by Rita Herron
He shook his head, his face full of misery. “I figured they’d just snuck off to the park down the way. So, I got in the car and rode down there, and looked all over, but they weren’t there either.”
Panic tinged his voice. Will felt his own rising as he listened. If it was Piper, he’d be out of his mind with worry.
“I decided maybe they’d snuck some cash and walked to the store to buy snacks, so I drove to the quick market, but clerk hadn’t seen ‘em. Kept telling myself maybe they’d come home so I drove back here, but Phyllis was hysterical. Said she hadn’t heard a word. She’d looked in their room and the girls’ backpacks were gone.”
Will offered the man a sympathetic look, although if something bad had happened to the girls, the parents would be prime suspects. Howard Darling was a big man. He imagined if Darling was angry, he could be formidable.
He stood. “May I look around in the girls’ room?”
Darling pushed to his feet with a groan and rubbed at his bad leg. “Down the hall.”
The sound of Mrs. Darling’s crying echoed through the hallway as he followed the man into a small room. Three single beds lined the walls, one covered in a yellow spread with butterflies, one purple with blue and pink stripes, and the other bright orange.
“Was anything missing other than the girls’ backpacks?” Will asked.
“Not that I know of,” Darling replied.
“How about clothes? Make up or toiletries?” If they’d taken those, maybe the girls had run away.
“I don’t think so,” Darling said. “But my wife would know better. I stayed out of my girls’ personal things.”
Will acknowledged his comment and wondered if he could believe the man. Something about the time lapse and the parents insisting their daughters didn’t have friends didn’t feel right.
He gave a pointed look at the man’s fists. “Mr. Darling, how did your hands get bruised?”
Alarm flashed in the man’s eyes as he glanced down at his knuckles. “Working on my pick-up.”
Will gave a non-committal response. The question had definitely triggered a panicked response.
“I’m gonna check on Phyllis.” Mr. Darling fled toward the back room as if desperate to escape Will’s interrogation.
Will mentally catalogued every nuance of the couple’s behavior to scrutinize later if needed. Time to search the daughters’ room now.
He walked over and examined the bulletin boards above the girls’ beds.
Butterflies cut from art paper were tacked on the board above the bedding with the butterfly theme. There were also several pictures of dogs clipped from magazines. She’d drawn a circle around a small poodle and written – this is the one I want. Polly.
His heart tugged. Piper had begged for a dog last year for Christmas, but Betsy refused, saying she didn’t have time for an animal with Will gone all the time.
Maybe this year…
Above the purple covered bed hung a board with a movie ticket stub. Flier about a school dance. School paper clipping about the 4-H club. A shot of the park that had been taken with a Polaroid camera. A school math paper, grade A+. The middle daughter Deborah’s.
The third bulletin board held magazine pictures of a boy rock band, along with photographs from a fashion magazine. Candace’s.
He checked the desk drawers for a note indicating where the girls might have gone or signs they’d been communicating with friends their parents knew nothing about.
No diary. No secret box of love notes. No pages with boys’ names scribbled on them as if one of them had a crush.
If there was anything indicating their plans, they hadn’t left evidence of it behind. And if they’d taken their backpacks with them as the Darlings claimed, they’d walked out of the house on their own volition.
Damn. He’d have to ask Mr. Darling for permission to search phone records. Maybe one of the daughters had made plans over the phone last night.
Twelve, fourteen and sixteen –vulnerable ages for girls.
And the perfect ages for predators to target.
Will checked the windows. Locked. No signs of forced entry.
“You done in here?” Howard Darling asked from the doorway.
“For now.” Will followed the man back to his den. The house was quiet, almost an eerie quiet. No TV. No radio. Just the creak of the old wood floor as he walked across it, and the wind whistling through the eaves of the house. “Your wife okay?”
“She’s a wreck,” Mr. Darling admitted. “I told her I’d handle things, for her to get some rest.”
People handled trauma in different ways. If his kid was missing, there was no way Will could take a nap. But the girls’ mother had been drinking. “How is your marriage, Mr. Darling?”
Mr. Darling’s face turned red, and he clenched his fists. His eyes darted toward Will. “My marriage is fine, and none of your business.”
Will let the silence stand for a minute. “Again, I didn’t mean to offend you, but understanding the family dynamics might offer insight as to whether your daughters ran away or if they were lured away by someone else.”
Emotions darkened Darling’s face.
“Did you and your daughters get along?” Will continued.
“When they were little, I used to play catch with ‘em and take ‘em fishing.” Darling said. “But they’re teenagers now and don’t want to hang out with me anymore. They closed up in their room and listened to music and kept to themselves.”
“Typical for teenagers,” Will admitted. He used to kick the soccer ball around with Piper, and they’d make elaborate sandcastles on the beach. When had they stopped doing those things?
