“We need to make that a part of the Amber Alert,” I said.
No one spoke for several seconds as the implications of this sunk in.
“Have you seen anyone suspicious or someone around that you didn’t know?” I asked.
“No. Detective Aaron already asked us that,” Mr. Welch said rather abruptly.
You could see the strain on his face. I probably would have reacted the same.
“Sorry. I just got here.”
“Anyway, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What about service people?”
“Service people? Meter readers, repairmen. That kind of thing?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“And Mrs. Welch?” I pressed.
“Marsha? Did you hear the Detective? Have you seen anyone like a repair person or anyone like that around lately?”
She just shook her head ‘no’.
Marcus said, “We have a current school picture that we will release to the press. The Amber Alert has already gone out. We have a helicopter up looking but it will be dark soon and then it won’t do much good. We have taken the usual steps but I’m afraid it’s been too long at this point.
“What should we do?” Mr. Welch asked suddenly?”
“We are going to leave a car here all night. If it is okay we would like to put a tap on your home phone line in case Fran or someone else calls. It would help us speed up the response time,” Aaron said.
“Whatever it takes,” Mr. Welch said.
“Good. Bartoni, could you get that in the works along with the asthma information?” Aaron asked.
“On it,” I said and went back outside to make the call. As soon as I got off the line, the Chief called.
“Bartoni, the FBI is on their way. You need to pick them up in the morning. I want you to liaison with them and bring them up to speed on the five...Sorry, six missing girls. See if they can help in any way. I need you to work with them on this. Don’t make it a pissing contest. Capiché?”
“Got it boss,” I said.
“Make sure Marcus gets it too,” he said and hung up after giving me the flight number and arrival time.
CHAPTER FOUR
Marcus and I stood at the gate waiting for the FBI agents to arrive. Don’t even ask how we got to be at the gate. Okay, I’ll tell you. TSA agents are generally not much more than rent-a-cops.
As we were trying to explain why we were not going to leave our weapons with them, I saw a TSA agent make a ninety year old woman get up out of a wheelchair so he could pat her down. What are they thinking? How many ninety year old wheelchair terrorist are there? No common sense. None at all.
Whoever the hell thinks up their procedures should be shoved out of a plane at 35,000 feet. We spend billions on security and how many terrorists have they stopped exactly? Hell, terrorists are a hell of a lot smarter than the airport security and if they want on board, they will find a way. However, the ninety year old woman, well that’s a risk we just can’t have now can we?
Anyway, there we were, waiting for our brethren from the FBI. We spotted them immediately. Two guys with short hair cuts who looked like I-droids, a tall nice looking gentlemen in the same official FBI uniform they all seem to wear and a nice looking woman, somewhat older than the others.
“Welcome,” I said stepping forward to greet them.
The senior agent was Brad Pendergrass. Probably six one, one-hundred and eighty pounds, broad shoulders and short blond hair. He was nice looking in a rugged sort of way. It was obvious he spend most of his time behind a desk. His hands were soft and his nails recently buffed.
“Thank you. We appreciate you coming to pick us up. How did you get to meet us at the gate?” the taller man asked.
“Told them we were meeting FBI agents that were escorting a dangerous criminal for transfer.”
“And they bought it?” he ask.
“They were busy frisking a ninety year old crippled woman,” Marcus added.
“I’m Detective Angie Bartoni, and this is Detective Marcus Lang.”
“Please to meet you. I’m Special Agent Brad Pendergrass. This is Agent Eric Farling, i-droid1.”
He didn’t say i-droid1 actually, but I thought it.
“And Bob Sorenson.”
i-droid2.
“Our profiler, Cynthia Shores.”
The woman was a looker herself. I don’t mean I was attracted to her but I could have sworn I saw Marcus drool when she introduced herself as Special Agent Cynthia, you can call me Cindy, Shores.
She was a good three inches taller than me and probably about the same weight which meant I hated her right off the bat. Just kidding. Sort of.
We all did the glad hand routine before heading down to gather their luggage. Shores was the only one with two bags. We made our way to the SUV we had been smart enough to check out and all piled in. It was still a tight fit but we managed to arrive none the worse for wear.
The Feds must have a better budget than we do. They told us they were staying at the downtown Hilton. They had already made arrangements for the local FBI station to have a car available for them. We dropped them off and give them directions to the precinct. We agreed to meet at 1:00 p.m.
“What do you think?”
“Nice a..”
“Don’t,” I warned Marcus.
“I was going to say attitude.”
“Right. Well, they don’t seem too bad to me. At least not initially.”
“They always start off nice. Wait until after we meet with them and see how you feel,” Marcus told me.
“I just don’t want to start off with a negative attitude as you so eloquently put it.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
We filled the Chief in when we got back and he informed us he wanted to be in on the one O’clock meeting.
I went back to my desk and reviewed each of the files of the kidnapped girls. The paper may have just been right. Amy, Brenda, Carrie, Danielle, Erin and now Francisca.
