“No.”
Ashley tried to hold back her tears, but a few escaped.
“What did he do to you?”
She wiped the tears from her face, her hands shaking fiercely.
“My friends and I were walking home from school. I saw the van pull up to the curb and park in front of us. The man got out and walked around to the passenger side door. He opened the sliding door and started looking around inside. I didn’t pay much attention to him. But when I got next to the van, he stepped in front of me and punched me in the face.”
Ashley started to cry, as she pointed to her lip and cheek.
“What did he do next?” I asked.
Ashley composed herself and continued.
“I was dazed, and he grabbed my arm, pulling me into the van. He punched me again, then shut the door. I remember laying on the floor of the van, trying to move. But, I was dizzy and couldn’t get up.”
“Did he ever say anything to you?”
“He said that I better lay there and be quiet, or he was going to kill me.”
Hearing Ashley’s account of the incident enraged me. My blood was boiling, anger pulsating through my veins. If there was one rule in life, it was that you don’t hurt children.
Even the most ruthless criminals knew this. Whether on the streets or in the prisons, when word got out about someone hurting a child, justice had a way of finding them and made sure they paid. As a man with children of my own, I secretly found comfort in that.
I escorted Ashley to my patrol car and had her sit in the front passenger seat. I gave her a blanket from my trunk, hoping it would make her more comfortable. The ambulance had arrived at this point. I called one of the paramedics over, so he could look at her injuries. They weren’t serious in nature, but she was obviously in pain.
Over the radio, I heard the other units say they had the driver in custody. The good news got me excited. I celebrated by doing a fist pump, as I said "Hell Yeah" under my breath.
The sergeant told the officers to bring the suspect back to the van. I anxiously waited for their arrival. The more I thought about what he did to Ashley, the more angry I got. Still seething with rage, I put myself in check, not wanting to show my emotions.
When they arrived at the van, the man was dirty and bloody. That’s what you get for running from the police, I thought to myself, as I smiled.
The man was placed in a patrol car, and one of the officers gave me his driver’s license. I looked at the name, which read David Alan Cook. I saw Cook’s listed birthday and noted he was only twenty-five years old.
I went to the car and opened the door. I was immediately hit with Cooks offensive odor. He smelled like sweat and urine. Disgusting.
“Mr. Cook, you’re under arrest for kidnapping, felony evading, felony battery and child endangerment.”
Cook didn’t say anything, he just sat there with a smug look on his face.
I advised Cook of his Miranda rights and asked him if he wanted to talk. Cook shook his head, indicating no. I looked at Cook, his face was cold, and his eyes were evil. I started to close the door, and he yelled for me to stop.
"What?" I said as I held the door.
Cook leaned towards me and I noticed an unsettling smirk on his face.
“You know, she is very lucky you found me. I was going to do all sorts of fun things to her. I was going to make her scream my name.”
He started to laugh, as he sat back in his seat. I felt a wave of anger come over me, one that I had never felt before. It took all of my will, not to yank him out of the car and beat him to death. Instead, I slammed the door and took a deep breath.
One of the officers handed me a backpack he had recovered in the van. I assumed it was Ashley’s, so I opened it up to double check. Inside the backpack, I discovered an onslaught of torture devices. There was duct tape; zip ties; rope; a knife; a set of clamps; a wood burning tool; tubes of lubricant; sex toys and a box of Viagra pills.
I instantly got sick to my stomach. I was overcome with disgust and horror, as I thought about what could have happened to Ashley.
My anger was at the surface, ready to explode. I looked at Cook, who was staring back at me. My face was tight, seething with rage. Cook smiled and then winked at me, before looking away.
That was the last time I saw Cook...until now.
Chapter 3
Some Bad News
I came crashing back to reality, realizing that I was still driving to the station. I was actually almost there, but I had gotten so lost in my thoughts, I didn't remember the drive.
I made it to the dispatch center and ran Cook’s name through NCIC. I learned that Cook had been released from prison about two weeks ago. However, nothing came up in the SRF, indicated if he was on parole or not. I printed out the paperwork for reference and went to my office.
I quickly started making calls to anyone that would answer their phones this early in the morning. I started with the State Parole Department, but the agent assigned to this area didn’t answer. I called the local jail and tried to get information on Cook, but no luck there either. I checked the DMV database, but it didn’t have any current information on him.
I was getting frustrated, which didn't go well with my lack of sleep. I finally knew who the man was and I couldn’t find any information on him.
I sat in my chair and rested my head on my desk. I searched my mind, trying to think of some way to confirm if Cook had an address in Clarksville. After several deep breaths, I grabbed my phone. I started texting my CI’s to see if any of them knew anything about Cook.
After sending a few messages out, I waited patiently. I immediately got a response from Goose. Goose was my best CI and had helped me with some big dope cases back in my narcotic days.
Goose told me that Cook was staying at the Budget Motel, a crappy little dive that locals frequented. Cook had contacted Goose a few nights ago, looking to score some dope. Goose gave him a number for someone that could hook him up. He told Goose to come party, and that he was staying in room 208.
