Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  Even Melissa’s unconditional love hadn’t been enough at the time to help him move beyond the past. The facts listed in his official military jacket that explained the decisions—decisions he had made that protected the mission but ultimately cost the lives of good men. The same facts that still allowed him to call up a top-ranking official at the Pentagon and make things happen.

  Jonathan surveyed the small yard that flanked the little house Melissa’s brother called home. The picket fence needed a fresh coat of paint. The house could use one, too, but it was a home. Maybe not such a happy home, but a home where a man and woman had made a commitment to give life together a shot. A home where a child played. The colorful sandbox beneath the oak tree, along with the big plastic, equally colorful building blocks made for climbing marked this as a home where a child lived.

  Except that child was missing. Probably deceased.

  Regret twisted in Jonathan’s gut.

  Melissa didn’t want to consider that possibility but the chances the child was deceased were far greater than the likelihood that she would be found alive.

  Melissa and her family didn’t deserve this horrific pain. Unfortunately Jonathan doubted he would be able to make it right. He would try. He owed Melissa that. She had given everything she’d had to give and he’d walked away.

  He’d let her down just as he had his team two years prior to that.

  His work as an Equalizer now allowed him to do what he couldn’t do over five years ago for his team, what he couldn’t do for Melissa three years back. Make a wrong right.

  Maybe if he could in some way make this tragic wrong right, he could forgive himself for hurting Melissa with such nonchalance.

  He had to try.

  The screen door opened and Melissa leaned out. “You can come in now.”

  Jonathan pressed the soles of his boots against the porch floor, stopping the swing and simultaneously pushing himself up.

  “Just one thing.” Melissa looked embarrassed. “Presley has a serious hangover. She’s a little cranky so tread lightly.”

  “Yeah.” Jonathan forced something as close to a smile as he could produce. “I got that part.”

  He immediately regretted the words. Melissa’s look of weary exasperation had him rethinking his lack of tact. When she turned and went inside, he followed.

  The interior of the house was as humble as the exterior, and equally in need of attention. Toys lay scattered about, but the glaring theme was disorderliness. Under the circumstances it was expected, but Jonathan sensed the house had always been untidy. Clearly, living up to “Suzy Homemaker” standards was not on Presley’s agenda.

  Presley Shepherd, twenty-three according to her DMV record, currently had auburn hair. Her DMV photo showed her as a blonde with a brazen blue streak down one side. She was dangerously thin and quite happy to show off as much of her slight frame as possible. The shorts and tank top were two sizes too small even for her.

  “Presley,” Melissa said, “this is my friend Jonathan.”

  The missing child’s mother peered up from her perch on the sofa, her gaunt cheeks making her eyes appear inordinately large. “Let’s just get this over with. I have stuff to do.”

  William indicated the end of the sectional sofa farthest away from where his wife lounged. “Please, have a seat, sir.”

  Jonathan waited for Melissa to settle first, then lowered onto the upholstered sofa beside her. The brush of his arm against hers made him flinch. Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice.

  “What do you wanna know?” Presley demanded. She combed her fingers through her hair and looked him up and down as if she’d only just realized he was male.

  “Why don’t you walk me through the night Polly went missing,” Jonathan suggested.

  Presley rolled her eyes.

  “I know this is hard,” Melissa said softly, “but we have to try every avenue.”

  Jonathan was amazed by her patience. He wasn’t so sure Presley deserved so much slack. He didn’t need a shrink to analyze this woman. Her indifference and self-absorption were glaringly evident and, based on what he’d read of her background when he’d looked into the characters related to this drama, likely related to her neglected childhood.

  “William and I had a big fight.” Presley glanced at her husband, who looked as miserable as he no doubt felt. “Polly was asleep. I didn’t want her waking up with us fighting again so he went to his folks’ house for the night. No big mystery.” She threw her hands up. “Same old, same old.” She made eye contact with Jonathan only once and only briefly as she spoke.

  “Again?” he asked.

  Her pale face scrunched into a frown. “What?”

  “You said,” Jonathan clarified, “that you didn’t want Polly to wake up with you fighting ‘again.’ Have you been fighting frequently?” He glanced from Presley to William and back. “Since he returned home on leave?”

  Her thin, pointy shoulders hunched. “I don’t know. Yeah, I guess. We always fight.” She looked to her husband. “It’s just the way we are.”

  William said nothing.

  Jonathan moved in a different direction. “According to the police report, there was no sign of forced entry. Did you ensure the door was locked after he left?”

  She twirled the fingers of her right hand in her hair. “Course. I’d be stupid not to.”

  William cut a look at her but quickly glanced away.

  Jonathan let several seconds lapse before broaching the next question. He wanted both of them to squirm a moment. William’s posture and outward expression never changed. Presley’s, on the other hand, became more agitated. She changed positions on the sofa twice and tugged at her skimpy blouse.

  “Besides yourself and William who has a key to your house?”

  William looked to Melissa. “You have one.”

