The Night Stalker

by James Swain

  “Because the kid vanished without a trace. One minute she was sitting in the reception area of the principal’s office, waiting to be assigned to a pre-kindergarten class, the next minute she’s gone.”

  “She’s new to the school?”

  “Yeah. Mother brought her in at nine this morning. The kid doesn’t speak any English, so the principal had to assign her to a teacher who was bilingual. The principal left the kid on a couch with a coloring book, and the kid disappeared.”

  “From the principal’s office?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How long was she out of the principal’s sight?”

  “No more than a minute.”

  “If I remember correctly, the school had a full-time security guard. What’s he saying?”

  “He didn’t see a thing.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “It gets worse,” Vita said. “The school doesn’t even have a photograph of Angelica to use for an Amber Alert. We don’t know anything about her except her name.”

  “Can’t you get a photo from the mother?”

  “The mother works as a chambermaid in one of the hotels. She gave the principal her number at work, only it’s not right, so they’re calling all the hotels, trying to track her down. I was wondering if you’d call the principal, and talk to her. Maybe she missed something.”

  I backed out of my spot in the Burger King lot with a squeal of rubber. The abduction prevention program I’d helped Oakwood establish included a photograph of every student along with their fingerprints. I didn’t think it was a coincidence that the one child not in that database was now missing.

  “How about I do it in person?” I said.

  “Are you nearby?” Vita asked.

  “I’m in Starke. Ocala is on my way home. I’ll drive to the school, and see what’s going on.”

  “Great. I’ll call the principal and tell her you’re coming. How soon can you be there?”

  I needed to take Highway 301 to reach Ocala, and pass through three of the worst speed traps in the state. Vita had once run the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, and still carried a lot of clout. I said, “That depends on what kind of police escort you can provide me.”

  Vita laughed under his breath.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I pulled into Oakwood Elementary’s parking lot with my police escort in front of me. I’d made record time down 301, and wished I’d had a camera to record the faces of the different cops I’d passed on the way down. I leashed Buster and went inside.

  In the lobby stood several nervous adults. With them was a small woman in her late forties wearing a black pants suit and a white brooch on her lapel. She introduced herself as Marge Heller, the school principal, and thanked me for coming. I smelled cigarettes on her breath and saw desperation in her eyes.

  “Where are the local police?” I asked.

  “Two deputies are in the back of the school, searching the grounds,” Heller said. “The others are conducting a door-to-door search of the local neighborhood.”

  “They think the girl was taken off the property?” I said.

  “Yes,” Heller said.

  Oakwood was a large school, and there were plenty of places within the building where a child could be hidden. The police shouldn’t have left so quickly, but I saw no point in telling that to Heller or the others standing in the lobby.

  “I need to speak with you in private,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  Heller led me down a hallway lined with classrooms. The school was locked down, meaning no children would be allowed to leave until Angelica Suarez was found. The classrooms were unusually quiet, and I wondered if the children knew that something was wrong.

  We entered Heller’s office. It had a waiting area, with a desk for a receptionist, a watercooler, and a pair of couches with matching blue cushions. Heller pointed at one of the couches. “That’s where I left Angelica Suarez. I went into my office to call her new teacher. I wasn’t gone more than sixty seconds. When I came back, the child was gone.”

  “Where was your receptionist?” I asked.

  “Sally went to the cafeteria to get an orange juice for the child. I asked her to go.”

  “Your receptionist didn’t see anything?”

  “No. It happened when Sally was gone.”

  Her voice was trembling, and riddled with guilt. If only I hadn’t asked Sally to get that drink! We went into Heller’s office, which looked out upon a manicured ballfield behind the school. Heller sat down at her desk, while I remained standing. Her eyes fell upon my dog.

  “He’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Does he help you find missing children?”

  Hearing the hope in her voice, I nodded.

  “I need to ask you some questions,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  “Is this the first time Angelica has been at the school?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about her mother?”

  “Her mother appeared in my office yesterday and told me she wanted to register her daughter for our pre-k program. I gave her the necessary forms to fill out, and told her to bring Angelica in this morning. This morning was the first time I actually saw the child.”

