by J. R. Tate
“Thank you for your time,” Charlie said, forcing a smile. Maybe if he killed him with kindness, he’d be more willing to give up some information. As he walked down the street, he noted the name on the mailbox. Gentry. Maybe he could do some digging and see if there was anyone by that name in Skylar’s class. This all felt strange. And he wasn’t about to give up because this guy was unwilling to cooperate with him.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie drove by the school, attempting to be inconspicuous. How was he going to ask about students named Gentry without looking like a creeper? With the way security was now, they’d have him in custody so fast that his head would spin. Detective Garza had probably made the office staff aware of him and they were waiting to pounce if he showed up. Not to mention, if he got caught around the school, the cops would say he was scoping out another victim.
The thought made his skin crawl. The fact that there were real people like that out in the world made his worry for Skylar heighten. He hated that he didn’t know her friends that well. This was all a rude awakening that he should have been closer with her, and he wasn’t. Hopefully it wasn’t too late, but with each day that passed, his faith in finding her was dwindling.
He thought twice about stopping at the school. Now wasn’t the time to do it, so he drove away, unsure of what his next move was. Would Cassie know if she had a friend by that name? He really needed to get into her Facebook. Maybe he’d go back to his place and try again. It was a shame that the cops got hold of the journal. That was key to his daughter, even if he would have to decipher some of it before understanding what she was writing.
Back at the house he went ahead and grabbed the lone beer in the back of the refrigerator and screwed the lid off, tossing the cap into the sink with a clank. Sitting in front of the laptop again, he thought about the password. Did she write down a B or an eight? He attempted the eight first, and the same warning popped up, informing him had the wrong credentials. Attempting the B, the message box didn’t pop up, and the page switched to a different page that had her picture and several others.
It took Charlie a second to realize he was in – and a bit longer to even know how to maneuver within the program. So many posts and pictures, and people talking about drama – why in the hell would anyone want to mess with this?
After looking around for a moment, he felt like an idiot. What exactly was the point of this? There were “friends” of Skylar’s talking about subjects he hoped his own daughter never did, but when he clicked on the icon that looked like mail, it opened up a page that was similar to email, with several messages from people.
He felt like he was violating his daughter’s privacy, but he shoved the hesitation aside. In a normal situation, he would have never done this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
He scanned through the messages, looking for the last name Gentry or why there would be any mention of the address she had jotted down. Toward the bottom of the page, his eyes stopped on a name – Mitchell G. The picture didn’t look like the man he had spoken to earlier, but it was the closest thing to Gentry he had ran across.
Clicking on the messages, he started at the beginning of the conversation.
Mitchell G. – So when we gonna meet?
Skylar – I gotta sneak out. My parents won’t let me out to see u.
Mitchell G. – Why?
Skylar – Because u r too old.
Mitchell G. – I’m 17. Only three years older.
Charlie took a long swig of his beer, ignoring the stale flavor. At least it was numbing some of his emotion. This Mitchell G., whoever he was, was working hard to lure his daughter in. This couldn’t be the beginning of their talking, so where was the initial conversation? Probably on her damn phone. Or at school. If he found this guy, he’d kill him with his bare hands. Continuing to read, it was like looking at a bad accident – it was unpleasant, but he had to press on.
Skylar – I don’t know…
Mitchell G. – C’mon, babe. It’ll be fun.
Skylar – Where do u live?
And that’s when the Mitchell G. person gave her the address she had written down in her journal. Charlie stared at the screen like it was a different language, his hand on the mouse, not moving as he read the address several times. Was the G for Gentry? The picture didn’t match – it was a young, good-looking kid, but that didn’t matter. You could post a picture of anything, and young girls were more likely to respond of the picture was of someone attractive.
The conversation ended after he sent the address. Charlie printed the messages, clutching the paper like it was a million dollars. He considered going to Detective Garza, but would he take it seriously? He’d harp on the fact that Charlie was doing his own investigation instead of taking the lead and running. There were so many ways to refute it. She was a teenager – they talked to boys. This could be legitimate, but it didn’t explain the man at the address lying and saying he had a daughter. That was enough to be was suspicious. Why didn’t the guy mention he had a son to make it more plausible? Maybe Charlie had caught him off guard. Maybe the guy thought Charlie was an idiot.
He noticed the date of the message. It was the day before Skylar had gone missing. Did she use the opportunity of being home alone to sneak over? But that didn’t explain the shattered phone. Something wasn’t adding up. Maybe she had no intention of meeting him and he somehow found her.
Before confronting the suspicious character, he wanted to talk to Cassie. Chances were she had no idea this was going on, but if there was anything Charlie was learning about his daughter and his ex wife, was that they kept more from him than he ever could have anticipated.
Not willing to waste time, he went to Cassie’s place. He had just been there a few hours ago, and hopefully she had stayed put. And hopefully she wasn’t too high to function.
