by Nenny May
"Like what?" She asked when she noticed he wasn't going to say anything more. He couldn't just leave her like that, claiming to know something about the killing of the ten ten-year-old boys and the kidnapping of Ethan Daniels. She needed to know what the media had been concealing, what the police knew that she didn't. She had little a reason to doubt him, after all they'd been neighbours since she'd hightailed her eighteen-year-old touchy out of her mamma's cosy three bedroom and into her dear late aunt Denis's condo. She'd also learned through eavesdropping at Panera Bread that he'd once been a detective, and it might have been an exaggeration, but he'd been one of the youngest and one of the best detectives that precinct had seen in quite a while. According to one of Madison's neighbours, Alice Sanders, he'd worked for Concord Police Department - Southwest Precinct At Concord Mills for over a year before being completely stripped of his badge and released from his duties on the force. Of course, that day, the day Madison had learned of this, she'd been tossed and tousled by her curious mind. What could he have done to be stripped of his badge? She'd thought. Not once had she bothered to ask. But she was veering off point; he was yet to give her any reason to question his credibility. He peered over his shoulder, once to the left where Todd and his colleagues leaned against a state-issued police car, and then once to the right towards a line of buildings outside where people gathered. He looked back at her, at Madison. He'd merely offered her a glance and her skin began to blanch. She felt it, like he was going to weigh her down with frightening news, a worrisome discovery.
"From what I found, we can trace this killer, and I can bet, we can estimate his next move too." Did Madison want to know this killer's next move?
. . .
“They’re clearly not going to do a thing.” Alice Sanders mumbled to herself. Out beneath the glaring stars, caressed by the evening breeze, she couldn’t seem to keep her feet planted in place, the stubborn things had a mind of their own! And that’s not to mention her always listening ears! Something bad had to have happened for police cars to gather the Daniels home. Word on the street, their ten year old was taken. Dear God it was only a matter of time before his poor body turned up underneath some shrub with a gunshot wound to his head. She’d known that boy, since their little family found a home in Cotswold way back when. Back then he’d been a much too hyper little raga-muffin and now, he was a much too hyper and much bigger raga-muffin. He sure as hell didn’t deserve to die!
Darting across her freshly mowed lawn—all thanks to her lovely husband Dusty—Thirty-nine-year-old Alice galloped onto old man Rogers’s yard. Much like her, he wasn’t confined within the walls of his home. No one in the neighbourhood seemed to be. Four police cars and a neon yellow do-not-cross-banner would do that to a neighbourhood, especially one with a history of murdered ten-year-old boys. His sharp, long, vulture like neck snapped on her direction and he barked a groan. “It’s the Daniels boy, Alice; they’ve gottem’, the poor thing.”
“I’ve been watching the police for a while. They sure as hell don’t seem to be doing anything to find him.” Old man Rogers huffed.
“It’s just like ‘em. That’s exactly how they let Oliver Westons’ case slip beneath their skirts.”
“Heard it was reported from some store in Providence.” She glanced at the Daniels yard as one by one, officers streamed in and out.
“How’d yer hear that?”
“Dusty knows a guy in uniform.” She returned her attention to the lean old man, right at the material time his bimbo wife, Bailey had materialized. With an antiquated mindset, and a head set in stone, Alice would be the last person to be in support of this here father-daughter-like marriage. The city girl he’d tugged from New York was old enough to be her damn daughter! Not that Alice would wear her disgust outright. “But that’s beside the point, we’ve gotta’ round up the neighbourhood, Roger. Too many kids have been taken from Cotswold. At least one of them deserves to return home.”
“Where in heavens’ name er’we gonna search first? I can round up folks from Hartness Avenue mind getting Bertonley Avenue?” Alice nodded. The night was only getting darker, the evening, all the more brisk. There was a storm coming, but she liked to believe it had little to do with the weather.
“Get everyone to my house, we’ll set off from there. We’re gonna’ spread out in twos and take everywhere up to Providence and if it gets too late we circle back, refuel and set off in the morning.”
“We’ve gotta’ do our part this time.” Rogers mumbled.
“That we do.”
Chapter Four
M adison Miller didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Irrespective of her stance at a cross-road, wedged with knowing or not knowing the the next move of the deranged killer, the decision had been made for her. She hadn't had time to collect her thoughts, to form a lucid reaction to Adam Walker's claims. Maybe if she had, she would have drenched him in questions. One by one her concern would pelt his seemingly tough skin. She wasn't given that luxury. Her phone had blared in her hand, it was loud, startling her to the point she'd nearly tossed the vibrating device onto the floor. Her mind, as empty as a meadow field and as clustered as protest hadn't entertained the idea of checking the caller I.D. She'd never really had a habit of doing it anyway. She was careless like that at times.
