Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1)

by A Wallace

  She nodded. “PR Ten used to be the branch manager's office. The bank had its own ventilation system due to security concerns.”

  “How do you know the room next to the club manager’s office is available?”

  “It's a PR room.”

  “Which is?”

  Charley tapped her finger on the key in the lower left hand corner of the blueprint. “PR stands for Play Room. They are leased to members for… activities or overnight lodging.”

  “So we must have PR Eight next door to PR Ten, which was the bank manager’s office and has a hardened safe.”

  “Yes.”

  “How will we accomplish the task?”

  Charley dug in her pocket. “With this.”

  “The infinity symbol Justin gave you.”

  “But if you turn it upright, it's an eight.”

  “And?”

  “We'll need fake documentation, drivers, and marriage licenses, et cetera. This place requires members to be married, over twenty-one and no singles allowed.”

  “I don't get it.”

  “Sean, will ya marry me on August the eighth, eight years ago?” She grinned.

  “Eight, eight, eight, and room number eight. How do you come up with this stuff?”

  “I didn't. The room number is eight, and I remembered our conversation with Justin.”

  “What will be the primary problem?”

  “Security guard patterns and routes are unknown. The first concern is if they make scheduled rounds. Second, we don’t know if the office is manned around the clock or at certain times.”

  “We're staying the night?”

  “We may be there all weekend.”

  “Why?”

  “Security may not have routes. If they don’t, I’ll camp out in the vent system and go in when it's clear.”

  “This is dangerous and tricky.”

  “It is. I’ll enlist Ralph and Scott to design and develop a data extraction device.”

  “Wi-Fi.”

  “Yes, provided they have Wi-Fi. Bet they do as a perk for the members.”

  “Who’s making the fake documents?”

  “Ralph.”

  “What else will we need?”

  “A thumb drive which will store massive amounts of data. Otherwise, I'll need a data catcher, a small hard drive to grab information from the hard drive. There's no way to know what folder will contain the data, if at all. I'll need a pass code cracker that can intrude through every possible firewall. Scott Grae will handle it. If anyone can do it, he can.”

  “We go as married and what else?”

  “We'll use disguises.” She turned and faced him. “As much as I like your understated stubble, you need to grow your beard.”

  “You like my facial hair?” Murphy rubbed his jaw.

  “Yeah,” she said as her attention returned to the drawing. “I have tinted eye lenses. My suggestion, you go with brown. Your eyes are memorable.”

  He grinned again. “I like this plan.”

  Charley toyed with the front of his hair. “Not much we can do with your hair.”

  “I can shave—”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Okay,” he said with more smiles. “What about you?”

  “I'll resemble a five dollar prostitute.” She sighed.

  “It’s not possible for you to resemble a hooker.”

  “I'll buy a cheap cocktail dress and heels from a bargain barn. I'll wear a long brunette wig, have my body spray-tanned, and use blue contacts.”

  “You're gonna look like an oompa loompa.” He laughed.

  “Yeah, I'll fit the part and be orange.” She turned around and grinned.

  “I recommend you avoid the field office afterwards.”

  “I can hear Doobie asking why I’ve changed color. My answer, don't ask. His reply, too late.”

  “And, the lies begin.” He smiled.

  “Something I haven’t mastered. I'll avoid going anywhere until after the tenth shower.”

  “What should I wear?”

  Charley turned around and studied him. “Hmm, a suit is out, too classy. My suggestion, tight jeans, let them ride on the hips, looks good on you. A snug t-shirt, since your upper body is muscled. Go with…” She studied him. “Red, will complement the brown eyes.”

  “Want me to roll a cigarette pack in my sleeve?” He snickered.

  She shook her finger at him. “You're enjoying this too much, James Dean.”

  “What about shoes?”

  “Uhm… cowboy boots. No. Biker boots.”

  “I own a pair.”

  “It’ll look good with the red shirt. No belt.”

  “Why?”

  “Jeans should ride the hips without a belt.”

  “Why, Charley Faraday, do I detect you have an eye for sexy?”

  Charley blushed. “Well, I know what looks good.”

  “Are you trying to send me off into the arms of another woman?” He chuckled.

  Charley’s grin faded. “No, I want us to look realistic.”

  “You forgot one major detail.”

  “What?”

  He raised his left hand and tapped the back of his ring finger with his thumb. “Wedding rings.”

  “I forgot.”

  “I'll take care of them.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, my mom has tons of jewelry.”

  “She doesn't wear her wedding rings?”

  “Married thirty-three years, Mom has never removed her wedding band. Sometimes she’ll wear another with it.”

  “Ah.”

  “Which do you prefer, gold, silver, platinum, or tungsten?”

  “Surprise me.” Charley dropped and shook her head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We don't want to call attention to ourselves. They have protocols if someone doesn’t adhere to their guidelines—”

  “You expect me to believe they have rules?”

  “Sean, they have security guards and bouncers at Sirens and Studs. Strict rules.”

  “Oh, so now you’ll tell me how reputable they are?”

  “Well, it's legal, it may not be moral, or ethical, but it's legal. They pay business and entertainment taxes.”

