The Mind’s Eye

by Perry Prete

  Paul fell hard into his chair causing it to creak and strain under his weight. Sitting forward with his elbows on the edge of the desk, he mentally went over his conversation with Maura. Paul quickly jotted down all the ways he and Maura had determined Paige's arm could've ended up in the snow bank. He then wrote numbers beside each line in the order of probability. He studied the list, crossed out a few of the rankings then re-assigned them. When he finished, he studied the list and hoped he had picked the correct number one reason why Paige's arm was found in the snowbank, she had died of natural causes, and some misguided, idiotic medical students decided to play a prank. Without any evidence to substantiate his feelings, deep down, Paul knew Paige hadn't died from natural causes, and it wasn't a bunch of college kids that took her arm from the cadaver room.

  Paul pulled up the internal department file folders, found the missing persons file for Paige Kirkby. He read the file; nothing stood out. The file still hadn't been updated to show that Paige Kirkby was connected to the amputated arm. He opened a browser, went to Facebook and went to the Missing Persons page. Paul scrolled down for several minutes until he found what he was looking for, the name Paige Kirkby. He clicked on the picture and read the report that was posted beside her face. The picture of Paige was obviously cropped from a larger photo, possibly when she was with a group of friends, Paige was young, beautiful, happy. The contact name was Detective J.C. Haines. Paul recognized the name. J.C worked down the hall in missing persons. He then went to Paige's personal Facebook profile.

  At the very top, the banner across her page showed her parents and friends standing in front of a banner displaying the reward money for the safe return of their daughter and friend. He scrolled further down, clicked on the "Photos" to pull up all her the pictures she had posted before she disappeared. In every picture, Paul could see the person Paige was, smiling with friends or family, with animals, her graduation photos from high school and in her first apartment away from home.

  Paul printed the Facebook contact photo for Paige and selected a few sheets for the missing persons file and sent them to the printer then waited for the laser printer to finish spitting out the report. He grabbed the sheets then walked to down the hall to the west side of the building to J.C.'s office.

  Paul peered into the office through the open door, knocking softly on the metal door frame. A bald head popped up from behind the fabric wall unit separating the only two desks in the small room.

  "Hey man. What brings you down in the bowels of the cop shop?"

  J.C stood and extended his hand. Paul walked in and shook J.C.'s hand.

  Paul pulled a chair from behind the empty second desk and sat facing J.C.

  Paul asked J.C. if he had heard they had located Paige's arm.

  "I just opened the email from Maura. CODIS found a DNA hit on the arm you found in the snowbank, huh."

  "You wanna bring me up to speed on what you have?"

  J.C. turned to face Paul, leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply. "We have a lot of nothing, piled high on top of zilch. The girl went missing while doing some Christmas shopping. Found some blood in the parking lot, not much else. We checked all the downtown cameras that we could find that were working, checked for anybody that was following her, got nothing. The kid parked her car in a backlot area, no lights, no cameras, no attendant, no witnesses." J.C. sighed deeply again, "We looked everywhere, checked all the people that knew her, boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, girlfriends, casual friends, work, family, everyone checked out. No one had a grudge against her; we couldn't find any weird guys that had a crush on her. I worked with the family, had three or four searches organized. I always figured she was abducted; it just didn't seem like a girl who just wanted to get away and walked away from life. There were just too many unknowns."

  Paul nodded, "You have the case file on her?" "I do. Why?"

  "I want the case. Now that we know she's probably dead, I'd like to take charge of it."

  J.C. stood from behind his desk, "You know the policy, it's not yours until we know for certain the vic is dead. We have an arm, that's it. She's still classified as a missing person."

  Paul could feel his heart begin to race, he clenched his teeth then cast J.C. a look that made him shiver. Paul was not one to hide his emotions when he wanted something; not much stood in his way. After years of working together, J.C. knew better than to argue department policy with Paul, he rose, went to the back of his office and lifted a banker's box from the floor and placed it on his desk.

