by A. S. French
‘I’m more of a private investigator. Taylor hired me to help you, but if you’d rather I didn’t…’ She turned as if to leave.
‘No. You can stay. Sit over there.’
Christina pointed at the sofa and the grinning cats. Astrid pushed her back against the felines, feeling the hardwood behind them. Outside the window, the crowd still gathered.
‘Do you want me to search for your daughter, Mrs Sanchez? Even though it was Roger who asked me, I won’t do it without your permission.’
If she said no or revealed Alex had run away, Astrid would leave and never look back. She stared at the other woman’s face, noticing the slight tremble in her voice as she clutched at the crucifix around her neck.
‘Call me Christina. Is Roger paying you to do this?’ There was suspicion in her tone.
‘No, Christina. I owe him a favour, and, having watched some of your daughter’s videos online, I feel a kindred spirit towards her.’
‘A kindred spirit?’
‘She reminds me of me when I was younger.’
‘You’re not like that now, wanting the world to be a better place?’
It was a curious question. ‘I thought I wanted an easier life, but here I am thousands of miles from home, away from those I care about, a stranger in a strange land, but still, I want to help you and your daughter.’
Christina Sanchez reached for a cigarette, but then stopped. ‘You won’t find Alex in this town.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Those videos you enjoyed so much, and Alex’s other activities, have angered many. It’s easy for those with the Devil in their hearts to hate young girls like her, no matter how strong she is.’
‘When did you see her last?’
‘Two weeks ago. We argued, she was sitting where you are now, and then she got the bus to school.’
‘I thought she’d only been missing a week?’
‘Yes, that was the last time anyone saw her. She never returned from school after our disagreement, but she rang here, telling me she was staying with her friend Beth for a few days until I calmed down.’
‘What was the argument about?’
Christina breathed heavily, her fingers scratching against her arms, the unmistakeable actions of a smoker going cold turkey.
‘I told her to stop with all these protests, to concentrate on school and make more friends. I said if she didn’t, I’d throw her out.’ There was a tear in the corner of her eye. ‘I didn’t mean it, though.’ She wiped it away with her sleeve.
‘So what happened after that?’
‘I saw Beth at the shops, and she said Alex wasn’t with her, said she’d joined the Future Youth Project. I didn’t know what that was until I asked around.’
‘What is it?’
Christina twisted her head to the side, an expression of surprise crisscrossing her face.
‘I thought it was another of those social justice groups she was always going on about, but it wasn’t.’ She smiled now. ‘In fact, it was the exact opposite, a religious youth group set up to help Senator Brady get re-elected.’
Astrid sat back and tried to remember where she’d heard that name. Then it came to her; the billboards and posters outside town weren’t all promoting religion.
‘Senator Bob Brady, the Republican pro-life NRA member?’
Christina nodded. ‘I went there, you know, to the compound he has outside his mansion. They said Alex stayed two days, and then left. I told the police. They said they’d checked, but couldn’t find anything wrong, but they would say that because the Chief of Police is Bob Brady’s cousin. And they claimed they’d looked everywhere and spoken to her friends at school, and they said she told them she was going to run away because she hated it here and hated me, and was going to go somewhere more liberal, like California or New York.’ Her sentences rambled on into one long burst, spoken without taking a breath, her eyes misting over and her hands shivering. ‘So maybe she did run away after we’d argued.’ She stared at Astrid. ‘This could be a waste of your time.’
‘But she did go to this Future Youth Project?’
‘That’s what some of them said, but I don’t understand that; why would she?’
It didn’t make sense to Astrid either. ‘Have you got a last name and address for her friend?’
Christina reached into her pocket, removing a small card and handing it to her. ‘This is her business card, but her home address is on it.’
Astrid arched her eyebrows. ‘She’s seventeen and has a business?’
‘It’s one of those YouTube things all the kids have nowadays. Can you imagine what would have happened if we’d had those when we were younger?’
That was when Astrid realised they were about the same age. And she considered how different her life might have been if the internet, social media and mobile phones had been popular when she’d run away from home the first time.
Perhaps I would have catalogued my home life online immediately instead of waiting so long to report what happened: posted images of the bruises hidden underneath my clothes, made videos of Courtney laughing at me and encouraging Father to talk with his fists. And there could have been a daily blog of Mother’s descent into alcoholism.
‘What do you think has happened to Alex, Christina?’
She peered at Astrid through saucer-like eyes. ‘She didn’t like her life and went somewhere else.’ Christina Sanchez kept scratching at her arm. ‘She’ll come back when she finds out the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.’
‘Can I look in her room?’
Christina stood and walked to the rear, where she opened a door and let Astrid inside. Then she went outside to join the others. Astrid heard voices consoling her.
It was small, barely able to squeeze a single bed and a tiny wardrobe inside. The walls were bare, with faded paper peeling off like dandruff. She looked in the closet, finding only clothes. She checked under the bed, but that was empty. It was a vain hope to find a diary which might outline Alex’s secrets and indicate where she was.
Astrid closed the door behind her and stepped outside. Christina was with a group of women, who all went quiet when Astrid approached.