  I glanced at the wall beside her desk. It was covered with framed diplomas from various universities around the state. Heller was extremely well-educated, but none of her schooling had prepared her for this.

  “I’m going to tell you what I think happened,” I said. “It isn’t pretty, but you need to hear it before we continue.”

  Heller placed her hands on her desk. “Go ahead.”

  “The person who abducted Angelica Suarez has been planning an abduction for a long time. He plans to sell Angelica to someone who’s shopping for a little girl.”

  She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my Lord.”

  “I know this for several reasons,” I said. “First, Angelica is a girl, and although I haven’t seen a photo, I’m guessing she’s pretty.”

  “She’s a little angel,” Heller said.

  “Well, little angels fetch a lot of money, sometimes a hundred thousands dollars or more. They’re prime targets for abductors.”

  Heller closed her eyes, then opened them.

  “Second, Angelica doesn’t speak English,” I said. “That makes the abductor’s job easier. If the child were to start screaming when she’s out in public, most people won’t understand what she’s saying.”

  “A perfect victim,” Heller said.

  “That’s right. The third factor is that Angelica is not in the school’s abduction prevention computer database. She’s new, and doesn’t have a file.”

  “You think the abductor knew this?”

  “Yes. Which leads me to my final conclusion. Someone on the inside, an employee of the school, was waiting for this kind of situation, and abducted this little girl.”

  Heller sat up in her chair like she’d been hit with a cattle prod. “But parents come into the school every day. Couldn’t one of them have grabbed her?”

  I shook my head.

  “How can you know this for certain?”

  “Your school has one entrance, and there’s a security guard in a golf cart parked next to it,” I said. “He would have seen them leave. One of your staff did this.”

  “Oh, God,” she said.

  “I’m guessing the girl was moved to an empty room inside the school, given a mild sedative, and then hidden.”

  “Hidden how?”

  “She might be in a closet or a locker.”

  “But that’s barbaric.”

  “The person who did this does not care about Angelica’s wellbeing. He plans to sell her and collect his money.”

  “So you believe Angelica’s still in the school.”

  “Yes. Once the police leave, her abductor will change Angelica’s appearance, put her into the tru
nk of his car, and go see the buyer.”

  Heller shut her eyes and took a deep breath. What I had just described to her was inconceivable. Adults did not do this to little children. I had to bring her back to earth, and I loudly cleared my throat. Her eyes snapped open.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I’m not done,” I said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Who knew that Angelica was coming to school today?”

  “Do you think one of them is responsible?”

  “Please answer the question.”

  “Let me think. Her new teacher knew, and Sally, my receptionist. I also spoke to the school doctor, since all new children are required to have checkups.”

  “So four people knew,” I said.

  “That’s only three,” Heller said.

  “I’m including you,” I said.

  Heller’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out. An uncomfortable silence filled the office. I pointed at the phone on her desk.

  “Please round up the other three,” I said.

  Heller called her receptionist, the school doctor, and Angelica’s new teacher, and asked them to meet us in the media room. Hanging up, she glared at me.

  “Do you think that I might be implicated in this?” she asked indignantly.

  “The four of you knew Angelica was coming to school today. That makes you all suspects until proven otherwise. It’s how missing kids investigations work.”

  “Guilty until proven innocent.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So I shouldn’t take this personally.”

  I nodded. Heller stood up, and came around her desk. Her movements were brisk, and I could tell she was pissed off.

  “After all,” she said, “I’m the one who called the police.”

  I followed her into the hall. She shut the door behind her, took a key from her pocket, and locked it. Watching her, I noticed something that I hadn’t seen before.

  “You don’t have a sign on your door,” I said.

  “I moved into the office last week. The sign’s on order.”

  Heller started to walk down the hall. I remained behind, and stared at her blank door. She came back to where I stood.

  “Are you coming?” she asked.

  My mind was working hard now, seeing what I hadn’t seen before. I tore my eyes away from the door, and looked at her. “You said that Angelica’s mother appeared in your office yesterday morning. How did she know where to find you?”

  “Someone must have brought her to me.”

  “Any idea who?”

