Missing

by Nenny May

  “Get an arrest warrant and get some officers to keep an eye on Gates, that rat bastard is going to lead us straight for our killer.”

  Chapter Twelve

  H er day begun not unlike any other she’d had lately. Madison Miller would have liked to say it had started in the living room of the late exquisite woman, at about 9:23 A.M. when the news was doing a breakfast segment on how to properly pan-fry a golden-brown pancake. If she’d gotten any sleep, perhaps she would have been able to claim that her day had started on a lighter note, more upbeat. Maybe just maybe things would have been a tad different. They weren’t, much to her chagrin.

  At about 4:36 A.M. Madison heard herself chuckle—more precisely cackle. It was loud, leaping off the walls and windows. She’d once more let in the faded recollections of her night with Ethan before the breaking and entering—she’d remembered his features; innocent and light, she couldn’t forget that curious, caring personality that just knew there was something on her mind, or his restless bounding energy that sent him lurching about his home—an image, that just as quickly morphed into that night with Tucker when he’d been taken from her Cotswold home and then just at the corner of the fuzzy picture of her living room all those years ago stood the body of the Latina Cab man—completely out of place in her memories and yet fitting in just right with her fidgety reminiscences. It was at that point, when her eyes had caught the rotting flesh of the Latina Cab man towering over her living room furniture that she’d hooted into the night, well, day. There wasn’t anything funny she’d been laughing at, and she’d assumed it had been her brains way of settling into her situation; she was barely over her son’s murder and now, she had the life of another woman’s son in her hands. And just as suddenly as the laughing had started, it had stopped. And she’d sat for many minutes in an eerie, piercing silence, thinking instead of who exactly the deceased sister of Ryan Gates had been.

  How else would she tug her mind from the shadows it was determined to lurk in?

  Had his sister been a measly country girl who’d made one visit to the city that stuck with her? No, there had to be more to the deceased woman.

  Rather than sit there in the middle of the dead-woman’s living room like a long forgotten throw-pillow on its bare back in the living room floor, Madison poured her ceaseless energy into looking for something. At first she didn’t know what she’d been looking for, but she’d searched for it anyway. She’d started with the much-too-skinny-for-her-liking vertical shelves that stood like pillars on either side of the living room television a device she was yet to turn on as the clock continued to glide into a quarter to 5:00 A.M.. Books hit the floor with a thud, flowers in plastic vases rolled about the wooden floors by Madison’s feet, unsatisfied, she made a bee-line for the kitchen cabinets and drawers, tugging them open one after another with a subtle grunt. And when that didn’t yield anything worth her concern, she darted up the creaky old stairs and up into the wardrobe. At this point, Madison knew what she’d been looking for; anything to paint a vivid picture of whose house she was in. Pictures, letters, a stained dress the exquisite woman had worn to a wine tasting... anything!

  When the clock hit 5:28 A.M., Madison had completely thrown the dead-woman’s home upside-down, and sat there, admits her mess, heaving. Was that disrespectful to the dead? Rummaging through their home? It didn’t matter much to Madison. What did was that she’d learned more about this lady the longer she’d spent shadowing—gusting like a hurricane—through the deceased woman’s home. This woman’s family had cleared out her belongings—well, most of them—but much like a house cleaning, there were corners and crannies creased with dirt, in this case, memories. Madison Miller hadn’t stumbled upon a year book or framed picture the late woman’s family could have overlooked; dust bunnies like that were definitely cleaned out on sight. No, Madison had come across the little things, like the old broken cigarette shoved into the bathroom windowsill above the toilet—why was it broken? Had she been a veteran smoker? Had she been detoxing when she’d tried to sneak one and overall thrust away the idea... not in the toilet but in the windowsill above the toilet?

  Madison couldn’t say she’d fallen asleep after her eventful hours of thrashing a late woman’s home, whatever had happened, it had been too twitchy to call a nap, especially on the cold damp floor of the bathroom, her back pressed against the tub. It didn’t even last longer than a few minutes... it didn’t feel like it had. When next she’d come across that chic clock on the living room wall, it was wailing the hour of eight and she’d thrown on nothing but a towel left on the bathroom rack. Now, all she’d wanted was to pretend like she wasn’t a suspect for a child kidnap and murder case, that she hadn’t submerged the body of a man under Briar Creek, or that she hadn’t lost her son all those years ago. She wanted to believe that she was in the home of a friend, Tucker was home with Clive and she was merely on an assignment to cover an unfolding story for the WCCB. Although turning on the television wrenched her rather roughly from her world of make-believe.

