by James Hunt
It was the most sincere and earnest reply Jim could remember hearing from a parent. But Jim couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut. “If there is something you’re not telling me,” Jim said. “Something I need to know, then you need to tell me now.”
Nate hesitated a moment and then replied. “You know, that night when I pulled the trigger, I don’t think I slept for three days. All I kept seeing was the blood that came out of him and that smell. Sweat, blood, and fear. I could taste it in everything I ate for weeks. But after it was done, we never really talked about it. And I never asked you for anything in return. Ever.” He stepped closer. “So I’m asking you now, Jim. Just find him. Help me. Please.”
It was Jim’s rule to never promise anyone during a missing person case that he could bring their family member home. He would only get their hopes up in a case that held so many variables it was impossible to know for certain whether the person could be recovered.
But Jim had an impeccable recovery record when it came to missing children. And this man had been his best friend growing up. They had covered for each other, taking care of one another, and Nate had saved his life.
“I’ll never forget what you did, Nate,” Jim said. “And I promise that I will find your son.”
It might have been a mistake to say that, but when Jim saw the relief on Nate’s face, it made it worth it. If he could ease his friend’s pain even just a little bit, Jim knew it was worth the risk of promising what he had no right to give.
6
It didn’t take long for Jim to realize how the residents of the apartment complex felt about the police. Half of the doors he knocked on didn’t answer, and the half that did immediately slammed the door in his face.
People weren’t interested in what he had to say, and no one was willing to stick their neck out for somebody they didn’t know.
Jim had experienced this type of shunning before, and he didn’t blame the citizens. The city had chosen to forget about certain communities, leaving them behind and in disrepair. These people didn’t believe the authorities helped them, so why should they provide help in return?
After half an hour of the same reply or no reply at all, Jim was about to give up when he decided to knock on one more door.
No one in the apartment directly across from where Nate and his son lived had answered on the first knock, but Jim wanted to give it one more try. If there were anyone in the building who heard or saw anything, whoever lived in that apartment would have been best positioned to know something.
Jim knocked on the door with authority but made sure not to be overly aggressive. When no one answered the first time, he knocked again and again. After the third round of knocking, he heard movement from inside the apartment. The door flung open, and a middle-aged woman looked up at him with curlers in her hair.
“What the hell do you want?” she asked, irritated.
Jim flashed his badge and positioned himself in a way that it would be hard for her to shut the door in his face. “My name is Detective Jim North. I wanted to ask you a few questions about last night.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “You have a warrant?”
Jim chose his words carefully. “I just wanted to ask if you heard anything strange last night or saw anything out of the ordinary.” Jim didn’t want to give away that Nate’s son had been abducted, not that he thought this woman would file a report.
The woman remained perfectly still, staring at Jim, unblinking.
“Really anything at all would be helpful,” Jim said. “Have you noticed anything strange happening on this floor over the past few days? Any characters you haven’t seen around here before drop by?”
The woman scoffed. “You see where we live? There are strangers walking around all the time. Half the people on the floor will be gone by the end of the week. There is a very high turnover rate in this apartment complex. I suppose it’s why the landlord likes this particular clientele. Quick to get cash upfront and quick to kick them out if they don’t pay.” She then quickly glanced in both directions of the hallway and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
Before she closed the door, Jim thrust forward, using his shoulder to prevent her from closing the door. She glared angrily at him, and Jim quickly backed off.
“I’m sorry,” Jim said. He reached inside his jacket pocket and removed a business card, extending it to the woman. “Please just take this. If you think of anything, just give me a call.”
The woman didn’t even look at the card. She simply stared into Jim’s eyes. There was indignant anger in them, the kind of anger Jim saw on many of the children he knew in the foster system. He had no doubt that this woman had experienced hardship in her life. There was no other reason for her to be in a place like this.
Just when Jim didn’t think she was going to take the card, she snatched it from his hand, shoved Jim backward, and then slammed the door in his face.
With no luck with the residents, Jim descended to the first floor where the management’s office was located and found a man encased in a box of bulletproof glass, watching television. Jim flashed his badge, and the guy stood as if Jim were inconveniencing him.
“What?” The man picked at a wart on the side of his bulbous nose. He was in his late fifties, balding with only thin wisps of long hair left on his head. He wore a faded-red polo shirt with a sweat ring around the collar and a gold chain on his neck.
“Do you have any security footage on the premise?” Jim asked.
The man scoffed. It was his only reply.
“What about visitor logs?” Jim asked, already having an idea of the answer.
“Does it look like we have visitor logs?” the man asked sarcastically. “I’m lucky to get rent on time from half the tenants in here.”
“Do you work the night shift?” Jim asked, changing tactics.
