Missing

by Nenny May

  And in that moment pressed against the wooden door, she wanted to turn back the clock.

  She knew what those parents were going through; she would never put any other parent through what she’d endured—the helplessness, the chill that hugged her heart tightly, the ceaseless dampness of tear streaked cheeks—It was clear she wouldn’t be able to prove her innocence from behind bars. If those men were here in Adam Walker’s home, she needed to leave, to get far enough away and find Ethan; his testimony would be enough to free her. She was running from the feds... Would she become wanted? One of the most wanted in Charlotte? Oh God that was not the kind of on screen time she needed with this story! All she wanted to do was tell it, not live it.

  “We’re going to search the room Mr. Walker because we believe that you could be concealing a fugitive!” Blared a voice mere inches from the bedroom door. Bloody hell!

  . . .

  He didn’t want to do it; to open fire on a federal officer. But his hands were tied, bound behind his back and he didn’t have much of a choice. With hands quaking, moist, he’d pictured it; Spencer Black forcing his way through the thick wooden door of his bedroom, holding Madison Miller at gun point. Her shriek like a frenzied banshee would ricochet off the walls. Thoughts much like that didn’t belong in his head. He needed them out.

  “Cut it out Black,” A voice from the kitchen said. The man had clearly been rummaging through the drawers and refrigerator for something, anything edible. There was hardly anything for Adam in there. “You and I both know you don’t have a warrant and our laws prohibit us from poking around the poor man’s household, most especially the house hold of an officer.” There was something about the way he’d said the word officer that had Adam’s jaw clenching. With arms raised in mock surrender, Spencer backed away from the bedroom door.

  “You’re hiding something Walker and whatever it is, you’re going to prison for it, I have a gut feeling.” Spencer spat. In a swift motion, he’d turned and darted out the door.

  Adam Walker knew the likelihood of escaping a sentence; even a light one was highly unlikely. He’d impersonated an officer, obstructed justice, and provided a false alibi. At the very least he was looking at a three year sentence stowed away with societies rejects.

  “Can we at the very least ask you gentlemen some questions?” The man from the kitchen in slow strategic strides, paced further into the living room, eyes of soil brown trailing the pictures that lined Adam Walker’s summer green walls. Pictures of Sarah Walker Adam had adamantly left up almost as if thoughts of her didn’t torment him enough. On the wall hung wedding pictures of her flowing gracefully; a bride in snow white. Anniversary pictures with both their grins lighting up the room brighter than any light or window. Once upon a time, he’d looked upon them and as at then, all he’d seen where more and more reasons to fall for the woman who’d selflessly put him first who’d shown him that love existed. Once upon a time, he’d looked upon them and as at then, he’d seen his wife. His wife! He’d had the best wife on the goddamn planet! And with time she was nothing more than a headstone and a place on the ground he needed to pay for regular weeding. “I’m Officer Charlie Wallace, and before you get all tensed, your answers are off the record. I just want to talk.”

  “What would you like to know?” Gates asked.

  “We have reason to believe Miss. Miller, who was last seen with the ten-year-old Ethan Daniels could be accountable for his disappearance.”

  “And what’s the motive?” Adam forced.

  “Surveying the crime scene leads us to believe that she could have tugged the boy away shortly after he’d been left in her custody. We’re of the belief that the breaking-and entering in the Daniel’s home was a hoax, an alibi.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question Wallace, what was her damn motive?” Adam snapped.

  “We’ve been doing some digging and; she barely earns grains from watching neighbourhood children. A ransom from the Daniels will pay big bucks. Not to mention, she has been enduring the sudden death of her son Tucker Patrick Miller; a boy who was kidnapped from a breaking and entering to her very own Bertonley Avenue home. We hope if we can ask her some questions she’ll confess and hopefully lead us to the boy.”

  “I don’t know what ya’ll mean men think you have against my sugar dumpling, but she did not kidnap that Ethan boy!” Julia Miller rose to her daughter’s defence. “For all we know she could be in danger and you fancy-dressed-powerless-wastes-of-time can’t do your job and protect her from whatever is coming.”

