“I’ll come with you. Who’s at the house?” I asked Wright.
“Finnegan was, but we needed him back here, so Klein is there now.”
We left, and got in Yankowitz’s K-9 vehicle. Jinx sat in the back. “I need to drop Jinx at home and get Skylar,” Yankowitz said. He drove, at exactly the speed limit.
“You can put your foot down,” I told him.
“We’re coming up on the center of town,” he said.
“Yankowitz, we’re trying to find a missing kid. Time is critical. Put your foot on the gas and drive like a cop.”
We sped through town, Yankowitz constantly checking his mirrors. He pulled up in front of a single-story house and let Jinx out of the vehicle.
Cody had been taken, again. In the afternoon, from his house. Ballsy. What was Cody worth? I stared at the bright sky and tried to imagine a motive. I was impatient and annoyed by the time Yankowitz appeared at his front door, leash attached to Skylar. Behind him stood a blond holding a large bag. I got out of the car. Met her halfway.
“Chief, this is my girlfriend, Lindsay.”
“Pleasure to meet you. May I take the bag?” I asked.
She handed it over. “There’s water in there. Protein bars, and a few treats for Skylar.” She smiled. A dimple appeared in her left cheek. Yankowitz was punching above his weight in the romance department. “Good luck. I hope you find him soon.”
We got in the car. I set the bag in a rear foot well. Yankowitz peeled onto the road. We reached the Forrand house in four minutes. “Good driving,” I told him.
“Completely unsafe,” he muttered.
The driveway was full of cars. More were parked along the street. Klein’s car was there, alongside a news van. Jessica opened the front door, Anna behind her in a dress covered with floury handprints. Right. They’d been baking cookies when Cody went missing. We walked inside. Mr. and Mrs. Forrand sat on the living room sofa, talking to a newscaster. She leaned in, jotting down notes. Then she looked up; saw our uniforms and the dog. “Are you tracking Cody?” she asked.
I didn’t answer her. I walked to the kitchen. Inside, people gathered around the table and leaned against counters. Klein was wedged in the corner by the cupboard. The smell of coffee was strong. Pizza slices lay on plates of congealed grease, teeth marks visible in the abandoned pieces. Amidst the family members were friends, several from Chaplin.
I’d wanted to escape the reporter, but the Forrands had followed me and now we had a big audience. “Okay. We’re going to use the dog to track Cody. Jessica, when was the last time you saw Cody?”
She wrung her hands. “About 2:15? Anna and I were starting to make cookies. Cody asked if he could play trucks instead. I said sure and he went to his room. I walked past him on my way to the bathroom. Around 2:00.”
“And then?”
“We put a batch of cookies in. I went to see if Cody wanted to help decorate them once they’d cooled. I went to ask, and he was gone.”
“How’d he get out? The front door?” I asked.
She shook her head. “We would’ve heard or seen him walk by.”
“So how was he removed from the house?”
“I don’t know.” Tears ran down her face. “I’m so sorry. Jane, I thought he was safe. I didn’t—”
Jane’s face was stony, but she said, “It wasn’t your fault, Jess.”
The reporter appeared at the edge of the room, eager for more story.
I said, “I’d like to see his bedroom.” The Forrands moved as if to follow. “Just me and Officers Klein and Yankowitz.” Klein looked surprised at my statement, but he eased his way through the crowd, apologizing as he passed the parents.
Outside the kids’ bedroom, I asked, “Klein, do you have a list of everyone here?”
“No.”
“Make one. Next to their names, write when they arrived.” I looked in the kids’ room. “The both of you stay here for a minute.” I stepped into the room. Toy trucks were arranged on the carpet, in two lines. I stepped over them to reach the window. Its sash was waisthigh. I slipped on gloves. Tugged upward. Grunted. Pulled harder. The window came up. No way Cody had the strength to open this.
I stepped out of the room. “Yankowitz, get started with Skylar.”
A woman blocked my passage down the hall. She had graying hair and wore a long prairie skirt and a vile yellow sweater. Her pale lipstick made her look older, not younger. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“Pardon me?” Was there a crazy aunt someone had neglected to mention?