  Heller shook her head.

  I envisioned Angelica’s mother coming to the school the day before, and getting lost. An employee had come to her aid, and escorted her to Heller’s office. Along the way, they’d talked, and she’d talked about her daughter, while unwittingly passing along information—perhaps a nickname, or the name of a pet—that would let a stranger gain the child’s confidence. That was why Angelica hadn’t cried or kicked up a fuss when she’d left Heller’s office.

  “Where would she have parked?” I asked.

  “In the visitor’s lot in front,” Heller said.

  “Is that the only place?”

  “Yes.”

  I thought about the security guard sitting outside in the golf cart. He would have seen Angelica’s mother yesterday, and, hopefully, the employee who had befriended her.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Every public school in Florida employed a security guard. Oakwood’s guard was a guy in his twenties with a bodybuilder’s physique and a pistol strapped to his waist. His nametag said Ed Edwards.

  Most security guards were guys who couldn’t pass the test to become cops. Edwards was sucking on a Coke, and appeared overly caffeinated. I introduced myself, and told him I was looking for Angelica Suarez. I asked him if he minded answering a few questions.

  “Not at all,” he said. “Have a seat.”

  I slid into the empty seat of his golf cart. Buster hopped into the back, expecting a ride. It was funny, only Edwards didn’t smile. If we didn’t find Angelica Suarez, he would probably lose his job.

  “Yesterday morning, Angelica Suarez’s mother came to school to register her daughter,” I said. “Someone helped her find the principal’s office. I was wondering if you happened to see who helped her.”

  Edwards’s eyes glazed over as he plumbed his memory. “Come to mention it, I did. She parked over by the fence. She looked confused, and started talking to a maintenance guy cutting the grass.”

  “Did he take her inside?”

  “I’m not sure. I got pulled inside for a minute. When I came back out, she was gone, and so was the maintenance man, only his mower was still there.”

  “Had he finished cutting the grass?”

  “I don’t think so. There was a patch still left.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Ray Hicks.”

  “Can you describe him for me?”

  “Sure. Ray’s my age, pretty tall, but out of shape. Tends to keep to himself. The first time I met him, he made my skin crawl. I called my brother who’s a cop over in Jacksonville, and he had a records check pulled on him. Hicks was clean.”

  “But he bothered you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Intuition was the messenger of fear. Edwards’s intuition had told him that Ray Hicks was a bad character, even if there was no evidence to prove it. I thanked him for his help and went back inside.

  The media room was directly off the main entrance, and was filled with computers, DVD players, and other electronic equipment that kids needed to learn how to use so they could teach their parents. I found Heller and three other people, who I assumed were the teacher, the receptionist, and the school doctor, sitting at a rectangular table in the room’s center. I pulled Heller off to the side.

  “What can you tell me about a maintenance man named Ray Hicks?” I asked.

  “Do you think he’s the one?” Heller asked.

  “He’s in the running.”

  “Ray works part-time cutting the grass and pruning. He’s never been a problem, although I’ve caught him lurking around the halls a few times. I guess you could say he’s a bit strange.”

  “Is there a reason you didn’t mention him before?”

  “All the maintenance men are strange.”

  “Does he have a place where he stores his things?”

  “He has a locker.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  Heller took me to the maintenance men’s locker room, which was adjacent to the school cafeteria. Each locker had a piece of masking tape with its occupant’s name printed on it. Hicks’s locker was at the end of the row, and was padlocked.

  “Is this locker school property?” I asked.

  “Everything on the grounds is school property,” she replied.

  “We need to cut away this padlock. Where can I find some clippers?”

  Heller led me to the tool room. Sixty seconds later, I cut away the padlock on Hicks’s locker with a pair of steel clippers, and had a look inside. The locker contained a pair of work shoes, a change of clothes, and a can of Old Spice aftershave. Tucked in the back was a three-ring binder. I flipped through its pages, and found myself reading a series of e-mails between Hicks and someone who called himself Teen Angel. The e-mails discussed how to abduct a child from a public place, and included tips on how to gain the child’s trust, and deal with things like temper tantrums and crying fits. I found myself shaking my head. