by Rick Mofina
Alma stared at the cash but said nothing.
“This is why we agreed to do this. It’s our shot, babe.”
Sid stared at Alma for a reaction but only saw apprehension.
“Think back on all the pain you’ve been through. Take a look at how we live. Don’t you deserve a better life?”
Alma blinked several times, absorbing Sid’s words.
“Babe,” he said, “we just have to hang on and remember that we did nothing they can link to us. We took care of everything. The system wasn’t working properly, right?”
Alma said nothing.
“Right, Alma?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alma, the lightning strike on the system is a documented fact.”
“Yes, but what if they put me on the lie detector, Sid?”
“Just keep changing your answers, make sure they’re all over the map because you’re scared and worried about that boy—it’s natural—and everything’s going to be all right.”
“But, Sid, I’m so scared. What if something bad happens to that little boy?”
He looked hard at her. “Alma, we got nothing to do with that!”
“But, Sid!”
“Just keep your mouth shut and we’ll get through this.”
“But—”
“Alma! All we did was help somebody. Just gave them a little help for a little cash, is all. Anything after that’s got nothing to do with us!”
“But—”
“Nothing! Do you hear me?”
Tears rolled down her face.
“Alma? Do you understand?”
She nodded, but in her heart she was terrified for Gage Hudson.
The Third Day
21
At 5:45 a.m. the next morning FBI Special Agent Tibor Josef Malko removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose while listening to Detectives Price and Lang update him on the investigation into Gage Hudson’s disappearance.
Malko had been up late the previous night and earlier this morning examining every report, every interview, every video clip, every transcript, immersing himself in the case. It was obvious to him that, from the get-go, River Ridge had made mistakes.
There were elements here that didn’t fit, a few coincidences and investigative gaps, Malko thought, frowning as he made neat notes. He twisted his neck in his collar, then replaced his glasses.
Some forty investigators from a spectrum of agencies had joined the case-status meeting, filling the room at tables set up classroom-style. FBI agents from the Chicago office, and five agents with the FBI’s Child Abduction Rapid Deployment Team, were also participating in the case.
Gage Hudson stared at the group from a whiteboard at the front of the room displaying enlarged photos of him, his shoe, the interior and exterior of the Chambers of Dread, maps, notes, timelines, a checklist of canvasses and people interviewed. A large screen played partial videos collected from the Chambers, and TV news clips of Cal and Faith Hudson.
For the last thirty minutes Malko had listened to the detectives summarize the work of River Ridge PD on the investigation.
“That’s where we’re at,” Price concluded. “We’re now passing the lead to the FBI. Over to you, Agent Malko.”
Nodding his thanks, Malko stood, took a moment and stroked the stubble of his bald head.
“The odds of finding Gage Hudson alive are overwhelming. Past cases tell us that immediate response in the early hours is critical. Ideally, the FBI should be involved from the beginning. In seventy-five percent of child abductions, the child is dead within three hours. After seven days that figure is ninety-seven percent. So already the odds are we’re too late.”
A few investigators blinked, others exhaled, shaking their heads.
“But we’re not defeated because it’s our sworn duty to battle those odds, to fight for the hope that remains.”
Malko waited to ensure he had everyone’s attention.
“Many of you are case-experienced investigators and know what I’m going to tell you. Some of you may need reminding of these tenets of investigation, especially child abductions. You will find that families are not perfect, but that does not make them suspects. You’ll also find families who will appear perfect, but that doesn’t make them incapable of heinous acts.
“We’ve seen abductions that were fabrications to cover up deeper family problems or an accidental death. We’ve seen people who appear innocent orchestrate abductions with accomplices. We’ve seen someone with a connection or vendetta against a family as the perpetrator. And we’ve seen clear, stranger abductions by disturbed individuals. All possibilities must be pursued and they must be pursued simultaneously.
“Never fall victim to tunnel vision. It’s a dangerous thing. Keep an open mind on all theories. It’s crucial that all of them, no matter how unlikely, are considered and exhaustively pursued. As investigators, we know that everyone lies, especially when they are under stress or concealing other truths. Nothing should be assumed and no one should ‘seem credible.’ You must prove that they are, or are not, credible. For example—” Malko turned to Price “—who is Beth Gibson?”
Price’s back stiffened.
“A woman from the community who called to wish the Hudsons well.”
“And how do we know that?”
Price searched her notes for an answer.
“You won’t find confirmation there,” Malko said. “There’s no report in the file documenting that anyone listened to Gibson’s conversation with Cal Hudson. Nor is there follow-up on why Gibson needed to call through Jack Thompson’s phone.”
“Hold on.” Price found a page in her notes. “Our Officer Ramirez spoke briefly with the caller and determined there was nothing unusual. Beth Gibson had called to convey her support to Cal.”
