Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1)

by A Wallace

  Chapter 39

  Banana Splits

  Faraday Farms – Lorton, VA

  Tuesday, 12 July - 12:45 PM

  Murphy strutted along the hall leading to the home office next to the kitchen. He stopped and popped a mint into his mouth after he adjusted his tie and tucked in his dress shirt. Around the corner, he entered the former sitting room now their office. Charley stood in front of the console with her fists cradled under her chin. He had never seen such a glowing smile on her face.

  His arms out to the side, he grinned to show his amusement. “You called. Here I am.”

  “We have a lead, Sean.” Enthusiasm rippled throughout her body. “We have a lead.” Her feet danced as her fists bumped.

  “Slow down. What lead?”

  “Banana.”

  “What?” He took her hand and led her to the chairs behind the desk. “Sit before you explode.”

  “I did a little research, and I discovered there’s a program sponsored by the school system called Banana Splits.”

  “You’re kidding? Tell me about it.” He raised his hand. “Wait… how did you find this information?”

  “I went to the Fairfax County Public Schools’ website and there it was, Banana Splits. I couldn’t wait to show you in person.”

  “Nice to hear.” He grinned as she settled in her seat. “Give me more.”

  “It’s a program for children whose parents are divorcing. The program director’s name is Dr. Rochelle Vega.”

  “We need to talk to her.”

  “We will at two o’clock.” She bounced her feet on the floor with her fists pressed against her cheeks.

  “Char, you’re going to erupt.” He swiveled his chair around and sat, inching it forward until their knees touched. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  She grabbed his hand. “Sean, this is it. This will lead us in the right direction.”

  “Before you go any further, there’s something I want to say.” Murphy took her other hand, lacing their fingers. “I enjoy working with you. Our beginning was rough, but we repaired the damage and concentrated on our work.”

  “We did.”

  “I mistreated and disrespected you. I was wrong. When this is over, I hope we work together again. I’ve learned things I didn’t understand. Thank you.”

  “Sean, never look back. It will destroy you.”

  “You say that as if you have first-hand knowledge.” Chained to her past, Murphy understood she was unwilling or unable to form close attachments.

  “I do. Don’t ask.” She stood, stepping away from him.

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She shook her head. “For now, let’s talk to Dr. Vega.”

  Annandale, VA – Fairfax Public Schools

  Tuesday, 12 July - 2:00 PM

  Charley and Murphy stood at the administrative office counter. Unable to gain someone’s attention, she turned to Murphy. “You try. Women seem to fall at your feet.”

  “Apparently not the right one.” He grumbled.

  A woman approached the counter. “May I help you?”

  Murphy showed his ID. “We’re here to meet with Dr. Rochelle Vega.”

  “She’s expecting you,” the woman said. “You’re with the FBI regarding the deaths of the girls in the area?”

  “Yes.” Murphy read the name Melinda Howard on her ID attached to a lanyard draped around her neck.

  Melinda pointed toward the door on the right. “Through there, third door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” Charley said.

  They entered the hallway, she tapped Murphy’s arm with the back of her hand. She pointed at the door with Dr. Vega’s name. “This one.”

  Charley rapped on the door with her knuckle, hearing a ‘come in’, they entered the well-organized office. A woman in her mid to late twenties with auburn hair to her shoulders sat at the desk. She smiled. Crinkles formed around her cheerful icy blue eyes.

  “Here we go,” Charley murmured.

  The small statured woman stood as she tidied her teal double-breasted business dress. “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Rochelle Vega. You’re Agents Faraday and Murphy. Which is which?” She offered her hand in greeting.

  Charley accepted her gesture. “I’m Faraday.”

  Dr. Vega switched to Murphy. They shook hands. “Nice to meet you. Please have a seat. How may I help you?”

  “Thank you,” Charley said as they sat in two chairs across from the doctor.

  “You’re aware of the recent abductions and murders of four little girls? Lydia Edwards was abducted two days ago.”

  “Yes.” Dr. Vega sighed. “Heartbreaking. Where would you like to begin?”

  “Explain the role of social workers within the school system,” Charley said.

  “We focus on family and community factors that influence learning. Several services are in place for students with issues which put their educational needs at risk.”

  “Give us a few examples of the programs available,” Murphy said.

  “Sure. There’s quite a few, such as divorce and separation, financial need. Truancy, illness including physical and mental. Conduct problems. Child abuse and neglect.”

  “Do you offer counseling?”

  “Yes. We work with psychologists both in-house and private, and guidance counselors. A mental health team. We provide crisis counseling, both short and long-term, including group and family sessions.”

  “You developed a program for children of divorcing parents.”

  “Banana Splits is one of several programs I designed and initiated. That’s how I met Annabelle.”

  “Annabelle’s parents aren’t divorcing.”

  “Different program. The Grants adopted Annabelle. Prior, she was a ward of the state, in the foster care program.”

  “Continue,” Charley said.

  “Our area has several children such as Annabelle.” Dr. Vega’s voice resonated professionalism. “They experience unique emotional and educational problems other children don’t.”

  “Such as?”