“I’m here day and night,” he answered, leaning against the counter now as if the act of standing had exhausted him.
“Did you hear anything last night?” Jim asked.
“No.”
“Nothing?” Jim asked.
“Nothing,” he answered dryly.
Unable to squeeze anything out of the guy and with no warrant to allow him to physically probe any further, Jim left the man to his television and stepped outside.
Jim examined the tall gates that surrounded the building, along with the modern locks on the doors that led into the apartments. He also noted the bars on the walls, the locks in the stairwells. It was an awful lot of security but to not have security cameras was a red flag.
Jim knew there were certain buildings in at-risk communities that were controlled by gangs, used as places to launder money, store drugs, a way to continue their criminal activity in plain sight. And the residents in those places were offered low rent in exchange for their silence, which would have explained why no one was willing to speak with him.
But Nate hadn’t mentioned any of that, so Jim might just be projecting his own opinions onto the case. It was one of the many detective traps that cops fell into after a few years on the job. Once a particular narrative filled their heads, it was near impossible to make them believe anything else.
Jim returned to his car and headed toward the school where Nate’s son attended the afterschool program. He would again need to tread lightly, not wanting to raise suspicion of his visit.
Nate’s son, Tim, had managed to earn a scholarship at a small charter school. It was a place for highly gifted students who excelled in math and science. Apparently, that was Ben’s specialty.
When Jim arrived, he explained to the principal that he was investigating an abduction that happened nearby and wanted to see if there was anyone strange in the area lurking about.
The principal was a very timid woman. But she moved with calculated efficiency in almost every detail of her life. There was something almost robotic about the way she moved. It was hypnotizing.
“I haven’t received any information from our
security team about any threats,” the principal said. “We take our student’s safety very seriously.”
“How do adults gain access inside of the school?” Jim asked.
The principal walked Jim through the visitor pass process, but unless it was a parent, a listed guardian, or somebody working maintenance on the building for an outside contract, there was nobody else allowed on school grounds.
“We haven’t had any outside maintenance work done in the past six months,” the principal said. “And our security systems are very up-to-date, state-of-the-art, really.”
“Do you have someone monitoring the security feed at all times?” Jim asked.
“Yes,” the principal answered. “Even when the children aren’t here. We have a lot of very expensive equipment housed in the building. We try to take preventative measures against any theft.”
Once Jim was able to confirm that no suspicious activity had happened via the security footage, he asked to speak with the counselor at the afterschool program.
“Why?” The principal asked.
“The abduction happened outside of normal school hours,” Jim answered. “We think the perp might be looking at kids in after-school programs.”
The principal covered her mouth, stifling a quiet gasp. “That’s terrible.”
On the way to the gymnasium where the programs were hosted, the principal was gushing about the counselor who ran the afterschool program.
“He’s done excellent work since he has been here,” the principal said. “I don’t know what we would do without him.”
“How long has he been with the school?” Jim asked.
“About six months now,” the principal answered. “We managed to steal him away from another school down in Portland. I couldn’t believe we convinced him to come up here and join us. It was really quite wonderful.”
Once they entered the gymnasium, the principal lit up when she spied the counselor across the basketball floor, standing beneath one of the hoops. He had a board in his hands, studying whatever was on the piece of paper it was attached.
“Samuel!” The principal shouted and waved her hand, catching Samuel’s attention. “Could you come here for a moment?”
The counselor looked up from his clipboard and smiled as he tucked it beneath his arm and jogged over. He was tall, lean, and around Jim’s age, mid to late twenties. He had the type of wiry frame somebody might see on a tennis player.
“What’s up?” Samuel asked.
“This is Detective Jim North,” the principal answered. “He’s investigating an abduction.”
Samuel expressed concern. “My God. Who is it?”
“It happened down the road from here,” Jim answered. “I just wanted to come and take a look at the school since it was so close, see if anyone has seen anything.”
“Oh,” Samuel said. “Well, I haven’t noticed anything here.”
“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” Jim asked, glad he was finally able to speak to the man he’d come to see.
“Of course,” Samuel said. “Whatever I can do to help.”
The principal checked her watch. “Well, I have a meeting to run to. Detective, I’ll leave you in very capable hands.” She smiled at Samuel. “Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you,” Samuel replied.
The principal gave Samuel a good look up and down and then giggled as she left. If they weren’t sleeping together, then the principal definitely wanted to.
“So,” Samuel said. “How can I help?”
Jim noted the man’s casual arrogance. He wasn’t ugly but not necessarily good-looking, either. There were too many sharp angles along his face to distract a person from the whole of it. Jim imagined that Samuel might get a lot of one-night stands but probably didn’t have much luck in any long-term relationships. Even the way the man dressed was a bit flashy, all distracting from the reality of his dullness.