From reading the files it seemed like he would abduct them and keep them for about two weeks before he discarded them. A few days later he would strike again. That meant we had less than two weeks to find this bastard and put him in the ground.
As cops we aren’t supposed to think that way but I’m telling you here and now, I get a chance to shoot this bastard, I’ll take my chances with the shooting board.
I got a Diet Coke, rummaged around in my desk and found a packet of those orange peanut butter crackers and munched on them while I finished reading the files. I was just about to head to the restroom when the phone rang.
“Detective Bartoni.”
“Detective. This is James Welch. One of our neighbors just told us they saw a white van with some kind of lettering on the side of it leaving the neighborhood around the time that Fran went missing.”
“Whoa. That’s great. Who are the neighbors that saw the van?”
“Actually it was Jim Tolbert. He was just coming home from work and the van didn’t stop for the stop sign and almost ran into him. He was going to get the name on the van and call them but it was gone too quick.”
“Alright Mr. Welch, we will have someone over there right away to talk to Mr. Tolbert.”
He gave me the address and their phone number so we could let them know we were coming.
I told the team and the Chief about the phone conversation and he suggested we call the FBI team and have them meet us there. Marcus and I both rolled our eyes, kind of like teenagers do when their parents suggest something. Neither of us was too keen on having them there but understood where the Chief was coming from.
I called them and gave the rundown before heading out.
CHAPTER FIVE
We were all scrunched into the living room of Jim and Toni Tolbert. Jim looked to be around forty-five or there about. Brown hair and chocolate eyes. He had a slight stubble on his chin that surprised me. Nice looking man. Toni, on the other hand, looked like she had just gotten out of
High School. A real knockout with a dress too short and a neckline that just barely kept a healthy set of lungs in. I did not like this woman instantly. She was obviously a trophy wife.
Mr. Tolbert was saying, “This jerk comes down the street and sails right through the stop sign. I had the right of way. I just happened to look up and stop in time.”
“Do you know what type of van it was?”
“Cargo. It had no windows on the side.”
“Did you happen to know what make it was?”
“Nah. Maybe a Chevy. I don’t think it was a Ford. They stick out in front more don’t they?”
“And it was white?” Marcus asked trying to keep it flowing.
“Yep. Just as vanilla as you can get,” Tolbert replied.
“You said something about writing on the side. A sign or logo.”
“Yeah. It was blue and red. The logo was blue and the words were in red underneath it,” he replied.
“Did you happen to catch any of it or know what the logo was for?”
“Nope. I was just pissed off. I gave him the finger but he just sailed on through and didn’t even look over.”
“It was definitely a man driving?” I asked.
“No doubt about it. He had a ball cap on.”
“Mrs. Tolbert, have you seen a van like that around here in the last few days?” I asked.
“Uh..no, I don’t think so.”
“And you didn’t see it the day Fran was taken?” I asked.
“Uh..no. Nothing like that.”
What a dunderhead. Uh..like no, cause I don’t have a brain in my head. Yikes. Maybe I’m being a tad harsh, I guess.
“Which way was it going,” Marcus asked?”
“Headed north like a bat out of hell.”
“Would you recognize the driver if you saw him again?” the FBI Agent asked.
“I seriously doubt it. It was just a flash and he never looked over. Jerk.”
“What about the van or logo?”
“I don’t know. But like I said, it all happened so fast not a lot registered. If it had I would have called the company and complained about their driver,” Jim Tolbert replied.
“Alright Mr. and Mrs. Tolbert, please give us a call if anything comes to mind or you see the van again or even one like it while you’re just driving. It would be a tremendous help,” Senior FBI Agent Pendergrass said handing him a card.
“We are staying for a few days at the Hilton downtown if you need to get in touch with us in a hurry.”
He wrote the phone number, his cell number and room numbers of all three of the agents on the back of his card and handed it to him. Not to be outdone, I made sure they a card from Marcus and me.
“Sorry I couldn’t give you more information,” Tolbert said as we headed for the door.
“So now what?” Marcus asked?
“How about we grab a bite to eat then head down to your precinct and get as much background as we can absorb,” Pendergrass suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” Marcus agreed.
We drove to what was trying to pass as an English Pub and traded war stories for the better part of an hour. Actually Cynthia was pretty sharp. It was kind of a letdown to find out she was both good looking and smart.
Eric wasn’t much of a talker or else he just decided to keep his stories to himself. As a field agent, I was pretty sure he had some hair raisers but for some reason he just listened.
With lunch out of the way, we drove to headquarters. We turned over our files on the five victims so they had plenty to read before our scheduled meeting. I’ll admit, so far they weren’t the usual prima donnas that I had worked with in the past.
At 1:00 p.m. sharp the Chief called us all into the conference room.
“Welcome. Do you have everything you need?” he asked.