I was excited about the information and quickly texted Goose back. I asked Goose to let me know if she saw Cook and that I would get her some cash for the information.
I put together a plan and called my old boss from the narcotics unit. I briefed him on the situation and asked him for a surveillance team to watch Cook. He was more than willing to help. He provided me with a team, and they arrived within the hour.
I gave each team member an information packet on Cook. The objective of the operation was to conduct surveillance on Cook. Unless it was life-threatening, the surveillance team was not going to make contact. They were there to help build my case against him. To see if he was still targeting teenagers.
Each member received an assignment and knew what was expected of them. After answering a few questions, I sent them to the motel.
The team arrived at the motel and each member set up in undisclosed locations. The team leader called me and told me the white SUV was at the motel. He provided me with the license plate information. I ran the plate through the DMV database and printed out the return.
The plate returned to a 2010 Ford Explorer registered to Patricia Cook out of Lansing, Michigan. After getting some information on Patricia, I gathered my belongings and headed to the motel.
I arrived in the area and met with the team leader. I told him what I had learned about Patricia.
Patricia and Cook met online and had developed a relationship. While Cook was still in prison, the two of them got married. Patricia had a minor criminal record, with charges ranging from petty theft to possession of stolen property. She never did any real jail time, but had been institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital for schizophrenia. Patricia currently had an outstanding misdemeanor warrant for FTA, in regards to a forgery case.
While talking with the team leader, my phone suddenly rang. I answered it. It was the parole agent returning my call. I thanked him for getting back to me and then asked him about Cook. The agent
told me Cook wasn't on his caseload; in fact, Cook wasn't even on parole. He had received full credit for his time served, as part of an early release program spearheaded by the Governor. As far as the state of Montana and the Clarksville Police Department was concerned, Cook was a free man.
The news was like a punch to the gut. Out of all the people, how was a kidnapper eligible for early release? What a joke, I thought to myself, as I shook my head in disgust.
I had to put my emotions aside and concentrate on the matter at hand. It was almost 10:00 a.m. at this point and neither Cook nor Patricia had come out of the room. I instructed the team leader to stay on the room and contact me if there was any activity. I drove away from the motel and headed to my next stop.
◆◆◆
I arrived at the residence located at 135 Patterson Street. The house was in a crappy neighborhood, surrounded by run-down houses. The front yard of the residence was overgrown and disheveled. There was a pile of garbage in the driveway, surrounded by several stray cats. The paint on the house was dingy and flaking off. It was in desperate need of a fresh coat.
I made my way up the broken stone walkway, arriving at the front door. I opened the squeaky screen door and knocked loudly.
After a short amount of time, the door opened, and a woman was standing there. The woman was wearing pajamas and her hair was tangled. Her appearance was dirty, and a stale odor wafted out from the house.
“What can I do for you?” the woman asked.
"Do you remember me?" I asked while smiling at her.
The woman stared at me intently, while she tried to find the answer.
"I know I've aged a bit over the last 18 years." I hinted.
The woman's eyes grew big, as she suddenly remembered who was.
“Oh my God! Officer Rivers. What are you doing here?” she said with a surprised look on her face.
"It's good to see you, Ashley. I was hoping I could have a minute of your time. I need to talk with you."
“Of course, please come inside,” Ashley said, as she stepped aside, opening the front door wider.
I went inside and looked around.
The inside of the house was much like the exterior. It was messy and smelly, with several empty beer bottles scattered around the living room. Dirty dishes were stacked high in the sink, and clothes were piled on the kitchen table. On top of an end table, near the couch, were multiple prescription bottles and an ashtray loaded with cigarette butts.
Ashley cleaned off a couch cushion by wiping the dirt and crumbs onto the floor. She patted it and insisted I sit down. I made my way over and took a seat. Ashley sat close to me, still in disbelief that I was there.
"I can't believe it has been 18 years since…Well, you know."
I smiled at her and nodded my head.
"How have you been doing Ashley?" I asked as I tried not to let the smell of the couch bother me.
“I’m doing alright, not the best, but I’ve been worse,” she answered, as her body rocked back and forth.
Ashley told me about her life, including all the ups and downs. I took notice that there seemed to be a lot more downs, then there were ups. She described how the abduction had impacted her life. Even though she was saved, she was never able to fully recover.
She dropped out of high school and then was homeschooled. She was diagnosed with PTSD and developed a severe social anxiety disorder. Because of her disability, she wasn't able to have any relationships and couldn't work. She became a recluse, and to this day, she has never felt entirely safe.
"You know I think about it every day," she said, as she looked at the ground. "Sometimes it's a struggle just to get out of bed."
I didn’t exactly know what to say. I reached out my hand and Ashley took it. I gently squeezed her hand, trying to convey my compassion for her situation.
After hearing about how rough her life had been, I was worried about telling her why I was there. I contemplated not telling her about Cook, but knew I had to. I mustered up some courage and told her I had some bad news.
