“According to mom, he’s a model citizen,” Bob responded.
“Right,” Sabre said.
“I’ve been trying to catch up with Shellie Ingraham, the friend of Bailey’s that is listed in the report, but I keep missing her,” JP said. “I think she may be avoiding me.”
“I’m sure you’ll get to her,” Sabre said, as she reached into her briefcase and took out a paper and handed it to JP. “Here’s the memo I wrote after speaking with Bailey yesterday. See what you can find out about the mother’s boyfriend.” Before he could say anything, Sabre added, “And on the Johnson case, follow up on the mom’s story about where she’s been getting her chicken feet and goat blood.”
Bob spoke up. “It was just a little bit of blood. It’s not like she had quarts of it sitting around. She says they were hungry and she bought the cheapest meat she could find to feed the kids. I tend to believe her.”
“Just because chickens have wings don’t mean they can fly,” JP said. “I’ll check it out.” Sabre and Bob both smiled at JP’s Texas slang. They called them “JP-isms.” He seemed to have one for everything.
Sabre asked, “Have you discovered any other friends of Bailey?”
“Not yet. Most of the kids at school are tighter than bark on a tree with their information, but I’ve got a couple of leads that I’m following up today.”
The waiter walked up with the food. Silence ensued as they began to eat, but it wasn’t long before they were in full conversation again about the cases they were all involved in. Bob finally changed the subject. “I’m laying some brick this weekend for the walkway to the new patio in the backyard. What are you two doing?”
JP said, “I’m investigating these new cases.”
“I am too. I’ll be driving all over San Diego County visiting the minors on the Johnson case.”
Bob looked at JP, then at Sabre, and back again. “You two need to get a life.”
8
A good night’s sleep had become foreign to Sabre and last night proved to be no exception. Although it was Saturday, by five o’clock in the morning she was lying wide awake in her bed. The strange cases that were coming into juvenile court were weighing heavily on her mind. Another one had been filed yesterday. It wasn’t her case, but she had been watching the detentions as they came in to see if there was some connection to her own case. They all varied in location and each had only a hint of ritual in them, just like hers with the chicken feet and goat blood. If it hadn’t been for the house with the pentagram and the splattered blood that was shown on the news, Sabre would’ve thought it all nonsense. Fortunately, the small hearts that were found in the refrigerator were from pigs rather than humans, according to the eleven o’clock news last night.
Sabre’s day was fully scheduled with home visits. She had mapped it to spend as little driving time as possible, but with the Johnson children spread all over the county, it would be a full day. Her first visit was scheduled for eight o’clock in Alpine with Blake and Wyatt. From there she would drive to Jamul to see Allie, and then to Chula Vista to see Cole and Hayden in their respective homes. She enjoyed seeing the children, but was already dreading the long drive.
Sabre took her little red notebook out of the nightstand next to her bed. This was a gift from her brother, Ron, and it was where she kept her secret goals. She had been writing in it since she was six years old when she decided her first goal was to marry the little boy who lived next door, Victor Spanoli. It was the only goal she had written that she hadn’t achieved. That and her last one, which was to run a marathon, but she was still training for that. She’d been thinking a lot lately about traveling. She loved to travel and she hadn’t been anywhere in a long time. She had such a hard time getting away from work, but she knew if she scheduled it, she’d make it happen. She picked up a pen and wrote, Travel to Cancun. Her Spanish was good, though not what she’d call fluent, but it would be great practice. She had studied for a while in Guadalajara, but it had been so long ago and her language skills were rusty.
Sabre felt good. She had a new goal and not only would it be fun, it would be educational. Now she just had to come up with a time frame and maybe a traveling companion. After gingerly closing the notebook, she placed it back in the drawer, stood up, and dressed for a morning run.
The cool air in her face and the adrenalin pumping through her helped her forget about work for the next hour. This was her favorite time of year. The summer heat was gone and the weather was perfect. Morning was her favorite time to run, but she usually had to wait until afternoon to fit it into her schedule. Weekends were different. She could go out first thing and then start her work. She didn’t seem to play any more. It was all about completing the next task. Her social life had tanked with her last relationship and she wasn’t sure when she’d be ready to try another. But running was good. Running cleared her head and gave her a new perspective on things. She still had about eight months to train for the next San Diego marathon. But if she picked up her game, she could possibly be ready for the Carlsbad run.
Sabre checked her watch, picked up her speed, and headed home to get ready.
About an hour later, Sabre was driving east on Highway 8 toward Alpine. She turned on the radio and sang along with Taylor Swift, feeling more and more frustrated as she drove toward the home of the two youngest Johnson children. Forty-five minutes later she arrived at the foster home of Blake and Wyatt. The foster mother invited her inside. Sabre heard Wyatt cry as she entered the spotless living area and saw Blake trying to console him.
“Is he okay?” Sabre asked.
The foster mother picked Wyatt up and he started to calm down, still whimpering as she coddled him in her arms. “He cries a lot. Sometimes Blake can soothe him, but most of the time I just have to hold him until he falls asleep.”
