The Silent Child Boxset

by Roger Hayden

  They both drew their radios out at the same time. Felder paused and looked at Harris, smiling. “It’s all you.”

  Harris then pressed the side button of her radio and spoke. “Copy. This is Detective Harris. What do you have?”

  Static. Lots of it, followed with a pause. It was none other than Staff Sergeant Sykes. “I just got word of a car matching your description at the Try N’ Save parking lot. Headed there now.”

  “Try N’ Save,” Felder said, indignant. “Thought they closed that place years ago.”

  Harris held the radio closer. “Burgundy Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera, right?”

  “That’s the one,” Sykes said. “No occupants are in the car though. They could be anywhere.”

  “Thank you, Staff Sergeant. We’re on our way.” She returned her handheld and looked at Felder with excitement. “This could be our big break. Let’s move.” They hurried out of the kitchen, sparing the Parkers the details lest it be a false alarm.

  “Something has come up,” Felder began. “We’ll be back soon.”

  Ronald studied them with suspicion. “Is it about our daughter?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Felder continued.

  “It should only take a moment,” Harris added as they headed toward the door.

  Not satisfied, Ronald followed them. “You can’t leave us in the dark like this. I won’t have it!”

  Felder whipped around with urgency but with calmness in his tone. “Mr. Parker, please. We’ll let you know as soon as we can. The best place you can be is here.”

  Dana soon approached and placed her hand on Ronald’s shoulder, urging him to calm down. Harris and Felder promised that they’d be back soon. They had to leave, and it was important. Harris wished that they could say more, but spreading misinformation to distraught parents was not in their protocol.

  Harris and Felder left the house as the Parkers watched them from the doorway. The Ford Taurus was parked by itself in the street, absent the police cruisers parked in front. They said nothing to each other until they were in the car with the engine started. Harris then expressed her doubts.

  “We could have told them that it might be the car,” she said, driving forward past the house.

  The lieutenant shook his head. “Negative. Let’s get the facts before getting their hopes up.” He dug into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “Ah, crap. Missed a call from my boy.”

  “Tommy?” Harris said.

  Felder paused and turned to her with a smirk. “Tommy is my son’s name, yes.”

  “I know that, jerk!” Harris said, smacking his leg. Once out of the residential area, she sped onto the main road with its three lanes and minimal traffic. The Try N’ Save was on the other side of town, just over the railroad tracks where poverty and crime had increased over the years. They weren’t surprised that the Oldsmobile in question would be found there.

  All that mattered was finding Crystal Parker in time. It would have been wise for their abrasive kidnapper to ditch the car for something else. Harris was certain that was the case. She had the letter in her coat pocket. The letter had mentioned a man named Charley. She could only imagine who that was. There were no immediate answers. They were chasing phantoms amid an intense search for a missing girl.

  15

  The Cutlass

  The sky was a deep blanket of orange. Evening’s imminent approach only complicated the search for Crystal Parker. Detective Harris and Lieutenant Felder reached the Try ‘N Save just after seven. The old grocery store was still open, being one of the few businesses left in the run-down plaza. The sprawling parking lot was scattered with cars.

  The Oldsmobile in question was parked in the corner under a light pole. It sat away from the other cars as though it had been abandoned. Two flashing police cruisers took position ten feet away on opposite sides of the car. All four doors of the Cutlass Ciera were locked. Several officers had gone into the Try ‘N Save to find the driver.

  Harris parked near an empty cart return and got out. The lieutenant soon followed as they approached the car with their pistols out. The car wasn’t exactly hidden. It had been left there for a reason. Maybe it was meant to throw them off. Most damning of all, there was no license plate on the back of the car.

  It had either been removed there, in the lot, or before the abduction. As she approached the car and its tinted windows, Harris knew that their next mark consisted of a different vehicle, something witnesses may have seen. Felder pointed out that there appeared to be no cameras in the parking lot or around the store. Finding witnesses was more important than ever.