“Did she?” Malko said. “Did you know that Gibson’s number belongs to an untraceable prepaid disposable phone? What legitimate well-wisher uses one of those? Yet I see no follow-up. We have no idea about Gibson or her conversation with Cal Hudson. This is an investigative gap.”
Price’s face reddened; she pursed her lips and made notes.
“And the chain and lock Cal Hudson bought...did we confirm where it is right now, and how it’s being used? Or do we assume it’s where Cal Hudson told us?”
“We haven’t got that far yet,” Price said.
“Detective Lang, have you lit up the neighborhood for known sex offenders and predators?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you scrutinized Ultra-Fun Amusement Corp’s permits?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve taken steps to arrange a thorough physical and mechanical examination of the attraction with local and state inspectors, and a specialist with the FBI.”
Price nodded as Malko continued.
“Have you run the employee list of the Ultra-Fun Amusement Corp through NCIC and sex offender registries?”
“Not yet,” Lang said. “It’s on our list. Our people are still interviewing and just getting into background.”
“Did you check on Ultra-Fun’s complaint history while touring? Has anything similar or relevant happened with this company in the past in other cities?”
“Not yet,” Lang said. “Look, we don’t have a lot of people.”
“You do now. We’ll work together to quickly assess and determine what we have here so we can concentrate our investigation in the correct direction. Can we conclude that Gage Hudson was kidnapped? There’s been no ransom demand. Or did he wander off? Was he lured away by an adult? Or possibly other children near his age? Was he taken by a stranger, or is there parental involvement? For example, I looked at one random tip called in from a person who claimed to have been with her daughter behind the Hudsons in the line waiting to enter the attraction. This person says she’s a psyc
hologist, and reports that by their body language and facial expressions and the tone of the few words she’d overheard, she believes the Hudsons could’ve been arguing about something before entering. This could be vital or it could be nothing. But it’s just one more thing we need to follow.”
Investigators continued taking notes as Malko began running down what still had to be done.
“We need to delve deeper into the Hudson family history, including Gage’s background. We need to talk to relatives, friends and neighbors. And, as noted in the case file, Cal Hudson is a crime reporter with the Chicago Star-News. We’ll examine his stories for anyone who may hold a grudge against him and we’ll look at Faith and her professional background.
“We’re going to question all fair and midway employees. We’re going to examine the partial video we have of the Hudson family in the Chambers and track down fairgoers who were near them at the time of Gage’s disappearance. We can make a public appeal through the media.
“We’re going to canvass and recanvass targeted areas, the strip mall where the shoe was found and the area surrounding the fairgrounds. I see reports that no one was home at some of the houses being canvassed. This is unacceptable. We keep going back to every address.”
“Give me a break—if no one’s home, no one’s home,” one detective half snorted. “What if people are simply out of town? Jeez.”
Malko’s eyes narrowed at the man who’d interrupted. “Then you will find out where they went, when they went and why they went. That’s called detective work, sir.”
The admonished detective cursed under his breath, lowered his head to make a note. Staring at him, Malko said, “Let me be clear. I’m not here to make friends and coddle egos. I’m here to save a life and the clock is ticking against us.” Malko looked at the others, then resumed. “We need to search other Dumpsters for more potential evidence and contact trash companies about collection schedules and landfill sites.”
Pages snapped as investigators continued taking notes.
“I understand obtaining video surveillance recordings has been problematic,” Malko said. “We need to identify all businesses near the strip mall and fairgrounds and key areas in between that use security cameras. We’ll review them for leads. Note that some businesses record over previous recordings each day or every forty-eight hours, while others don’t.
“The FBI’s Evidence Response Team will help collect potential evidence at all relevant locations. This includes the Chambers of Dread attraction, the fairgrounds, the Hudsons’ residence, cars, offices of employment, cell phones, computers, Gage Hudson’s school and any locations or items that may arise.
“We’ll set up a webpage for the case to solicit tips with a 1-800 number. I see that Faith Hudson’s employer, the advertising firm Parker Hayes and Robinson, is offering a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward for information on the case. That should help. And depending on the circumstances, we’ll see about another press conference with Cal and Faith. If this is a stranger abduction, this will be the Hudsons’ chance to talk to the abductor directly because in nearly all cases abductors watch coverage.”
Malko removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a small cloth.
“We’ve got people here from Chicago PD, the state, Cook, other counties and departments. We’re authorized to draw on other agencies. The FBI will pursue and expedite all necessary warrants. We’ll start tasking assignments and get moving immediately. Agents Peller and Wills—” Malko nodded to them “—will assign, coordinate and log. Thank you.”
After several minutes the room emptied, leaving Malko alone studying the case file. As he worked, he overheard the others grumbling about him in the hallway.
“What’s with that guy?”
“Does he think we’re backwater idiots?”
“We shouldn’t have to take his shit. What makes him such a prick?”
As Malko repeated the last question in his mind, his jaw muscles began throbbing and he wanted to shout the answer to them.
What makes me such a prick? How about witnessing autopsies of abducted children?
