hornets, wondering if something awful had happened to her mother.
“I’m Deputy Michaels. Your mom sent me to pick you up.”
“What’s wrong?” Ashley stepped closer to the car, with Rebecca right behind her.
“Your teacher didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Oh, man. Your mom was supposed to call the school and tell you to wait for me.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t say too much right now, but you might be in danger.”
“Danger? What’s going on?”
“Your mom will have to tell you.”
“Where is she?”
“She can’t leave right now. That’s why she wanted me to come get you.”
“I dunno.” Yes, he was a cop, but Ashley didn’t know him. And technically, that made him a stranger.
The officer held up a finger, said “Hold on a second,” then leaned over and picked something up.
A second later he was holding up a doll. A Kewl Chik. Ariel. The one she’d been begging her mother for.
“She told me to give you this, an early birthday gift.”
Ashley smiled and ran to the car.
Deputy Michaels smiled and handed her the box.
Rebecca followed, keeping some distance. “Come on, Ash, let’s go home.”
She looked at the deputy with his kind eyes and friendly smile. “How far away is my mom?”
“About ten minutes, if we drive.”
She looked into the car, saw the radio just like the one in her mom’s car, and a bulky black laptop just like the one her mom always carried.
He also had a Creek County Sheriff’s Office badge on his uniform.
Still, Ashley couldn’t be sure he was who he said he was.
“Can I see your ID?”
“Sure thing, kid.” He smiled then reached into his pocket, pulled out a wallet, which had both his name, Andrew Michaels, and a Sheriff’s Department ID, just like her mom’s.
“Can you give my friend a ride home?”
Deputy Michaels smiled and said, “Sure. Hop in the back.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 5 - MALLORY BLACK
Mal was driving to the toy store when her phone rang again.
She looked at the number — the same collection agency that had called her at least a dozen times already.
Before the woman could get out two words, Mal said, “What’s your name?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked for your name. You keep calling my number, even though I've told you all dozens of times that this is a new number, and that I'm not Allison. And I've asked that you change your contact info so I stop getting her calls, but nobody listens. So I'd like your name and a number I can reach you at, so the next time one of you calls, I know whose ass to chew out.”
The woman gave her name, then apologized and promised to remove Mal’s number from Allison’s contact info.
“Thank you,” Mal said, then hung up, knowing damned well that she’d be having this same conversation again in a few days, if not tomorrow.
She swung into the toy store’s parking lot and was about to get out of the car when she remembered her waiting voicemail, from the number she didn’t recognize. Her annoying calls were usually out of state.
But that number had been local.
She wondered if maybe it was one of the parents responding to the birthday invites she and Ashley had sent out last week.
Mal pressed Play, and a man’s voice filled her ear:
“Hello, Mallory Black. You don’t know me and have no reason to trust what I’m about to tell you, but your daughter is in danger. She’s going to be kidnapped today. I can’t tell you how I know. But I do. And you must act quickly if you expect to save her.”
Her heart racing, Mal looked at the time on the phone.
Ashley should be walking in the door any minute.
She called home, but it went to voicemail.
“Ashley, hon, are you there? I need you to call me the second you get this.”
She waited, expecting her daughter to pick up any second, perhaps out of breath from running inside.
But there was no response.
Mal stared at the phone, unsure of whom to call.
This has to be a joke, some sick prank or something.
Has to be.
She looked up Rebecca’s number and dialed.
Come on, come on.
“Hello?”
Thank God!
“Rebecca, it’s Mrs. Black. Is Ashley with you?”
“No, a sheriff’s deputy picked us up on the way home from school. He just dropped me off. He’s bringing her to you now.”
“A sheriff’s deputy? Who?”
“Um … Deputy Michaels.”
Deputy Michaels? There isn’t any deputy named Michaels on the force.
“Deputy Michaels? Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re sure he was with Creek County Sheriff’s Department? He wasn’t a police officer out of Butler? Was his uniform green or blue?”
Green was Creek County. Cops in Butler wore blue.
“Green. He said he worked with you, and that you asked him to pick her up, that something big was going down.”
Mal couldn’t breathe.
Her heart felt like it would explode.
It was all she could do to keep talking.
She asked Rebecca to tell her exactly what had happened, step-by-step.
Rebecca got to the part of the “officer” pulling up, and Mal asked if he driving a sheriff’s car.
“No, it was one of those black cars, with a little light thingee on the dashboard.”
“And you all just got in the car with him?”
“Yeah, he showed us his ID. What’s wrong, Mrs. Black?”
“What did he look like?”
“Um, I dunno. Handsome. Brown hair, blue eyes. He had a nice smile.”
“Did you happen to get a picture of him?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know! Shit. Did he say where he was taking Ashley?”
“He said he was bringing her to you.”
“Yeah, I got that, but did he say where?”
“No,” Rebecca said, her voice rising as if realizing what had happened and now near tears.
“I have to go. If you hear from Ashley, have her call me. You call me. Do anything you can to find out where she is, okay?”
“Okay, Mrs. Black.”
Mal hung up.
Her mind was dust in a storm.
This couldn’t be happening.
There had to be some explanation.
Mal thought of the voicemail. A warning sent more than an hour ago.
The warning she ignored because she thought it was a marketer.
No, no, no.
S
he called her boss.
Gloria answered.
“Sheriff, it’s Mal. Did you have anyone pick my daughter up?”
“Um, no. Why?”
“I think Ashley’s been kidnapped.”
* * * *
TWO YEARS LATER
CHAPTER 6 - PAUL DODD
Paul Dodd stood in Target’s greeting card section trying to decide between the Happy 10th Birthday card with the puppy covered in frosting, which would make Jessi laugh, or the princess from that Disney movie she liked.
He reached up and scratched under his baseball cap, debating the merits of both cards.
He went with the dog, because animals covered in frosting was always a win. Besides, Jessi could use a pick-me-up, and the envelope came in a nice, almost comforting orange.
He headed to the girl’s clothing department but had no luck finding something that felt right. Outfits for Jessi’s age range were either too revealing or didn’t seem like her style.
Since it was October, Paul went to the rear of the store where there was a bigger selection. And there he found the perfect princess costume. White and puffy, with pink and purple frills. The same dress worn by the girl in the movie. No, it wasn’t something you’d wear every day, but it was her tenth birthday, a special occasion, and he was certain she’d love the dress.
Paul held it up, trying to decide if the new dress was the right size, when he thought again about the card with the dog covered in frosting.
If I get the dress, I ought to get the card that matches.
He gingerly set the dress in the front of his cart, then went back to the front of the store, found the slot to return the dog card and its orange envelope, then traded it for the princess card. It was pretty and girly. Jessi would love it.
Paul took his items to the checkout, got in line, patiently waiting as the older-than-dirt cashier rang up enough bags of large dog food to outlast the apocalypse. The woman in front of him was disgustingly obese, wearing jean shorts, with ugly tattoos running the length of every limb. She was also wearing flip-flops, and the edges of her feet were dry, like cracked earth baking under the sun.