  "Is that it?" Paul asked as he lifted the lid from the box.

  J.C. retrieved the second box and dropped it on his desk beside the first one.

  "Done?"

  J.C. grimaced, turned and picked up the third and last box, placing it on top of the second. "Now I'm done." He wiped his hands on his trousers. "I'll have you sign the transfer papers. You'll have the case files and lead on this one." J.C. pointed a finger at Paul, his voice was stern and direct, "I kid you not, you fuck this one up, and I'll make sure the Chief knows you pressured me to take lead. And, I want in on the investigation when you close."

  Paul didn't answer. Instead, he stacked one box on top of the other and carried them to his office. He dropped them on his desk, lifted the lid of the box marked with a large "1" and let it fall to the floor. He looked inside and found several binders; each spine was labeled "1" through "5".

  Paul quietly said to himself, "One. A great place to start," and pulled the first binder out and opened it to the first page. He grabbed the arms to his chair, pulled it in close and sat down. Paul knew he had a lot of reading to do. He uncapped a highlighter and started to read.

  Paul's personal phone began to vibrate in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out, swiped up to reveal a text from Nicole.

  *****

  Carl parked his car a few blocks away from the parking lot where Paige Kirkby had been abducted almost six months earlier. He walked along the sidewalks, examining the shops and stores along the street and imagined the young girl walking in front of him as she stopped, looked into the shop windows, deciding what would be a good Christmas gift, then moving on. Carl turned around and looked behind him. The sidewalk crowd was sparse as he looked through them, in his mind, he saw a shadowy figure, a ball cap pulled down low, wearing clothing that any guy on the street would wear. As Carl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, people parted way and walked passed him on either side, staring at him as he stood motionless looking at imaginary figures from the past. The man with the ball cap pulled down low walked towards him, then passed through him. Carl turned to see the back of the mysterious man blend into the crowd as he followed Paige. His pace slowed each time Paige stopped to window shop. Carl watched as Paige turned to see face the man as he approached, smile at him then turn her attention back to the items behind the glass.

  The man walked into a small store, stood at the window, his eyes never left his target. When Paige passed, he waited a few moments then exited the store and began to follow her again. Carl, in turn, followed the two imaginary figures from the past as they walked down the sidewalk.

  Paige turned down the alley towards the parking lot, the predator never pausing, turned to track his prey. Carl could see the young girl up ahead, happy, swinging her bags as she walked towards her car. He imagined the man was twenty or so feet behind her, turn right at the opening of the parking lot and made it look as if he was attempting to locate his car. The man with the ballcap pulled down low knew this is where he would strike. He glanced behind him, to the left then to the right. Walked between cars, he stealthily made his way towards where Paige fumbled for her keys.

  A few feet from the girl, the man, broke out into a full out run and pounced on the girl.

  Carl found himself in the centre of the parking lot, uncertain exactly how he ended up there. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed his odd behavior. He knew he was acting strangely and wouldn't be surprised if someone called the police on him. He shook the thought as
ide, closed his eyes, in his mind, this is the way the abduction of Paige Kirkby occurred.

  Carl spent a few minutes looking around the paved lot for clues, shards of glass, anything. He was confident that the police investigators had done an excellent job of collecting evidence immediately after she had been taken and in the six months or so since the abduction, anything found on the ground was undoubtedly not from the crime scene.

  Instead, Carl looked up, something he was certain the attacker would have done. There were office buildings on two sides, the north and west, and an apartment building to the east. Behind him to the south was the alley. The abductions took place in the middle of the day, and given the time of year Paige was taken; he speculated the office buildings would be full and the staff working and not looking out the windows. He turned his attention to the apartment building. He extended his right index and pretended to touch each floor as he counted. Six floors, eight balconies across each floor, forty-eight potential witnesses who may have been looking out from their apartment during the abduction.

