Fragmented

by George Fong

  Blunt threw up both hands. “Why can’t I just go on home?”

  “You’re the only one here that has actually seen the guy,” Jack said. “I need you to point him out.”

  “He looks just like the photo.”

  “Good,” Jack replied. “Then you won’t have a problem picking him out for us.” He tossed the keys to Colfax, who turned and pushed Blunt up toward the main road.

  Jack jogged down the path back to the first house, stepping behind a row of trees where he kneeled low and tried to get comfortable knowing this could be a long night.

  An hour passed without seeing any movement, Colfax and Jack updating each other on the Nextel direct-connect. Jack wondered if it was worth staying much longer. Colfax suggested they call in his narcotics team to take over the surveillance, more bodies with fresh eyes. Not a bad idea. Jack could at least catch an hour of sleep before covering other leads.

  “You think you can get the team for this morning?”

  “I’ll call the sergeant,” Colfax replied.

  Jack leaned against a tree, careful not to become too lax. Few minutes later, Colfax phoned back.

  “They can be out at six.”

  Jack looked at his watch. 4:05 a.m. “I’ll take it.”

  Another hour passed with no activity, Jack’s legs beginning to cramp from squatting too long. He stood behind a tree and stretched his back, stiff knees popping like bubble wrap.

  He gazed down the roadway, hoping to hear the narc team coming to relieve them. A spear of light crossed the path before disappearing behind the thick foliage as rolling tires approached.

  Jack tapped the direct-connect on his Nextel. “I see headlights. I think your team has arrived.”

  Jack watched the road but no vehicles approached. Twenty seconds later, Jack’s phone chirped. Colfax, his voice a whisper.

  “It’s not my team, Jack.”

  36

  Thursday – 5:16 a.m.

  Jack held his breath.

  “I got a pickup driving up to the garage,” Colfax whispered. “Driver’s stopped and is exiting the truck.”

  Jack’s heart started racing. If this was Cooper, the Baker girl could be inside. Approaching now would be a gamble. If Jessica Baker were being held elsewhere, they would lose the option of following him to the stash house, essentially jeopardizing a rescue. She’d become another Grace Holloway. The best thing to do was to give it a few more minutes of surveillance and assess the situation.

  Jack called Colfax on the Nextel, his voice anxious. “Is it Cooper?”

  “Can’t tell. Too dark.”

  As much as Jack wanted to head in their direction, he couldn’t risk it. He told Colfax and Blunt to get in closer to record the license plate, then call his sergeant and get an ETA. With the recent development, they could use back up.

  Jack had moved to the other side of the road, getting closer to the second residence, when a voice yelled out, commanding someone to stop. Jack bolted toward the fork in the road; Colfax’s voice came over the Nextel, screaming frantically. “He’s running! I lost him.”

  “I’m coming down the road!” Jack sprinted along the edge of the bushes, peering in between openings, hoping to see Cooper cutting in his direction. This time, he would not let him escape. Between the fork and the two houses, a dense V-shaped patch of bramble led into the woods. If Cooper made a break for it, he would have to weave himself through it. The noise of snapping branches and crushing ground cover would give him away. Jack pushed himself into a thicket of shrub brush. He stopped, hearing movement directly in front of him. He crouched low behind a dense hedge, squinting into the darkness. Colfax’s voice sounded over the Nextel.

  “I don’t have him, Jack.”

  He gave Colfax his location and told him to enter from the side road so they wouldn’t get caught in a cross fire in the event of shooting. The bushes rustled louder and Jack caught sight of something leaping through a wall of green foliage to his left. It was definitely a person, but it was too dark, the suspect moving too fast to get an ID.

  “I got him heading toward the first house,” Jack whispered into his Nextel, not waiting for Colfax to respond. He sprinted through the thick overgrowth, chasing the dark figure, hoping whoever it was didn’t make a hard turn in the opposite direction. Snapped branches told him he was heading in the right direction. The unlit path brought Jack back on the other side of the road, by the first house.