  “Ma’am, we get you’re distressed but we just want to ask your daughter some questions.”

  “Like I told your flock at her house that ya’ll have torn apart like a freak Iowa tornado, I don’t know where the hell she is.” The turbulent woman folded her hands over her enlarged chest. “Heck if I’ll even tell ya’ when I find her.” She’d grumbled beneath her breath.

  “Ma’am withholding essential information from a federal officer is an offence.” Charlie Wallace replied. He turned to Adam and Gates.

  “Look, from one officer to another. This is a case with too many loopholes. For all we know it could be linked to the serial child kidnappings and murders that has easily become a trend here in Charlotte. And I know all you men want is to put an end to it. It’s what we want to.” He ambled towards the front door, a finger signalling to his colleagues to follow. He stopped. “Just call me if she comes back, she’s not in any danger if she’s innocent. I give you my word.”

  And with that, one by one, each federal officer trooped out of the front door the way they’d come, including detective Ryan Gates who much like Charlie Wallace paused at the threshold. He looked onto Adam.

  “Look, that chick you’ve got there,” His voice was a whisper one tinged with the sincere concern of a dear friend. “She’s a whole lot of trouble right now and it might seem right keeping her around, but she has to leave before you get your ass hauled to prison for some love-affair that’s never going to take flight.” Adam was tempted, tugged by the urge to argue, rather in a twist, he bit tongue and nodded letting his former partner turn away and vanish off his porch.

  “I thought you said she was here?” Rasped Julia Miller, in a tone of raw accusation. He once more acknowledged her presence.

  “My bedroom, the door should be unlocked.” He nodded towards the door at the far end. As her heels clicked against the parquet, he slumped on the couch running a hand through his hair.

  He needed a plan one that wasn’t going to risk Madison Miller’s life and freedom.

  . . .

  There were many things Madison Miller detested, being seen in a moment of weakness with sapphire blue eyes shimmering beneath her lashes, glazed over with a pending cry while her cheeks wailed of the line of tears that had run down to her chin was at the top of the list. Following quickly behind was being seen by the woman who made everything an epic tale. Madison Miller wasn’t perfect; she’d never assumed she was. She’d made mistakes, bad decisions. But overall, she’d come out of every situation stronger. When she’d stood on liquid legs at sixteen, in her pale hands a positive pregnancy test, she’d thought her world had been crumbling. How would she go back to school? What would her friends think? Would the father step up? At the time, she’d been at her lowest. It could always get lower. When Tucker had been taken from his room, helpless she was sure she wouldn’t make it out of that situation. For the love of god, she’d felt like the worst mother there could be! Her own son had been snatched away from under her nose, from her own home! And even when he’d died, her the world around her continued to spin, ignorant of her loss, her grief, the simmering ache that threatened to choke her. She wasn’t the best at anything, but she’d learned with time, she wasn’t the worst. And despite knowing this, like a knife wedged into her chest, Charlie Wallace’s words hurt.

  She dropped Julia’s lingering gaze. In those eyes, those familiar eyes held sympathy, pity, everything Madison didn’t want thrown in her dire
ction. “Now don’t you go hiding from ya’ Mamma. I know those bad-bad men said some really hurtful things, but if there’s one thing I know, my baby ain’t a child killer.” Julia sat on the foot of the bed, just close enough to where Madison had been crouched on the floor. “What you need Darling is to hightail your sweet behind out of this city. Come back to mine, just for a bit... till the heat dies down and till Walker can catch this nutcase.” Madison would be lying if she said the thought of cuddling in her childhood home in South Carolina didn’t entice her. It did, but she was responsible for Ethan. She’d been when he’d gone missing and she still was, she still will be until he was found and returned to his family home here in Charlotte. “Don’t you dare fling me one of those your flimsy half-arsed excuses! You’re coming with me young-lady. Remember you won’t be much help if the FBI has you detained in some holding cell doing who knows what to get you to talk,”

  “She’s right.” Adam added from the bedroom door. Madison looked at him with pleading eyes. He’d made up his mind. “Just for a while. I’ll keep you posted. Gates and I have got this.” She dropped his gaze and returned hers to Julia Miller’s.

