by KJ Kalis
“Where are we going?” Jess asked.
“You’ll see…” one of the guards said.
17
Detective Jamison Saunders was tired of sitting at the office. It wasn’t doing him any good. If there was anything he’d learned as a detective, it was that cases were solved in the field. Sitting in the office wouldn’t do him any good. He’d been back for only about an hour, studying the videotape from the bank robbery that morning. The problem was, it didn’t tell him much more that he didn’t already know -- there was more to the story than the Montgomery family wanted to let him in on.
Picking up the keys to the car the department let him drive while he was on duty, he stood up from his desk, leaning over the log out of his computer and then walked toward the door coming giving Ferguson a wave as he headed out. Ferguson was on the phone, so he didn’t bother to ask Jamison where he was headed off to.
Outside, Jamison stopped for a second in the sunshine, sighing. The day definitely had not gone the way he thought it would, that’s for sure. First a bank robbery, then a missing child, then getting blown off by the family. That wasn’t a normal day, not in his book. He normally dealt with car thefts and store break-ins, with the occasional domestic violence issue, but most of those were handled through a separate set of detectives in their division. All he could keep thinking was that something wasn’t right. It didn’t sit well with him. He’d decided to go after a position in the detective bureau after a three year old had been hit by a car, the vehicle fleeing the scene. A week later, Jamison put a physics professor in handcuffs. She’d been drinking at the bar with her colleagues after making tenure.
But this case was different. Usually the families were more than happy to have him help. Not so with the Montgomery clan. They’d iced him from the beginning. He rolled his neck to the side. In a way, it made it more exciting, knowing that he’d have to convince them he was worth trusting. He knew he was. He just had to help them see it so he could assist them in getting Abby back.
His car was parked near a stand of trees. From above, he could hear the chirping of birds hanging out on the branches or in their nests. Which one, he couldn’t tell, the tiny foliage too dense for him to see much past the leaves. A slight breeze had picked up, though it did nothing to cool the heat. The breeze blew the hot air around, like someone had turned on a giant blow dryer to bake the city of Tucson just a little more. Jamison knew that people who visited the area for the first time were surprised by the dry heat, especially northerners who were used to more humidity and a fair amount of snow. Some liked it, some didn’t. But Jamison did. It was what he knew. He couldn’t imagine waking up in the morning and having temperatures below zero and having to trudge through the snow just to get a cup of coffee. He’d take heat any day over that.
As he walked towards the car, he noticed there was a team of landscapers working in the beds around the police station. They seemed to be spraying weedkiller between the plants, covering the little sprouts of unwanted plants that were peeking up between the rocks used to keep them down in the first place. A few always seemed to make it through, he thought. It was the same with the Montgomery case, he thought, unlocking the car and getting in. Details were peeking up, but not enough for him to see the whole landscape. As soon as the engine turned over, the air conditioning started blowing, the air first lukewarm, then rapidly cooling the interior of the car.
Pulling out of the parking lot, Jamison tried to make sense of the Montgomery case, to put the pieces together in a way that might make sense. He knew he was missing something. But what? He turned the wheel of the car toward Chase’s house. Maybe now that a few hours had gone by they’d be more interested in talking to him. At least that’s what he hoped. He knew there was something going on, but it was like someone had draped a veil over the situation. He could only glimpse parts of it, the rest of it murky and foggy. The information from the bank seemed to be relatively clear — the kidnappers came in, they made a lot of noise, they secured the hostages, they pulled Abby out of line and then they wriggled their way down a tiny tunnel and escaped. No money taken, only Abby. It was a targeted hit. Nothing more. Jamison shook his head a little, realizing at least the kidnappers wouldn’t be charged with stealing any money from the bank if they were caught. Not that it would help their case much. Breaking into a bank was a big deal, especially in the eyes of the FBI. Last he heard, they were still all over the South Ridge Bank, looking for evidence. He was sure they’d be there for hours. Maybe they’d had more luck talking to Chase and Jess?
The first place Jamison stopped was Chase Montgomery’s house, the same wide, low ranch set on a perfectly manicured lawn that backed up to a golf course he’d been at hours before. It was a typical, upper middle-class piece of Tucson real estate. Walking to the front door, he knocked and then rang the doorbell, announcing, “Tucson PD,” as he waited.
No one answered.
Jamison furrowed his eyebrows. The fact that no one was home seemed strange. Weren’t the Montgomery’s waiting for a call from the kidnappers? He stopped and listened. He could hear the screeching yip of a small dog barking, probably the same one he’d spotted that morning when he talked to the Montgomery’s the first time. Jamison decided to walk around the perimeter of the house, a knot forming in his chest. What if the kidnappers had decided to come back to the house and kill the family? As Jamison passed the garage doors, he felt his heart rate increase. He moved his right hand onto the butt of his gun and kept it there, without drawing it, just in case. As he eased around the side of the house, he saw three bikes leaning against the house, closest to a door that looked like it led into the garage. He peered through a small window that gave him a view into the garage space. No cars. There were only a few assorted tools, a rake, and a couple shovels, leaning against the opposite side of the garage wall. He kept moving.