“I think we are fine for now. There is a lot to absorb but one thing we all noted is that his victims are young, blue eyed with blond hair and come from stable backgrounds. The parents are all married and seem to be financially sound. The only exception seems to be the Curtis couple,” Pendergrass replied.
“They are indeed an unusual pair,” was all the Chief said.
“Well, we want to study these a little longer but our initial impression is the perpetrator is a white male, between the ages of 30 to 35 with a job that allows him to have access to neighborhoods where he blends in. The van being white with a logo won’t ring any alarm bells. Something like a cable repair or phone truck. They just blend in and become invisible. I assume you have run the usual sex offender profiles?”
“First thing we did,” I replied.
“Where is that?”
“In the files we gave you,” I said.
“Okay. We must not have gotten to it yet. No one popped out?”
“The usual suspects but their alibis all checked out. None of them have ever used this MO before. My gut tells me it is someone new. Maybe someone new in town or recently divorced,” I told him.
“That sounds about right. If he is married he has to have a secure location to keep his victims until he finally disposes of them,” Pendergrass said.
Disposes of them. That’s cold. I mean he’s essentially right but it just sounds so callous put that way.
“We will look the cases over and see if we can narrow the profile down. Then we can go from there. We realize time is short. It looks like we have ten to twelve days before he gets rid of Francesca Welch.”
“When do you want to meet again?” the Captain asked.
“We should be ready tomorrow morning. What’s a good time for your people?” Agent Cindy asked.
I meant Cynthia. Cheap shot, I know.
“Eight should work. Right people?” the Chief said.
We all said yes and went our separate ways. Marcus hung around to talk to me after we got back to our desk.
“What do you think?” I asked him.
“Same profile they dish out every time. Hell I could have come up with that,” he said.
Obviously he was not smitten by the FBI. Apparently not even Agent Cynthia Shores looks were enough to sway his opinion.
“Come on. Give them a break. They just got the material this afternoon. I think they did pretty good considering how long we have had to work on these cases. Marcus, they are just human after all. A little slack wouldn’t kill you.”
“Yes Pollyanna,” He said.
“Better to be a Pollyanna than a curmudgeon like you, poophead.”
CHAPTER SIX
He stood looking at the young blond wrapped up in a blanket. She had finally fallen asleep after hours of crying. Her face was dirty and streaked where the tears had run down her face. He walked over to her and shook her. She slowly opened her eyes and then jerked back against the wall, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
“Who are you? Why did you take me? I want to go home. I want my mom,” she said in one long breath.
“Well Fran, I don’t think your mom or anyone else is coming. No one knows where you are,” he said smiling.
“Please. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” she replied.
He laughed and stooped down so he could look her in the eyes.
“You have beautiful eyes, do you know that?”
“Please. I want to go home. Please.”
“You know Fran, you are not the first beautiful blond blue eyed girl I have had here. I look at those eyes and I just can’t help myself, you know what I mean?”
“No. I don’t understand any of this,” she said starting to get tears in her eyes.
“Don’t start crying again. That’s enough of that crap. It won’t do one bit of good so just stop it,” he said and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back.
“Ouch, ouch, you’re hurting me,” she yelped.
He laughed again and let her hair go. He stood up and walked to the door.
“I’ll bring you some food and water later. I have to get back to work now but don’t worry we’ll have
lots of fun when I return,” he said and went out the door.
It slammed shut with a heavy ‘thunk’.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she yelled but it was too late.
She stood up and looked around. The room was small and dark. There was just the one door and no windows. She went over to the door and beat on it with her hand but no one came. He was crazy, she was certain of it.
She walked all around the room looking for any possible way out. The dim bulb hanging from a cord in the middle of the room didn’t help much. She found a bucket in the corner. Oh God, she thought. Was this what she was supposed to use for a toilet? Nothing else was in the room. No way, I will not use a bucket for a toilet, she thought. She was wrong.
***
He could hear her banging on the door as he made his way upstairs. He glanced at this watch. As much as he would like to stay he knew he needed to get back to work. He didn’t want to do anything that would attract attention. One of the keys to his success so far was doing nothing out of the ordinary. He made sure he was not late to work or to a repair job.
He was still angry at himself for panicking the other day and driving too fast after he had abducted Francisca. He could have easily have been stopped for speeding and that would have linked him to the area where he had grabbed her. He couldn’t afford any more stupid mistakes like that.
He started the van and headed out to his next repair job. It was a big one so he would not get home until late. He probably should have fed her before he left but a little hunger wouldn’t kill her. For some reason the thought that was funny and laughed. Wouldn’t kill her, well not yet anyway. He turned on the radio, found an oldies station and hummed along with the songs. Yes, it was definitely going to be a fun evening.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Would you mind if we sent the bite characteristics off to the FBI lab?” Pendergrass asked.
“Sure, but what good would that do?” I asked.
ALPHABET MURDERS - ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES #1 (Detective Angie Bartoni Case Files) Page 4