He was shocked when she answered the door, still in the same pajamas she had been in when he picked up his truck. She looked slightly coherent, but the living room was full of smoke that lingered right at eye level, and Charlie waved his hand in front of his face to clear some of it away.
“Cassie, I need to talk to you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about Skylar. I think I might’ve found something.”
“Let me get a sweater.”
Cassie pulled one from a pile of laundry in the corner, and by the stains on the front, Charlie was willing to bet it was dirty. Stepping on the porch, she hugged the sweater around her. It was huge, but one that used to fit her appropriately.
“Why are you here again, Charlie?”
“Do you know if Skylar was talking to a guy named Mitchell?”
She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Are you still playing cop? Leave finding her to the real ones. You’re just going to screw something up.” She reached for the doorknob, but Charlie stopped her.
“Is the name Mitchell familiar to you, Cassie? Please. Please take a second to think about it.”
“No. She never mentioned the name to me. Why?”
Charlie debated on whether or not to tell her. With the shape she was in, it probably wouldn’t register in her brain anyway.
“She was messaging a guy named Mitchell G. on Facebook.” He handed over the printed copy of the conversation. “Apparently this guy is a little older and she was going to sneak off to see him.”
Cassie’s eyes scanned the paper. “So she has a boyfriend. That doesn’t mean he took her.”
“There’s more to it, but I just wanted to make sure with you before I…” He took a deep breath. Before he did what? He had no idea what he needed to do next, but at least he had something solid to think about.
“Does Detective Garza know?”
“No.” It dawned on Charlie that Cassie was likely going to run to the cops and tell them about this. Now he’d probably have to go to them with the information before she did to cover his own ass.
“You gonna tell them?”
“I don’t know, C
assie.” Her lack of concern bothered him. He never once considered she’d be involved in harming her own daughter, but suddenly he felt suspicious of everyone, including her. It was a fleeting thought, a stupid consideration, and he couldn’t be that desperate to think it, despite her accusations toward him. He knew Cassie better than that. She was in some trouble, but before the drugs, she had been a good mother to his children.
“I’m going back inside. Don’t come here again,” she said, slamming the door with a loud bang that rocked the wind chimes beside it.
Charlie got back in the truck and had to process everything. This was a potentially dangerous situation and he was going at it alone. How soon would Cassie notify the detectives? She could have gotten on the phone right then to let them know, so he drove to the station.
When he parked and got out, he questioned what he was doing there. It was a momentary lapse of judgment, but maybe if he kept them on the same page, they’d be less likely to haul him in on another bullshit charge.
Detective Garza was at his desk on the phone and Detective Milson was nowhere around. Charlie sat across from him, nodding as he waited for the man to tie up whatever business he was tending to. The detective arched his eyebrow when he saw Charlie, and hurried the conversation along before hanging up.
Clasping his hands, he smiled. “How can I help you, Mr. Wright? Can’t seem to get enough of this place, huh?”
Charlie sat forward, ignoring the sarcasm. His mouth was dry and he swallowed. “Did your guys check Skylar’s Facebook when you looked through her computer?”
“Why?”
“Because I wanna know. I deserve to be informed of where you are in the investigation.”
“I’m not part of that, Charlie. That goes to the lab and a forensics team handles it.”
“You might not do the actual digging, but they let you in on every little thing they’re doing. I’m not stupid, Detective Garza. If you were truly working hard on this case, you’d know exactly where they were at with all of the evidence. I figure Facebook is one of the first places they’d look, seeing as it’s a pretty popular thing everyone does now.”
“We did check her Facebook. Why? You worried there’s something that might incriminate you?”
Charlie sat back and scowled. This guy was never going to give up trying to pin him for this. All the more reason to stay on track with his own investigation.
“Then I guess you know about her talking to a guy named Mitchell G.”
Charlie watched to try and gauge his reaction to the name, but he didn’t appear to be too bothered by it.
“We did. We looked through every single message your daughter sent or received.”
“Then why haven’t you talked to him? How come he’s not in the interrogation room right now?”
Detective Garza laughed, motioning toward Detective Milson who came around the corner. Sitting on the edge of the desk, she joined in on the conversation.
“Detective Milson, can you let Mr. Wright here in on why we haven’t pursued this Mitchell G. person who has had contact with his daughter?”
She sipped on some coffee and put the cup down. Her smile grated on Charlie. It was like they had taken a special class on how to flash the most arrogant grins possible to annoy the hell out of people. They must have thought he was really stupid.
“We looked into it, Mr. Wright,” Detective Milson said. “Right now, it’s not top priority in the case. We don’t have enough information for one thing, and Skylar is fourteen. Fourteen-year-old girls talk to boys. It’s the laws of nature. We’ve looked through her phone too. We are looking into everyone she’s ever texted and every contact in her address book. It’s a process. Mitchell G. is on our radar, but with as easy as it is to encrypt information now, it makes our job a little harder. These kids know how to do that stuff.”
“So instead, you feel the need to constantly harass me? You feel I’m a top priority? There’s an address. Did you go talk to the people who live there?” Charlie stood up. There was no need to show them the copy of the conversation if they truly were looking into it.