  “I will be back as soon as I can, as soon as the heat dies down or as soon as Adam and Ryan get their hands on a major lead.”

  She’d done this before. She’d run-away from her situation when it had her by the neck. She’d fled Charlotte for her childhood home in Greenville South Carolina when the grief for Tucker had knockout her breath. Why did it feel like she was doing it again, running when times got tough?

  Chapter Ten

  W hen Madison Miller had gotten the second official call from Alexander Hemmings, she’d been seated with eyes fluttered shut on the grounded plane DL-753 to Greenville, Julia Miller stretched rummaging through the overhead luggage compartment for her earphones in her purse. Madison would have thought after the ruckus the woman had made on the afternoon ride down to the airport about not being able to use the airplane headphones that she would have hers out. It was beside the point. Madison’s eyes had darted to her blaring phone, cheeks blazing from attracting curious eyes. She hadn’t ignored the call. After all, she’d made a fuss about Adam Walker and detective Ryan Gates keeping her informed. What if they wanted to notify her that Charlie Wallace and his men had followed her? Oh good lordie! What if they were on the plane? Would they make a scene or quietly tug her off the plane?

  The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t that of Adam or Ryan. And it sure as hell wasn’t filling her in on the whereabouts of Charlie Wallace and his equally intimidating goons. No, it was more sinister and lacked the hint of remorse she’d recognized in their last call. Alexander Hemming’s voice had been calm, calculated, a whisper into her very own ears. “You want to see the boy? We can talk. Just the three of us, no cops, no wires. I’ll be at your place at 6:00 P.M.” She’d been left wide-eyed, panicked and restless listening to the beeping of a dead connection. She needed more than anything to get off the plane. The idea of being escorted off the plane even if it was by Charlie and his goons was sounding very appealing at the moment.

  Thoughtlessly, she’d leaped from her seat, almost immediately jerked back by the loose leather seat belt that hung around her waist. She’d fumbled with it, but only for a little while. Her breathing shallow and legs itching to bolt for the nearest exit. She felt claustrophobic, trapped. Julia Miller much like the flight attendants were obstacles she’d shoved out of her way as she’d bolted for the back exit. The one door she’d come in from. “I need to get off this flight.” She pleaded with the attendant by the exit. The lean dark skinned man looked upon her with eyes of regret. “Look my husband is dying. I just got a call from his doctor. I need to be with him now!” The man with dark eyes continued to shut the door to the back exit, shaking his head. This couldn’t be happening!

  “The stairs to this door have already been dethatched.” He let his shoulders slump. He released a sigh. “First class is still accepting passengers. You can exit through there. I’ll clear a path.” He sealed the door and led her down the narrow lanes weaving through economy and business class. As she’d followed, she’d been aware of the numerous eyes that rose and trailed her. She hadn’t been deaf to the whispers. What’s going on? Who is she? Probably a stow-away! She clearly didn’t pay for the flight! But there was a single whisper she couldn’t ignore; a mumble more appropriately. There was an update wasn’t there? Julia Miller’s soft murmur had tugged at her. What were mother’s for if not understanding their kids with little an explanation. The lean dark man paused at the entrance door to first-class. He’d slurred something to his colleague who nodded but continued to welcome their esteemed customers. Twitchy, she’d glimpsed her watch it was 4:49 P.M. It had taken her and Julia Miller two hours to drive down to the airport. She would be late, but she couldn’t lose this opportunity. The ball was in Hemming’s court, it was his game and she was determined to win it.

  . . .

