Dividing Zero

by Ty Patterson

  He met Zeb’s eyes in the mirror. ‘When was the last time a NYPD cop had to plead?’

  They were received by a dark-haired man in an immaculate pinstriped suit. He was as tall as Zeb and moved fluidly forward to shake their hands.

  ‘Darien Kile, from Kile, Johnson and Cragge.’

  A condescending smile flashed briefly.

  ‘I am Amy Kittrell’s lawyer.’

  ‘Why would she need a lawyer?’ Pizaka gaped.

  The supercilious smile turned on the cop.

  ‘That’s a question you should ask yourself.’

  Amy Kittrell didn’t look any better. Pale, wasted, she lay propped against a pillow and regarded her visitors with an indifferent eye.

  ‘You found her?’ she whispered.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ Chang replied.

  ‘Darien, why are they here?’

  ‘They said they have some news, ma’am. Maybe you should hear them.’

  Chang whipped out his tablet and brought up Maddie’s photograph in Toccoa.

  Amy Kittrell straightened as if electrified. She grabbed the tablet and peered at it close.

  ‘When did you get this? Who sent it?’

  Chang told her. ‘We tried calling you,’ he added when he had finished, ‘after our return from Toccoa. The hospital said you weren’t taking visitors.’

  ‘Where is Toccoa?’

  ‘In Georgia, ma’am.’

  Her forehead furrowed. ‘Is this genuine?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Your daughter was there with the man.’

  Beth opened her mouth and closed it when Meghan glared at her across the room and shook her head.

  Don’t ask who the man is, Meghan conveyed with her eyes. Beth nodded.

  ‘We got another message, ma’am.’ Chang played the video.

  Maddie’s voice was low and musical in the quiet of the room, as she did the sums. Her mother gripped the tablet with white fingers, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘When did you get this?’

  ‘Earlier today, ma’am.’

  The mother turned to a calendar on a side table. Eleven dates were crossed out on it, marking each day of her daughter’s disappearance.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Chang brought her attention back. ‘Is this video familiar? Did you record Maddie doing these sums?’

  ‘No. Was there any message? Did she call? Any clue?’

  Hope bled away from her face when Chang shook his head.

  ‘Ma’am, both the messages were sent from throwaway phones. We think it was the man who lived with you, who sent it.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Who is he, ma’am?’

  Kile stepped forward smoothly.

  ‘That’s it folks. No more questions.’

  Chapter 29

  ‘Can’t you just question her?’ Meghan asked the cops once they were outside the hospital and away from Kile’s smug face.

  Pizaka climbed in the rear of their ride, and buckled himself, before he replied. ‘Her doctors say she still isn’t in a stable condition. Questioning her could damage her recovery.’

  ‘We certainly have no grounds to charge her.’ Chang joined his partner on the bench seat at the back and gave a thumbs up, at which Zeb swung out and joined the line of vehicles going from point A to B.

  ‘You guys are treating her like a criminal,’ Beth turned hot eyes on the two cops behind her.

  ‘You have to admit she is avoiding all our questions,’ Chang replied with equanimity.

  Pizaka tidied his hair and adjusted his shades on his face. ‘And now she’s got a lawyer.’

  There were cameras usually wherever there were lawyers. Cameras meant Pizaka had to look his best.

  Beth looked at her sister for support. She didn’t find any. Meghan had a distant expression on her face, and if she felt Beth’s gaze, she didn’t acknowledge it.

  Meghan whipped her head suddenly at Zeb. ‘The office.’

  Something in her voice and tone made Zeb floor it.

  He overtook the school bus they were behind, surged past two more vehicles, cut across lanes, his lights and horn sounding a warning, and performed an illegal U-turn at a red light.

  Beth closed her eyes when a semi loomed large in her window. ‘There’s a reason for going Grand Theft Auto?’ She screamed.

  ‘The numbers,’ her sister yelled back.

  ‘We didn’t pay attention to the math problems she was solving.’ Meghan explained as they hurried inside their office.

  She grabbed her screen and played the video again. She called out the numbers in the problems to her sister who entered them in a command to Werner.

  They waited, after Chang called his team of detectives and gave them a similar task.

  Pizaka practiced his golf swings on a strip that was laid out in a corner of the office.

  Chang and Beth threw a ball at each other.

  Meghan watched Werner.

  Zeb watched Meghan.

  Werner came back with an answer when offices were turning off their lights, people were hitting subways, making their commute to warm homes and dinners.

  No correlation.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Meghan asked Werner as if it could hear her.

  Werner persisted with the answer. Whatever problems Maddie was solving had no link to anything in her life or Amy Kittrell’s life or to the dead Josh Kittrell.

  Shadows etched Chang’s face when they had finished discussing the finding.

  ‘There’s only one thing to do.’

  Day twelve dawned like any other day.

  The earth had completed its rotation, and was a day further in its circular orbit. It didn’t care what its inhabitants did. It obeyed the laws of gravity and momentum alone.