‘I’m going to the police station, Christina. I need to tell them I’m working for you as a private investigator into the disappearance of Alex. Is that okay?’
Sanchez nodded while the others placed consoling hands on her arms and shoulders. ‘Will you be in touch with Roger?’
Astrid had no desire to speak to Taylor anytime soon, but would have to at some point. ‘I’ll report to you first,’ she said as she left.
She strode from the park, got into the car and asked the GPS on her phone to locate the police station.
Let’s see how many locals I can annoy.
4 Police and Thieves
Astrid spent a frustrating thirty-minute drive trying to find something decent to listen to on the radio, switching between stations without any luck, finding most of them broadcasting heavy religious messages. She settled on one where the male host presented the daily message from the Bible, disbelieving what she heard.
‘You may purchase male or female slaves from the foreigners who live among you. You may also purchase the children of such resident foreigners, including those born in your land. You may treat them as your property, passing them on to your children as a permanent inheritance.’
She waited for him to explain how the passage from Leviticus related to the modern world, but instead, he segued into some dire tune by Van Morrison. She changed the station, finding one where the hyper-active DJ lamented men’s failure to step beyond their fragile masculinity. Her destination approached as a caller spoke about how he couldn’t use an umbrella because it was too feminine.
Astrid pulled up outside the police station, wondering how low umbrella sales were in Angel Springs. She ignored the locals staring at her and pushed the door open.
The building was bright and clean. Uniformed officers strol
led around while smartly dressed women pummelled keyboards and answered phones. She gazed at the American flags dotted through the room as she strode to the reception. A young woman with dark glasses peered at her. Astrid gave her details and took a seat to wait for the Police Chief.
She used her phone to browse online as she waited, checking to see if Alex had visited any of her social media websites in the last twenty-four hours, but discovered nothing new on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or YouTube. If Alex had any other internet presence, her mother hadn’t mentioned it.
Astrid scrolled through the latest video comments, wondering if any of the people who’d left obscene and threatening messages might be responsible for Alex’s disappearance. There were more than a dozen threats of rape, most of which promised extreme torture first, and plenty of violent threats to Alex and her family. Every single poster had an anonymous name, the worst had cartoon characters as their avatars.
She was making a mental list of the most worrying posts when the man she’d come to see arrived.
Police Chief Roscoe Tanner was ready to blow like a volcano when she saw him. Someone had parked in his spot, and when he found out who it was, he’d throw them into the worst cell available. Only as he described the vehicle to the woman at reception did Astrid realise it was her car he was raving about. She didn’t mention it as she was ushered into his office and introduced herself while he removed his hat.
His ebony-lined eyes were subdued and sunken, sharp tufts of hair exploding from his head as if a rocket had gone off in a fireworks shop. There was grit in his teeth, and he struggled to remove it as he stared right through her.
‘You’ve come from England to find the Sanchez girl?’
He didn’t pronounce it as England, but as Eeengland, with a hefty emphasis on the E. She didn’t correct him on his misinformation.
‘Would it be possible for you to update me on your attempts to locate Alex?’
She tried the sweetest voice she could muster, but her charm didn’t work on him. Astrid waited for him to deny her any information, surprised when he smiled at her.
‘Do you have a PI licence for this state, Ms Snow?’
‘I’m working for the British Embassy in New York, Chief Tanner. Would you like me to give you their phone number?’
His grin turned crooked. ‘Teenagers disappear all the time, and then turn up a few days later.’ The smile vanished as he scrutinised her. ‘Christina’s going to a lot of trouble for nothing.’ He must have expected her to protest, but she kept quiet. Neither of them spoke for a minute as she glanced around the room at the photos of former US presidents lining the walls.
The silence eventually proved too fragile for him. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and glared at her. ‘Giraffe, get in here,’ he shouted.
Within an instant, the tallest woman Astrid had ever seen - she was at least six foot six - ducked her head to avoid banging it on the frame of the door and stumbled into the room.
‘Yes, Chief?’
Tanner gestured her over to him and whispered in her ear as she bent down. She glanced at Astrid as she listened to him. Then he lifted his head so Astrid could hear.
‘Take Ms Snow to the booking desk and give her an update on the Alex Sanchez case.’
He bared his teeth at her like a rattlesnake without the rattle. The tallest policewoman in the world peered down at Astrid in anticipation. She got up and followed the officer out, nodding her appreciation to Tanner, who ignored her.
They moved down a long corridor and turned into a room with a table and two chairs. The policewoman squeezed into one while Astrid sat opposite. She stared at her badge, seeing the name as Crowley and not Giraffe.
Crowley noticed where she was looking. Her smile was the warmest welcome Astrid had received so far in the town. ‘It’s one of the many nicknames they have for me. But you can call me Grace.’
‘What can you tell me about the disappearance of Alex Sanchez, Grace?’
Crowley frowned. ‘I’m sorry, Ms Snow; I can’t tell you anything. The Chief wants me to keep you here until he leaves.’
