community. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Damn ashamed,” the other cop agreed.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “I just want to know
why there’s a doctor working at your hospital who knows
two children that were kidnapped, and who ends up dead
the same night we’re held captive in some house in the
middle of Hobbs County. The fact that all of this went
down in your neck of the woods should, I don’t know,
make you just the least bit interested, I’d think.”
“About this…captive thing,” the fat one said. “I find it
hard to believe that you followed this Russian doctor, as
you claim, and then you end up being taken by some guy
with a cigarette fetish? You’re a reporter, right?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Sure you’re not looking to add a little spice to your
story?”
“Go to that house and you’ll see if I’m adding anything,” I said angrily.
The thin one chimed in. “So you followed the doctor
to his home, is that right? You waited in the hospital
parking lot?”
“I don’t know if it was his home,” I said. “We just
followed his car. In fact, I don’t think he lived there at all.
I think he knew we were following him, and probably did
for a while. Wherever he led us wasn’t his home, but he
set us up.”
The fat one, whom I would guess was playing bad cop,
only the lines weren’t really that clear, said, “You followed
him into, let me go over your statement again, a gated residence off Huntley Terrace?”
“That’s right,” I said.
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“You followed him into a gated community.”
“No, it wasn’t a gated community, just a home with a
gate out front.”
“And a brick wall surrounding the property.”
“That’s right.”
“And you want us to investigate him. ” He paused, a
scowl coming over his face. “Sounds to me like you two
are the ones should be reprimanded.”
“The gates were open,” Amanda added. “And Petrovsky spoke to us when we got out of the car.”
“That’s when,” the thin one said, “everything went,
ahem, black. Right?”
“Right,” I said. “They must have knocked us out or
drugged us. I don’t remember.”
“And why did you follow Petrovsky to begin with?”
Fatty said.
“We think he has knowledge about the kidnappings that
took place over the past few years. He was the attending physician for the births of both Daniel Linwood and Michelle
Oliveira. Both children disappeared and reappeared years
later with no memory of their time gone missing.”
“And why did you decide to follow the good doctor?”
thin man said.
“When we first spoke to him at his office, he claimed
to not know anything. It was a blatant lie.” I paused, then
added, “And I think there’s been another kidnapping. In
addition to Danny Linwood and Michelle.”
“You fucking reporters,” Ditka said. “Another kidnapping? You find two pieces of information got no connection, you put ’em together and make up some story ’bout
how there’s some big conspiracy. All just to sell a few
newspapers, make a name for yourself. Do you have any
proof of another kidnapping?”
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Jason Pinter
“Proof? Not hard evidence, but…”
“Listen, fuckhead. Hobbs County is a nice town. I’ve
lived here near twenty years. Now, ten years ago I might
have said, yeah, we got some problems, not exactly the
kind of place I’d want my kids growing up. But all that’s
different now. Things have changed. It’s not right for you
to go bringing up the bad times, because we’re past that.”
“Tell that to Dmitri Petrovsky.”
“We will when we find him,” the other cop said.
“Let’s go right now,” I said, standing up. “I’m pretty
sure I remember how to get there. Us four, right now.”
“Calm your horses, tough guy,” Ditka said again.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
We sat there in silence watching the cops drink water
for ten minutes. Then right as I was about to grab the thing
and douse Amanda and me with it, Wallace Langston
entered, followed by Curt Sheffield. I’d never been happier
to see anyone in my life.
“I got your message,” Wallace said. “And I figured you
could use a little backup.”
The cops eyed Wallace with skepticism, but when they
saw Curt standing there, all six foot three, two hundred
sculpted pounds of him, they went right into bully mode
once the bullies had been called on their bluff.
Wallace, happy to be good cop to Curt’s badass one,
passed out his business card to the cops.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “My name is Wallace Langston,
and Henry Parker is under my employ at the New York
Gazette. Our legal counsel is on the way, but I do have
some familiarity with legal rights, and unless you’re
holding Mr. Parker or Miss Davies for a crime, I’m going
to ask you leave the room so we can speak in private. And
then we plan to leave your care posthaste.”
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The cops conferred in a lame attempt at whispering, but
we all heard every word. Since it was primarily lots of
cursing under their breath, we didn’t learn anything new, but
they didn’t seem particularly keen to grant Wallace’s request.
Yet when Curt stepped forward with his hands folded across
his chest, they got up right quick and left the room.
As soon as Ditka and his buddy closed the door, I
grabbed the pitcher and poured two glasses. We gulped
them down in less time than it took Wallace to say,
“Thirsty?”