“Sometimes girls clash with their mothers,” Will said. “Did your wife and daughters get along?”
Darling glanced at the hallway leading to the bedroom. What was he hiding? “They did fine. Phyllis is a good mother.”
And the girls were good girls, according to her. Except Will sensed everything wasn’t as good as they kept insisting.
Talking to the neighbors and the girls’ teachers would offer more insight into the family. Typically, if a parent was abusive, he focused the abuse/anger on one child..
Will didn’t see signs of a struggle in the house. No blood or indication that Darling had killed his daughters here.
“Mr. Darling,” Will said. “Has anyone been out to the house to do repairs recently? Maybe a painter or gardener or even a cable or power company employee?”
The man scrunched his face as if thinking, then shook his head. “I work construction, so I take care of repairs around here.”
“Are you currently working a job?”
Darling knotted his hands in front of him. “Afraid not. Hard during the winter.”
Will gave an understanding nod. If Mr. Darling had done something to his daughters, a construction site would have been the perfect place to bury their bodies. Of course, he could have dumped a body or bodies at an old work site.
“How about your wife? Does she work outside the home?”
“She cleans houses,” he said.
Will fought surprise. The woman certainly didn’t use her skills in her own home. Dust coated the end tables by the sofa, the bookshelf was cluttered, and something sticky was on the floor in the hall.
“What does her job or mine have to do with finding our girls?” Darling grumbled.
“Maybe nothing,” Will said. “But it’s important I know everything possible about your family and daughters, so I can explore all angles.” He paused. “One more question. Did either one of your daughters have a boyfriend? Or maybe a guy they were interested in at school?”
Darling’s face turned ruddy. “No, they weren’t into boys. They had too much studying to do.”
Either he had buried his hand in the sand or he was in denial. Or he knew something
he didn’t want to divulge.
“Can you think of any place the girls might go? Did they like the library or the park? Was there a favorite place you took them as kids?”
“We used to crab out at the marsh,” Darling said. “But I checked there already.”
“I’ll have people check again.” Will removed his card and laid it on the table. “I want to talk to the grandmother, and your neighbors and the teachers at school. Maybe they can help.”
Darling rubbed a hand over his eyes, took the card and studied it. He looked miserable as if he was about to break down.
“I need the grandmother’s name and contact information,” Will said. “And a list of all your past work sites.”
Darling’s brows climbed his forehead. “What for?”
“Just to check in case the girls decided to go there.”
Darling’s mouth tightened, but he snagged a scrap of paper from the table and scribbled a name and address on it. With a grunt, he listed two different work sites near Pooler.
Will thanked him. “Call me if you think of anything else or if you hear from your daughters. I’m going to take a look around outside.”
Darling opened his mouth as if to argue, then snapped it closed and nodded. Will let himself out. If the girls had run away, they might come back on their own.
But if they’d been lured from the house and kidnapped, the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours were key to finding them.
Several hours had already passed. The clock was ticking.
Will phoned the chief as soon as he walked the Darling’s property and asked him to have someone check out Darling’s past work sites for the girls’ bodies.
He’d hoped to find a note dropped from a backpack in the back yard, a phone number of a friend, an address where the girls planned to meet someone.
But nothing.
“What’s the verdict?” Chief Mantino asked. “Did those girls show up?”
“Not yet, and the parents haven’t heard anything. Mother is a wreck. Not sure about the father. He seems upset, but that could be guilt talking.”
“You think he did something to his daughters?”
“Too early to say, although I sensed he was hiding something. I’m sending pics over for you to pass onto authorities and the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.”
“Of course. I checked, and you may be right. There was a call about a domestic disturbance at that house a few months ago. No charges were filed, but I’m reviewing the report now. Officer who answered the call said the couple had definitely been fighting. The Darlings couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.”
So, his suspicions about Howard Darling might be spot on. “We need to organize a search team to comb the marsh, parks, the Village, and the beaches.”
“I’ll get on it,” Chief Mantino said.
“I’ll talk to the grandmother and neighbors and try to get in contact with teachers at the school to see if they can fill me in on the family. The father and mother claim the girls didn’t have friends over to their house, but –”
“Teenagers lie to their parents,” the chief said.
He thought of Piper and prayed she never pulled a stunt like sneaking out. “Exactly.”
Although the holiday was going to make it more complicated to track down teachers, but he’d find someone at the school who would talk.
“I’ll have Roberta call you with contact information for the school,” Chief Mantino said. “Meanwhile I’ll work on organizing that search party.”
Will scanned the ground, the carport and outside the girls’ bedroom window. No signs they’d snuck out through the window or sign of a break-in. “Alert port authorities, train and bus stations, too,” Will said.
“On it. Keep me posted.”
Will hung up, then surveyed the neighborhood. The houses were set about a half-acre apart. The closest one to the Darlings was a gray ranch with overgrown bushes dividing the property. On the other side, a dilapidated white ranch looked vacant.