A look of concern came over her, as she leaned forward in her seat.
“David Alan Cook is out of prison and is back in Clarksville.”
Ashley’s face instantly turned white. A look of horror emerged, her pulse pounding in her neck. She broke down and began crying. I tried to comfort her, but what could I say at a time like this? I just told her that her attacker was out of prison, and worst of all, that he was in her town.
Ashley got up and made her way to the end table. She grabbed several prescription bottles and quickly opened them. She poured numerous pills in the palm of her hand. She threw the cocktail of pills into her mouth, tilting her head back as she swallowed.
Ashley paced around the room visibly shaking. I could tell she was searching for the words to say. Ashley lit a cigarette and began sucking on it rapidly.
“Oh my God! He’s gonna kill me, isn’t he?” she asked, as she continued to puff on her cigarette.
She grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it. She tilted it back and chugged most of it down. I told her to calm down and assured her Cook was not there to harm her. I explained that Cook was a creature of habit and that he was only interested in teenage girls, not adult women.
I really wasn’t sure if that was the case, but I thought it might help with her fears. She looked at me and nodded her head. It seemed to work, but only for a little bit. She eventually found her way back to the couch and sat down.
We continued to talk, and I explained that I had Cook under surveillance. I assured her that I would call her and keep her updated on any issues involving Cook. This seemed to help, and she began to relax a little. I changed the subject and tried to distract her a bit.
I told her about my life and family. I bragged about my wife and kids, trying to keep her from thinking about Cook. It kind of worked, but for all I knew, it could have been the pills kicking in. Either way, Ashley sat back on the couch. Her breathing had slowed, and the color was back in her face.
We conversed some more about nothing in particular. After some time went by, I looked at my watch and knew I needed to get going. I gave her my business card and told her to call me at any time.
I stood up from the couch and took another look around. Ashley made her way to where I was standing. She looked at me and smiled. She held out her arms and hugged me, holding on tight.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked, in a soft voice.
Ashley thought for a moment and then said, "No."
I made my way to the front door, as Ashley followed. I opened the door and stepped out onto the front step. The fresh air hit my face, helping clear away the stench of the house.
“Officer Rivers,” Ashley said, as she stepped out towards me.
"Yes, Ashley?"
“Would it be ok if I called you sometime...even if it was just to talk?”
“I would like that,” I said, as a smile came over my face.
I made my way down the broken steps, past the sidewalk, arriving at the driver’s side of my car. I looked at Ashley standing in the doorway. I gave her one last wave and I climbed into my car.
It was sad to see Ashley in that condition. How one incident, had ruined her entire life. I started my car and drove away.
◆◆◆
It was just after 12:30 p.m. and I hadn't heard anything from the surveillance team. I called the team leader and asked for an update. I learned that nobody had gone into or out of the motel room. The SUV hadn’t moved and the activity at the motel was minimal. I told him I had some other issues to deal with and that I would check with him in a while.
I drove back to my office and compiled several photographs. One of the pictures was of Cook, and the others were of men looking similar to him. I was going to show them to Tori, and hopefully she would be able to identify him. The photograph of Cook was from a few years ago, but I felt he still looked close to the same.
I called Norma and told her about the progress i
n the case. I asked for her permission to speak with Tori at school. Norma consented and asked me to call her back when I was finished.
I drove to Tori’s high school and spoke with the principal. I explained that I needed to talk with a student about a private matter. I asked him if he had a quiet place I could use. He provided me with an office, and I waited there for the lunch break to end.
At about 1:00 p.m. Tori arrived at my location. I spoke with her and said that I was still trying to find the man who chased her. I explained that I had some photographs to show her. I admonished her and told the man may or may not be in the photos. I asked her to study each one carefully and to take her time. Tori understood and I showed her the first photograph.
She immediately said no and dismissed it. I gave her the second one. She looked at it for a little while longer and then said no. The third one was of Cook. I handed her the photograph and waited with anticipation. She studied the picture intensely.
"It looks a lot like him, but the man in the woods was older than this guy," Ashley said, unsure of herself.
She continued to look at the picture, as I crossed my fingers under the table.
“I’m sorry Detective Rivers; I can’t be 100% certain.”
She slid the image to the side and then looked at the three other photos. She immediately dismissed them, each one quicker than the ones before. She picked up the photograph of Cook and stared at it some more. After several minutes of silence, she shook her head, indicating she wasn’t sure.
"I'm sorry, he just looks too young," Tori said, as she bowed her head towards the desk.
"There is no need to apologize. Like I said, these are just images, to see if you recognize any of the men."
Tori got up from the table and grabbed her backpack. I walked to the door and opened it. As she passed me, Tori smiled. I thanked her for her help and she left the office.
I was frustrated that Tori wasn’t able to identify Cook. It would have made my job a lot easier. But I knew it was a gamble, especially using the older image of Cook. Given the circumstances, it was one I felt I had to take. Unfortunately, I lost this gamble, and I hated to lose.
Searching for Sera Page 4