  “How will we secure the room? We aren't members. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” Murphy licked his lips and grinned.

  Charley planted her fists on her hips and rolled her eyes. “No, but you're tasked to call about a free membership weekend. I'll write the scenario to make sure it happens the way we want.”

  “Why me?”

  “Men are more likely to engage in this activity than women. From what I’ve researched, the husband goads his wife into doing this so he can go outside the bonds of marriage without repercussions. Permission to cheat. Some married couples don’t care whom their spouse beds. They stay married, and they're happy.”

  “I would never agree to share my wife. Even if the marriage is rocky, I would not do it.”

  Charley tilted her head and studied him.

  Murphy turned away. “When are we doing this?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s still research to complete. Ralph has to manufacture the gadgets and Scott will develop the software.”

  Murphy lowered his head and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m with you, Char. I’m with you.”

  “Good. I trust you.”

  Chapter 20

  No Quarter

  Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

  Saturday, 14 May – 3:16 PM

  Eighteen days had passed since the discovery of Olivia Ingram’s body. The killer continued to elude law enforcement. Desperate to target a suspect, both local and federal authorities worked together, interviewing, rerunning tests, and using software composite programs to analyze every piece of known data.

  The task force investigated merchants who sold helium. Medical supply companies provided invoices, detailing who purchased oxygen masks and plastic tubing. Local pharmacies cross-listed i
nsulin purchases and turned the information over to the authorities.

  The community stepped in to offer assistance. The county public school system surrendered a list of employees.

  Law enforcement’s vigilance paid off with huge rewards. The investigation flushed out three unknown pedophiles, which lead to their capture and arrest. Crime reduced as awareness increased. No child walked home from the bus or school without adult supervision.

  Investigators reviewed the records of arrests, prosecutions, and rap sheets, from convicted criminals released within the last three years. After several extensive interrogations, none was suspect.

  Seated in her home office, Charley sipped bottled water while staring at the photographs of Robin and Olivia. She flipped through the images on the monitor, hunting for any minor detail that would click. Charley overlaid the crime scene photos of the two girls to identify differences. Everything appeared the same, the candles, the green flannel blanket, and the flowers. The only distinctions between the two girls, Olivia had a small pillow under her head instead of leaves and the color and style of the dresses. The killer thought ahead after realizing he had left one discomfort for Robin.

  Head bowed, elbows resting on the arms of the office chair, Charley closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Flashes from the crime scenes slid effortless in her mind, every detail exposed and brought forward. “Something is there.”

  Reclined in her chair, Charley ran her fingers through her hair. She sighed long and hard, staring at the images of the girls lying on the green blankets.

  Interrupted by a flashing emergency message on the monitor, Charley rose from the chair as her hands covered her mouth. “No.” A mooing cow ringtone removed her attention from the screen.

  “Hey, Sean.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Home.”

  His voice low and solemn, he said, “On my way.”

  With a tap, she disconnected their call. Charley stood and rubbed her face. “Natalie.”

  A half an hour later, the office door swung open. With his head tilted to one side, Murphy’s hands gripped his hips as his voice wavered. “I didn’t want to see you today under these circumstances. I guess us riding my new Harley this evening will have to wait.”

  “Yes.” She managed a faint smile. “You driving?”

  “Yes.”

  Herndon, VA - Lawson’s Bowling Alley - 5:01 PM

  Law enforcement crowded the bowling alley, securing the scene as the crime response team set up to gather physical evidence.

  Charley and Murphy entered the premises, in mid-step she stopped and evaluated. Cameras were visible throughout the building. Confident the investigators had requested the feeds, Charley turned her attention to the rest of the bowling alley. The arcade was on the left where Natalie Norman had asked to play video games. Charley tugged on Murphy’s sleeve, a silent suggestion they should head in that direction.

  “A fingerprint nightmare,” Murphy said.

  “Smudges, dirt, grease, they won’t find much.” She spotted Doobie and signaled to him.

  Doobie approached them, grim and worn. “I’m ready, drill me FBI lady.”

  Charley smiled. “I’m so predictable. Cameras?”

  Doobie shook his head. “The owner verified the security cams haven’t been operational in over a year.”

  “Did anyone see Natalie in the arcade?” Murphy said.

  “None of the kids from the party were there.”

  Charley’s tablet vibrated, indicating a message. She slipped her tablet from the lower pocket of her cargo pants.

  “No,” Doobie said.

  “Natalie was never there,” Murphy said. “Where was she, if she wasn’t with the other kids who were bowling?”

  “One of her classmates saw her in the restroom.”

  “Did Natalie ask any of her friends to join her in the arcade?” Murphy said.

  “No, she didn’t. The chaperones told us she didn’t like to bowl, so she asked to play video games.” Doobie wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Natalie told them she brought a roll of quarters.”

  “She came here prepared to use the arcade, instead of bowling,” Charley said.

  Doobie laid his hand on his chest. “My opinion, she went to the restroom first. He was there, coaxed her, convincing her to leave with him.”

  “Doobie, that makes little sense.” Murphy leaned towards him. “He’s male. If he was in the ladies room, she would have run out screaming.”