  Harris circled the car, looking through the windows with her flashlight. She stopped at the rear and examined the missing license plate. The Oldsmobile couldn’t have been parked there for more than an hour. Things were starting to add up. With gloved hands, Felder attempted to open each door despite being told that they were locked. He cupped his hands at the driver’s side window with frustration.

  “Car’s clean. I can’t even see a gum wrapper in there.”

  “You’re surprised?” Harris asked, approaching. “We’re looking at an empty vessel now.”

  “Yeah, well, it won’t matter after we dust this car for prints.” The lieutenant took a step back as Staff Sergeant Sykes took pictures of the car. The other officers on the scene were still inside the Try ‘N Save trying to find the driver of the vehicle. It may have been a futile effort, but they had to look regardless.

  As they waited, Felder radioed the station. “We need more units here to cordon off this area,” he said. “Might want to set up some checkpoints around here as well. Get me a forensics team and a tow truck on standby.”

  Harris watched him with pride. She liked the lieutenant. They respected and learned from each other and sometimes a little more, unbeknownst to the station. They hadn’t planned on getting involved with each other. Felder was a recently-divorced single father. Harris and her boyfriend of five years had split up months prior. To Harris, it was inevitable, though they both took their jobs and careers seriously. No one needed to know, and no one would, as far as they were concerned.

  As Felder paced the parking lot, radioing headquarters, he seemed in stark contrast to his earlier playful self in the car, whining about an empty stomach. Now he was all business. Harris remained alert and scanned the parking lot for anything unusual.

  Cars passed by from the outer street, with some heads turning in their direction. She looked at the old, industrial-looking buildings across the way. Some had the lights on in the windows, others with Now Leasing signs fully visible. She wondered if their suspect had truly left the area or if he was in fact watching the parking lot from afar.

  “We need a way inside this car,” Felder said into his cell phone. Harris wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “Hell, I’d jimmy it open myself if I didn’t want to compromise evidence.” He paused and then answered with disbelief. “How do I know it’s the car? It’s got no license plates, sir. Yes, I’m serious. We have an Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera that matches the description of the car seen mere hours ago. Our kidnapper must have ditched it after that AMBER Alert was issued. Yes sir… thank you.” He approached Harris, ending the call. “That was the captain.”

  “I figured,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

  “Besides wait?” he asked, turning to her. “Need to get inside that car.” His eyes then scanned the Oldsmobile from front to back. “I’d love to see what’s inside that trunk most of all.”

  Sergeant Gibbs soon approached, leaving the Try ‘N Save with two officers and an older woman. Harris took notice as Felder’s attention remained on the car. He suddenly snapped his fingers as though an answer had occurred to him. “I have an idea,” he said, excited.

  Harris turned back to face him. “What?”

  Felder stepped away. “Some of these old cars have a spare. Just have to know where to look.”

  She watched as he returned to the car and began looking under it from all
sides. “I hope you’re right,” she called out. “You look ridiculous on all fours like that.”

  He paused and turned to her with a sarcastic grin. “Thank you.”

  Harris then approached Sergeant Gibbs, meeting her near the cart return. She recognized Sergeant Cummings and Corporal Rodriguez behind her. Gibbs escorted the older woman by the arm. The woman looked to be in her sixties and a little baffled. The lights were still flashing on the police cars, and it was getting darker by the moment. The blanket of night would soon be thrown over the city. The woman adjusted her thick glasses and tried to get a better look at Harris as Sergeant Gibbs introduced her as Louise. “She might have something.”

  “You’re a detective?” the woman asked Harris, astonished. “You look young enough to be my granddaughter.” In a way, Louise wasn’t too far off. With her permed white hair, blue knitted pants, and matching jacket, she reminded Harris of her own grandmother.

  Gibbs suddenly interjected. “We talked to every customer and employee we could find. Louise recalls seeing people leaving the Cutlass and driving off in a van.”

  Harris’s eyes widened. “A van? People?” She looked at Louise directly. “Do you remember the color, make, model perhaps?” She held her breath and refrained from asking about a license plate just yet.