  “...We remain unsure whether these two people were behind the kidnapping of the other ten-year-old boys, but from Cotswold Elementary’s surveillance footage it is clear they’re not done with their reign of terror.”

  With her image juxtaposed with that of Ryan Gates on the screen, Madison felt visibly pale. It was one thing to know the FBI had it out for her; it was another to see her face plastered above the headlines of channel 9 news. It would have stung less if it had just been her picture. It was more, because just as soon as the images had faded from the screen a video popped up, beneath which warned of graphic content. She couldn’t hear anything, but she could see herself walk into the camera frame and walk out, and then in again with Ryan, this time clutching the feet of the Latina cab man dragging him towards the rear seats of Ryan’s state issued cop-car that was just at the corner of the fuzzy video.

  “The police are yet to get their hands on the fleeing double-crossing detective, but one thing’s for sure; this is a lead for these murders, if the state’s department of justice has seen one!”

  Madison was in a frenzy, backing away from the television, almost trembling, until she’d heard a knock at the door, and then she’d stumbled over her own two feet and crashed with a thump on her butt. “Madison open this door!” Grumbled a nameless muffled voice. Oh no! The police! The FBI! They’d found her! Just as easily for that matter. She wasn’t a criminal so, she wasn’t good at hiding! Her heart ached in her chest, just as if it would kill her at this point before the police did for a crime she didn’t commit. “Madison, it’s me, Adam. I’m here with Ryan and the police can’t catch us outside... please open the door.” She’d nodded clinging to the soothing familiarity of Adam Walker’s voice. On her knees and palms, she crawled the remaining distance and gripped the door handle with both noodle arms, using it to pull herself upright and onto her feet. Flinging the door open she leaned against the sturdy frame of the wooden door as both men wafted into the cabin home.

  He’d noticed her frantic state before Ryan Gates had. Adam who’d darted into the shattered cabin behind a clearly agitated Ryan Gates took a moment to take in the woman that was once a chirpy mother of one. She resembled something out of a horror movie, not scary per say, but unkept, dishevelled; her hair a damp dark curtain, one that fell limp and loose about her face, her eyes rimmed with dark circles and her lean frame barely clothed in a dirty white towel. And for a moment he wanted to hold her and remind her that everything would be fine, it had to be. He hadn’t held her. Rather he’d turned his attention to the living room that seemed like there’d been a struggle. “What happened in here?” He asked instead. And when she didn’t answer, he returned his gaze to her. There seemed to be a distant stare as a trembling hand of hers rose and her pointer finger had his attention on the morning’s breaking news; Cotswold Elementary releases surveillance footage of murderers transporting the body of a deceased employee?

  . . .

  It was funny, alth
ough she hadn't laughed, but merely acknowledged the sudden shift in the tone of channel 9 news. The reporters that once wore long, stoic features as they spoke about her, about the video that had surfaced of her disposing a body, all seemed light hearted as they chuckled over who could properly make a golden-brown-pancake. Well, it sure wasn't their golden-boy reporter Chad Mayers, if his slimy yellow blob was anything to show for. Were those the traits she was missing in becoming a good reporter? Being able to switch moods in the snap of a finger? She could try to emulate them... she was once the best reporter the WCCB had seen, back then it was all work, she'd known the daily grind like the back of her hand, up until her scandal bobbed his head out; the same one that hauled her out of work till date. She'd never found who'd started it... she'd liked to look at it as another loose end in her life. Clearly whoever had sparked the claim that she'd seduced her way up to the lead WCCB reporter clearly hadn't seen hard-work and persistence... it didn't matter now, did it? Because as she sat there in a relative silence, in the presence of Ryan Gates and Adam Walker, she doubted her scandal all those years ago would be of any relevance still lingering at the back of her mind. And as such, she drew her eyes from the screen and focused on the men who seemed a little... off to say the least.