  The man had broken many laws and if caught and convicted, would face serious time. His life, as he knew it, would end.

  It didn’t bother him.

  He showered, woke the girl, and made breakfast for her.

  Cheerios that he had bought from a 7-Eleven, milk from the same store.

  He warmed the milk on the electric heater in the tiny kitchen their room came with, filled a bowl with it, poured the cereal in it and served it to her.

  She turned on the TV and changed channels till she came to Disney and settled down to watch her favorite show.

  He warmed a glass of milk for himself, went to the window and drank it slowly, watching the world below go by.

  An hour later, he washed her bowl and gave her more math problems to do. He turned to a news channel when she was occupied and idly watched various politicians and talking heads come and go.

  The banner caught his attention first, then the photograph on the screen. He rose suddenly, went to the TV and blocked her view with his body.

  He turned the volume down so that he alone could hear the presenter.

  His eyes remained fixed on the photograph, while a coldness spread through him.

  They didn’t have to do this.

  It was a photograph of the girl in Toccoa station.

  ‘We don’t have a choice, Chang had argued. ‘We have to release the picture and solicit information.’

  The two cops had finally convinced the twins the previous night and Maddie’s picture was beamed by TV stations all across the country into millions of homes and offices.

  The hotline started ringing, most of them crank calls. There were several sightings from Toccoa.

  By midday, detectives were tracking down various leads. A couple of calls from Brooklyn looked promising. There was a sighting in Greenport.

  Though they had leads now, the cops were frustrated at the overall lack of progress. They felt they were being toyed with.

  They knew they had no choice but to persevere; cases were cracked in ninety minutes only in Hollywood.

  Chuck Keyser saw the photograph that evening when he was back from a run and was having dinner all by himself.

  He stopped chewing for a moment, breathed deeply and waited for the skin crawling feeling to stop.<
br />
  He knew what the photograph meant.

  There would be more killing.

  Chapter 30

  The man and the girl were holed up in an apartment in downtown Manhattan on the thirteenth day.

  The photograph had changed everything.

  The moment he had seen it on TV the previous day, he had packed their duffel bag, jammed the ball cap over the girl’s head, and had grabbed her by the hand and hustled out.

  He didn’t bother checking out. Leaving was imperative.

  He had peered cautiously on the street and when he didn’t see anyone yelling, or looking in his direction and pointing, he had brought the girl out.

  He had joined a bunch of tourists and had taken the subway to Central Park.

  He took the girl into the depths of the park and when he came to a secluded area, he brought out a pair of scissors.

  He grabbed her by the shoulder and looked her in the eye. ‘I need to cut your hair.’

  The girl squealed and protested, but settled down when she saw the look in his eyes.

  He chopped her hair, made it short like a boy’s, and collected the loose hair in a baggie.

  He asked her to hold a mirror for him and when she did so, he cut his hair.

  He dressed her in a pair of trousers that he had bought for just such contingencies.

  She looked different when they emerged from Central Park; more like a boy than a girl.

  He wasn’t bothered about his own looks. He knew people would be looking for a young girl with a man. It was the girl that people’s eyes would be drawn to.

  The girl didn’t look like one anymore.

  He walked down Broadway, holding her hand and when he reached Times Square, he found a fast food joint.

  He ordered a burger and fries for her, a milkshake to wash them down with, and saw her eyes light up in delight.

  He connected to the establishment’s WiFi, went to an apartment rental site and booked one using one of his fake credit cards.

  The apartment was near Trinity Church and was expensive. It was worth the expense, he figured. Cops would be looking for hotels and motels near train and bus stations.

  The thirteenth day was gray and overcast and when he peered out of the window, the pavement gleamed, freshly washed from a burst of rain.

  He padded to the bathroom, showered, and went to the living room where he brought out his laptop and went onto the internet.

  He brought up maps and train routes and made calculations. This time the trip would take longer. There would be transfers and car rentals, however, with the girl looking like a boy, he was sure he could pull it off

  It was time to teach the cops and the Petersens a lesson.

  Chuck Keyser stayed at home on the thirteenth day, watching the news, his Glock within easy reach.

  His phone didn’t ring. No one busted his door down.

  The news went into an endless loop and he knew the picture would not be broadcast the next day. There were scandals to be covered and politicians to be torn into. A missing girl was important only for a day.

  Morning became afternoon. He made a simple meal for lunch. Eggs. Toast. Boiled potatoes. A beer to wash everything down.

  He had been to the world’s most dangerous hotspots and seen and done things that most people couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t acquired the taste for fancy food.

  He eyed the phone and wondered if he should make the call and set things in motion.

  He clicked his teeth in impatience at his indecision. He was a leader. Leaders didn’t prevaricate.

  He dialed a number from memory and spoke briefly. He wasn’t worried about his phone being tapped or his calls being monitored. No one would understand what he had said.

  The man and the girl took the Amtrak Cardinal Service early the next day, the fourteenth day.

  The service originated from Penn Station and ended in Chicago a full twenty-six hours later.

  The man didn’t intend to travel twenty-six hours.