  “Post-traumatic stress, behavioral and emotional problems, developmental issues. I’ve had students who were suicidal. Those who exhibit violent or aggressive behavior.”

  “You counsel them?” Murphy said.

  “I don’t perform personal counseling. Several of our counselors specialize in children with special needs. Each social worker or psychologist is assigned to two or more schools.”

  “Counselors have access to each other’s notes?” Charley said.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you make an exception and counsel Annabelle?”

  “No. I visited her school two months ago. Annabelle approached me, complaining about nightmares.”

  “How bad were the nightmares?” Murphy said.

  Dr. Vega tightened her lips. “I don’t want to break any laws regarding privacy.”

  “When you spoke with her were you in session?” Charley said.

  “No.”

  “You aren’t breaking any laws.”

  “Regression nightmares.”

  “Manifested from her traumatic background?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she request a counselor?” Murphy said.

  “Yes, and I arranged one for her, but she died before the first session.” Dr. Vega lowered and rubbed her forehead. “Sorry.”

  “No need.”

  “Did Annabelle mention a desire to reduce her music training?” Charley said.

  “Yes, she did.”

  “What action was taken?” Murphy said.

  “I spoke with her parents. They had no issue with her taking a break. What Annabelle wanted, they made sure she had.”

  “Even if it meant hurting her hands?” Charley said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Charley turned to Murphy. “The bicycle.”

  “Bicycle?” Dr. Vega said.

  “We believe the person who abducted and murdered Annabelle let her ride a bicycle while she
was captive,” Murphy said.

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “Annabelle had injuries consistent with bike wreck.”

  “Amazing such injuries can be identified.”

  “Well, sometimes the injury can detail how it occurred and with what.”

  “I see. Interesting, how an examiner can determine what happened from a simple scrape.”

  Charley smiled.

  “Did you know the other victims?”

  “No. I had no personal contact with them.”

  “Annabelle didn’t suffer from any of the other conditions you mentioned?” Charley said.

  “Annabelle was shy, but, no. She was a happy kid. I cared a lot for her.” Dr. Vega’s eyes watered. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Murphy handed a box of tissues sitting on the desk to her.

  “Do you know anyone by the name of Star?” Charley said.

  “Star? No, should I?”

  “No. We discovered the name in her journal. We don’t know who the person is or whether they are a child or adult.”

  Dr. Vega placed her index finger over her lip, her brows wrinkled. “Star… I’m sorry but, no. If I come across it I’ll contact you.”

  “We would appreciate it,” Murphy said. “Were any of the girls in counseling?”

  “HIPAA regulation prevents me from offering the information.”

  “The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.”

  “Even if they are deceased?” Charley said.

  “Yes.” Dr. Vega’s eyes watered again. “Annabelle was a well-rounded little girl. Excellent student, no discipline problems. Despite her shyness, she had many friends. Teachers loved her.”

  “Good to hear. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, no child does.”

  “I agree. Annabelle was special. I don’t mean in a special needs way.” Dr. Vega’s hand flickered. “She was a well-adjusted foster child, considering what she had suffered. It was horrendous.”

  “We know. The Grants were dedicated to her.”

  Dr. Vega placed her hand onto her chest. “Oh, my goodness, no kidding. Her daddy was such a nut over her. Gosh, it was incredible watching him with her. Mrs. Grant, such a doting mom. She wanted Annabelle to have it all. They did all they could. Their life revolved around her.”

  “We sensed that,” Murphy said.

  “I have no more questions.” Charley looked at Murphy. “Do you?”

  “I would like a list of children who participate in the Banana Splits program.”

  Dr. Vega hesitated. “I can’t, due to the privacy rights of the children and their families.”

  “They fall under the health care privacy ruling?” Charley said.

  “Yes. I suppose you could get a court order.”

  “Hmm, I see.” Charley’s eyes grew stern and narrowed.

  “Dr. Vega, school isn’t in session. Do the children continue therapy during the summer?” Murphy said.

  “If they wish to continue over summer break.”

  “Those enrolled in the Banana Splits program, are they continuing their counseling?” Charley said.

  “Most of them.”

  “Would you give us a general treatment plan?”

  “We develop effective coping skills. Teach appropriate ways to express their feelings whether negative or positive. Give them the tools needed to dispel misconceptions about divorce. We explain how to avoid parental conflict, eliminate self-blame, and improve their self-image.”

  “How long is the program?” Murphy said.

  “However long it takes for each child. Some manage stress better than others. Some never heal.”

  “We appreciate your time Dr. Vega. That’s all for now,” Charley said.

  “If you need to visit again, please do.”

  Charley tapped a photo frame on the doctor’s desk. “Your husband?”

  “No, my brother. We’re twins.”

  Charley set the frame back onto the desk while Murphy said, “I have a twin sister. We’re so much alike.”

  Vega fiddled with a button on her dress. “Robert and I are worlds apart.”

  Charley studied Dr. Vega then Murphy. She chewed her lower lip, observing them. “We should go.”

  Charley and Murphy stood.

  “Thank you, Dr. Vega,” Murphy said.