“You are a person of interest. We have to check up on you. And since you are a person of interest, we really can’t share much else with you right now.” Detective Garza stood up as well and patted him on the bicep. “I know you don’t believe us, but we are working our hardest on this case. We’ve pulled her friends in, we’ve pulled in suspected boyfriends, but we aren’t broadcasting it all over the news. It’s taking some time.”
“We don’t have time, Detective Garza. You said so yourself, the day she went missing, that every day gone means the chances of finding her alive get smaller. This Mitchell G. person is involved.” He had more information, like his conversation with the man at the address, but he kept that to himself. They didn’t need to know that. Just like with Cassie, he was paranoid to trust anyone.
“Unfortunately, that’s true. The chances of actually finding Skylar alive are about fifteen percent. And that’s all we are going to share with you right now. I suggest you leave. And I also suggest you stop playing cop and leave the investigating to us.” Detective Garza edged him toward the stairs. “If I find out you’re continuing to do so, I’ll pin obstruction of justice on you. You’ll be back behind bars, and the judge you talked to this morning isn’t big on second chances.”
Charlie bit his lip. There was so much to say, but now wasn’t the time. It was a mistake to even go there. Again, he wondered, what in the hell was he thinking? These guys were turning out to be the enemy.
He went back to his truck, his stomach growling. The day was almost over and he hadn’t had a bite to eat, and he felt weak. He had to get food to keep his strength up, even if the stress was making it impossible to hold anything down. He missed Mary. He longed to see her, and hoped she was doing okay. She was his voice of reason, and if she knew he had gone all day with nothing to eat, she’d have killed him.
His mind wouldn’t slow down. Instead of letting it run in multiple directions, he went to get something to eat. After that, he’d try to come up with a plan to confront the guy at the infamous address and see what would happen next.
***
Mary looked at her watch and eyed the bar patrons from the back of the room. She normally loved her job, but tonight she wasn’t feeling it. She thought about Charlie and what he was getting himself into. A quick phone call later shouldn’t hurt anything, but she also didn’t want to overstep her boundaries.
“How you liking the mid-shift?”
One of Mary’s coworkers looked up from pouring some whiskey. It was someone she hadn’t worked with before, and felt crappy when she couldn’t remember her name.
“Not bad.”
“I’m sure you’ll be back on evenings soon. The schedule is so messed up right now with everyone moving around.”
Mary nodded. She didn’t have anything to say back, and went to the end of the bar when she recognized a regular whose glass was empty. Grabbing the bourbon, she poured without asking if he wanted a refill. The guy usually closed the place down and he was a good tipper if she stayed on top of things.
“Mary, where the hell have you been?” His wheezy laugh was loud and he slapped the bar with his hand.
“Around. I see you haven’t missed a step.”
“I heard you were working days. Didn’t like it, eh?” He drank the bourbon like he was chugging water.
“It was okay.”
“Something wrong? You’re not your spunky little self.”
“Nice observation.” She wagged her finger at him and grabbed the bottle of bourbon again, pouring two glasses this time. Clanking it against his, she downed the booze and the burn was soothing.
“Her little boy toy is in some deep shit.”
Mary looked at the guy sitting next to her customer. He was another regular, but one that she wasn’t too familiar with. It was best to ignore him. He wasn’t the first person in town to make unfair assumptions about Charlie.
&n
bsp; “You have a boy toy? You’re breaking my heart, Mary.”
“How about we keep my personal life out of this? Besides, it’s boring.” Facing the loud mouth, she glared at him. “I’d exercise your right to mind your own damn business or I’ll cut your ass off.”
“Now there’s the spunk I was speaking of.”
Mary forced a smile and went to the back. It was time for a break and if she stuck around much longer, she might have said something to get her fired. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed Charlie. She didn’t care if it was overstepping her boundaries. They were still friends and she hadn’t heard from him all day. She had to make sure he was okay.
“Hello?”
“Hey Charlie, it’s Mary.”
“Hey there.”
“Everything going okay?” It was hard to tell by the tone of his voice, and Mary leaned against the wall, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah. How’s it going with you?”
Mary cringed at the small talk. This wasn’t like them. “Taking a break. Decided to come in for a mid-shift and it freakin’ sucks. What are you up to?” Hopefully he was spending a quiet night at home, but she knew Charlie better than that.
“Sitting in my truck. I found some shit on Skylar’s Facebook and I’m just checking it out.”
Mary closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. It’s not exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was out of her control. She couldn’t blame the guy – he was going to have to do this on his own if it meant finding his daughter. She just wished she could be there beside him to help, and to make sure he stayed out of trouble.
“What’d you find?”
“An address. The cops don’t seem too concerned, but my gut is telling me otherwise. Listen, I better go. Everything is fine. I promise, Mary. Don’t worry about me.”
“You know I’m going to. I’ve worried about you since we were kids.”