Astrid removed her phone and dialled Taylor’s number. While she waited for him to pick up, she returned that smile to Crowley.
‘What work do they give you, Grace?’
‘Traffic reports mainly. I don’t get out of the station much.’
‘How long have you been a police officer?’
‘Five years. I graduated top of the class.’
Astrid was wondering if that was supposed to be a joke when Taylor answered. She didn’t stand on ceremony. ‘Do you still have contacts at the State Department?’
His voice was liquid Valium. ‘Of course I do. Have you made any progress finding Alex?’
She ignored his question. ‘Get in touch with your friends and convince them to pass this message to whoever’s in charge of overseeing the police in Angel Springs.’ Astrid turned her head and spoke in hushed tones to Taylor before finishing the call. She smiled again at Grace. ‘Do they have a car which is comfortable for you to drive?’
‘Some of the newer unmarked vehicles have extra adjustable seats.’
‘Have you ever worked out of uniform?’
‘No.’ Confusion reigned across her face.
‘What’s it like living in small-town America?’
‘Angel Springs is more of a small city than a small town. We’re surrounded by hills and home to some of the northeast’s most beautiful gorges and water springs, amazing places to go swimming. The lake is forty miles of clear pristine water and a boon for sailing enthusiasts, with several parks along the shoreline.’
It was as if she’d stepped straight out of the tourist brochure. ‘Do you sell many umbrellas?’
Crowleys eye’s narrowed as her brows creased. ‘What?’
Astrid shook her head. ‘Forget it.’ She placed her hands on the table. ‘Is there much for kids to do here?’
Officer Crowley smiled with lips wide enough to swallow the sun. ‘There are loads of things going on in Angel Springs for all age groups, but we have a growing student population, and there’s a heap of activities for young people around that. You’d find it difficult getting bored here.’
She said it with such enthusiasm, Astrid doubted the truth of it. ‘I grew up in London, and I can tell you sometimes having too much to do is just as bad as being bored.’
‘You mean like having too many dangerous opportunities?’
Astrid grinned. ‘Always.’
‘Giraffffe!’ The Chief roared from the bowels of the police station. ‘Get in here and bring that Brit with you.’
They must have heard his voice on the other side of town. Astrid found the walk back to his office more pleasurable than the previous one. Tanner’s face was redder than a sunburnt orange when they got there. She watched him struggle to calm his breathing. She spoke before he exploded.
‘I want to see your file on Alex Sanchez, plus I need to borrow Officer Crowley for a few days, out of uniform, and one of those new cars the department has. Is that okay, Chief?’
He couldn’t look at Astrid; whoever Taylor had spoken to had left more than a flea in his ear. Tanner shouted at Crowley.
‘You’ve got three days.’
As they went, Grace gazed at her in admiration. ‘I’ll get a copy of the file.’
She left Astrid standing in the middle of the room. Several officers tried not to stare at her. The tension was palpable, and she wondered what it would take to make them break.
Grace returned in a few minutes, clutching the paper and a set of keys. ‘We need to go out back for the car.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Astrid said as they got outside.
‘What for?’ Grace gave her the sweetest of smiles.
‘Once this is over, you’re probably going to be in trouble because of me.’
They stepped on to the pavement, strode down the side of the police station and into the rear where the cars were. Grace moved towards the shiniest vehicle.
‘You don’t have to apologise for anything; they can’t make my working life any worse than it already is. At least now I get to do some interesting police work. I should be thanking you.’ She opened the driver’s door and adjusted the seat, lowering and pushing it back. She slid in as Astrid got into the passenger’s side. ‘Where do you want to go first, Ms Snow?’
‘Let’s head to your place so you can change clothes and talk me through that report. And call me Astrid.’
They travelled through the town, over dusty roads, past cavorting dogs, with Astrid paying close attention to the locals and their local ways. The street baptism had dispersed, with drops of water lingering along the road and pavements. The re-elect Bob Brady posters grew in frequency the further they went.
She nodded towards the giant image of Brady’s grinning face on a roadside banner. ‘What are your thoughts on him?’
Grace frowned. ‘We’re not allowed to discuss politics while on duty.’
‘I was told Alex had joined one of his youth groups.’
‘That’s the information we have as well.’
‘Don’t you think it’s rather unlikely, considering her history of protest and activism against everything he stands for?’
Grace drove down a long, narrow alley, and then turned at the end. She parked next to a row of dumpsters. ‘Teenagers are always changing their minds about stuff, usually over the most trivial things. I know I did at her age. What about you?’
They got out together. ‘Sure,’ Astrid said, ‘that’s when I knew I preferred girls to boys.’
She watched Crowley turn her head to the side as she clutched the report to her chest. She clambered up a set of rickety steps and opened the door to a decent-sized house. Astrid followed her in.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Grace shouted from somewhere inside.
‘I’ll have the sweetest hot tea you’ve got,’ Astrid said from the living room.
She stared at the floral patterned curtains and decided they were the worst thing she’d seen in her life, until she gazed at the carpet covered in tiny illustrations of cats. She wanted to get off it as soon as possible in case it corrupted her shoes.