  “Shit!” Jack’s head swiveled up and down the road searching for movement. He ran north, speculating his suspect would make a break for town. He hadn’t taken two steps before something exploded from the darkness made by the hedges, tackling Jack to the ground. Jack’s head hit hard on the dirt path as the two men tumbled across the road and into a dry ditch. Twisted into a knot with his attacker, Jack drove the heel of his palm up into the perpetrator’s chin, making solid contact. The man’s head snapped back, opening a space between the two of them. The full force of a boot struck Jack squarely in the chest, lifting him off the ground and tossing him back against the other side of the culvert, the wind knocked out of him. Struggling to catch his breath, Jack scrambled to his feet, watching his attacker try to gain traction and flee. Jack dove at his legs, grabbing, pulling hard. The man fell onto his stomach, body slamming with a heavy thud. The man groaned, scraping at the ground but with too little energy left to get away.

  “I got him!” Jack screamed, sliding, his right leg first, into the ditch, landing on top of the attacker, knee falling squarely on the suspect’s back, pinning him to the ground as Colfax ran up, pair of handcuffs pulled from the back of his jeans.

  “Are you okay?” Colfax asked, fighting to get the cuffs secured.

  Jack rolled over and dragged a sleeve across his chin, wiping away the sweat and dirt and blood from the fight. He nodded, glad it was over.

  Jack got to his feet, checking for injuries. His chest felt like it was hit with a hammer. Colfax lifted the suspect, who offered little assistance, his body limp on wobbly legs.

  “Let’s get a look at you,” Colfax said as he straightened up the man, holding him steady by the shoulders. Jack made his way around to the other side so he could face his attacker, the moonlight bright enough to illuminate his features in blue and gray hues.

  Blunt appeared, standing just above them on the dirt road. He pulled his right hand from his jacket pocket and pointed at the man. “That’s him. That’s Monroe.”

  The attacker squinted at Blunt and tilted his head. Blood dripped from his chin as he heaved in deep breaths. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Colfax straightened out his arms, pushing the attacker back a few inches to get a better look. Jack walked up and studied the man’s face. He knew it couldn’t be Monroe because Monroe was most likely dead.

  “This isn’t Monroe.” Jack turned toward Colfax, frustrated. It was obvious Blunt would ID his own mother at this point. The guy wasn’t Monroe but it also wasn’t Cooper.

  “Who are you?” Jack asked.

  The man lifted his head. “Why are you chasing me?”

  “Why were you running?” Colfax jumped in.

  “I saw your car up on the road and you two sneaking around my house.” He pointed his bloody and scraped chin at Colfax and then at Blunt. “Thought you were looking to rob me.”

  “No one’s going to rob you,” Jack said as he pulled out his Maglight and shined it on the man’s face. He studied it for a second. “I know who you are.” Before the man could respond, Jack answered for him. “You’re Eric Youngblood, Alvin Cooper’s friend.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s me.”

  Jack closed his distance to Youngblood and tapped him on the chest with an accusatory finger.

  “Well, Mr. Youngblood. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  37

  Thursday – 5:28 a.m.

  Colfax parked the Crown Vic just past the fork in the road, while Jack waited with the prisoner, who sat cross-legged in the dir
t, his hands cuffed. Jack had confronted Youngblood, who denied any involvement in the Baker abduction. When Colfax returned, they stuffed him in the back, head first, before getting in themselves, Jack in the driver’s seat, making Blunt ride beside the suspect.

  “Can I go home now?” Blunt whined.

  “In a minute,” Jack said. “We’re a bit busy.” He threw his right arm over his seat and addressed Youngblood. “Is anyone in the house?”

  Youngblood shook his head. “Like I just told you, I had nothing to do with that girl being kidnapped.”

  “We’re going inside to find out.”

  Jack steered the car carefully to the front, scanning the area for any movement.

  Colfax gestured at Youngblood and Blunt. “What do we do with these two?”

  “We take Youngblood with us.” Jack pointed at Blunt. “Get out and stand by the back of the trunk. If you hear gunfire, run.”