  Louise thought to herself and then spoke. “It was blue with white lines running along the side. Maybe more of an aqua color, now that I think of it.”

  Harris waited for more, but it appeared that Louise was done.

  “Didn’t you say you thought it was a Ford?” Gibbs politely asked.

  Louise nodded. “Ford or a Chevy. Can’t really tell the difference.”

  “Who did you see get into the van?” Harris asked, stepping forward.

  Louise stared ahead in thought and then spoke with uncertainty. “I really can’t say for sure. I just remember sort of glancing over when I got out of my car. That van pulled right up to the other car there. I saw one man run around to the driver’s side and another person get in the back.”

  “Adult or a child?” Harris asked, with growing intensity in her tone.

  “I believe it was another adult,” Louise said.

  While her recollection wasn’t perfect, it was better than anything Harris could have hoped for. She looked at Gibbs and asked her to get a statement from Louise if they hadn’t already.

  Staff Sergeant Sykes fidgeted with his radio and then spoke. “From what we’ve seen, it’s unlikely anyone from that Cutlass went into the store. The parking lot was more of a dumping ground than anything else.”

  “Why would they park it in the open like this?” Harris asked. It was a question she had been asking herself since they pulled in. They could have left the Cutlass on the side of any road or anywhere hidden from public view. This was different.

  “I’m going to help Louise with her groceries,” Gibbs said, announcing their leave.

  Harris thanked them both and then handed Louise her card. “Please call if anything comes to mind.”

  “I sure will,” Louise said with a friendly smile.

  They began to walk back toward the store as Sergeant Cummings and Corporal Rodriguez remained in place. Harris felt hopeful that the unexpected tip would lead them somewhere. The kidnapper or kidnappers were on the run. There was no doubt. The main question involved their eventual destination. Her attention returned to the Oldsmobile. The lieutenant was on his knees near the back tire. He had even gotten Staff Sergeant Sykes to assist, hunched down and sliding his hands under the front.

  Standing next to Harris, Sergeant Cummings sighed in exhaustion. “What the hell are they doing?”

  Harris laughed. “Lieutenant Felder wants in the trunk. He’s hoping there’s a spare key hidden somewhere.” Rodriquez and Cummings joined in the laugh. It wasn’t a bad idea, but something about seeing Felder and Sykes scrambling around on their knees brought amusement to an otherwise intense situation.

  Cummings looked around in thought. “I’ve got some tools in my car that’ll pop that trunk right open. Be right back.” He then walked off toward the police cruiser parked at an angle just past the Oldsmobile.

  Harris glanced up and saw a line of police cars driving down the road, sirens wailing. She spotted a tow truck and EMT in the convoy as well. She crouched down toward Felder, waved her hand to get his attention and trying to shout over the noise. “Give it a rest! Sergeant Cummings has tools!”

  Felder suddenly yanked at something under the bumper, scooched out from underneath, and held it up in triumph. “What did I tell you?” he shouted back. He proudly stood up and displayed a tiny magnetic box. Harris remained in place watching as Felder opened the box and grew ecstatic. “There’s a key! Just like I said.”

  Sergeant Sykes jumped to his feet and hurried over, problem solved.

  Cummings and Rodriguez walked past Harris to get a better look as well, but Harris wasn’t satisfied or relieved just yet. Her mind returned to the letter as she pulled it from her coat, unfolding it and reading its ominous text once again. After much deliberation, I’ve decided to start the game once more, it began. Things began to make more sense to Harris as she pondered the reasons behind the Oldsmobile’s exposed location.

  Lieutenant Felder quickly stuck the key into the driver’s side to no avail. He tried the next door and then made his way to the trunk as Harris and the other officers watched. “Looks like that narrows it down,” he announced.

  Harris approached them in anticipation. Once inserted into the trunk lock, the key was a perfect fit. Felder turned it, the lock made a low, satisfying sound and the officers cheered. Harris turned away, momentarily distracted by the roaring convoy that had entered the parking lot.