  The girl bounced in her seat in another Viewliner bedroom and chattered excitedly. Her stories were building up; there would lots to tell Lizzie and Peaches.

  He didn’t disillusion her.

  Twenty hours later, on the fifteenth day, after riding through horse country, rivers, valleys, and mountains, the train stopped at a small town.

  It was still dark, very early in the morning, when the man carried the girl and stepped out on the small platform.

  There were no benches, no seating area and he and the girl were the only two people to step out.

  Once the train departed with a mournful cry, it felt like he and she were the only humans on the planet.

  He placed his duffel on the pavement and sat with his back against a wall, the girl burrowed in his neck.

  The message was on Beth and Meghan’s phones when they returned from their run early morning on the fifteenth day.

  No progress had been made in the previous five days. The leads from the hotline had proved to be false. No girl and man were found in any of the locations.

  ‘It’s a city of eight million people,’ Chang was defensive when Meghan had brought up the lack of forward movement. ‘That’s a lot of people to search through.’

  She was in the shower when she heard the pounding.

  Beth. Who else could it be?

  She drew a towel around her and opened the door. ‘You heard of polite knocking?’

  ‘You checked your phone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Obviously! I shouldn’t have asked.’

  Beth showed Meghan her phone.

  Maddie was smiling back at her, standing in front of Connersville train depot.

  Chapter 31

  Connersville was a small city in Fayette County, Indiana, on the north bank of the Whitewater River. Its population of fourteen thousand was served by a high school. It derived its name from Conner’s Post, a trading outpost established by one John Conner, who arrived in the Whitewater Valley in the early eighteen hundreds.

  The city was once known as Little Detroit and had been home to the McFarlan Motor Corporation.

  Meghan read aloud at the scant information spat out by Werner as their Gulfstream cut through blue skies yet another time, heading southwest.

  They had hustled to the airport on studying the message and after relaying it the NYPD and briefing them.

  By ten a.m. on the fifteenth day, they were wheels up.

  The twins were unaccompanied by Pizaka and Chang this time; the two cops staying back to liaise with the Connersville PD. Their detectives would investigate security camera images again, look into train reservations to Connersville and onward.

  Werner had already disclosed that the city was served by two Amtrak trains; one heading from New York to Chicago, and the other going in the opposite direction.

  Meghan looked at the picture again trying to read any meaning into it. Maddie kept silent, her eyes mirthful, looking straight into the camera.

  Beth had tried calling the number back when they had seen the message, it hadn’t rung. Yet another burner phone.

  ‘This isn’t typical,’ Beth brushed her hair back from her face and fell back in the plush leather seat. A ray of sunlight streamed through a window and briefly haloed her face.

  Nothing about Maddie’s kidnapping is typical, Meghan thought.

  The closest major airport to Connersville was Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport, sixty miles from the city.

  However, the city had its own airstrip, a smaller one, in Mettel Field, that was four miles away from the train depot; Mettel Field was their destination.

  A call to Zeb who was in Paris on an Agency task, who had then made more calls to other people, had cleared their landing at the small airport.

  Chang called as their aircraft began its descent. Amtrak had confirmed the sale of two tickets to Chicago to two people who fit John Doe and Maddie’s descriptions.

  The purchases were in a false name, different from
the one used for the Toccoa purchase.

  No such person existed.

  Amtrak had no record of any other purchase by that false name or the one used for Toccoa. This time no CCTV cameras had captured the two passengers.

  No vehicles were rented at Connersville, though the local PD was still checking.

  The station’s name board was cordoned off and a forensic team was dusting it.

  It was one p.m. when they landed and walked out of the small terminal. A bright blue sky that stretched as far as the eye could see, canopied above them.

  On the ground, a black SUV was waiting for them; it had been driven over from Cincinnati, sixty miles to the southeast.

  A huge black man, as large as Bwana, straightened and approached them, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight.

  His eyes flicked from one sister to the other. ‘Meghan Petersen?’

  ‘That’s me,’ Meghan shook his hand.

  ‘Dudley Fields, ma’am,’ he handed the keys over. ‘I’ll be waiting in the terminal.’

  Fifteen minutes later they were at Connersville train depot.

  They were met by Wayne Call, the Connersville Police Chief, a burly man whose gut was straining against his uniform. He greeted them and briefed them on what his men had found.

  They hadn’t found much. The name board had prints; these would be analyzed and compared to the ones found in Toccoa.

  No one had seen a man and a girl at the station. The Cardinal Service from New York arrived at three-thirty six a.m. The station didn’t see a lot of traffic at that time.

  They walked around the depot, a gray-bricked, red-tiled structure that had a shelter, a small platform, and two tracks that ribboned out into nothingness in the far distance.

  Call took them to the name board where a couple of officers were working. The cops nodded at the twins and let the twins go closer.

  Meghan felt a frisson of excitement go through her when she saw the red squiggles. They hadn’t been very clear in the picture and while Chang had confirmed their existence, she and Beth had wanted to see for themselves.