Water dribbling down my chin, I said, “Yeah, thanks.
Hope those assholes are better detectives than they are
hosts.”
“I don’t think they’re any worse detectives than you’ll
find in most departments,” Curt said. “I get the feeling
they’re slacking off for a reason that doesn’t involve apathy.”
Wallace walked around to the other side of the table,
pulled a chair out and sat down. He looked tired as he ran his
hands through his thinning hair. Curt sat down, as well, much
more at ease now that he didn’t have to play bodyguard.
“Damn, it’s fun to scare assholes,” he said. “How you
holding up, Henry?”
“My chest hurts like hell and other than getting handcuffed to a pipe and seeing the dead body of the doctor I
planned to investigate for his involvement in several kidnappings, I’m doing just peachy.”
“Amanda?” he said.
She said, “Hey, Curt. I’m okay.” Her words betrayed
her. Her eyes gave away the terror we’d just escaped.
“Bullshit, but you’re one hell of a trouper, Amanda.
You’re lucky it’s my day off, no way Carruthers would let
me come up here to help your ass out on my normal shift.
I expect major reciprocation. I mean major reciprocation.”
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Jason Pinter
“No problem,” I said. “I can pull a few strings, get you
in the gossip pages at the Dispatch for having a thirteeninch prick or something.”
“Friends like these,” Curt said.
Amanda was still silent. I could tell she was upset, but
there was a lot to choose from. If she was still scared or
in shock from what happened last night, or from the fact
our leads seemed to have shrunk, I couldn’t tell. At some
point I’d need time to talk to her.
Wallace said. “Henry, tell me, what the hell were you
thinking?”
I was taken aback, said stupidly, “Sir?”
“I can’t think of any reason for you to be up here. I
spoke to the watch commander. He told me you claimed to
be pursuing a Dr. Dmitri Petrovsky about his involvement
or knowledge about the disappearances of Daniel Linwood
and some girl named Michelle Oliveira. Last I recall, I
didn’t give you permission to be working this story. In fact,
I distinctly remember telling you to stay the hell away from
it.”
“Sir, I know,” I said. “But there is more to this case than
we think. Michelle Oliveira disappeared and reappeared
in the exact same way as Daniel Linwood. And we were
able to confirm that Petrovsky was the attending pediatrician for both children. He’s involved. We can be sure about
that now. He set us up last night.”
“And now, what, you go on stakeouts? You put on a surveillance detail? Who are you, Kojak?”
“No, sir.”
“So did you not hear me the other day, Parker? Did you
not understand me when I told you to work another story?”
I mumbled under my breath. Loud enough so that
everyone at the table could hear me.
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“I’m sorry, what was that, Henry?” Wallace said,
folding his ear forward mockingly.
“I said nobody else gives a shit. That’s why I do.”
“I must have missed something,” Wallace said. “Where
do you get off saying nobody cares?”
“Look at this!” I yelled. “You want me off the story
because Gray Talbot sticks his manicured nails into things.
He wants the community to heal. And I’m getting the
runaround worse in Hobbs County than I did from my dad,
and that’s saying something. These cops either don’t give
a shit, or just want to sweep everything under the carpet.
And meanwhile, the parents of these poor kids have to deal
with the fact that there are five years missing from their
children’s lives and everyone else is sitting around with
their thumbs up their asses like it’s a source of protein.”
Wallace sat back, stunned for a moment. I caught my
breath. Half expected him to fire me on the spot.
“You’re wrong, Parker,” he said. “We do care. But
what’s done is done. Those kids are never getting those
years back. These kind of wounds need time to heal, and
the longer we leave them open, the more gangrene sets in,
both for the families and their communities. Hobbs County
won’t win any ‘best place to raise your family’ awards, but
it’s a long way from what it used to be. People in Meriden
regrouped after Michelle Oliveira came back. They banded
together. Made the town safer. A better place to live. I hate
to say this, but that girl disappearing was the best thing that
ever happened to that town. I think you can understand
why folks aren’t keen to reopen old wounds.”
“Maybe these wounds are deeper than anyone knows,”
I said.
“And why do you think that?”
I dug into my pocket. Took out the receipt I found on
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Jason Pinter
the floor in the room Amanda was kept in. Put it on the
table, where it sat like a rancid piece of meat.
“What is that?” Wallace asked.
“See for yourself.”
He reached across the table, picked it up, unfolded it,
smoothed out the crinkles, read it. Then he dropped it
back on the table.