  Blunt rolled his eyes, muttering, “Oh, fuck me.”

  Jack got out of the vehicle, and led Youngblood out by the elbow. Colfax snuck up from around back. The front door was still ajar from when Youngblood bolted into the woods. Jack pushed him in front, like a shield.

  “If anyone in there has a gun, you’re taking the first round.”

  Youngblood tilted his head and sighed deeply. “I swear there’s no one in there.”

  Jack drew his pistol, keeping it close to his side. With his left hand, Jack grabbed a handful of Youngblood’s shirt. Colfax followed, covering Jack’s flank.

  They entered a modest nook that led to a small kitchen, living room to the right, boxes scattered over a hardwood floor the color of pale beer. There was an overstuffed couch, a Barco-lounger, and two wooden dining chairs. Everything looked recycled from a second-hand store.

  “Police!” Colfax called out.

  “I told you I’m the only one. Cooper’s not here.”

  Jack pushed Youngblood down the hallway and through two bedrooms and a bathroom.

  The house was clear. Nothing. No sign Jessica Baker had ever been there.

  During their search, Jack found a rental agreement in the kitchen under the name of Charles Petersen. Jack figured an alias for Monroe. Dools ran Monroe’s name through DMV and came up with only the Southern California address. Two hundred and fifty hits on Charles Petersen, but none listed to this place.

  They returned to the living room and sat Youngblood on the couch. Jack grabbed one of the wooden dining chairs and placed it in front of him; Colfax fell into the Barco-lounger.

  “Okay,” Jack said as he removed his ballistic vest and stood it by Youngblood’s feet. “Where’s the girl?”

  Youngblood shook his bowed head. “I don’t know. Cooper’s the only one that knows.”

  “Then tell me where I can find Cooper.”

  “I’ve been waiting for Alvie to show up for two days now.” Youngblood sank into the couch. There was a bit of hesitation in his voice, like he was struggling to find the right words. “This is his place, sort of. He told me that it belonged to a friend. Guy named Monroe.”

  “You ever meet Monroe?”

  Youngblood shook his head. “No. I spoke to Alvie two days ago, at night. He asked me to meet him back here at the house. He told me Monroe was dead.”

  “Is that why you’re using his bank card?” Jack asked.

  Youngblood closed his eyes and exhaled. “Cooper left it for me. Said I could use it if I needed money.”

  Colfax leaned in. “I’m lost. You’re a friend of Cooper, you’re crashing in a dead man’s house, you use his bankcard, and yet you’re saying you had nothing to do with Monroe’s death or the kidnapping of Jessica Baker?” Colfax spat on the floor. “Bullshit.”

  “Look, let me explain.” Youngblood shifted his weight, pushing himself up to sit taller. “It’s been over a week since I received an e-mail from Cooper. Out of the blue, there it was.”

  Jack asked, “Prior to that, when was the last time you two spoke?”

  “It’s been over five years. Before he murdered his family. After that incident, I wanted nothing to do with him.”

  “So why’d he reach out to you after all this time.”

  Youngblood shrugged. “I can’t say. We were best friends for a long time. Traveled together, shared a room. Alvie came to our house right after he returned from his trip to Europe. Found his mother had died and needed a place to live. So he moved in, gets a job and we became friends. We traveled, did things together. Then, sometime during one of our trips, I found out something about him. He started acting really weird, scary. I don’t know, he just freaked me out.”

  Colfax spoke. “You travel with him to Seattle back in ’89?”

  Youngblood wouldn’t look at Colfax.

  “I asked you a question, Eric. Were you there with Cooper?”

  “You want to know if I had anything to do with that dead girl? The one you found in the church?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Nothing!” Youngblood shot back without a moment’s pause. “I had nothing to do with that girl’s death. It was Alvie. Alvie kidnapped her and killed her. That’s why I didn’t want to have anything to do with him. That’s why I asked him to leave. Leave my uncle’s house and get as far away from us as he possibly could.”

