Thrilling Thirteen

by Ponzo, Gary

  “Any chance Mallory might have got to the dock?”

  “No. The gate is always kept locked and we have an alarm.”

  Detective Cooper retrieved a notepad from his khaki pants. “Sorry if these are repeat questions. I’m sure Officer Valencia did a thorough job going over everything.”

  Rachel chewed nervously on her thumbnail. A bad habit she acquired in college she had tried numerous times to shake with expensive weekly manicures.

  “Is there anything unusual that happened this morning - something outside of your normal routine, maybe?” he asked gently.

  “My nanny called in sick,” Rachel answered almost robotically.

  Detective Cooper glanced at the copy of the report that Officer Valencia left for him. “Lupe Gonzalez? She’s your nanny?”

  “She called me about an hour before she was supposed to arrive – said she had a stomach bug.”

  “We’ll send an officer over to her house to interview her. This is her correct address?” Detective Cooper showed her the copy of the police report.

  Rachel nodded. Numbness ran through her bones. Her life was a nightmare that waking couldn’t cure. Her eyes began to well up again. She felt a warm hand atop hers. Looking up, her eyes met Detective Cooper’s, which were marked with genuine concern.

  “Mrs. Scott? I’ve been working missing person’s cases for over twenty years. The first twenty-four hours are the most crucial. I promise you that I’ll do everything possible to help bring your daughter home. I know it’s hard right now, but the sooner you can answer all my questions, the better.”

  Her cell phone vibrated on the placemat in front of her, dancing across the table. The caller I.D. showed it was her husband, Rick.

  “Rachel, I got your message. What’s going on?” Rick’s voice rang through the receiver with concern.

  “It’s Mallory.” Rachel choked on her words. “She’s…she’s missing. Our baby is…gone.”

  Chapter 3

  Rachel cried into a lavender pillow on the leather chair in her living room. Maggie, their black Labrador puppy, sat aloof at her feet. Her husband, Rick, was perched on the couch opposite her and gave the never-used marble fireplace a detached stare. His suit was badly wrinkled and his red tie hung loose around his neck. It had been twelve hours since Rachel last saw their daughter. For the first time since Mallory was born, Rick and Rachel occupied the house alone.

  “It’s getting dark outside,” Rachel said, growing sick of the gut-wrenching silence. Neither of them had said a word since the last cop left nearly an hour ago. “She doesn’t have Millie or her princess blanket,” she whispered, referring to Mallory’s stuffed mermaid doll and her favorite blanket she refused to sleep without.

  Rick stood up and slogged over to a hefty oak and brass wet bar they kept in the corner of the living room. Methodically, he opened the cabinet, grabbed a crystal bottle filled with amber liquid and poured it into a lowball glass waiting for him atop the bar. He grabbed a couple of ice cubes, hesitated and then decided he’d rather feel the full effect of the burn. “Rach, we’ve got to keep positive. Worrying is not going to bring her back.”

  “It’s my fault. I should’ve never left her outside. What was I thinking?” Rachel hugged the pillow close to her body.

  Rick downed his glass of scotch, making his eyes water for the first time since he’d been back. It was not as if he weren’t tremendously sad – he was, in fact, exasperated with sadness – it was just his way of coping; he rarely cried. Yet, he brushed the tears from his face – catalyzed by the scotch, undoubtedly, but his daughter’s disappearance definitely finished the job - and lumbered back to his wife, taking a seat on the armrest next to her. “How long were you gone?”

  “I told you. Just one minute. I heard the phone ring. I ran inside, picked up the phone, saw I missed your call, and ran back out. Why do you keep asking me?” Rachel looked into her husband’s eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Of course I believe you. Maybe you’re just forgetting some detail...something that may help us find her.”

  “I’ve been over this in my mind a million times with a million different people. I know what happened.”

  “Did you leave the door open?”

  “Huh?”

  “When you ran inside, did you leave the door open?”