Turning the corner around the back of the house, he could see a few golfers out on the fairway, their golf cart parked underneath the shade of a clump of trees. He glanced at them and kept moving, looking in each of the windows on the back of the house. The first windows looked to be the master bedroom, and then the kitchen and living area he’d been in earlier that morning. Pressing up against the glass, he scanned the floors, looking for bodies. There were none that he could see. He frowned, taking his hand off his gun. None of the doors or windows on the back of the house had been jimmied open. There was no broken glass. It was as if it was a typical Saturday, with a busy young family out running errands or getting lunch or shopping. It wasn’t the kind of response he expected from a family whose daughter had been kidnapped.
Jamison walked around the far side of the house, much more relaxed, but still glancing in the windows. It was strange to him that no one was home. He pressed his thumbnail into the pad of his index finger, feeling the nail bite into the skin. As Jamison started to walk down the driveway, he heard a voice, “Hello? Is everything okay?”
An older woman with a tuft of gray hair on the top of her head and a pair of Birkenstocks on her feet was standing at the junction of the driveway and the sidewalk.
Jamison walked over to her, “Hello. Tucson PD. There something I can help with?”
The woman shook her head, looking confused, “Is everything okay with Chase and Piper? I saw you walking around the house.”
“And you are?” Jamison didn’t want to give the woman any unnecessary information without knowing who she was.
“Shirley. I live across the street,” she pointed. “I only live here half the year. I go home to Pittsburgh in the summer to see my grandkids.” The hint of a frown passed over her face, “Is everything okay? I can hear Roxie barking in there.”
“Yes, of course. I was just coming over to follow up on a case with the Montgomery’s. It doesn’t appear that anyone is home, though. Everything is secure. Nothing to worry about. I’ll give them a call later.” He didn’t want to give Shirley any information about the case. It wasn’t his news to tell.
“I could’ve told you they weren’t home. I don’t know about Chase, but Piper, that’s Mrs. Montgomery, she left here a couple hours ago. Haven’t seen her since. Do you think their dog, Roxie, is okay?”
“Thanks for that. I’m not sure about Roxie, but I can tell you the house is secure. Nothing seems disturbed. I’m sure they’re just out running errands or maybe they went to go get lunch. It is Saturday, after all,” Jamison lied.
“Okay, well I have a key and their alarm code. I think I’ll go get Roxie. Maybe she has to go for a walk.”
For a second, Jamison considered having Shirley open up the house so he could have a look around, but he didn’t have a warrant and no probable cause, and none of the Montgomery’s were home. If he did go in, Shirley would likely report every detail of his visit to the entire development. That was an easy way to end up in hot water. “Do you have an arrangement with the Montgomery’s to let Roxie out?”
“Yes, of course. I have a little dog, too. His name is Toby. Roxie and Toby are friends. Piper lets me stop by and pick up Roxie so the two puppies can walk together. It’s very sweet.”
Jamison nodded, tiring of the conversation, “I’m sure. Well, thank you very much for the information. I’ll let you go gather up Roxie. Have a great walk.”
As Jamison walked back towards his car, Shirley turned and gave him a little wave, heading across the street. At least he knew the Montgomery’s weren’t home, and Piper had left approximately two hours before. Nosy neighbors gave great information.
Getting back into his car, Jamison started it up, the police radio chirping in the background about a traffic stop on Palmdale Boulevard and then another downtown. Jamison checked his phone before putting the car into gear. There were no texts, nothing new from Ferguson or anyone else. Jamison stared at the Montgomery’s house for a second, wondering if the FBI had stopped by to talk to them and found the house empty. That would certainly frustrate their attempts to get information from them, he thought, shifting the car into reverse and pulling it out of the driveway.
Jamison turned down the Montgomery’s street and headed out of the development, wondering what to do next. There were really only a few options — he could go back to the department and do paperwork and wait for something to happen, follow up on another case he’d been assigned, or he could take another drive out to Trident Labs and see what was going on there.
Jess and Chase had made their wishes clear. They didn’t want his help, but Jamison didn’t feel good about their decision. How could he? Chase’s daughter was somewhere out in the city with people who looked to be methodical and equally dangerous. Not following up – whether they wanted the help or not – seemed like dereliction of duty. Sweat formed on his forehead even with the air conditioning in his unmarked sedan on full blast.
At the stop sign, he made his decision. The other cases could wait. Whether or not Jess and Chase wanted his help, he needed to try. He turned the car toward Mesa Boulevard and Trident Labs. About a mile down the road, the radio in his car chirped to life again, “We have a fire alarm at Trident Labs in the Mesa industrial Park, 73250 Industrial Road. Fire has been dispatched. This is Building B of the Trident Labs complex. Responding units, please identify.”
The drone of the dispatcher's voice rang in Jamison’s ears. Trident Labs. Was this a coincidence? Jamison grabbed the radio, “Dispatch, this is D577, show me responding.”
“Copy that, D577.”