She was encircled in a thick gloomy fog of her own petrification. The voice on the other end of the line was foreign to her, it pierced her ears with a sinister wail, and then an eerie pause, she heard a cough, the wailing piped up again. "I'm sorry," The voice begged. It was a male voice. He sounded old, not too old, in his late twenties, early thirties. It had been cloaked with regret, guilt. Madison Miller had an inkling on who was on the other end of the line, she needed to keep him on long enough, just enough to trace the call. She guzzled a breath, closed up, and she let her brain stutter, just a bit before it caught up. "I-I didn't mean to take him." Her teeth clenched, she could feel it, they were grinding against each other. It was him, he was responsible for Ethan's kidnap, did that mean he was responsible for the kidnap and murder of the ten ten-year-old boys? Would he confess while he was on the line with her? If he did would law enforcement be able to retrieve his confession? She highly doubted it, her phone hadn't been bugged. No one was listening besides her because she was entertaining a call out of the left field. She felt trapped, in the shadows, alone.
"You have him?" She was sure to drop her voice to a whisper. She wasn't going to scare him off. Not until he'd talked for at least two minutes. She wasn't sure the amount of time before a call could be traced, but she had a rough sketch of an idea. "How is he?" She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She could feel it, like she couldn't remember how to breathe.
"I-I didn't mean to take him... I don't know why I'm like this." The man sniffled, she heard shuffling, it sounded hollow. It could have been the cell-service. She pressed her phone closer to her ear, she would have to give a statement, she needed to know what she was hearing. Did her neighbors suspect her jittery behavior? Would she be questioned as a suspect when she was a witness in the kidnapping?
"Is he okay?" She asked again. She kept her tone calm, reassuring. She couldn't afford aggravating him, not when she had little an idea where he'd taken Ethan or if the ten-year-old boy would be found as the next victim of this deranged man. Madison hoped it didn't come to that. She waited, she would be patient if she had to, a boy's life was on the line. She would do whatever she had to. Her hands felt dead cold, they trembled. Couldn't this man, the one on the line get that she couldn't live through another child kidnapping? Through the death of another innocent child?
"I...don't want to kill him. I wanted to kill the others... not him." He coughed, cleared his throat. Madison had questions, they whipped and zoomed her thoughts. She wondered just how he'd come across her number? Why was he contacting her specifically and not 9-1-1? It didn't add up, nothing did at this point.
"Are you going to kill him?" He didn't want to, it meant Ethan was still a
live, presumably bruised, but Madison hoped it wasn't more than that. To her question, he released another cry, she heard footsteps, he was pacing. Her eyes broadened. "You don't have to answer that." She didn't need to push him she needed to talk to, to really talk to him. "What do you want in exchange for the boy?" From the corner of her eye, she'd seen the tension in Adam Walker's stance, he was listening, she wasn't alone, he was listening.
"I... I don't want nothing. I don't even want to hurt him..." Madison pulled the phone from her ear, he was still on the line, she placed it back. "I have to go." She couldn't object, she couldn't cause a scene. She nodded, the line was long dead. Adam turned, his eyes asked the questions, she nodded. It was him, their killer.
*
Adam Walker had a plan, one he would need Madison Miller's full undeterred corporation to execute. They would bring back Ethan Daniels and if all went according to his plan, the boy would be returned without even a scratch. He let his eyes return to Todd, the rookie who couldn't just seem to get a search crew on base in time. Why had Alexander Hemmings called Madison? Could he have pegged the wrong guy for the murder? No, his gut hardly threw him a curve ball, this was his guy and from the ghostly paleness in Madison's skin, that hadn't been her chatter-box of a mother checking in. From what he'd seen on multiple walks around the neighbourhood, Julia Miller breezed with a Julia Roberts air; she demanded to be noticed, to be heard, and despite her authority, she was the last person to instil fear in Madison. This wasn’t Madison’s mother. No, it was the workings of Alexander Hemmings and Adam could hit a home-run guessing he'd called begging for forgiveness. But Why Madison? He'd always called 9-1-1 until now.
In the far end, pulling into the drive-way was the Daniels. Lauren hadn't waited for her husband to pull to a complete stop, in her eyes were devastation, sadness, and beyond that, was fear. Her stride was calculated, purposeful; she was coming for Madison. Adam Walker's reflexes were slow, they'd only kicked in after the first slap had been struck along Madison's cheek, the whisky brown haired beauty brought a hand to her cheek. She held her tongue. Adam pushed between the two women. He could only imagine what Lauren felt, he couldn't blame her actions, but even still, he wasn't going to condone violence. Not now when everyone needed to work together to bring this boy back. Todd walked up and behind him, with a stomach that threatened to pop the sixth button on his shirt was Officer Jenkins. "Mrs. Daniels I presume?" Todd reached out a hand to shake the frantic mother. She wrapped her arms around her trembling form ignoring the officer’s outstretched hand. "We would just like to ask you some routine questions, if you can come with me?" With eyes that still trailed Madison, she walked along with Todd, Jenkins lingered.
"Miss Miller, can you run me through what happened again?" Adam frowned, would Madison pour her guts about the call? No, if she did Ethan was as good as dead. Alexander Hemmings was a grenade without the pin, moments from exploding and he didn't care who he took down with him. He looked at her, could she read his eyes? If she could, he hoped her statement wouldn't involve her call with Alex.
"I already told you, I sent him off to his room to finish up on his homework. I stayed by the dining room and that’s when I heard it... the crashing sound of glass shattering, I bolted to his room, there was nothing, so I searched the house, and there was another crash, it was his bedroom window this time, he was gone."