  “Yes, of course. The door was open.”

  “Could you see Mallory from where you were?”

  Rachel paused and closed her eyes for a second. “No.”

  “What about Maggie?” Rick asked, pointing at the puppy which had raised her head to the sound of her name.

  “She was in her kennel.”

  “Where was the phone?” he asked, referring to the portable phone. It wasn’t unusual for it to find a home in between the couch cushions or atop the bathroom sink.

  “What does it matter?”

  “I’m just trying to get this straight in my head.”

  “The phone was on the kitchen counter, next to the sink, where I left it when Lupe called earlier.”

  “Did you do anything else while you were in the house?”

  Rachel sighed, frustrated. “No, Rick! I grabbed it, saw that you called, and ran back outside. Less than two minutes, Rick! That’s it!”

  “How long before you called the cops?”

  “Within a half hour.” Rachel stood up and started pacing the living room. Her baby blue Juicy Couture track suit still had grass stains on the knees where she had knelt down on the lawn, crying out for her missing daughter. “What are you doing Rick? Do you think I did this on purpose? I know it’s my fault!” She cracked and collapsed on the rug, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Rick watched the bawling heap that was his wife and immediately regretted questioning her unduly. What was he thinking? She’d heard it all, before now. He squatted beside her and rubbed her back. “Of course not, I’m just trying to help. It’s not your fault. I was looking at this from every angle. No more questions, I promise.” He lifted her from the floor and placed her gingerly on the couch. She was shivering as though the Bering Sea flowed through her, despite the South Florida heat that shrouded them. “You’re shaking, why don’t you take a Valium? Try and get some rest.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to be out of it if the detective calls us,” she said, sniffling.

  Rick fetched a glass of water from the wet bar and set it on the coffee table in front of her. “Just take half of it then. It will help calm you down.” He handed her a tiny yellow pill.

  “My parents should be here soon,” Rachel said, pocketing the pill. “I want to be awake when they get here.”

  “Fine. I need to make a few phone calls in my office. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

  Rachel sat up rapidly and scowled at Rick. “What phone calls? What’s more important than finding our daughter?”

  “Rach, we’re just sitting here, doing nothing but waiting - which is just what the detective asked us to do. I need to check in with Bruce. If we let the rest of our life pile up on us, we won’t be able to focus on finding Mallory. There’s nothing we can do right now. I’ll use my cell phone so the home line is free.” Rick leaned over and kissed Rachel on the forehead. “Why don’t you eat something? I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  Rachel decided against arguing further. She watched her husband fix another drink and hurry upstairs, his scotch splashing onto the ivory staircase along the way. She tried hard not to be mad at him, but their daughter was missing and he was worried about the new dealership opening in Orlando. She was on the verge of pulling out her hair in frustration. Rachel wanted to do something. If she desired to find their little girl she would have to be fecund. Something, no, anything, would be more productive than sitting here worrying.

  She stretched the stiffness from her legs, stood up and wandered into the kitchen to make some tea. In spite of the awful day, she yearned to be delighted that Dianna had left a plate of her favorite sandwiches and cookies in the refrigera
tor. She pulled out an egg salad sandwich and put it on a plate, feigning a smile. Then, going through the motions, she made a cup of chamomile tea. She stirred honey into her mug and fought valiantly to fend off thoughts of the misery of the last twelve hours. But memories, good and bad, kept circulating through her head. It was a continuous loop that brought only despair, and alas, her appetite vanished and she threw the sandwich into the trash with defeat.

  Rachel hadn’t taken her first sip of the tea when a knock at the door forced her lips away from the mug, which crashed to the floor in her fit of surprise. She ignored the shards of ceramic floating in the yellow-brown puddle on the floor and rushed to the door. Upstairs, she heard Rick ending a phone call as his heavy footsteps reverberated down the hall. She didn’t wait for him to join her before opening the door.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Scott. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Officer Valencia said, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “It’s okay. Is it Mallory?” Rachel asked. She held her breath.

