“You handled that really well,” Carly said, smirking. “It’s probably good you don’t have kids, huh?”
“I hate you sometimes,” I muttered.
“WHY am I not surprised to find you in the middle of this?” Derrick asked, striding into the baby store twenty minutes later and glancing around. “Where is she?”
I pointed toward the corner office, where Karen could be seen soothing Sandy through the open window. “Do you want to know what I know first, or do you want to deal with the crazy people alone?”
Derrick rolled his neck until it cracked. He was in a bind and he knew it. Because I’m a reporter for Macomb County’s lone daily newspaper, The Monitor, Derrick wanted to keep any and all information away from me. He didn’t want a media circus. He was a deputy with the sheriff’s department, and the last thing he wanted on a professional level was my involvement. On a personal level he wanted to torture me and keep me from a potential story – especially a big one. He also wanted to make things easier for himself, though, and if I had insight available he wanted to use it.
“Fine,” Derrick said, blowing out a sigh. “What do you have?”
“Sandy Jackson is fifty and she came to the mall with her stepchildren about two hours ago,” I supplied. “Danny Jackson is eleven and Sierra Jackson is thirteen. She claims she was in that candle store when she turned around and they were gone.
“I contacted the management office and they put the place on lockdown,” I continued. “The kids could’ve wandered outside on their own before that, though.”
“Or they could’ve been taken,” Derrick said.
“That’s a distinct possibility, too,” I said. “I was going to help look for the kids because, well, I know how kids think and I hate this baby store, but the security guards told me to sit down and shut my pie hole.”
Derrick snorted. “Did they really say that?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “They didn’t like my attitude when I told them to put down their doughnuts and start looking for the kids.”
“And there it is,” Derrick said, shaking his head. “What’s your take on the stepmother?”
I shrugged. It was an interesting question. I wasn’t sure how to answer it, though. “She seems worried and confused. Why? Do you think she did something to the kids?”
“You know I can’t answer that,” Derrick said, rolling his eyes. “Even if I could, though, I know absolutely nothing about this woman or these kids, so I can’t make that call yet. Why do you always jump to the worst possible conclusion?”
“Hey, I was the one being calm and collected until all of these crazy women started screaming about dead kids and perverts,” I argued. “I was the good one.”
“What are you even doing in here?” Derrick asked. “Is there something I should know? Holy crap! You and Eliot aren’t procreating, are you? That will kill your mother if you get knocked up before you get married.”
“I am not knocked up,” I said, gesturing toward Carly as she continued shopping across the way. “She is, though, and she’s driving me crazy.”
“Well, at least she’s married,” Derrick pointed out. “It would be embarrassing to be unmarried – like you – and get knocked up.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“I might tell people you are just to mess with you,” Derrick said, although there wasn’t a lot of effort behind his words. “I need to talk to the stepmother. I’m worried she’s going to melt down.”
“She’s kind of … numb,” I said. “She’s not going to scream and go crazy. I think she’s already convinced herself they’re dead, which is kind of weird, but she’s not freaking out.”
“That will come,” Derrick said. “I’m going to talk to her. Try not to get into trouble while I’m in there, and don’t you dare call the newspaper and report there’s missing kids in the mall before we know if that’s the case. I know you like to scoop everyone else, but we don’t know whether anything is really going on here yet.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, kicking my heels together as I mock saluted. “I will do your bidding, sir!”
“I hate you sometimes,” Derrick muttered, moving in the direction of the office. “Don’t do anything … Avery-ish.”
“That’s not a word,” I argued.
“It is a real thing, though,” Derrick said. “It’s a bad thing. It’s what evil things try to be when they grow up.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Just stay out of trouble for five minutes,” Derrick ordered. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”
“OMIGOD! There’s a pervert loose in the mall? Did you hear?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as the women in the store started buzzing about a sexual predator being loose at the mall. They were on their phones, lockdown forcing them to remain in one place, and boredom caused them to check local media websites for updates. Because I couldn’t miss out on a scoop, I called mine in to The Monitor, and we were the only outlet with the story. Derrick was going to be really ticked off when he found out.
“What’s going on?” Derrick asked, poking his head out of the office and locking gazes with me. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I protested. What? He knows I lie. It won’t come as a surprise when he finds out that’s what I’m doing now.
“There’s a pervert loose in this mall,” one of the women said, shaking her phone. “The Monitor has a story on it. There are two children missing and the sheriff’s department – which I guess would be you – is on the case.”
“I see,” Derrick said, scorching me with a dark look as I shifted my eyes to the fascinating ceiling tiles. “Ms. Shaw, I don’t suppose you would come over here, would you?”
That was a trap. Did he think I was a rookie? “I’m good.”
“Avery!”
I blew out an annoyed sigh and shuffled toward the office. He couldn’t kill me with so many witnesses present, so I wasn’t worried about that. He could maim me, though, and given my attitude regarding children – which I refused to keep to myself during the wait – I wasn’t popular with the junior mother set. They’d probably keep quiet if he maimed me.