"And where were you after you placed your 9-1-1 call?" Jenkins sounded as if he was one doughnut away from a heart attack, man the force had really let their personnel go. "Because we have multiple witnesses placing you at Hartness Avenue when protocol requests you remain calm within the vicinity of the attack for police intervention." Adam didn't like where this conversation was heading, he was going to detain her as a suspect, she was a witness, a key one that may be material to the retrieval of Ethan Daniels.
"Are you insinuating this innocent witness could have orchestrated the kidnapping?" Adam pried, Jenkins glared.
"I am not insinuating anything, I'm merely questioning her decision to organize a search of her own, a decision that could have cost the young boy his safety." Jenkins shoved away his notepad. “And sir, I would have to ask that you stay out of my interrogation, this is a police operation.”
"That house was empty when she left," Jenkins rose an eyebrow as if asking, how Adam knew this. "She left me behind, I conducted a thorough search of that house in her absence, he'd been taken." He was merely swinging for the fences, he knew there would be consequences, he would face them when the time came.
"We will need to take you both down to the station to give official accounts of this," He looked to Madison; she was terrified if he'd ever seen it in a woman. She needed to be strong, to keep her lips, those thin arched lips of hers shut for him... For Ethan too, but damn if hadn't entertained one too many naughty thoughts about those lips.
Chapter Five
A dam Walker had been pacing the curb outside Westover Precinct, his phone clutched tight in grip by the time Madison made it through the translucent doors. Perched on the steps, she'd looked down at him, underneath the night freckled with stars. He hadn’t exactly seen Officer Hopkins, but he’d scheduled a meet with him, and in Adam’s book, that was some sort of win. By brunch, he would take the grey-haired officer out for some darts and a good time, and when he was up to his neck in good beers and hookers, he would put in a good word to the sheriff. And if that didn’t work... well, Adam didn’t want it to get to that.
Things had changed, Hemmings had switched to chess, and he was still playing checkers. He needed to switch, to change up his plans; he needed access to a team of responding officers... but first, he needed to check in on the woman who’d been hauled into the centre of a serial-child murder case.
The bitter-sweet smell of a pending storm had his stomach churning. He’d given a statement, she had as well, but what exactly had she confided in the authorities? Did she mention the call? One by one, eyes of spring trailed her steps, Pat! Pat! Pat; until she was next to him. Close enough that he could reach out and run an endearing finger over her smooth cheeks, cupping the slightly reddened aftermath of Lauren Daniel’s panic. The breeze in its boldness whisked his skin, arousing wakefulness, an alertness. “Ethan Daniel’s life is on the line, Madison.” His soft whisper kissed her cheeks. “What did you tell those officers in there?” Her eyes squeezed shut, his heart dropped; it was almost like he’d felt it plummet. His hands dropped to his sides. “Goddamn it woman!” He was drawing unnecessary attention from curious pedestrians. “What exactly did you tell them?”
“First of all don’t raise your voice at me.” She said menacingly. “And secondly, they are going to trace the call; they are going to keep me informed."
"Alexander Hemmings doesn't use his phone to report his victims." She didn’t seem convinced. Not in the slightest.
"And how do you know this?" She crossed her hands over her chest defiantly.
"We can spend a whole day talking about how I know what I do, but that doesn't change the fact that Ethan needs your help. The police are at a dead-end that call could give us a sense of direction, but it's not going to change any... Did they bug your phone?" He yanked it from her grip.
"Hey! I reported a call and gave them the number that called; I was with my phone the whole time." She tugged her phone back.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want anything to happen to any other kid when we can do something, when we can play our cards right.” He ran a hand through his hair. He turned away from her and towards the street. He flagged down a cab.
“Why exactly do you feel this Alexander Hemmings person is behind all of this?” She asked softly. He didn’t acknowledge her presence next to him, but he acknowledged her question. A yellow cab breezed past overlooking his frantic waving.
“I had a bucket of suspects when these murders started happening, by the eighth victim, I knew exactly who I was dealing with; Alexander Hemmings, a multiple offender, always being hauled back to the station for one thing
or the other. After a stake-out put him at the scene of the 8th victims’ kidnapping, I knew he was the guy. Trailing him through town put me at a payphone by Dogget Street South End. I put two and two together, got in touch with the detective in charge, and everything ads up.” He took a step back when a whirling yellow cab slowed into the curb.
“Why couldn’t you arrest him there and then when you’d placed him at the scene of the 8th victims kidnapping?” He pulled open the door for her.
“There wasn’t exactly much I could do; I don’t exactly have my badge.” She slipped into the cab, he followed closely behind. “And besides, as at then, all I had were speculations, the detective in charge just confirmed everything this morning.”
“You could report it.” He tilted his head.
“Yeah, I could, but I would also need to be very sure of who I’m accusing. If I step forward to the authorities without adequate proof, I would be investigated as a primary suspect, and my reputation with the authorities has already taken a belly dive into an empty pool.” He leaned forward and to the cab driver said; “Bertonley avenue, house 215.”