  When she’d got the third call, at about 5:50 P.M. she’d been lodged in traffic, shoved into the back seat of a cab, darn near ripping her hair out. What if he’d killed the boy and he wanted her to collect his body? Oh heavens! Was this karma for something she’d done? Was this because she’d ignored her mother’s warnings and had premarital sex in an isolated bathroom stall at her junior prom? Was that why she’d had complete shitty luck with children? Was that why her son had died and now another woman’s son would die in a similar way?

  Impatient, she’d responded to his call, easily overlooking the agitation in his tone. “We’re by a bench at Cotswold Elementary. Come alone or the boy dies.” Her chest filled with hope. She could make it. The traffic had been deterring her from making her way home. Cotswold Elementary would be a breeze. “Cotswold Elementary!” She wailed to the driver who grumbled, but leaned his car towards Chiswick road. The closer she got, the louder the voices in her head became. What if she was making a mistake, walking into a trap? What if he would still kill Ethan either way? What if he’d already killed him and was going to frame her with a video confession at gun-point? What if he kills Ethan, Kills her and kills himself? A complete end to a perfect crime! Was it too late to call Adam or Ryan? She hadn’t had much of an option, because just as she’d been hauled into her very own hysterical revere, she’d been yanked from it by the car pulling to a stop. Compensating the troubled driver she’d climbed out into the chirpy evening air.

  Then came the hour of 6:00 P.M. and the sun sank lower in the sky, light of day draining away, giving way to the velvety dark of night, crickets chirping a symphony to her thundering heartbeat, dusky, colours subdued in the fading light.

  She hadn’t seen them at first, perched beneath an old larger than life oak tree at the far end of the street looking into the elementary schools’ playground. But when she had, she’d filled with a sudden thrill. Because next to a man concealed with a hood, sat a tattered boy, legs kicking and head turned away from her. He was alive, Ethan Daniels was alive!

  At least until the first gunshot had gone off.

  . . .

  "Come alone. The instructions were simple!" Hemmings groaned. Concealed beneath a dark hood, she could only what he wanted her to see, his face was a mere shadow beneath the dark hood. "Do you want me to kill him? Because I can you tattling bitch!" The man who'd been hunched next to the lean little boy sprung to his feet, he'd done it so suddenly, she'd nearly leaped back. Planted in place, Madison couldn't help but trail his .38 special. He was quite different from what she’d initially imagined serial child killer Alexander Hemmings to resemble; he wasn’t a stout small man with eyes of death and skin of bleach. He wasn't tall, neither was he all that built. No, quite the opposite, he was lean, lanky almost withering away beneath the hood.

  "I am alone!" She kept her distance. She didn't want to set off the trigger-happy hooded man. Although a part of her feared that despite her stillness if he were to be triggered, he would be set off by her mere presence. Did that mean he really didn’t wa
nt to hurt Ethan?

  "And that dead cab driver was what?" The poor man had been rounding the corner out of the street. She'd clearly made a mistake walking into this alone. What if she said the wrong thing and he killed her? Or killed Ethan just to spite her for telling on him to the police? "You're getting rid of that," He shrugged, looking onto the deceased man hunched over in his cab. No, he couldn’t mean that! She'd never even disposed of a body before! She couldn't help it, the single tear that rolled down her cheek or the muffled sob that shook her petite frame.

  "As you can see the little rat is unharmed, so stop fucking blubbering!" Hemmings continued, gesturing the barrel of the gun towards the boy who sat still, his eyes begging her to do something, anything. The longer she'd stared, the weaker she'd felt. Oh jeepers! She hoped to God the safety of that gun was on. "I want to return him back to you unharmed... I do..."

  "What do you want, money? I'll sell my house! Sex? Take me instead; just leave Ethan out of it, please!" She begged. He chuckled into the night, and another sob ran through her body

  "All very tempting offers, but I want you to turn yourself in. Not just for his kidnap but for all the kidnaps and murders. Think about it as a great sacrifice." Hemmings cackled, it was deep, throaty. "And don’t worry too much about him,” Once more Hemmings gestured to the young boy. “He’ll be returned once you’re arrested, charged and detained for your crimes.”