  "We need to leave Charlotte..." Gates grumbled, his fist slamming against the chequered-dining-table-cloth. The soft fabric did little to muffle the thump of his fist against wood. She was startled; she hadn't been the only one. Adam it seemed had been withdrawn from his thoughts.

  "It's too late to leave Charlotte, Gates, security at the airport and boarders are going to be heightened." Adam said. In simple terms; Madison and Ryan were wanted suspects for multiple counts of murder and kidnapping. If she were told mere weeks ago that she would be a wanted face, plastered over multiple news channels, she would have been the last to believe. But isn't this what Hemmings wanted? For her to take the fall? He was already off the hook; they weren't looking in his direction, why couldn't he just return Ethan? Good Lordie! She wished she could get in contact with him... It was never that easy.

  "Well then wise-guy, what do we do? Because unlike you, Madison and I could actually go to jail while that mad-man slaughters another innocent boy!" To Madison, that was the worst case-scenario. She wasn't going to let Ethan die. But neither was she going to let Ryan go to jail for assisting her.

  "I haven’t the slightest darned idea!" Adam blared. "We’re at a dead end, Gates. You, Madison and I. And I’m sorry to say this but you both have it worse and I don’t have a damn clue what you bunch can do!" That was it? Adam was stumped? He's the reason things spiralled out of control... right? He'd scolded her for going to the police and now she was sitting on the hot-seat and he was just... stumped?

  "We could have gone to the police." Madison whispered. She felt it, the warm, bitter twinge of hot tears simmering beneath her eyelids. "All those days ago, in the beginning."

  "Don't you get it? Hemmings would have killed him if we did!" Adam rose to defend his actions, even though he knew the real reason why he didn't want to go to the police in the first place.

  "Well he sure knew how to turn the tables, because now, the police is after not just me, but Ryan Gates; your own friend!" Madison blared. There was a knock at the door; it was soft and clearly overlooked by both men. But Madison had her ears pressed to the ground. Her helplessness gave her a heart-burn. Oh heavens! What if the knock at the door was a neighbour that had noticed the light of the late exquisite woman’s home? What would she say?

  "I get that, I get that loud and clear, Madison. No need to be captain obvious now. But that sure as hell isn’t the end of the god-damn line." Adam chimed, nearly suffocated with the guilt that sat atop his chest. He'd flung the woman he'd known since she'd moved in next door at eighteen under the bus along with his former partner in crime and old friend. And for what? Just because he'd wanted to dangle leverage over a body high enough to reinstate him back into the force? Who the hell was this douche-bag? Because he clearly couldn't recognise himself.

  "It most definitely feels like it, though you wouldn't know since you somehow get to walk away from this unscathed!" Ryan Gates sprung to his feet. At this point they'd all heard the knock; almost as if it was louder this time, more demanding, rough. That wasn’t the knock of a neighbour who’d seen the lights of the abandoned cabin glaring through the curtain slits.

  "FBI, open up!" Madison was sure she'd swallowed her heart; wouldn't that explain why it seemed to stop beating? "We have an arrest warrant for Ryan Gates and Madison Miller. We know you're in here, open up!" Shit-biscuits! What would her Momma think when she found out her darling Madison had reached the end of her rope, long before she’d rescued a frightened helpless Ethan Daniels? This wasn’t the plan... what was the plan? She would go away for a long time and Ethan would be released... to who and when? Okay they never really had a plan, but they’d had a goal and clear instructions. Get Ethan Daniels back to a distraught Lauren alive, and for that, Madison was to take the fall and plead guilty for all charges, but Ryan... he’d done nothing more than merely help her trudge the dead-weight of the Latina cab man.

  "They can't get Ryan..." Madison mumbled, picking up her phone from where she'd left it on the sofa and handing it to the detective who'd gotten roped into this by lending her a spare hand.

  "Hemmings will call when it is confirmed that I have been arrested, he will return Ethan. Take him to his parents. They're dying inside without their little boy. I died everyday that I spent away from Tucker... not knowing whether or not he was safe."