  Carl walked across the parking lot, to the north side of the entrance and exit. The lot was unmanned, a silver box on a steel pillar dispensed your ticket as you arrived and charged your debit or credit card as you exited. Carl walked up to it and wondered if the machine kept a record of the times cars that came and went. Even if they did, it wouldn't provide a description of the vehicles. Carl thought of his used typewriter, sometimes progress isn't always better. Would Paige have been abducted if there was a person sitting in a booth who took your money instead of a machine? She probably would have been taken somewhere else he rationalized.

  He walked around the block to the front entrance of the building that backed onto the lot. In the front foyer, Carl's heart sank when he looked at the call panel. An old-style black Bakelite handset on a hook with a long list of surnames behind glass. There was no way to tell which apartments faced the parking lot. At the very bottom of the list, one name stuck out. He picked up the handset and pushed "0".

  A soft, pleasant voice answered the phone, "Can I help you?"

  "My name is Carl Kadner; I'm a reporter. I'm here to talk to someone about the girl that was taken from the parking lot last Christmas."

  There was no response on the other end of the phone and Carl wondered if the Superintendent just dismissed him when a loud "Thunk" echoed in the vestibule. He hung up the phone and pulled on the silver handle of the glass door. Not knowing where to go or who to ask for, Carl stood in the middle of the foyer waiting for the voice to make herself known. The foyer had four black leather chairs, placed in a circle around a marble table. A vase of fresh flowers was positioned perfectly in the centre. The lobby was spotless and had a strong fake floral scent. He paced around the chairs then walked to the elevator directly in front of him and looked down the hallway to his left and right. He wondered how long it would take for the voice to come up and meet him, but he thought maybe she had hit the buzzer accidentally and granted him access to her building.

  Carl was about to take a seat when the soft voice spoke from down the hall. Carl shot back up and stood until the person behind the voice appeared from around the corner. A middle-aged woman, stunningly beautiful, impeccably dressed in casual black slacks and a white shirt stood before him. Carl's preconceived notion of what a landlady should look like was tossed aside forever.

  He smiled, extended his hand, she took it softly, then covered their hands with her left. She gently shook his hand, and as she did, Carl looked down, "No ring," he thought.

  "Sophie."

  "Carl. You're the landlord?" he asked surprised. Sophie looked nothing like his landlady.

  Sophie smiled, "Well, my husband's company owns this building and a few others. I was here just checking on a few things and covering for the landlord while he's off."

  Carl hopes were quickly deflated. "Ah."

  Sophie smiled politely knowing what the "Ah" meant. She had it said to her more than once. "Anyway, you wanted to know about the girl that was kidnapped?"

  Carl composed himself, "Yeah, there's been some new leads, and I wanted to follow up on them. I was outside in the parking lot and looked up to the back apartments to your building..."

  Sophie interjected, "My husband's building."

  Carl smirked and corrected himself, "Your husband's building. Yes. The back apartments look out onto the lot. I was wondering if the I could knock on a few doors and see if any of the tenants happened to remember seeing anything that day?"

  Sophie thought for a moment, "I'm pretty sure that the police did that. The landlord that works for my husband," Sophie smiled coyly, "said that he escorted a few police officers around to all the apartments."

  Dejected, Carl persisted, "Would it hurt if I asked them again?" Sophie thought for a moment, "Sure." She turned and led him to the elevators. "Do you want to start at the top and work our way down?"

  Carl shrugged, "Owner's wife's discretion."

  She chuckled, "At the top, it is," and pushed the up button. As they waited, she turned to Carl, "I should've asked, you do have ID, right?"

  Carl reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic identification card and casually held it in front of her. "That's a credit card."

  Carl turned the card to see the newspapers' name and his picture and the word "REPORTER" in bold black letters across the bottom. He couldn't believe he fell for that. He pocketed his ID card and stood in the corner of the elevator looking at the numerical floor display as Sophie snickered.