“How many kids do you watch in the afterschool program?” Jim asked.
Samuel rocked back on his heels. “Oh, not many. Twelve, maybe? Most of the kids here come from wealthy homes and have nannies or babysitters to watch them. I mainly take care of the kids on scholarship. Blue-collar students.” He laughed, but Jim didn’t reciprocate.
“Do you have the same kids every day?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, mostly the same group,” Samuel answered.
“And you’re here alone with those children?” Jim asked.
Samuel paused for a moment. “I’m the only one supervising them, yes.”
“Is that all you’re doing?” Jim asked.
“Excuse me?” Samuel asked.
“The principal mentioned you were also in charge of the chess club?” Jim asked though it had been Nate who had mentioned it, not the principal. But he omitted that part.
“Oh, yes,” Samuel said. “That overlaps with the afterschool program. Smart kids like chess.”
“Do you teach them?” Jim asked.
“I do my best,” Samuel answered.
“Do you spend a lot of one-on-one time with the children?” Jim asked.
Samuel narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes.”
Jim could tell the man was growing suspicious, so he changed gears. “Would you mind if I looked around for a little bit?”
Samuel cocked his jaw to the side and then glanced around the empty gymnasium. When he faced Jim again, there was a harshness in his voice that wasn’t there before. “Go ahead. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“Of course,” Jim said. “But one more thing. Who would be your direct supervisor?”
Jim knew that Samuel was caught between a rock and a hard place. The man didn’t want to give up any more information but growing even more defensive and stonewalling would only draw more attention to himself.
“That would be the principal,” Samuel answered. “Good luck, Detective.”
Jim nodded as Samuel walked back to the other side of the gymnasium, maintaining a brisk pace. Jim lingered in the gymnasium for a moment. He would need to work a particular timeline to see if the man had an alibi for the time of Tim’s disappearance.
If Tim had developed a relationship with Samuel, then that might explain why the lack of a break-in. Jim had seen on more than one occasion how children would leave of their own volition in hopes of meeting another person. It was possible that Tim could have left the apartment after his father was gone to meet Samuel. But Jim would have to do more research into Samuel to know for sure.
Jim returned to the principal's office and requested Samuel’s personnel file. She was a little hesitant, but most people wanted to comply with the police, and she handed it over.
“Is all of this really necessary?” the principal asked.
“I just want to cross off every possibility,” Jim answered.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find everything in order,” she said. “We have extensive background checks for anyone hired by the school. We even set the standard for all of the schools at the city level.”
Jim thanked the principal for her assistance and then focused on the file. At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The references were glowing, the background checks revealed no crimes greater than running a stoplight or speeding. There was nothing to suggest that Samuel was hiding anything from his past. But that didn’t mean there were no indiscretions. Jim had the impression that Samuel might’ve been very good at concealing who he truly was.
Jim requested a list of all of the children that Samuel took care of in the afternoons. Again she appeased his request, but Jim sensed he was pushing his luck. He found Ben’s name on the list along with ten other children.
“I’d like to speak to the children one at a time,” Jim said.
The principal had exhausted her hospitality at this point. “I’m not sure I can do that without their parent’s consent, Detective.”
“Of course,” Jim said, and then he quickly handed the personnel file back to the principal but kept
the list of names of the other children. “I appreciate your time.”
“Yes, well, I hope you catch your predator,” the principal said. “It’s a shame what can happen right under someone’s nose.”
“Yes,” Jim said. “It is.” He turned to leave and then paused. “I was actually wondering if I could look at the room where the afterschool program is actually held? Just to make sure it’s secure.”
The principal was clearly irritated, but she granted Jim his final request. He was escorted to the building by one of the security guards, and Jim found a child inside, working at a chessboard, playing by himself. The moment Jim and the security guard stepped inside, the little boy looked up at them like he was in trouble.
“Harry, you’re not supposed to be in here,” the security guard said. “How many times do I have to tell you that this is for afterschool only?”
Jim recognized the name and realized there was a Harry on the list. “Harry Morgan?”
The boy nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Jim turned back to the security guard. “I actually wanted to talk to him.”
The security guard wasn’t privy to the conversation Jim had had with the principal, so he allowed it and stood outside the door, waiting.
Jim always had an eye for kids who were abused. It was like a sixth sense. He had gone through it himself, so he suspected that helped in identifying that same pain in others. And as he walked over and sat across from Harry, Jim thought he found another wounded soul.
Jim introduced himself and told Harry he was a police officer. For most kids, the police were still somebody they believed they could trust, but even that was starting to change.