“You,” she pointed a bony finger at my chest, “shouldn’t be here.” Klein and Yankowitz watched, unsure what to do.
“Ma’am, I need you to go back to the Forrands and leave us to our work.”
“I know what you are,” she said. “They told me. Everyone knows. You’re a sinner. You’re an abomination against God.”
“The only abomination here is that droopy outfit. Now, are you going to leave or shall I have one of my men escort you outside?”
“The wrath of God is coming,” she said before leaving.
“Who the hell was that?” I asked.
“Mrs. Donner,” Klein said. “She had a son who was friends with Cody.”
“Yeah, her son died of the same disease Cody has,” I said. So she was a grieving mother. The thought did little to cool me down.
I stomped down the hall and examined the master bedroom. It was big enough to accommodate a queen bed and a matching set of furniture. This room had two windows. I tested the sashes. Looser, able to be lifted. If either had been opened, the aunt would’ve told us. So how had he gotten out? Two doors opened into closets. One was filled with bedding, towels, and board games. The other, with clothes.
Two bedrooms. One bathroom. Two closets. Back door off the kitchen, where Anna and Jessica would’ve seen him. Front door? Maybe, maybe if they were busy with the cookies. Wouldn’t they have felt the chill air? Heard the door open and close? “Basement,” I said. “Where’s the basement?” I walked to the hall where Skylar pawed at a door between the bathroom and the kids’ room.
“I think the cellar is here,” Yankowitz said.
“Let me.” I opened the door and flicked the light switch to the right. A musty smell rose from below. Yankowitz and Skylar went down the steps. I followed. At the bottom was a large white laundry basket, half full of towels. Beside it, a toy truck. To the right were a washer and dryer. Skylar sniffed as she walked. Big plastic bins labeled “Thanksgiving” were set beside unlabeled cardboard boxes succumbing to damp, their edges rotting. Past them was a grouping of end tables and lamps. Around the back of the stairs was a pool table with scarred and torn felt. Probably a centerpiece for a big room back in the Chaplin house. Atop the worn felt, more boxes were stacked. Beyond the pool table, shallow stairs led upward to double doors. Skylar was at the doors, barking.
Yankowitz pushed them open. We walked up into the backyard. I looked down. The snow was trampled. I grabbed my flashlight and illuminated the crushed snow at our feet. Was that a small set of prints, near where I stood? Had Cody come outside this way, under where his aunt and sister baked cookies, oblivious to his absence?
Skylar mazed a path through the backyard, down toward the yellow house of the young computer teacher, Mike Calloway. My gut got tight. I grabbed my radio from my belt. Told Klein to keep everybody indoors. I didn’t want helpers mucking up the scene. Skylar trotted past Calloway’s house, continuing down the street. Ms. Hart’s house lit up the block with its Christmas lights. The Santa cutout on her roof looked like a burglar. I stomped my feet to keep the blood flowing. The temperature had plummeted. Bad news for Cody, if he was outside. I doubted that, though, just as I doubted he was safe, wherever he was.
A sharp bark. A second one. I hurried forward. The street ended in a cul-de-sac. Shy of the turnabout, Skylar barked at a car. Yankowitz aimed his flashlight at the license plate. Connecticut. He swept the beam. It was a silver Toyota Camry. Yankow
itz peered through the windows. I jogged to him. Was Cody inside?
“I don’t see him,” Yankowitz said. A folded plaid blanket was on the back seat.
“Trunk?” I sketched the sign of the cross. I didn’t want to find Cody dead in that trunk.
Skylar sniffed the passenger door. Barked again.
“Can we get it open?” he asked.
Oh, I’d get it open. First things first. Whose car was it?
I sent Yankowitz to inquire at the closest house, the one at the end of the cul-de-sac. He and Skylar got to the front steps and rang the bell. Yankowitz spoke to a woman. She pointed at the car. A minute later, he returned to me.
“Not their car,” he said. “She said it doesn’t belong to the neighbors. She noticed it a half hour ago but can’t say for sure how long it’s been there.”
“We can’t wait to see who this belongs to,” I said.
“You gonna smash the window?”
“No. I’m going to break in like a car thief. I need a shoelace.”