  "Nice building," Carl said almost softly.

  "Better be for the rent my husband charges. He's a fanatic for top of

  the line everything. He hates a dirty building, or anything broken that needs to be fixed."

  "Oh, well do you have a security system?"

  "Top of the line. Front door has shatterproof glass, all the doors have a key pass and card swipe like a hotel, and there are multiple cameras hidden in the foyer and stairwells and the parking garage."

  "So, you have cameras pointing outside overlooking the parking lot." "Nope, my husband has the cameras pointed towards the side of the building. That's a public lot, and he didn't want to infringe on anyone's right of privacy in the parking lot. He was pretty mad at himself after that girl was taken. If the cameras were pointed at the lot, it might have caught something. The cops asked the same thing by the way."

  "Did he change the angle of the cameras after the abduction?"

  Sophie shook her head side to side, "Nope, he kept saying people should have the expectation of privacy in a public lot and if the city wants to have cameras on the lot, they should pay for it. He did increase the number of cameras in the garage. You can't hide a cat down there without the landlord having eyes on it."

  The elevator let out a low "ding" to indicate they had arrived. The doors opened on the sixth floor, and Sophie exited, turned to the right and swiftly walked to the end of the hall. At the last door on the left, the side facing the parking lot, Sophie stood waiting for Carl to catch up.

  "Unfortunately, I only know a few of the tenants, but I'll introduce you and wait outside."

  "Actually, I'd prefer if you'd join me. I just don't want there to be any misunderstanding of what I'm doing."

  Sophie reached for the lanyard around her neck and pulled out her ID and pass card from inside her shirt, "You better keep your credit card out too in case anyone asks."

  Carl retrieved his press ID, confirmed it was indeed his press ID then held it tightly in his closed hand as Sophie knocked at the door. No one answered. She knocked again. Still no response.

  "Most of our tenants are professionals. They work during the day. You know we have a few units for rent if you're interested."

  Carl was almost embarrassed to tell Sophie he couldn't afford half the rent they were probably asking, "I have a great place now thanks."

  Sophie knocked once again. Still no answer, "On to the next."

  *****

  Paul pulled into N
icole's driveway, killed the engine and walked to the front door. Simone answered the door almost immediately and invited Paul in.

  "What's up?" When Paul received the cryptic text from Nicole earlier about another vision, he rushed to her apartment. Simone didn't answer his question. Instead, she quietly led Paul to the living room where Nicole was sitting on the sofa. She was sloughing back with her forearm across her eyes. Paul carefully sat next to Nicole, leaned in close and whispered, "You OK?"

  Without moving, Nicole mumbled something unintelligible to both Simone and Paul. He sat down beside her and whispered something to her. She mumbled something back. Again, Paul couldn't understand what she said. Nicole dropped her arm, sat upright and kissed Paul on the cheek as Simone blew a party favour, "Happy Birthday," they both bellowed. Simone quickly disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a frozen cake still in the foil container it came in.

  "Sorry officer. We didn't have time to bake you a real cake."

  Paul began to laugh loudly, stood up and looked at Nicole and Simone, "Who told you it was my birthday?"

  "Ken."

  Paul laughed even louder, "This is my third birthday this year. It's his favorite thing to do. What a bastard. Well, he got you guys good."

  Simone placed the cake on the living room table, "You mean I spent three bucks on this cake for nothing?" she said jokingly.

  Paul reached over and hugged Simone, "Thank you. This is sweet. It is. It means a lot that you would spend three whole dollars on me when the last thing I need is more sugar and fat. But really, thank you." He then bent over and kissed Nicole.

  Nicole stood, "Well, to be honest, I don't know Ken at all. He just called me and told me it was your birthday today, and you were feeling depressed. So, I, we," she motioned to Simone, "came up with this at the last minute."

  "It's sweet. Really. Listen, I have to get back to work, but I have time for a piece and cup of coffee."