“What were you thinking?” Derrick asked, grabbing the back of my neck and shifting my body so I was pressed against the wall with no means of escape. “You promised me you weren’t going to call a story in.”
“I did not,” I argued. “You told me not to do it and I nodded as if I agreed with you and then deflected with sarcasm. I never said I wasn’t going to do it, though. Sometimes I nod because my head feels heavy.”
“That’s because you’re carting around an ego the size of an elephant,” Derrick seethed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“My job?” I have no idea why I push things when it’s obvious I should keep my mouth shut. I’ve known Derrick my entire life. In some ways I know him better than anyone. I knew he was at his limit and yet I still decided to push him. Sometimes I like watching people topple over the edge.
“You’re an idiot!”
This didn’t appear to be one of those times when I would enjoy it. “Hey, if two kids really did get taken from this mall, it’s going to be huge news,” I argued. “I can’t get beat on that. You know it’s not in my nature.”
“And what if they’re not missing?” Derrick challenged. “I have deputies and security guards scouring the mall. What happens if these kids are just in another store?”
“Then everyone will move on to something else by the seven o’clock news,” I answered. “I can’t ignore this simply because you’re my cousin.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Derrick muttered, his frustration evident. He released my arm and ran a hand through his hair. “This is going to blow up in your face. I hope you know that. Any second now I’m going to get word that we found those kids, and you’re going to look like an idiot.”
“Awesome,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I can’t wait for that to happen. At lea
st then I’ll be able to get out of this … hole. Do you know they sell torture devices to milk grown women here?”
“Oh … gross,” Derrick said, making a face and pretending to dry heave. “That was just … why do you have to say things like that?”
“It’s the truth,” I said. “I thought it was some sort of fancy speaker. It’s not.”
“I can’t believe Carly is making you her kid’s godmother,” Derrick said. “You’re going to turn that kid into a serial killer. I just know it.”
“There’s no reason to be dramatic,” I chided. “Although … did you know there’s a thing called a diaper genie, and it’s not some magical person you hire to change a kid’s diaper?”
“I want to shoot myself whenever I spend more than five minutes with you in one day,” Derrick muttered.
“Sir!”
Derrick dragged his attention from me and toward the front of the store, where one of the security guards had a handle on a boy. “Is that Danny Jackson?”
The security guard nodded. “It is, sir. We found him in the Sears television department after witnesses said they believed a boy matching his description left the arcade and went to that store.”
“Ha!” Derrick barked, preening as he puffed out his chest. “I told you I would look smart and you would look stupid before this was all over.”
He did tell me that. There was one small thing he was missing. “Where’s Sierra Jackson?” I asked.
“The boy says he hasn’t seen her. She’s been gone for well over an hour,” the security guard answered.
“Ha!” I said, my eyes flashing. Given the dark looks on all the female faces, I realized too late that now was not the time to gloat about a possible kidnapping. “I meant that in the most respectful way possible,” I offered.
“I need to call Sheriff Farrell,” Derrick said, resigned. “We officially have a missing minor.”
3
“Come with me,” Derrick said twenty minutes later, jerking my arm and leading me through the back of the store. He didn’t stop until we were in the interior hallways – the area shoppers can’t visit – and he fixed me with a murderous look. “This is all your fault.”
“I didn’t kidnap her,” I said. “I had to call The Monitor, and you know it. You have a job to do, but I have a job to do, too. Your job isn’t more important than my job.”
“You drive me crazy,” Derrick muttered, hauling me down the hallway.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m keeping you with me because I don’t trust you not to call Marvin with updates,” Derrick said, referring to my friend and co-worker Marvin Potts.
“Would I do that to you?” I asked, uncomfortable with the way Derrick’s fingers dug into the soft flesh underneath my arm. “That hurts, by the way.” I jerked my arm from him.
“You’ve already lied to me today,” Derrick said. “I’m not leaving you alone so you can lie to me a second time.”
“I didn’t technically lie. I used sarcasm as a weapon to distract you. That’s a completely different thing.”
“Only in your world,” Derrick said. “In my world that’s a lie.”
We lapsed into silence as Derrick navigated the labyrinth. He seemed to know where he was going, so I didn’t put up a fight. The silence gave me a chance to think about things and that’s when I realized what his problem truly was. “You don’t want me to file another story because you’re worried Devon is going to accuse you of feeding me information again, aren’t you?”
Devon Lange was a Channel 4 reporter and Derrick’s extremely annoying girlfriend. When they first got together I thought he was dating her to bug me – print reporters and television reporters don’t get along – but sadly he appeared to genuinely like her. That gave me heartburn, so I generally don’t like to think about it. I could think of nothing else now that I realized what was really happening.
“That is not what’s going on,” Derrick said, averting his gaze. He always was a terrible liar. Devon had been on him for months because I kept ending up with scoops from the sheriff’s department while she ended up chasing my stories. It drove her to distraction. I like bugging her, so I go out of my way to make sure I scoop her as often as possible.