  Melissa nodded. “I keep it in the key box at home.” To Jonathan she added, “It’s on the wall by the back door. That’s where we hang the keys.”

  “No one else.” William turned to Presley. “Right?”

  “You’d know better than me,” she said, incensed. “You got the locks changed the last time you were home.”

  Jonathan considered her statement a moment as she and her husband discussed the issue of keys. “Why did you have the locks changed?” he asked, the question directed to William.

  “Presley was being harassed by this jerk,” William said, “and I was about to be deployed for six months.” He shrugged. “I was trying to protect my family.”

  “Worked out real good, didn’t it?” Presley snapped.

  A new layer of agony settled deep into William’s features.

  “Blaming William or yourself won’t help right now,” Melissa said in that same gentle tone. “Is there any possibility someone else had a key? One of your friends maybe?”

  Presley shot up from the sofa. “I knew this was the way it would be.” She planted her hands on her narrow hips. “I’ve been through this crap with the cops already. I don’t need to go through it with you. Everybody knows that retard Stevie took Polly.” She glared at Melissa. “He probably got the key from your house. You let him hang around all the time like he’s family or something.”

  Melissa flinched. “The key is right where it has always been. And you know Stevie wouldn’t do that. He’s family. We’re the only family he has.”

  Presley’s eyebrows reared up in skepticism. “You sure about that, Miss Goodie Two-shoes? They won’t let him play with the kids at the day care center no more cause of what he did. Maybe you’d better get your facts straight.”

  Jonathan exchanged a look with Melissa. Had he missed something?

  Melissa shook her head, weariness and worry heavy in her eyes. “That was a misunderstanding. Stevie was a volunteer. The kids loved him. That one little girl was new. She didn’t understand Stevie was only playing. Chief Talbot cleared Stevie of any wrongdoing. He doesn’t go back to the center because it puts him at risk. Not the children.”


  “Whatever.” Presley slinked out of the room.

  William heaved a weary sigh. “I’m sorry.” He glanced in the direction his wife had disappeared. “She’s not herself.”

  “A missing child is the sort of nightmare no parent ever wants to go through,” Jonathan said, acknowledging the difficulty of the situation. “We all show our pain in different ways.”

  As if he’d said the words about their situation Melissa turned to him, her gaze searching his.

  An old familiar pang ached through Jonathan. He banished the ache and focused on the questions he needed to ask. “The windows are open,” he said to William. “Were they open that night?”

  William shook his head. “That night it was cold for May. One of those dogwood winters the old timers talk about.”

  “May I see her room?” Jonathan couldn’t name what he was looking for but he needed to get a feel for the family life. He’d formed a pretty strong opinion already and it wasn’t good. With William away serving his country most of the time, it didn’t appear that anyone was watching after the child in any significant and consistent manner. He felt confident that Melissa did all she could, but he doubted that Presley allowed her interference often.

  With visible effort, William nodded and pushed to his feet. “It’s, uh, this way.”

  Jonathan waited for Melissa to go ahead of him but she hesitated. “She knows something.” Melissa checked to ensure her brother was well out of hearing. “Something she’s afraid to tell.”

  He didn’t have to ask whom she meant. Her sister-in-law. The pain on Melissa’s face even as she voiced what Jonathan himself sensed with little doubt made his gut clench. “I agree.”

  Melissa turned to lead the way to the child’s bedroom without saying more, but the relief Jonathan had noted on her face at his agreement made him wonder just how bad a mother Presley had been. Maybe not that bad, he amended. Melissa would never overlook abuse or neglect.

  The small house had two bedrooms separated by a bathroom down a short hall from the main living area. The child’s room was a little tidier than the rest of the house he’d seen so far. The bed was unmade, stuffed animals lined shelves and themed curtains dressed the windows. The signs of a forensic tech’s work remained visible. The room had been dusted for prints and the bed linens had been removed for collection of trace evidence. That last part surprised Jonathan. The official report had shown no indication that sexual abuse was suspected.

  Jonathan checked the window. It was closed and locked, presumably the way it was the night the child went missing. The pink paint around the window looked clean and undamaged. The curtains showed no tears.

  There was nothing about the room that appeared out of place to an outside observer. Jonathan turned to William. “Does Presley work outside the home?”

  “Sometimes she helps out at the diner downtown.”

  “Who takes care of Polly when her mother works?”

  “She goes to the day care center at the First Baptist Church.” William’s gaze stayed on the child’s pillow as he spoke. “It’s kind of a mother’s day out program. Polly likes going there.”

  Jonathan wanted to ask about the guy who had harassed Presley, but he would get that information from Melissa later. “Are there any other places Polly goes regularly? Any friends she plays with who live nearby? Any neighbors who were home the night she went missing?” The street was lined on both sides with small homes. Not more than a dozen feet separated them. The police had interviewed neighbors and those who had regular access to the child. He’d read those interviews, as well. Jonathan’s strategy would duplicate a lot of that ground. But sometimes the same question asked twice reaped different answers.