He knelt and began to unlace his boot. “Too thick,” I said. “I need a sneaker lace.”
“Okay.” He walked back to the house he’d left. Spoke to the woman again. After a minute Yankowitz came to me, sneaker lace in hand.
“Keep the flashlight on the window for me.”
I tied a loop in the middle of the shoelace. Knotted it. Then I fed the loop behind the passenger door window and, using either end of the shoelace, flossed it back and forth so that the loop hovered above the door lock. I pulled on the lace end to the right. Got the loop over the lock. Pulled either end tight and yanked upward. The lock popped up.
“Holy crap,” Yankowitz said. I opened the door handle, and then reached over and lifted the driver’s side lock. It smelled of mothballs and the soap my grandmother wore. This was the car. The car that took Cody.
“Put on gloves and search the glove box.” He did. I hurried to the car’s rear. In the trunk was a spare tire, a jack, a lug wrench. No Cody.
I came around to Yankowitz. “Anything?” I asked.
“Nope. No registration. No maps. No owner’s manual. Nothing except a pack of tissues.” He got up. Crunch. He stopped. Lifted his boot. Rummaged in the foot well and lifted up a bright-yellow plastic brick. “A Lego,” he said. Was it a piece of the truck set Cody kept going on about? I grabbed a bag from my inside coat pocket and held it out. He dropped the piece inside.
“I’ll get Wright out here. Can you call in the plate number? I want to know who owns this car.”
He gave Skylar a command, and the two of them hurried away.
If this was the car that had taken Cody, where was he? I radioed Klein. Ordered him to babysit the car. He came, trailed by Mr. Forrand, who was so close on Klein’s heels he was going to give him blisters.
“What did you find?” Mr. Forrand called. His breath came out in visible white puffs. Lord, it was cold.
I put up both hands. “Stay there, please. The fewer prints, the better.” Mr. Forrand held up his gloved hands. “Boot prints,” I said, pointing at my feet. He lowered his hands. Came no further. Klein remained where he was too.
“The dog tracked Cody’s scent to this car. We’re investigating whom it belongs to. A crime team will process the car. Klein, I need you to keep an eye on it until they show up. Mr. Forrand, do you recognize this car?”
“It’s dark out,” he said. I shone my flashlight. He peered, bending forward. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t you go back up to your house? Ask Jessica if she saw a gray or silver Toyota near the house today.” Normally, I wouldn’t involve him. I’d prefer cops did the interviews. However, I had few men and this would keep him from complaining about us to the TV reporter.
He turned and trudged up the hill. When he was out of earshot I said, “Klein you can come closer. I’m going to check the nearby houses. See if anyone saw who parked this car.”
I interrupted families preparing dinner or wrapping presents. None complained. People’s first thought at finding a policeman on their doorstep is that someone has been hurt or killed. Once you’ve established that’s not true, relief floods over them. They happily answered my questions. No one had seen the driver of the car. A few people had noticed it parked, and a few said it had been there two hours or more. Yankowitz and Skylar found me while I crossed the street.
“I’m going to let Skylar search more,” he said. “I might have called her off too quickly.” He gave her another sniff of Cody’s pants. She trotted down the street. I watched her recede. An Idyll patrol car came toward me. I waved at it to pull over. Wright got out, followed by Billy.
“This it?” Wright pointed to the Toyota.
“Yes, and it smells like old lady, like Cody said.”
He said, “The owner is one Arlene Pearl. Lives in Barkhamsted. That’s about fifteen minutes from Canton.”
“Where Cody was found, in the parking lot,” I said. “Where’s Arlene Pearl now?”
“At home. She had no idea her car was missing. Lady’s eighty-four years old. Doesn’t drive much. Said she didn’t think she’d taken the car out in at least two weeks.”
“Crime-scene team coming?” I asked.
“Yup. They actually seemed interested.”
“Great.” Maybe they’d hustle. “Anybody on our list live near Barkhamsted?”
“Finnegan is checking,” Wright said. “I don’t get it.” He peered at the car. “Kid goes out the basement, and then what?”