“To be fair, I didn’t have Marvin post the story about the missing kids to scoop Devon,” I offered, hoping I sounded conciliatory.
“Oh, really?”
“I posted it to scoop everyone,” I said. “It’s not my fault Devon gets lumped in with everyone. I couldn’t pass up the story, and you know it. I don’t think it’s fair to hold this against me when you know darned well I can’t stop myself from doing my job.”
Derrick was incredulous when he turned in my direction. “Seriously? Are you using the ‘everyone knows I’m crazy so I can’t be held accountable for my actions’ defense?”
“I don’t think that’s a real thing, but it totally should be,” I answered.
“You are … my least favorite person ever sometimes.” Derrick worked hard to keep his temper in check. I could read the anger bubbling close to the surface, and it wasn’t pretty. Now wasn’t the time to push him.
“I think you should just explain to Devon that I’m the superior newshound and tell her to find another job,” I suggested. “Perhaps she could do makeovers at the J.C. Penny makeup counter.”
Derrick took a swipe at me but missed. I’d been expecting it and skirted his hand. Just because I knew better than pushing him didn’t mean I was capable of stopping myself. It’s a sickness. I can’t explain it.
“That was really undignified,” I said, risking a glance at my cousin as we continued our trek. “Do you want to tell me where we’re going?”
“The security office,” Derrick answered. “Supposedly they have footage of Sierra Jackson right before she disappeared.”
“And you’re going to let me see it?” That sounded nothing like him.
“I’m going to let you see it,” Derrick confirmed.
“Why?”
“Because you’re a girl and you think like a kid most of the time,” Derrick answered. “I need an immature mind to figure out what another immature mind was thinking right before she disappeared.”
“That could be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I deadpanned.
“Don’t get used to it,” Derrick shot back, ushering me through a door and directing me toward the room at the far end of a new hallway. “Don’t say anything stupid to tip the security guards that you’re not really helping with the investigation.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Derrick answered. “Don’t say anything stupid.”
“You need to be more specific than that.”
“I do not want to have to explain myself to rent-a-cops,” Derrick seethed. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a security guard with a gun and no jurisdiction. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Strangely enough, I did. “You’re saying that rent-a-cops are to you what television reporters are to me,” I replied. “They’re the poor man’s version of the real thing and they’ll totally foul this up if we’re not careful.”
“I don’t think we needed the colorful embellishments, but that’s basically it,” Derrick confirmed.
“I can’t wait to tell Devon you think I’m better at my job than she is and she often fouls things up when she covers them,” I said, hopping out of the way again when Derrick grabbed for me. “Too slow!”
“I really hate you sometimes,” Derrick muttered.
AFTER watching the video eight times, Derrick led me to the arcade where Sierra was last tracked by security cameras. He searched the empty space – everyone had been shuttled to the food court for questions – but he seemed frustrated as he glanced around the room.
“There’s nothing here.”
“What were you expecting?” I asked, a hint of fabric beneath one of the video games catching my eye. I bent over and picked up a small doll, frowning as I looked it o
ver.
“What is that?” Derrick asked.
“It looks like a strange doll,” I said, flipping the item over. It was only about eight inches long – including the gangly legs – and made completely of fabric. It had buttons for eyes and a pin sticking out of it. “I think it’s a voodoo doll.”
Derrick snorted. “Are you kidding?”
I shook my head. “I used to want a voodoo doll to torture my mom when I was a kid,” I said, smiling at the memory. “Every time she punished me I wanted to punish her.”
“You deserved all those punishments,” Derrick said, moving around a road racing game. “You know that, right?”
“Probably,” I conceded. “That doesn’t mean I liked it.”
“Is he in there?”
I locked gazes with Derrick at the sound of the new voice. He pointed toward a spot close to one of the columns in the center of the room and I obediently moved close to it, shoving the voodoo doll in my pocket in case someone important was about to pay a visit.
The man striding into the arcade was nothing short of ordinary. He was short, barely an inch taller than me, and he carried his arms in a way that suggested he suffered from Little Man’s Syndrome. For the great unwashed, that’s what happens when you’re short and you develop a complex about it. Derrick has it, too. When you have Little Man’s Syndrome you puff out your chest and walk like an angry bear with a stick up his … well, you know. “Are you the detective on my daughter’s case?”
“Are you Daniel Jackson?” Derrick asked, taking a step forward. His eyes were wary as they scanned the man.
“I am,” Jackson said, his tone gruff. “What are you doing to find my daughter?”
“We’re doing everything possible,” Derrick answered. “We found video of your daughter on the security cameras. We would like you to look at the video and see whether you recognize anyone in her general vicinity. The cameras don’t show her leaving. We have no idea whether she walked out of the mall on her own or was … taken.”
“But you do believe she’s no longer here, right?” Jackson pressed.
“We’ve been through every store and hallway,” Derrick said. “She’s not here.”
avery shaw 08 - misprints & mistakes Page 3