The Abducted: Odessa

by Roger Hayden

  Suddenly Sergeant Bennett rushed into the room, breathing heavily and looking distraught. He halted, surprised by the new faces surrounding him, but did his best to be polite.“Hi, sorry about that,” he said. “I’ve been tied up on the phone for hours, it seems.”

  He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with tan, leathery skin and trim, gray hair combed to one side. He didn’t look like a man who spent a lot of time at a desk. He shook the detectives’ hands as though he was acquainted with them already and turned to Miriam with the same questioning look she had received from Corporal Taylor.“Miriam?” he asked.“Yes, Sergeant. Lieutenant Sandoval at your service,” she said.

  He gently placed both hands around her hand. “It’s a pleasure. I can’t thank you enough for helping us out with this. I don’t know why this nut keeps asking for you in these letters, but with your help, we’re going to find him and stop him.”

  Corporal Taylor took his hands out of his pockets and looked at Miriam, interjecting. “Yeah. Got some calls yesterday. Sounded like a nut or two who wanted to make sure you were in town.”

  Shocked, Miriam turned around. “What? You’re just saying this now?”“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he continued. “I neither confirmed nor denied. They sounded like prank calls, frankly.”

  Sergeant Bennett seemed dismayed by the revelation, knowing that Miriam wanted to stay out of the spotlight. “And I don’t suppose you logged the calls or tried to get a trace?”

  Taylor shook his head. “Logged ’em, but they came from an unavailable number.”

  The Sergeant ran a hand down his face with a sigh. “Please do a better job of keeping me in the loop, Corporal.”“Roger, Sergeant,” Taylor said, his face flushed with embarrassment.

  Miriam felt as though she needed to step away for a moment and get her thoughts together. Too much, it seemed, was happening at once, and she was beginning to feel more like an outsider.“Do you mind if I take the car to the store?” she asked Detective Hayes.

  He looked around, digging into his pocket, slightly confused. “We were hoping that you could consult with us first. We want to talk tactics and strategy and make use of the expert we’ve brought in.” “And we will,” she said. “I just want to get a feel for the town and pick some coffee up on my way.”“At the Food Mart?” Hayes asked. “Of course,” Miriam said. “What’s going on?” Shelton asked, approaching them.“The lieutenant wants to get coffee,” Hayes said, holding his car keys with hesitation.

  Shelton turned to Miriam, surprised. “What? No, we need to strategize.” He then looked at Corporal Taylor, who was leaning against the wall. “The corporal here can get the coffee.”“Please,” Miriam said. “I’ll only be gone a minute. I need to go back to the Food Mart and look at the scene.”

  Shelton seemed to study her with a fair amount of skepticism. “If you say so. It’s just a strange time to be making coffee runs.”“I need to take a drive and get my thoughts together. I’ll be much better use after that,” Miriam said.

  Shelton and Hayes exchanged glances as Hayes reluctantly handed her his keys. “Thank you,” Miriam said. She then spoke to the room. “What kind of coffee do you want me to pick up?

  “I’ll go with you,” Taylor said, grabbing his police cap from atop a filing cabinet.

  Sergeant Bennett raised his head from his notes on the table. “That’s okay, Corporal. We’ve got a lot to do here.”

  Taylor paused, hat in hand, and nodded with a slight look of disappointment.

  “Folgers would be fine, Ma’am,” the sergeant added. “No problem,” Miriam said with a sudden perkiness in her tone.“Lieutenant Sandoval, are you okay?” Hayes asked, blocking her path as she walked toward the door.

  She stopped and looked at his concerned face. “I’m fine, really. A quick drive through town will get my wheels turning.”

  Shelton joined the conversation with an encouraging tone. “Just remember, you’re an asset to this case, whether you realize it now or not.”“Thank you, Detective,” she said. “I’m confident that we’ll get this guy.”

  Hayes then moved out of her path, and she left the room with a wave and her satchel over her shoulder. Picking up coffee was indeed a part of the plan, but what she really wanted to do was get a layout of the town beyond what she had seen.