  “We’re still looking for her. Detective Cooper is on his way here. There’s something he’d like to discuss with you. May I?” Officer Valencia gestured to come inside.

  “Of course,” Rachel barely sounded out, distraught.

  “Rachel?” Rick asked from halfway down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s Officer Valencia,” she replied.

  Rachel motioned for Officer Valencia to follow her into the kitchen and asked him to excuse her mess. She grabbed a broom and dust pan from the pantry and began sweeping up the white shards of ceramic.

  “What happened?” Rick asked, walking into the kitchen.

  “Just an accident, honey. Officer Valencia nearly made me jump through the roof.” Rachel clutched the broom tightly.

  Officer Valencia blushed in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry about that. And please, call me Eddy.”

  “Well, Eddy,” Rick started. “What are you guys doing to find my daughter? Shouldn’t you be out looking for her? Dusting for fingerprints or something?”

  “Rick!” Rachel gasped at her husband’s sudden rudeness.

  “It’s okay,” Eddy said. “I understand your frustration, but we’re doing everything we can to find Mallory. And…” he trailed off.

  “And?” Rick said impatiently. He puffed out his chest, holding an imposing figure in the room. “And what, Eddy? What’s going on?”

  “I should wait until Detective Cooper gets here.” Eddy observed the fury building in Rick’s eyes and stammered, “But, well…we found something.”

  Chapter 4

  A Barbie doll lay on the table in a clear plastic bag with a red seal. For Rachel, it was surreal to see this doll with her plastic pink smile, bright turquoise eye shadow and perfectly coiffed red hair staring back at her. The doll was perpetually happy, but its owner was lost and scared.

  “It’s her doll.” Rachel stared at the bag. “I bought it for her last week.” She recognized the deep red hair on the doll. “Just like my hair, mommy!” Mallory had said when she saw it on the toy aisle shelf.

  “Mallory was playing with this doll this morning?” Detective Cooper asked.

  Rachel put her hands to the side of her temples and tried to rub away the beginnings of a migraine. “Mallory was playing with her dolls while I worked. She has a basket full of them.” The numbness returned full force again. She felt cold. Scared. Glancing at the clock on the stove top, she realized it was almost ten o’clock. Mallory would’ve had her dinner by now. She would’ve had her bath. She would’ve been tucked in under the covers. Rachel would’ve read Mallory’s favorite bedtime stories to her. Mallory would’ve been safe in her pink princess bedroom. Rachel laid her head on the table and cried, once again.

  “Can you get the basket and let’s go through it to make sure?” Detective Cooper asked Rick.

  While they were waiting, the intercom buzzed on the wall at the end of the kitchen counter. The neighborhood security system was tied into all of the homes in Bal Harbour. Security could check-in visitors at the front gate and interact with the homeowners through the intercom system. Owners could also page security through the intercom for assistance, like Rachel had earlier when she couldn’t find Mallory. The security office immediately closed all the gates to traffic once Rachel called, but it was obviously too late. Somehow, someone was able to slip in and out without detection.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Scott? You have visitors. Frank and Glenda Brown.”

  “Thanks Earl, you can let them in.” In all the confusion, Rachel forgot to call security to let them know that her parents were coming. With Mallory missing, security was even tighter at the gate. Police officers were still patrolling the neighborhood. Neighbors, especially those with children, had their doors locked and alarms set. Like whoever took her would be coming back, Rachel thought to herself.

  Rick came back, a pink wicker basket in his arms. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for.” He sat it gently on the table. “They all look alike.”

  Rachel began the process of sifting through all the dolls. After a few moments of looking, she shook her head. “It’s not in here.”

  “It wouldn’t be anywhere else in the house?” Detective Cooper asked.

  “I looked in her bedroom and the bathroom. It’s clean.” Rick sat down beside his wife, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

  “It’s Mallory’s doll. I know it.” Rachel covered her face with her hands.