  “Who said he was dressed as a man?”

  “Is there evidence of a struggle?”

  “Yes, and no, we aren’t sure.”

  “Explain.”

  “The restroom was… messy. Paper towels and water were all over the floor. In a public restroom that isn’t unusual. A girl, Natalie’s age, who wasn’t a party guest remembered Natalie entering the restroom. There were no paper towels on the floor when the girl left.”

  “Was anyone else in the restroom, maybe in the stalls?” Murphy said.

  “The little girl we interviewed wasn’t sure.”

  “What measures were taken when Natalie went missing? Were the doors locked?” Charley said.

  Doobie gazed at the arcade. “No, it was a virtual clusterfuck.”

  “Great, that doesn’t help.” Murphy sighed

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Sean and I will check around.”

  “We’ll take all the help we can get. We have a serial on our hands.” Doobie held up three fingers. “This one makes it official, three.”

  She tugged on Murphy’s elbow. “C’mon, let’s do what we do best.”

  Charley reviewed incoming data on her tablet. Murphy slid behind her and read over her shoulder.

  An eleven-year-old, African American from Herndon, Natalie Norman attended Bear Creek Elementary School. The daughter of Allen and Teresa Norman, high school teachers, he taught history while Teresa, the mother, was a biology instructor.

  A tall, slim child, Natalie had dark hair and eyes. She wore denim shorts, a red t-shirt, and red Converse high-tops. Her hair was in a ponytail pulled through the gap of a black Chicago Bull’s snapback hat. She enjoyed gymnastics, basketball, and read an average of three books a week. Natalie excelled in all her classes.

  Last seen at Lawson’s Bowling Alley while attending the birthday party of a friend, she asked for permission to play video games in the arcade. When the time came for ice cream and cake, her friends searched for her, but could not find her.

  Everyone at the bowling alley scoured inside and around the exterior of the business. The assistant manager called her parents and the police.

  They faced the alley lanes, studying the surroundings.

  “The arcade is to the left, about twenty feet from the party at lanes one and two,” Charley said.

  “The restrooms are on the other side of the building, through the hall, to the exit doors. Forensics is in there, we need to stay back and let them do their job.”

  Charley designated each location. “Natalie walked by the arcade, the counter, the grill, the sports shop to the restrooms and no one noticed her? Are people freaking blind?”

  “How could anyone miss her? Her clothes were unique, not like a little girl. How many little girls wear a Chicago Bulls cap?”

  “That reminds me.”

  “What?”

  Charley shook her head. “Nothing. Thinking aloud. Let’s go outside.”

  They advanced to the rear of the building, inspected the exit doors and vents, finding no sign or disturbances. A narrow grassy lot, extended from the back of the facility to a dense tree line. Charley stepped in front of Murphy, tapped him on the shoulder, and motioned towards the trees.

  As they approached the grove, she placed her arm in front of him to halt him from moving further.

  Charley pointed towards a brush. “There?”

  “A break in the overgrowth. Someone ran through here. Check for broken branches and disturbed leaves.”
<
br />   Charley bobbed her head and stared at him. “Oh, my, gee whiz, I didn’t know that.” She laughed.

  “Sorry.” He grinned.

  Within the grove, damaged leaves and branches indicated a fresh cut beeline, showing something or someone had tussled through the foliage.

  “Whoever went through here ran. Their clothes grabbed branches and stripped a few leaves,” Charley said.

  “You’re right.”

  A glint, about fifteen feet away, caught Charley’s eye. She directed her hand. “Over there.”

  Murphy moved towards the shiny object.

  They squatted and Murphy brushed back the overgrowth finding a broken roll of quarters. Charley removed her pen and inspected the paper. On the top edge were the initials ‘NN’. Charley shook her head, clicking her mouth. “Natalie’s I’ll bet. Sean, will you count them while I ask for forensics?”

  “Sure.” Murphy removed a pen from his pocket to sort through the coins as he counted them while Charley called Doobie.

  “Forty,” Murphy said.

  “Ten dollar roll,” Charley said. “They’re all there.”

  “Natalie wasn’t in the arcade and didn’t leave the restroom alone. How did this person take her from the bowling alley with no one noticing?”

  Noises came from behind them. Charley and Murphy stood and turned, seeing Doobie and Fleming.

  “He brought her through here. We found her quarters.” Charley pointed at the rolled coins on the ground. “Wish she had dropped them one at a time.”

  Murphy directed his thumb over his shoulder. “What’s behind these trees?”

  “A baseball field and park,” Doobie said as Fleming gathered the quarters and marked them into evidence.

  “He convinced her to leave with him,” Charley said.

  Murphy tightened his mouth. “I don’t agree, Charley. A stranger asks a child to run through the woods to go swing? That farfetched.”

  “I understand your point. The girls are connected, and the connection is him. They don’t fear him. It’s out there. Sometimes, out there is right here, under our noses. Leave nothing unturned, everything matters, everything. Either they know the killer or they respect the killer’s position or explanation.”

  “We need to talk with Mrs. Ingram again. There’s something we’re missing.” Murphy stepped aside for Fleming to leave the area.