He backed onto the street, then drove to the neighbor’s and parked. Christmas lights still dangled from the awning of the house, a plastic wreath on the door. He hadn’t noticed any signs of holiday decorations at the Darlings. Then again, some folks took theirs down as soon as Christmas was over. And others didn’t bother to decorate.
He was guilty of that. Why decorate a tree just for himself? It would only be a reminder that he was alone for the holiday, that his family was broken. Like Humpty Dumpty, he didn’t know how to put it back together again.
He’d have to figure it out later. The case took precedence.
He knocked on the door, his badge in hand as it opened. A middle-aged woman with curly brown hair peered at him over wire rimmed glasses. She introduced herself as Mrs. Beverly Clemson.
Will quickly explained about the missing girls.
Alarm crossed her face, and she averted her gaze. “I haven’t seen them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Darling claim they attended a party last night and were gone all evening. They didn’t arrive home till three a.m. The girls were home alone.”
She pursed her lips in a frown.
“Did you see or hear anyone over there last night? Perhaps the girls had friends over or a boyfriend showed up?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I go to bed early. About ten o’clock. Everything seemed quiet. It’s not always like that though.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“They get into it over there sometimes,” she said. “Especially when Phyllis takes to drinking.”
“Did you ever report this to the police?” Will asked.
She shivered, fear flickering across her face. “Once, but the cops didn’t do anything. The next day though Mr. Darling came over and threatened me.”
Will tensed. “Tell me exactly what happened? Did he get physical?”
“Well, no,” she said, her voice warbling. “But he told me to stay out of his family’s business or I’d be sorry.”
That certainly sounded like a threat.
“Do you live here alone?” Will asked.
She nodded. “My husband passed two years ago. Colon cancer.” Sadness darkened her face. “He was a good man.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Ma’am.” Will paused while she collected herself. “Mrs. Clemson, was Mr. Darling abusive to his wife or daughters?”
She clenched the door edge with a white-knuckled grip. “I…can’t say for sure.”
“But you suspected he was?”
Wariness darkened her eyes as if she was still afraid of the man. Then she gave a small nod. “I stayed away from them though because of what he said.” Tears filled her eyes. “But if something happened to those children because I didn’t call the law again, I’ll never forgive myself.”
God. He patted her hand. “This is not your fault. At this point, we don’t know what happened. The girls could have snuck out to meet friends and be hiding out somewhere.” Maybe too afraid to come home and face their father’s wrath.
He pushed his card into her hand. “Call me if you think of anything else.” He cut his gaze toward the Darlings. “Or if he bothers you.”
She clamped her teeth over her lower lip, then closed the door. The sound of locks being moved in place echoed behind him as he walked back to his SUV.
If the neighbor was afraid of Mr. Darling, his daughters might have been as well.
He drove to the grandmother’s next. She lived in a retirement community about two miles from the Darlings. The apartments were built of tabby and looked old, although the property looked well maintained. A groundskeeper was picking up limbs that had snapped off in a storm.
The grandmother introduced herself as Effie Litman and offered him coffee and teacakes as she led him into a s
mall living room that overflowed with her collection of ceramic cats.
Will accepted the coffee, touched by the elderly woman’s attempt at social graces, but shook his head at the teacakes.
“I know you came about the girls,” she said, her chin quivering. “I’m terrified that something happened to them.”
“I understand.” He joined her at the small kitchen table and noted the dishcloths and tablecloth were also embroidered with cats. “Mr. and Mrs. Darling thought the girls might have come to see you. Do they drop by often?”
She blinked back tears and stirred sugar into her coffee. “No, I wish they’d come more. I get so lonely here.”
His heart squeezed. “How about your daughter? Does she come regularly?”
Effie shook her head. “She has to work, you know.”
“She cleans houses?” he said.
She nodded and ran a feeble looking hand over her graying hair, hair she wore in a bun. “I wish she stayed home more. Girls need their mothers.”
“Were the girls and Mrs. Darling close?”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, her hand shaking as she dropped it into her lap. “I think they had issues,” she said. “But my daughter loved her children. She was hysterical when she called me this morning.”
He reached out and patted her hand. “I understand this is difficult, but anything you can tell me about the family might help. Do you think the girls would run away from home?”
She lifted her head, silence stretching between them. When she looked back at him, confusion clouded her eyes. “What were we talking about?”
Will sighed. “Your missing granddaughters.”
She shot up, knocking the table with her sudden movement. Coffee slashed onto the table and the cup rattled. “What do you mean? My granddaughters are missing?”
Will frowned.
“Your daughter called this morning. The girls – “
She swung her hand toward the door. “I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but you need to leave before I call the police.”
“Effie, I am a detective,” Will said, troubled by her agitation. “I need you to tell me about your daughter and her husband.”