  She glanced back at the car just as Felder opened the trunk, followed by a faint clicking sound. In the split second that followed, she saw his face freeze in terror as if realizing what he had just seen or done. There was no time to react. The explosion happened almost instantaneously. A searing ball of fire and a deafening blast threw Harris back onto the ground, knocking her head against the pavement.

  The other officers, closer to the car, flew back screaming and flailing. The fire swirled into the air, emitting thick black smoke. The entire back end of the Oldsmobile was ablaze. Glass, wires, and plastic covered the pavement all around it. Harris saw the car lift into the air upon exploding and then drop in a thunderous crash.

  Her vision was blurred and hazy. She felt the heat waft over her, the potent smoke filling her lungs. A throbbing pain seized her back and head. In her momentary bout of disorientation, she didn’t understand what had even happened. The flames got taller as emergency sirens got louder. Before Harris knew it, she was surrounded by police and paramedics new to the scene. They placed an oxygen mask over her face. She tried to speak but couldn’t muster the words. Felder, she thought. Where’s Ken?

  She was helped to her feet as the fire raged twenty feet in front of her. She pulled away from the two male paramedics holding her and stumbled forward. They urged her to stay back, but she rushed ahead, adrenaline pumping through her. The heat intensified the closer she got to the burning car. It felt like a training scenario from the academy but was all too real. She veered behind the car with her shoes crunching on broken glass. Sergeant Sykes, with burns covering his upper body, was unconscious on the ground and being treated.

  Two officers lifted him up onto a stretcher and rushed him away from the scene. Harris dashed ahead, tears stinging as they flowed into facial cuts that she hadn’t even noticed before. Her hair bounced in the air with her quickening pace. She saw someone lying flat on his back at a good distance from the car, probably tossed there by the explosion.

  Surrounding street traffic had nearly come to a halt at the spectacle taking place in the parking lot, which police were now blocking off. Two officers reached the quiet, distant body in question before she could. They went on their knees and examined it. As she neared the men, Harris saw an unrecognizable and burnt b
ody in a charred suit and the remnants of a red tie still showing. Not paying attention to where she was stepping, she tripped and flew to the ground, skinning her knee through her already-tattered pants.

  Harris pushed herself up, gagging from the smoke, as the two officers glanced over to see if she was okay. The unconscious man was short; too short to be the lieutenant, who stood just above six inches. It was then through her concerned eyes that Harris noticed his legs were missing just below the knees. She gasped in pain for him, her heart racing. The man’s face was scorched and blackened. She couldn’t even see his eyes. A scream escaped from her throat, long and rattling, and she felt the arms of the officers quickly pulling her back.

  She was in no condition, they said, to be running around there. The area was far too dangerous for anyone, but especially for her, they implied. Harris fought against them in vain and succumbed to the exhaustion she had been fighting. They pulled her away as two fire trucks roared into the parking lot. Their blaring sirens extinguished every other sound.

  * * *

  After passing out, Harris came to in the back of an ambulance, with cool air blowing onto her face. There were wires suctioned to her chest and an IV running into her wrist via a thick tube and needle. She felt alert and rejuvenated. The back doors were open. Through the haze of drifting smoke, she saw into the parking lot, illuminated by a dozen police cars and the light poles above. The grotesque scent of burnt flesh still lingered. Harris checked herself in a panic. Her coat was gone, the sleeves of her dress shirt were rolled up, and her left arm was bandaged. She felt gauze on her cheek and began to hyperventilate.

  “You’re going to be okay,” a reassuring voice said. She whipped her head to the side, surprised to find a young paramedic sitting beside her. “We’re going to get you out of here soon, okay? You’ve suffered a dangerous level of smoke inhalation. Other than that, we don’t detect any permanent injuries.” He paused as the beeping of the machines around her continued. “You’re extremely lucky to be alive.” A startling memory rushed back to her as she quickly sat up. Lightheaded, she fell back, nearly passing out, as the paramedic urged her to relax. “Please go easy, Detective,” he continued. “Don’t push yourself.”