  She wanted to think about Shelton’s plan and how it was going to work. She admired their tenacity and quick thinking, but setting up a trap, as she had experienced in the past, could sometimes backfire. Outside the room, she walked between the two rows of vacant office desks and through the lobby, where she pushed open the double door entrance and stepped outside, shielding her face from the sun. Traffic zipped past the police station as Miriam dug into her satchel for her sunglasses to give her eyes a rest from the brightness outside.

  She approached the Crown Victoria and its dusty windshield and opened the driver’s side door, stepping inside. She started the car and pulled her notebook out, flipping to the page on which she had written her detailed schedule. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to do some quick investigation.

  The detectives had their hands full with their plan. And as much as she believed in the plan, she couldn’t sit idly and wait for the kidnapper to emerge. She was going to find him one way or another, and taking initiative was part of that.

  Messages

  April Johnson’s sprawling neighborhood was strangely quiet, with not a person outside in a yard or walking about. Miriam drove down the long road of nearly identical one-story homes, flat roofs, chain-link fences, and lawns in various shades green or brown green or brown, and some with no lawns at all. There were cars parked along both sides of the narrow, cracked-pavement road, and houses their blinds shut and doors and gates closed.

  Empty trash cans sat at the ends of the driveways, some tipped over, partly lying in the street. She hadn’t seen a neighborhood like it in some time, a place with something unseen and threatening hanging over it. Hayes had told her that after April’s disappearance, it had become a place guarded and vigilant. She could sense people watching her from their windows even though there wasn’t a person to be seen.

  Miriam circled the block only to see more empty streets and blind-drawn homes, toys littered throughout yards and empty kiddie pools and jungle gyms with no children around to enjoy them. It was as though the neighborhood was on lockdown. Yet, the visible toys could be invitation in themselves to the wrong person.

  Farther down the road, she saw a station wagon pull out of a small driveway and drive toward her. She exchanged a quick glance with a blonde-haired woman with two girls in the back seat. A dog charged at her car from a fenced-in yard to her right, running along the chain links and barking. She looked ahead, glancing at the GPS on her phone. April’s home was near, a quarter mile down the road.

  Miriam imagined how close April had been to her home before being kidnapped. There was no official evidence linking the blue van to April’s disappearance, just a guess. For all anyone knew, she could have run away from home. According to her parents, however, that was something she would never do, and Miriam believed them. Her disappearance was no coincidence. The self-described chancellor had confirmed as much in his latest letter.

  Miriam approached April’s nice-looking house with its mixed river-rock yard and trimmed bushes under large windows with closed venetian blinds. There were two vehicles in the driveway, an Oldsmobile Cutlass and a Ford F-150. Miriam considered stopping and knocking on the door, telling April’s parents that there was still hope for their daughter and that Miriam knew what it was like to go through such a terrible ordeal. But she didn’t know if it would help. How could it?

  April’s parents had said very little publicly. Miriam could imagine their fear, uncertainty, and absolute devastation. She slowed at their house, and from the corner of her eye, saw a woman open her front door across the street and step outside, glaring at Miriam’s car, being protective it seemed. She then noticed a man peer out his blinds from another house to the right. The wom
an grabbed the newspaper on her doorstep and slipped back into her home, closing the door, as the man continued staring, opening the blinds a bit, and Miriam saw that he was holding a phone to his ear. She sensed that her unfamiliar presence was raising suspicion and fear.

  She drove past the Johnson house, leaving it behind in all its sadness. She imagined how many times the man in the blue van had circled the block, as she was doing, before finding his victim. What kind of vehicle was he driving now? And what, exactly, did he want from her?

  She circled around and drove back to April’s friend’s house, roughly a third of a mile away. There were homes on both sides of the road until she reached a three-way stop with a cleared lot on one corner and sporadic leafless trees and brown grass on the other.

  If their suspect was going to stop and lure, or force, a girl into his van, Miriam thought this would be the only spot where he could have done it without anyone seeing. Witness statements from residents in the area had been recorded in April’s file, with persons confirming that they had seen nothing unusual around the neighborhood during the time of April’s disappearance. But how was such a thing possible in broad daylight on a residential street?