  “Where did you find it?” Rick asked Detective Cooper.

  “A couple of miles down the road on Biscayne Boulevard. One of the county road workers found it while cutting the grass. He put it in his pocket to give to his daughter. When he got home, he showed it to his wife who had been watching the news about Mallory’s disappearance. She called the station after she realized the close proximity of where the doll was found to where your house is located and reported it.”

  “How did it end up there?” Rick wondered aloud.

  “Might have been tossed out a vehicle’s window,” Eddy took a stab in the dark.

  Rachel stood up, frantic. “We have to go. What if Mallory is still around there?”

  “We have a several officers out there now. Soon we’ll have a search team in place.” Detective Cooper placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Can you provide us with some clothing that Mallory recently wore? Something we can give the search team to work with?”

  Rick stood up. “I’ll get her pajamas.”

  Rachel waited until Rick was out of earshot. She lowered her voice and directed her question to Detective Cooper. “What are the chances we’ll find Mallory? And don’t give me any bullshit to placate me.”

  Detective Cooper sighed. “The first twenty-four hours are the most critical. Ninety-nine percent of missing children are usually found within that time frame.”

  Rachel slowly nodded; a single tear ran down her cheek. “It’s been over twelve hours.”

  “We’re doing everything we can,” Detective Cooper repeated the well-worn mantra of law enforcement everywhere.

  Rick brought down a pair of pajamas and handed them to Detective Cooper.

  “Thank you. We’ll be in touch soon.” Detective Cooper put the frilly pink pajamas in plastic bag and handed it off to Officer Valencia before heading toward the door.

  “Wait,” said Rachel.

  Detective Cooper turned on a dime. “Yes, Mrs. Scott?”

  “What about the security tapes at the guard gate? Did they see anyone just before the gates closed?”

  “Nothing unusual, just residents and some work trucks. We’re checking everyone out.”

  “Oh,” Rachel sounded disappointed. Work trucks were always in and out of Bal Harbour. “Thank you, Detective.”

  Detective Cooper started for the door again then stopped. Outside they heard tires screech and doors slam. Everyone’s attention focused on the door as it burst open without notice.

  Rachel ran over to her parents and collapsed in her father’s arms.
>
  Chapter 5

  Rachel lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her thoughts were bouncing from one thing to another. She tried to calm her frantic mind and thought back to the first time she met Rick. It was a beautiful spring afternoon and she was perusing a car dealership in Coral Gables. As a real estate agent, she had helped facilitate the sale of a defunct shopping mall with a price tag in the millions. This had been her biggest commission check to date and she thought it was time to get rid of the old clunker that saw her through college. She was checking the price tag that hung from the driver’s side mirror of a used SUV when a salesman approached her from behind.

  “This is a real beauty.” The salesman slapped his hand on the top of the roof.

  Rachel turned and studied the man. He was taller than her, around six feet, on the lean side, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. His lips were full, like clovers, and he had a slight dimple in his chin. He reminded her of a young Harrison Ford. His name tag read ‘Rick Scott’. Being in sales herself, she knew how to handle the average pushy peddler.

  “I’m sure it is,” she replied, swift at the tongue.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked, far from phased.

  “A nice, reliable SUV with low miles.”

  Rick nodded toward the white Nissan that she drove onto the lot. “Are you trading that in?”

  “Depends. Let’s talk price on that one.” She pointed over to a sleek, charcoal Lexus. She had already done her homework, coming by the lot at night when the dealership was closed. Running the vehicle specifications by her dad and looking up the Blue Book value on the SUV.

  “List price is twenty-nine thousand. Want to take her for a spin?”

  A few minutes later, Rachel was behind the wheel of a barely-used luxury SUV, flying down the interstate. She took comfort in knowing she would now have a respectable vehicle to tote her clients around in. But the best part was she could afford to pay cash for it and have plenty of money left over to pad her savings account.