Instead, he picked up his phone and swiped the screen to a photo of a pretty little girl with a big smile, the light in her eyes as bright as the sun.
Eight-year-old Sally-Anne Marie Sanderson.
She hadn’t shown up at school one day. When she vanished, she became one of Malko’s first missing-child cases and he’d believed every word her mother and father had told him, believed that she’d been abducted by a stranger. Eventually he’d uncovered the truth, that Sally-Anne Marie was being abused by her parents, that she’d been hurt so badly they feared she wouldn’t recover. So they hid her. The whole time Malko had led the search for the abductor, Sally-Anne Marie had been locked in a box, half-buried in the soil of a crawl space under her home.
By the time they found her, she was dead.
The medical examiner concluded that Sally-Anne Marie had been alive for days and would’ve survived if investigators had learned the truth earlier.
Malko had failed her.
That was nearly ten years ago. Sally-Anne Marie Sanderson’s death had changed him, and he’d vowed at her grave site to attack every investigation with all he had and to never again believe what suspects said when it came to the life of a child.
Malko then swiped to photos of Faith and Cal Hudson.
Their missing son’s shoe is found at the strip mall where dad bought a chain and lock while Mom bawled her eyes out for reasons neither can seem to recall.
He doubted the credibility of what Faith and Cal had told investigators.
Every instinct told him that the Hudsons were concealing the truth, and no matter what it took, he would rip it out of them.
Ever since Sally-Anne Marie Sanderson, he always did.
22
Half an hour later, Malko was standing on the Clarks’ doorstep.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He held up his ID for Rory Clark, who, looking beyond him, saw Detectives Price, Lang and two other grim-faced men. “We need to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Hudson. Alone, without anyone else present in the house.” Malko closed his ID.
Clark showed the investigators in, conveyed their request to everyone inside, whereupon the group prepared to leave, deciding to meet at Michelle and Jack Thompson’s home in Breezy Hill several blocks away.
As they gave Cal and Faith parting hugs and encouragement, some shot awkward, uneasy glances at Malko, who forced a half smile. Once the house was cleared, Malko turned to Faith and Cal and indicated they talk in the living room.
“You know Detectives Price and Lang,” Malko said, introducing himself and the other agents. “Let’s sit down.”
“Did you find Gage, or...or other things?” Faith remained standing, cupping her face with her hands.
“No, nothing like that,” Malko said. “First, I want to advise you that the FBI is now leading the investigation. We’ve put considerably more resources on the case and will keep adding people as needed. Please, sit down.”
She swallowed and sat beside Cal.
Malko leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingertips together, and looked at the Hudsons.
“I’ll come to the point. We need you to help us clarify matters pertaining to certain aspects of the case.”
“Clarify what matters?” Cal asked.
“Some details as to timing, as to consistency of statements you’ve given and threads we need to tie up.”
Malko let a few seconds pass, then got to it.
“We’d like you both to submit to a polygraph examination as soon as possible.” Malko studied the Hudsons’ reactions.
“A lie detector?” Faith said. “You want us to take a lie-detector test?”
Cal said nothing as Faith’s anger rose.
“I don’t believe this!” She
fought her tears. “We’ve been interrogated, asked horrible questions—”
Sensing an eruption, Cal reached for her arm. “Faith.”
“We’ve been fingerprinted.” Her voice grew louder. “Our home’s been seized. We’ve been forced out of it so forensic people can go through our things!”
“Faith,” Cal said again.
“You’re listening in on our phones, and now you want us to prove that we’re telling you the truth about our son’s disappearance? We’re his parents. We’re not criminals! How in God’s name does this help Gage?”
Unfazed, Malko looked at her and Cal as if studying specimens.
“I understand how upsetting this is for you,” Malko said.
“How could you?” Faith spat. “Is your child missing?”
Malko blinked slowly, his mind racing with memories of small bodies on morgue tables, thinking how this world had failed them; how a piece of him had died with every case until there was little left for sympathy, especially for those he suspected of lying during an investigation.
“A polygraph,” Malko said, “is a tool we use to ensure we’re concentrating on the correct areas, so that our investigation is thorough. I assure you, we’re examining every possibility in our effort to find Gage.”
“What about the people at the plaza where you found his shoe?” Cal asked. “And the people living around there?”
“We’re pursuing that fully, as well.”
“Are you questioning the midway people, the carnies?” Cal asked.
“We are and we’re executing warrants at the fairgrounds,” Malko said. “Cal, as you’re likely aware from your work, agreeing to submit to a polygraph examination is strictly voluntary. You can refuse. That’s your right. As you know, the results cannot be used in court.”
“But any statements we make during the process can. In fact, you might even Mirandize us. Isn’t that correct?”
Malko gave a polite nod. “It is. But the bottom line here is that your cooperation would be helpful to the investigation. It could lead to Gage’s safe return. Wouldn’t you do anything to help us find your son?”