  “I don’t buy it.” Colfax hovered over Youngblood, shoving a finger in his face. “Don’t lie to me. You either tell me the truth now or you won’t have to worry about being extradited back to Washington because I’ll kick the shit out of you myself.”

  “I swear I had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”

  Jack reached up and gently placed a hand on Colfax’s arm, then slid his chair, up close and personal with Youngblood. “Eric,” he said calmly, “you got five—strike that—you got two minutes to tell us what you know or you’ll be looking at murder charges in Seattle and possible kidnapping charges here.”

  “The girl, the one in Seattle, I didn’t kill her.” Youngblood’s lips tightened into a straight line. “I was there when Alvie met her at Pike Place. We were looking for a bar that would let us in. She was in front of a restaurant with another friend. We talked for a bit and, the next thing I know, she’s following us around.”

  Colfax lowered his voice. “Her name is Grace Holloway.”

  “What about the friend?” Jack asked.

  Youngblood shook his head. “Left after an hour or so. I don’t remember. All I know was her friend was gone and that Grace girl was tagging alongside of us.”

  “So far you’re with him and her,” Colfax said. “Sounds like conspiracy to me.”

  “It’s not like that. We spent the rest of the night bouncing between bars, getting kicked out of some, left alone in others. At first, we didn’t know she was sixteen. She looked older. By the time the sun started to rise, we were driving south toward Renton. Grace wanted to take us to this abandoned building, said she liked hanging there because it gave her time away from her mom and dad, you know, maybe smoke some weed. A place to think. Alvie started acting like he’s real interested in her well being but I guessed he was only trying to get in her pants.”

  “What about you? You want to get into her pants too?”

  Youngblood’s face wrinkled like taking in a bad smell. “Fuck no. I wasn’t going to screw a minor and get my ass thrown in jail. I’m not that stupid.”

  “But Alvie is?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m not his mother. Besides, things were already going south between us. I really didn’t care what he wanted to do. I just wanted to get away.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “We made our way back to Tacoma, where we found a cheap motel. I told Alvie to leave me there and those two took off on their own. They disappeared for the day. I couldn’t go anywhere because I had no wheels. I was bouncing off the walls until Alvie came back early evening, this time by himself. I asked him, ‘Where’s the girl’ and he told me she wasn’t worth his time.”

  “What did he mean by
that?”

  Youngblood closed his eyes. “I pushed him for an explanation and he kept laughing like it was some kind of joke. Said he got aggravated and left her to die.”

  “In those words?” Jack asked. ‘Left her to die?’”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t long after that I saw the TV stations broadcasting the story of the missing girl and her photo. Then they found her body.”

  “Why didn’t you do something?” Colfax demanded.

  Youngblood shook his head emphatically. “I didn’t know where she was. I kept yelling, trying to get Alvie to tell me if it was that abandoned building, but he laughed at me, said that would be the first place everyone would look, so he took her somewhere else. A place no one knew about, including me. I pressed him for the location but he wouldn’t tell me. He said she was a pain and needed to die.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  Youngblood rolled his eyes. “Look what you guys are suspecting me of right now. Alvie told me that because we were all together, we were both responsible for her death. Said if he fell on the murder, so would I.” Youngblood bit down hard on his lower lip. “I got scared. I didn’t know what else to do but to go along with it and get the hell out of Seattle.”

  “So if you two had a falling out,” Jack asked, “why did he reach out to you now?”

  “Said he wanted to talk. Said he was getting out and needed help. I told him no. After a few e-mails and a couple of phone calls, he started threatening me by bringing up the Grace Holloway murder. I had to meet with him.”

  “You got a phone number or an e-mail that he’s using right now?”

  “I got a number, his cell.”

  “Give it to me,” Jack said.

  Youngblood recited the number, looking over at Jack’s notebook to make sure he got it right.

  “I left him a message on it today so I know it’s still good. Do you want me to call him now?”

  Jack thought about it, then shook his head. “Let’s wait until we get the phone tapped.”