“It’s a receipt from a toy store for dollhouse accessories. So what?”
“It’s from the Toyz 4 Fun store in White Plains,” I said.
“White Plains is about fifteen minutes from Hobbs County.”
“So?”
“Look at the date,” I said. Wallace picked the receipt
up again, read it. His eyes squinted. I could tell he was
starting to follow.
“This receipt was printed less than a week ago. Then it
turns up in the house where Amanda and I follow Dr. Petrovsky to, the same house where we’re held and nearly killed.
This wasn’t some ramshackle, broken-down tenement we’re
talking about. This place was in good condition.”
“And there was a large dollhouse in one room,” Amanda
said. “A girl’s room. Every toy you could ever want.”
Wallace’s eyes jerked to her. She locked him dead-on. He
turned away. Knew that whatever he thought of me,
Amanda wouldn’t bullshit him.
“That house was being used as some sort of detainment
center,” I said. “That brick wall, that gate, they weren’t
used to keep people from getting in. They were to keep
people from getting out.”
“Who?” Curt asked.
“Kids,” I said. “The family that lived there was holding
a child captive. And recently, too. Which is why I think
there’s been another kidnapping. Just like Daniel Linwood
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and Michelle Oliveira. Somebody just bought toys for a
child that was being held in that very house. And they
bought them recently.”
“Jesus Christ,” Wallace said. “You’re sure you found
this in that house?”
“Sure as the day is twenty-four hours.”
Amanda said, “You could just say yes, you know.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”
“And I saw Henry take it,” she added. “And I can vouch
for what we saw there.”
“We need to find out whose name that house is registered under,” Wallace said. “We need to get the cops there
to search the place. My goodness, if this is all true…”
“Does this mean I’m back on the story?” I asked.
“One step at a time, Parker,” he said. I knew this was
as good as a yes. “Right now, all we need to do is…”
Just then a loud commotion began outside the conference
room. We turned around, could see cops running, grabbing
equipment, heading out the door. They looked panicked.
“What the hell…?” Curt said.
We got up simultaneously and headed outside. Half a
dozen cops jogged by us.
“What’s going on?” Amanda asked nobody in particular. We saw the fat cop from earlier rushing past. Wallace
managed to get his attention.
“Officer, what’s going on?”
“Four-alarm blaze,” he said. “Possible survivors
trapped inside the building.”
“Oh, God,” Amanda said.
“Where?” Wallace as
ked.
“Not sure exactly,” the cop said. “Somewhere off
Huntley Terrace.”
“Huntley Terrace,” Amanda said. “Isn’t that…?”
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Jason Pinter
I nodded, a chill running through my blood. “That’s the
street where we followed Petrovsky.”
Wallace stood rigid. “Come on,” he said. There was
urgency in his voice, but something else as well. Something scared.
We ran outside. Wallace led us to a brown Volvo. We
piled in; he and Curt in the front, Amanda and I in the back.
He pulled out of the lot and followed the caravan of HCPD
police cars as they peeled out, sirens blaring.
The silence in the car was deafening. Nobody wanting
to state what was clearly on all our minds. What we were
all praying wouldn’t be true.
After several miles the caravan made a right onto
Huntley Terrace. Amanda nudged me. I nodded back to her.
I felt her hand take mine. And squeeze.
“This is where we were last night,” I said.
Wallace just drove.
A few miles along Huntley Terrace, we noticed the
flashing lights multiply. I heard the familiar siren of a fire
truck. Then the horrible stench of smoke filled the car, and
we could see a thick, black cloud rising above the treeline.
We parked the car outside the road the cop cars had turned
onto. There was a small wooden sign outside the gravel
road that read “482.” It had been too dark to see any signs
the other night. We got out and began to tentatively walk
down the road to see what was going on. There was
shouting, cursing, and there were more sirens on the way.
My heart was hammering in my chest. We all stayed
close together. And then there they were. The same metal
gates we’d climbed over last night. Beyond that the very
house where we’d barely escaped with our lives.
Only now the house was engulfed in a horrific plumage
of red flames. Burning that home right to the very ground.
24
The minivan pulled into the parking lot at a quarter to four
in the afternoon. Caroline watched as Bob Reed pushed
open the driver’s-side door, then paused a moment to let
the muscles in his arm and shoulder stretch. He gingerly
stepped out one foot at a time, then threw his arms back
in an exaggerated stretch, yawning at the top of his lungs.
The were outside of some sort of hotel or motel.
Caroline could see other people entering and exiting. She
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