“Has he been checked by the doctor?”
“Yes, he’s fine physically.” The foster mother gently stroked Wyatt’s hair. “He’s especially bad at night. I think he just misses his mother. She called last night and he calmed right down when he heard her voice on the phone.”
“Has she seen him since he’s been here?”
“She’s scheduled to come tomorrow, but with all the transfers, it’ll take her about four hours to get here by bus, so I’ve agreed to meet her in El Cajon. That will cut a couple of hours off and she’ll be able to see Allie at the same time. Allie’s foster mother has agreed to bring her because she needed to go that way anyway. I don’t think she’ll make a habit of it because she wasn’t too pleased with the idea.”
Sabre looked at the room where Blake and Wyatt slept. Then she visited with the boys for a while before she started on the road to see Allie. She arrived at the scheduled time but no one answered the door when she knocked. Sabre walked around the big yard, trying to calm the black-and-white, mixed-breed dog that kept barking at her. Sabre went to her car and looked up the phone number to call the foster mother. Just then, a large, white van drove up the driveway.
When the van stopped, five children emptied out of it. Allie ran up to Sabre. “Where’s my brothers?” she asked.
Sabre knelt down on one knee and looked her in the eye. “I just saw your two little brothers and they’re doing great. You’ll be able to see them yourself real soon.”
“I miss my brothers. And my mom, too.”
“Well, I’m going to see your older brothers this afternoon. Is there anything you want me to tell them?”
“Tell them to come see me.” Allie started to follow the foster mother into the house. “And tell them I have a dog named Jingles.”
“I’ll do that.” Sabre went into the house. She was amazed at the contrast between the two foster homes. This one had loose toys lying around, jackets and shoes in odd places, and dirty dishes on an already cluttered counter in the kitchen. This foster mother growled at the kids to pick their things up and take them to their rooms. The last one had such a gentleness in her voice. Sabre wasn’t judging. One didn’t nece
ssarily seem any better than the other; they were just different. And the children seemed to be adjusting about as well as could be expected.
After her visit, Sabre said her goodbyes and drove to see Cole in Chula Vista. The drive customarily took about forty minutes, but her GPS sent her the wrong direction and added another ten minutes to the already maddening drive. Sabre had to park halfway down the block due to all the cars in front of the house. One of them was a police car. Sabre’s heart began to race as she walked up to the house.
A policeman met her at the door. “I’m Sabre Brown, Cole Johnson’s attorney. Is he all right?”
Gillian, the social worker, came out of Cole’s bedroom. “Cole is missing,” she said.
“What do you mean, missing?”
“He apparently ran away.”
“How long has he been gone?” Sabre asked, looking over at the foster mother who was sitting on the sofa crying as the policeman took her statement.
“We think he left in the night,” Gillian said.
“What do you mean, ‘you think he left in the night?’” Sabre’s voice came out a little louder than she intended. “Don’t they know how long he’s been gone?”
“We’re not sure. The foster mother saw him last night just before he went to bed. The other little boy in his room said Cole was gone when he woke up this morning, but he just thought he was somewhere else in the house or outside or something.”
“What time was that?”
“About nine o’clock. Since it was Saturday, the children were allowed to sleep in.”
“Why wasn’t I called?” Sabre asked.
But before Gillian could answer, a detective walked up to Sabre, introduced herself, and said, “We’ve got a full force out there looking for him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
Sabre shook her head. “I’ve only met him once so I don’t know him that well. I do know he’s very close to his siblings and his mother, so if he was trying to find someone, I expect he’d be headed home. But I doubt if he knows his way around here since he grew up in Vista.”
The detective wrote something down on her notepad. “We have someone at his mom’s house right now. He’s not there and it appears he hasn’t been there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Unless she’s lying to us.”
Gillian walked toward where the foster mother was sitting.
The detective spoke again. “The social worker says this is a satanic ritual case. Do you know if it ties into the house with the pentagram that was just on the news?”
“The evidence of satanic ritual abuse consists of a finding of chicken feet and goat blood in the Johnson house. That’s all we have. I have a private investigator on it as well and we haven’t come up with anything else yet. So, I really don’t know anything more than that. It worries me, though, that there may be a connection.” Sabre took a deep breath. “Do you think someone may have kidnapped him?”
“We haven’t ruled it out, but he did take his backpack with him and some food was missing out of the refrigerator. That’s the main reason we think he’s a runaway, but someone could’ve set it up so it just looked that way.”
9
Anxious to finally get to the gym, JP pulled into the parking lot, opened his trunk and placed his Stetson in it, and walked towards the door. His phone rang. Sabre was frantic. She explained to him what she knew about Cole’s disappearance. Before JP even hung up from the call, he had started to walk back toward his car. His workout would have to wait.
JP met Sabre at the foster home so he could obtain first-hand information from the foster family and the investigating officer.
“Does he have any money?” JP asked.