  “She goes to church with me on Sundays,” Melissa said before William could. “The same church where she goes to mother’s day out.”

  Melissa had gone to church when they were together, Jonathan recalled. He wasn’t surprised that she did still. “Any children she plays with regularly? Other parents who are friends of yours, or Presley’s?” he asked William.

  “The kids next door once in a while,” William said, “but not really anyone else outside the kids in the church program.”

  “Was anyone home that night at the neighbors’ on either side?” According to the police report the neighbors had been home, but no one heard or saw anything.

  William nodded. “Most were already in bed. The police canvassed the entire street. No one remembered hearing anything that night.”

  “Do you remember what time you left?” The time stated in the report was midnight, which provided a reasonable explanation for no one having been in a position to see or hear any comings and goings.

  “A little after midnight.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was late. I tried to reason with her, but she insisted I leave.”

  Not midnight. After midnight. “You’re sure about the time?”

  “Maybe. I guess. I was too angry to really notice. But it was around twelve-thirty when I got home.”

  “By home,” Jonathan clarified, “you mean the house where you and Melissa grew up?” Where Melissa lived now.

  William nodded.

  Melissa walked to the window and peered out. This was hard for her, too. She wanted to protect William and Presley, but who was going to protect her?

  Who had protected her when he’d walked out on her?

  Clearing the past from his head yet again, he asked, “Has Polly ever gotten out of the house or unlocked the door for anyone?” Jonathan couldn’t see that being the case at such a late hour, but it wasn’t impossible.

  William shook his head. “Polly doesn’t take to strangers. She’d never leave the house alone or open the door for anyone.”

  “Never,” Melissa confirmed, turning back to the conversation. “She’s a sweet child and plays well with the other kids, but she’s a little shy around adults that she doesn’t know.”

  Under the circumstances, Jonathan felt there could be little doubt that the child’s disappearance was foul play. The only questions were how the person got in and why no one, the mother in particular, heard anything. At least one door had to have been left unlocked.

  “Presley didn’t unlock the door for any reason after you left?” Jonathan pressed. “And no one was allowed in the house?”

  William stared at the floor. “She says she went straight to bed and no one called or came over.”

  That he didn’t meet Jonathan’s gaze as he spoke greatly discredited his words and concurrently alluded to what he wasn’t saying.

  “Does Presley have a habit of hosting company at late hours or leaving the house while Polly is sleeping?”

  William met his gaze then. “I can’t say for sure. She swears not, but—” he shook his head “—she’s lied to me before.”

  “We think she may have left the house that night,” Melissa said, visibly struggling with the fact. “After William was already gone. But it couldn’t have been for long. She loves Polly too much to take chances like that.”

  It was wrong and crazy as hell. But Jonathan knew it happened. “She won’t admit as much?” He knew the answer before he asked but he needed confirmation.

  William shook his head again. “She’s sticking to her story that she went to bed and didn’t wake up until I came in the next morning.”

  Pounding echoed through the house, waylaying Jonathan’s next question.

  “I should get that...” William gestured toward the door. “I’m pretty sure Presley doesn’t want to talk to anyone else right now.”

  “We have other aspects of the case to look into,” Jonathan offered. “We’ll get out of your way for now.”

  William nodded and went to answer the door.

  Jonathan hung back, letting the others go before him. He took one last lingering look at the child’s room. Afraid of strangers. Possibly left at home alone. No signs of forced entry or struggle.

  Polly was taken by someone she knew. Or she remained asleep
during the abduction.

  Jonathan’s money was on the former.

  By the time he reached the living room, William had opened the door to an older man.

  “William, what’s going on here?” The man looked past William to Jonathan. “Who is this?”

  Melissa stepped forward. “Chief, this is Jonathan Foley, a friend of mine.”

  Jonathan knew all about Chief Reed Talbot, having read a lengthy profile on the man. The chief glared at Melissa, then at Jonathan. “Presley called all upset about some stranger interrogating her about Polly’s disappearance.”

  Jonathan thrust out his hand. “Jonathan Foley. I apologize for not making your office my first stop, but I wasn’t sure you’d be available under the circumstances.”

  Talbot’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “I’ve been heading the search for Polly. That’s where I should be now.” He tossed this statement, chock-full of accusation, at Melissa.

  “I don’t want to get in your way, Chief,” Jonathan insisted. “I’m just here to provide any support I can to a friend.”

  “Then I’m sure you’ll want to hear the news I’ve come to pass along.”

  Melissa’s breath caught. William’s eyes widened with hope.

  “We’ve learned Stevie Price’s whereabouts,” the chief announced in a rather flat tone.

  “Is Polly with him?” Melissa asked, her voice scarcely a whisper.

  The chief shook his head. “No, but at least this latest break clears up that question. An eyewitness saw Stevie board a bus for Nashville that left early in the evening. Well before the child went missing.”

  Jonathan recalled reading that a local had gone missing the same day as the child. A local who not only knew Polly but who played with her frequently.