  With questions stewing in her mind, Miriam parked and stepped out of the car with the engine idling. She looked down across the rough patches of grass and pebble-strewn sand in front of her, with no expectations of finding anything useful. Such a fortunate discovery would be unlikely, but Miriam remained hopeful that she would find something… anything that would help.

  The sun shone brightly down from the blue sky, a faint breeze rustling through nearby trees. Miriam scanned the ground below, noticing lines of black ants crawling in and out of a busy anthill. Her eyes then stopped at a small red bow in the sand. It could have come from anywhere, but Miriam had a hunch that it wasn’t just any bow. She crouched and picked it up, brushing it free of sand. Cautious, she looked around again, clutching the bow, and then got back inside the car, shutting the door.

  There were many locations to investigate, but she didn’t want to be gone too long, plus she still had to buy coffee. She grabbed her notebook and scanned the list of locations she had written down and had planned to visit. The used car lot had piqued her interest. She had noticed several vans toward the back, older models, marked down with clearance prices. It was a start.

  She felt compelled to at least stop by and ask some questions. The air from the vents cooled her face as she sat for a moment, weighing her options. She then shifted the car into drive and left April’s neighborhood with the next destination clearly in mind.

  RC’s Used Car Lot was located downtown, a few miles from the Food Mart. Rows of used cars filled the premises. The gate was open with orange cones set outside, directing incoming vehicles, and a big OPEN sign leaned against the six-foot fence with barbed-wire topping the battered chain links.

  The car slowly rocked over the bumpy pavement as she pulled into a small, roped-off parking lot. A single trailer sat on the perimeter, the office probably. Under a large canopy near the first row of cars, she saw a man in an oil-stained blue jumpsuit leaning under the open hood of a station wagon and doing something with the engine. He took no notice of her yet, and as far as she could tell, he was a mechanic. She wanted to speak with the owner and find out if there had been a recent purchase or turn-in of a blue van. Could their suspect have been so careless? Or confident? She certainly hoped so.

  Miriam stepped out of the car as a cloud of dust breezed past her. A glance at her phone indicated that she’d been away from the police station for twenty minutes. She brushed her black hair back and continued toward the office trailer, listening as distant rock music played from the mechanic’s portable radio, resting on the ground in front of the station wagon.

  Beyond the used cars, the lot seemed desolate. Nearing the trailer, Miriam startled at the sight of a large, frothing dog, dark brown with tired yellow eyes, chained inside a pin, water dish at its side. The curious mongrel didn’t jump or bark at Miriam. It only observed her.

  Relieved, she walked up three steps to the trailer, opened the screen door, and entered, knocking her shoes on the floor mat. She felt the refreshing breeze of three oscillating fans positioned in different corners and blowing air.

  There was a counter to her right with a logbook and bell, as though she were checking into a hotel. A big man with side burns and wearing suspenders sat on the other side of the counter and welcomed her as she approached.“How can I help you today?” he asked.

  His dirty-blond beard was neatly trimmed, his hair was tucked under a green hat, and his skin was tan as leather. A name patch stitched to his overalls read “Kenny.”“Hi,” she began politely. “I was wondering if you could help me out.” She paused, considering showing her badge, but opted to play the part of a prospective buyer instead. “I’m looking for a van. Something to purchase, you know? Would you happen to have anything on site? Maybe a GMC model?”

  Kenny rocked back in his chair, scratching his chin. “Well, gee. I’m sure we have some on site somewhere.” He then leaned forward, stood up, and stuck his hand out. “I’m Kenny, by the way. I didn’t catch your name.”“Julie,” she said. “Julie Andrews.”

  Kenny narrowed his eyes, and Miriam hoped that her smile would seem genuine. “Well, Ms. Andrews. The funniest thing happened not too long ago. Are you sure you’re just looking for a van?”“What do you mean?” Miriam asked, confused.

  Without answering her, Kenny walked to a back office and swung open another screen door overlooking the lot. He cupped his mouth and shouted to the mechanic until the man looked up, wrench in hand.“Hey, come on in here for a minute!” Kenny continued.