  “You’re more than welcome. I hope you catch the person who is doing this. It’s terrifying. Many parents have talked with me. They’re scared.”

  “They should be,” Charley said. “Thank you.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  In the truck, Charley scowled.

  “What’s wrong, Char?” Murphy said.

  “I don’t like her.”

  “Why not? She was professional, informative. She answered all our questions.”

  “I don’t like her. She’s too perfect.”

  “What do you mean? Because she’s pretty? She’s not Jessica Cooper.”

  Charley’s brow furrowed deep as she stared out the window. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 40

  Then There Were Five

  Annandale, VA - Murphy’s Townhouse

  Thursday, 14 July - 6:18 AM

  At the counter in his kitchen, Murphy anchored his hip on the barstool edge, gulping much needed coffee. A restless sleep the night before, he stared into the brew. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other kept a grip on the warm mug. After his visit with her last night, the guilt continued to lurk in his chest. The cell phone face down, he flipped it over, opened it with his thumbprint, and tapped on the photo album app.

  He skimmed through the photos, stopping at his favorite. Three faces smiled at him. He pestered Charley a half a day to convince her to have dinner with him and his parents at their spacious stone estate. Murphy and his dad, Alex, positioned on each side of her, towering over her petite frame. Charley’s grip on his waist gave him hope.

  Sarah, his mother, snapped the photograph after Alex spent most of the evening making Charley laugh. She had slaughtered him playing three rounds of chess. Alex joked with her he would have his vengeance. Each time his dad hugged her, Murphy detected she displayed no discomfort, nor did she resist Alex’s noble attentions.

  His finger swept across the screen stopping at the image producing his distress. Sable hair teased her shoulders, her toothy smile, and dark brown eyes lit the screen. It had been a year since her life changed and he was the reason. Regret planted inside his soul, accepting responsibility was his only option. What am I going to do with you? Murphy grumbled and rubbed his eyes. So many times, he considered telling Charley, but the words balked in the back of his throat. Would she understand and accept the events that unfurled months before they met in Charlottesville?

  Murphy stared into her eyes. “Diana, I’m so sorry.” The phone vibrated as the ringtone ‘Wicked Dream’ blared and reminded him to return to reality.

  “Sean.”

  “Good morning, Charley.”

  “Lydia is dead.”

  “Where?”

  “Bennett Elementary School in Burke. Did you not get the notification?”

  “No. Why is the name familiar?”

  “That’s where Annabelle went to school.”

  “Interesting. I’ll meet you there.”

  Murphy tapped the icon to disconnect the call. He shook his head when the notification scanned across his screen. He frowned, too preoccupied with daydreaming to notice.

  Burke, VA – Bennett Elementary School - 8:42 AM

  As Murphy approached the school, Charley remained inside her Denali. He parked his Ford F-150 behind her. Hesitant for a moment, he left his truck. He tapped on the passenger window. “Hey, Char.” The locks clicked, he opened the door and slid into the seat.

  Charley pointed at two large paper cups of coffee with the logo of the Java House printed on the side. “That’s for you.”

  “Aww, thank you, honey.” He chuckled, selecting the one closest to him.

  “You’
re welcome, sweetheart.” She laughed, patting him on the leg. She looked away as she chewed on her fingers.

  “You okay?”

  “Peachy, how about you?” She reclined her head on the headrest, running her hands through her hair.

  “Like a stomped on banana.”

  She glared out the windshield. “Banana, huh?”

  “Yeah, all mushy inside.”

  “Will we tag this guy? Or will this continue until I retire?”

  “We’ll get him, Char. Promise.”

  “When, Sean? How many little girls have to die before we catch him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  As they sipped their coffee, buried deep in her mind, she rubbed the top of his hand. “I’m ready. Doobie’s waiting.”

  Out of the SUV, they met Doobie at the crime scene. “Carmichael’s here.”

  “Good,” Murphy said as they trekked across the red brick steps to the school. A huge, blue metal awning covered the entrance. To the right of the sprawling glass doors, attached to the wall, a school sign and the year it was established. Ten years ago, Lydia’s birth year.

  His knees on the ground, Carmichael examined Lydia’s body. “Hey, guys. Lydia died about six hours ago. No abrasions, marks, or contusions, except around the right wrist, conducive to bindings. There’s no harm to the body. Helium, again, I’d guess. She’s clean and neat.”

  “This is so bizarre.” Charley stood at Lydia’s feet. “He dumps her body on the steps of Annabelle’s school. It’s theorized he purchased Annabelle’s last meal of pizza from Floriano’s.”

  Murphy circled the body. Afterwards, he stepped to the edge of the terrace to view the manicured school grounds. Large oak trees dotted along a stone sidewalk to the street. He pivoted towards the three of them. “The abduction site, Oakton, and the dump site are twelve miles apart, a twenty to thirty minute drive. This isn’t standard for serial killers.”

  “I wouldn’t have predicted this.” Charley examined Lydia’s body before taking two steps back. “They’re territorial. They must have order, consistency. Not this one.”

  “Want my opinion?” Doobie scooted to Lydia’s head.