  "There's nowhere for me to hide, Miller, they're going to take the both of us, give Adam the phone, he is our only contact with the outside world." Gates grumbled nearly shoving her angrily towards Adam Walker. Although he hadn't exactly touched her, she'd stumbled over her own two feet as if he had. "And Walker, get in touch with Paige Quinn, she's the best lawyer for our case. She'll know what to do." When his former friend wriggled out of his stunned stupor and nodded, Gates strolled reluctantly towards the front door. He turned to Madison. "This is going to be a lot easier and less messy if we both surrender at the same time... Ready to go to jail?" She wasn't ready to serve a death sentence, she wasn't ready to lose all contact with the outside world, but then she realised that she didn't get to have Tucker returned to her alive. That didn't mean Lauren Daniels deserved the same fate. So, with a heavy breath she nodded.

  "Ready."

  . . .

  Over and over his footsteps clicked and clacked the pristine marbled floors of the Mecklenburg County Detention Center on E 4th St. Had he gotten tired of waiting outside a thick wooden door that didn’t seem like it was going to open? Yes. Was he progressively losing his wits with each slow tick of the wall clock by the stairs? Also yes! A part of him, a more than generous part wanted to make like a bat out of hell and ditch this place. For one thing, there was no way to shrug the chill from the strategically placed overhead air-conditioners... or had that been the crisp of dread gradually heaving goosebumps up and down his arms and legs. Adam Walker couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that somehow, this was his fault. And in a way, it was. It wouldn’t be the first time his blatant neglect for due procedure had cost him. The last time, it had been his eight-year-law-enforcement-career that to this day was yet to recover. This time it would cost him the woman he was stumbling over his two left feet for, and his former partner; a man that he’d once considered a dear friend. Was it worth it; risking both their reputations and probably lives for a sliver of a chance at getting reinstated? He’d hesitated with a response to his own question. He had his answer.

  He’d earlier-on spoken to Paige Quinn over the phone, not quite long after Ryan Gates and Madison Miller had been rather roughly withdrawn from the late Rebecca Gates cottage-on-Providence-home. The private criminal defence attorney seemed hopeful over the outcome of their case and had set off from her busy day onward to join the scatterbrained trio at the Mecklenburg County Detention Center on E
4th St. Walker on the other hand had been initially hesitant to trail the men-in-black-looking-agents on their route to their headquarters. After all, he could only speculate what Rebecca Gates home would look like when he returned. It was safe to say he’d royally fucked up! If it was any consolation, they’d all screwed up, he, Madison and Gates... He’d just screwed up a little more than the rest.

  “Ma’ hands are tied when it comes to Miss. Miller,” Said Paige sashaying gracefully through the halls. On fidgety, fumbling feet, Adam Walker trailed the defence attorney, not quite sure where exactly they were headed. He didn’t seem to care too much. He should have. “As for Gates, I can get him off on a lighter sentence by dissociating him from the murders of the ten-ten-year-old boys.” A lighter sentence? That was all she could do for him? And how many years did that mean? Five? Twelve? Oh lord!

  “What do you mean your hands are tied?” Adam asked, gusting down a flight of stairs, not exactly in pace with the quick-footed attorney. He felt like a wide-eyed-rookie on the damn force clinging onto the words of his superiors. But oh boy did he miss those days! There was always a certain rush that gushed through his veins. What he had as he pursued attorney Quinn felt less like the adrenaline surge from his life on the force and more like an uncomfortable sensation... could it simply be a case of indigestion?

  “I mean, she already testified to the murders. All of them, she’s in there giving a written confession. At best I can get her a plea-deal; she gives up the eleventh kid and she doesn’t get the death sentence.” Her words made his stomach churn. He’d caused this. They could have gone to the police. He’d had his own selfish reservations that held him by the neck. Oh heavens! What had he gone n’ done now? “I would have filed for a habeas Corpus, but she’s already confessed.”

  “Gates can claim he’d been coerced into helping her move one of the bodies... neither he or Miller can slither from that one, there’s surveillance footage of that and a witness willing to testify.” Paige drew to a stop by the reception. Her plan was to completely throw Madison Miller under the bus? There had to be more to it.