  The man stretched his back and walked toward the trailer in a leisurely stride. He was short and skinny and wore an American flag bandana. He took a sip from a can of soda clutched in his hand. Miriam waited patiently as he climbed up the stairs and walked inside, sweat beads on his face.“Yeah, what is it, Kenny?” he asked.

  Kenny led him to the counter, where Miriam stood with her arms crossed and resting on its glossy surface.“This here is Mrs. Andrews. Now, why don’t you tell her what you told me?”

  The young man did a double take at Miriam and seemed genuinely astonished to see her. “Well…” he began. “About two hours ago, a boy came up here on his moped and delivered a letter. Said it was for a woman. Gave me fifty bucks to give it to her when she came in.”“And?” Kenny said, impatient.

  The young man thought to himself for a moment and then spoke enthusiastically as though it had just come to him. “Oh yeah. He told me that the woman was going to ask about a van and that her name is Miriam.”“You know this woman?” Kenny asked her.

  Miriam seized up, stunned at what they were telling her. She leaned over the counter, inches from the young man’s sweaty, oil-streaked face. “This boy. Who was he? Do you know him?”“Nah,” he said. “Never seen him before.”“Where’s the letter, Jared?” Kenny said.“Damn, man. I gave it to you.”

  Kenny searched the cluttered desk, brushing aside magazines and paperwork, until his eyes lit up with excitement. “Ah! I think that’s it. Just two hours and already buried under all this stuff.”

  From the papers, he pulled a sealed bag with an envelope in it. Miriam stared at it, barely able to contain herself. “I’m… I know Miriam,” she said. “Let me see the letter.”

  Kenny pulled the bag back defensively. “How do we know that?”

  Miriam remained calm, telling him with a smile, “It’s an old friend of ours. We lost our phones the other night, and, well, I don’t want to get into all of it, but he knew that Miriam or I would be coming here.”“Really?” Kenny said with an arched brow. “How much is it worth to you?”

  Miriam threw her pocketbook against the counter and opened it. She searched inside and pulled out a twenty. “That’s all I have. Now please, let me have the letter.”

  Kenny took the money, looked at it closely, holding it up between both hands, b
efore folding it and sliding it into the breast pocket of his shirt. Miriam thanked the men and wished them a good day, walking out of the trailer without looking back. She tried not to add any more fingerprints to the bag. “Can you sign the ledger, please,” Kenny called out.

  She turned, rushed back inside, and flashed her badge at the men, surprising them. “I’m Lieutenant Sandoval with the Phoenix PD, investigating a missing child’s case. I’ll be back to get statements from you gentlemen soon.”

  She turned around and left, leaving both men in a state of confusion. Descending the stairs, she walked into the sandy parking lot, wasting no time. In the background, she heard Kenny yelling, “We didn’t do nothing wrong!”

  Hands busy, she tore open the sealed bag and pulled out the envelope. She stopped and looked around the lot, wondering if whoever had left the letter was watching her.

  Who was she dealing with? What was his game? She opened the neatly trifolded single sheet of white paper, upon which the words were typed this time instead of being cut from a magazine. A copycat? The change made her suspicious, but the tone was entirely the same.

  Hello, Miriam. If you’re reading this now, you’ve proved to be the fine detective I know you to be. Rest assured, I am a very careful man. You will not find the van at the salvage yard. I paid at least five different strangers to pass this letter between themselves, so I wouldn’t waste your time trying to track that down either. Here is what I’m offering you. I will help you find Natalie Forester, but you’ve got to do your part. Your mission, if you should accept, is to drive to the Food Mart parking lot and wait for further instructions. No police. Only you. At this point, what do you have to lose?

  She quickly re-folded up the letter and looked around some again, noticing Kenny and the mechanic watching her from a window in the trailer. They looked away when their eyes met hers and moved back from the window. Miriam was at a true impasse. She couldn’t decide if she should immediately call the detectives or pursue her mysterious letter writer on her own. She knew he could be luring her into a trap, but the desire to find out what waited for her at the Food Mart took precedence. She was going to do it.