The foster mother shook her head. “Not that I know of. I checked my purse and I still have cash, but I don’t know how much I had. If he did take any, it wasn’t much.”
JP put his arm around Sabre. “Hey, kid, I know you’re worried.”
“What if this satanic ritual thing is real? What if someone has taken him?”
“I know it’s scary and I’m going to do whatever I can. The cops will be looking for foul play so I’m first going to hit the ground looking in places he may be hiding. And I’ll try to follow up on this ritual thing … whatever it is, but we really have very little to go on there.”
JP started his hunt. He canvassed the neighborhood questioning everyone he could, adults and children, but he couldn’t find anyone who knew Cole. He hadn’t been in the home long enough to become acquainted, and no one had seen anything suspicious in the night or early morning.
JP stomped through all the local parks and looked inside the boys’ bathrooms, covered the local school grounds and ball fields, and questioned everyone he saw, but found nothing that led him to Cole. He seemed to have vanished.
Satisfied he wasn’t going to find Cole on his local search, JP called Bob. “I’d like to speak to your client, Cole’s mother, at her home. Would you like to go with me?”
“Sure. I think Mrs. Johnson would appreciate it. We’re all on the same side, at least for the moment.”
“I’m in Chula Vista. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“How about if I meet you in Fashion Valley? It’ll save you a little time. In front of Bloomingdales?”
“That would be great. Who knows how much time we have.”
JP drove to Fashion Valley, picked Bob up, and they started the thirty-minute trek to Vista.
“How is the Mom taking this?” JP asked.
“Like any concerned mother. She’s devastated. She has no car or means to search by herself. Besides, the cops told her to stay home in case he found his way there.”
“You don’t think he has contacted her?”
“I don’t think he could. She has no phone. She used the cop’s phone to call me. The neighbors aren’t real close and besides, she didn’t think Cole had any of the neighbors’ numbers.”
The GPS said to exit on Deer Springs Road and go west. JP followed the road around some curves and then turned right onto another street.
An odor of sulfur filled the air just before they reached a hand-painted sign that said, “Eggs for sale.” In smaller writing scrawled underneath it read, “Chickens too.” About a half mile later they pulled up to a small dilapidated house.
“This is the address,” JP said. “She’s really out in the sticks, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, it’s no wonder she has such a hard time using the bus service to go see her kids.”
Leanne Johnson came out of the house before they reached the door. “Did you find Cole?”
Bob answered, “No, I’m sorry, Leanne. We don’t have any leads yet. That’s why we’re here.” He nodded his head toward JP. “This is JP, a private investigator. He’s working for Cole’s attorney and trying to find your son. He’d like to ask you some questions if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Tears were welling up in Leanne’s already red and swollen eyes. She opened the front door. “Please come in and sit down.”
JP and Bob walked into a small living room with a sofa, chair, and a television smaller than JP had seen in a really long time. It made him feel a little guilty about his forty-two-inch plasma. The kitchen sat off to the left, which was small and meager but clean. JP stuck his head into the kitchen.
“He’s not here. God, I wish he was. You can look around if you’d like. The cops already did that, but feel free.”
JP responded, “No, that won’t be necessary.” He paused. “Unless you think he could’ve gotten in here without you knowing it.”
“The place isn’t that big.”
“Mrs. Johnson, has Cole ever run away before?”
“No, never. He’s a really good boy. Oh, he fights with Hayden a lot, but Hayden usually antagonizes him. And mostly, they just wrestle.”
“What about Cole’s father? Any chance he may have taken Cole from the foster home?”
“That creep. I wish. At least it would be better than Cole being out there all by himself. Alt
hough, just barely, when I think about it.”
“How do you know he’s not with him?”
“His dad’s not around. I’m sure he doesn’t even know where the kids are. He left us about a year ago.”
“What else can you tell us about his father?” JP made a few notes in his notebook. “Do you have an address?”
“No, this was his last address. He’s probably living on the streets. He kept crawling deeper into the bottle, and he had started getting more abusive. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. One night he yanked me around by my arm and pushed me into the stove. I sprained my wrist and burnt my arm.” She pulled her sleeve back to expose the scar from the burn. “The kids were setting him off a lot easier and I was afraid he was going to start hurting them. So the next morning when he was sober, I asked him to leave. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
“What about friends of Cole? Is there anyone close around here that he played with?”
“There’s not really anyone his age close enough to hang out with. He played mostly with his brother, Hayden. And he was a big help around the house. He did a lot of chores for a little guy.”
“What about school friends?”
“There was one kid he talked about a lot. His name is Jacob. But that’s about all I know. He never came to visit Cole, and Cole never went to his house. They just hung out at school.”
“Do you have any relatives that he might contact?”
“There’s no one local. Their dad’s family is from Arkansas and I don’t have much family at all. I have an aunt who lives in Riverside, Aunt Ella.”
“Do you think he might try to call her?”
“He might. He may even remember her number.”
“Would you like to call her to see if she has heard from him?” JP handed her his cell phone.
The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction Page 4