Seating the microphone back on the radio, Jamison flipped the lights and sirens on his unit and gunned the engine, feeling it roar to life under his foot. The traffic cleared in front of them, the only obstacle a slight pause at each intersection. The last thing he needed was to get T-boned by some unaware driver as he was speeding to Trident. About a quarter mile ahead of him, he saw a batch of red lights. The fire department. His heart raced and he chewed his lip. How was it possible that there was a fire alarm at the same building where the Montgomery’s had been found earlier that day? Questions flooded his mind, questions about what Jess and Chase were really doing. They were clearly avoiding talking to him. Why were they keeping what happened to Abby a secret? It just didn’t make any sense to him. Sure, the kidnappers had threatened to kill her if they got the police involved, but that was normal, par for the course. Even in the movies, kidnappers did that. It didn’t mean keeping the police out of it was the smart play. That was the thing that surprised him the most, he thought, as his tires screeched around the corner into the industrial park. These seem like smart people, but they weren’t behaving in a way that was smart.
Pulling up in front of the building behind the fire trucks, Jamison sat for a second, staring out the windshield. This wasn’t the same building Jess and Chase had been at. It was the one next door. His gut told him something wasn’t right. He gripped the handle that opened the driver’s side door. What it was, he still didn’t know. But he needed to find out.
18
Jess and Chase made it halfway down the dark hallway with the two security guards gripping their arms when another man, dressed the same as the guards, came out of an office on the left side of the hallway, a frown plastered from ear to ear. “What are you doing?”
The shorter guard answered, “This woman, she’s the one that pulled the fire alarm. I don’t think they’re supposed to be in this building. We were bringing them into the office for questioning.”
Jess stayed quiet, watching the interaction. The two guards that had them stumbled over their words. It had to be their supervisor. From the look on his face, he wasn’t happy.
“It doesn’t matter who pulled the fire alarm or not. Everyone has to evacuate. You know that’s the procedure. Take them outside like everyone else. Once the fire department clears the building, you can question them, okay?”
The guard started to answer, but the other man, clearly his boss, interrupted, “Don’t give me a hard time, Hoffman. Just do what you’re told and follow procedure.”
Jess felt her body relax just a smidge as she realized they were going outside and not into some dark holding cell. She felt the guard holding her arm, who she now knew was named Hoffman, turn she and Chase back toward the center of the building, toward where Bobby was ushering people out of the building. By the time they crossed the polished, white marble lobby, the first two firefighters had entered the building, decked out in full turnout gear, oxygen tanks on their backs, their masks hanging down on their chests. Jess glanced their direction and Hoffman tugged on her arm, “Come on. Let’s go,” he said, pulling her toward the exit.
At the door, Bobby held it open for them, giving Jess and Chase not much more of a look than anyone else that exited the building. As they passed, he said, “Please exit the building and go to the opposite side of the driveways so the emergency vehicles have room to work. Thank you.” To Jess, it sounded like a perfectly rehearsed line, one that Bobby had read in some manual somewhere. She glanced back at him, hoping he would say something or do something to help them get away from the guards, but all he did was widen his eyes and stare at her, as if to say there was nothing he could do.
In front of the building, it was chaos. Although there weren’t as many safety vehicles as earlier that morning at the South Ridge Bank, there were still plenty. As Hoffman dragged her across the driveway, she counted four ambulances and five fire trucks. Four police cruisers had pulled up as well with a few more behind that Jess couldn’t get a good look at. Jess scanned the crowd, wondering if there was some way she and Chase could get break free. Her breath was ragged. If they could just get loose from the two guards, they could probably slip into the small crowd of people and get the ABG back into Chase’s building. She wanted to reach in her back pocket to check the time but didn’t dare. She was afraid Hoffman would take her phone away from her.
They had just reached the other side of the parking lot when a voice cut through the noise of the small crowd assembled under a tree with small, pointy leaves, “Hey there! Let me talk to you for a second.”
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Jess turned to see a man wearing jeans and a shirt with a badge on his belt approaching them. Saunders. A million questions flooded in her mind. How did he know they were there? Did he find Abby? What about Piper? She didn’t ask, afraid to say anything, her heart tightening in her chest.
The two guards, Hoffman and the one with no name turned towards Saunders. “Sir, please stay back. We have these two in custody for questioning because of the fire alarm pull in the building. It’s official government business.”
Saunders came a few steps closer, his eyebrows raised, “Really? Are you sworn police officers or federal agents? I’m assuming you have permits for all the firearms you’re carrying?”
“Private contract security for Building B. We were brought in by the DOJ.” No name guard had a smug look on his face as he dropped the Department of Justice name to Saunders, adjusting the grip on his rifle.
“Let me see your credentials please?” Saunders said.
Jess turned her gaze to the guards, who looked at each other as if they were confused. “We don’t carry credentials.”
“Well, then we have a little problem. See, this building sits on land that belongs to the City of Tucson. I’m a sworn law enforcement officer within that jurisdiction. I, unlike you, have credentials. I also have authority. And last I checked, falsely pulling a fire alarm is a local law infraction, not a federal law, not even a state law. So, if you claim this woman is the one that pulled the fire alarm, then I need to talk to her and her accomplice.”