“I wish I knew. Klein, head back up to the house. Billy, why don’t you help me on the door-to-doors?” I told him we wanted to know if anyone had seen the car’s driver or had seen the car being parked or driven.
“Sure thing, Chief. Where should I start?” I pointed and he jogged away.
Yankowitz and Skylar were out of sight now, lost to the dark. Why couldn’t Cody have gone missing during summer? The sun would still be blazing away at this hour, and my toes would be warm.
“I’m going to finish checking the street,” I said.
Wright said, “I’ll keep the looky-loos away from the car.” A few neighbors had already appeared outside their homes, coming to see what the fuss was about.
Ms. Hart was at home. The scented air that hit me when she opened the door told me she was still baking. “Chief Lynch,” she said. “Come in out of the cold. Oh, dear. What’s wrong?”
“Cody Forrand is missing.”
“Again?” She brushed her hands on her mistletoe apron. “His poor parents. Come into the kitchen where it’s warm.” I hesitated, and she said, “I’m not going to devour you like some fairy-tale witch.”
I followed her into the kitchen. Small bowls of icing stood on the table alongside candy and chopped chocolate. “You’ve got all the fixings of a fairy-tale witch.”
“Suppose I do. Give me one second.” She slid a red oven mitt on her hand and withdrew a baking tray from the oven. Gingerbread men, ten of them. She set the tray onto a cooling rack and removed the mitt. “How can I help?”
“There’s a silver Toyota Camry parked outside, a few houses down. I don’t suppose you saw it today?” She’d probably been in her kitchen the whole afternoon.
“Silver, you say? I did see a car when I ran out to pick up Snoopy from the lawn. He’d toppled over. There was a gray, or silver, car parked near the Hendersons’ house. I wondered who it belonged to because the Hendersons are away. They left yesterday for Minnesota, to visit their grandkids.”
“What time did you see the car parked there?”
“It was 1:30 p.m. I’m fairly certain of the time, because I had dough chilling in the fridge, and I had to take it out in fifteen minutes.”
“And later, did you happen to see it?”
“No.” She used a spatula to free the gingerbread men from their tray. “Wait. I ran outside to give Janice a tin of cookies. That was at, oh, three o’clock or so.”
“And the car?”
“You know, I couldn’t swea
r to it, but I don’t think it was there.”
“Thank you.”
“Wait. Before you go, take a cookie.” She handed me a gingerbread man. It was still warm. The spicy scent recalled Marie’s eggnog, and how, hours earlier, I’d been happily drinking it. So much could change in an hour, in a minute. Cody inside. Cody outside. Here. Gone. Safe. In danger.
She put two cookies in a bag and gave it to me. “In case you need a boost later. Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do to help?”
“Pray,” I said.
She nodded. “Of course.”
Before I reached the door, I’d beheaded the gingerbread man. It was delicious, tender and spicy. I stepped outside, moaned my appreciation, and found myself face-to-face with Billy. Who looked startled. Probably because I was making sex sounds.
“Good cookie.” I held the headless gingerbread man up.
He said, “I think you ought to come next door.”
“What’s up?”
He shifted his weight. “Mr. Calloway’s acting strange. Didn’t want to let me in at first, and then tried like hell to get me out of there fast.”
“You think he’s hiding something?”
“Yeah, and I think I know what it is.”
“Cody?”
“Not that.”
We walked over. I finished my cookie. Mr. Calloway answered our knock. “What now?” he asked Billy. His eyes slid off me like eggs off a greasy pan.
“We thought of another question,” Billy said.
“Ask it.”
“Mind if we come indoors?” I huffed a breath. It turned into icy vapor. “It’s awful cold out here and we’ve been hoofing it for a half hour.”
He waved us inside and kept us trapped in the foyer. His house was warm. Really warm. No wonder he was wearing a t-shirt. “What’s the question?” he asked.
The foyer smelt funny, like gym socks. No, not gym socks. I looked at Billy. He tilted his chin upward. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” I asked.
“What? I—” He looked behind him.
“I’ve really got to go,” I said. “Something about this winter chill.”
“I, fine. Fine. Here. I’ll show you.” Upstairs the smell was stronger. Skunk-like.
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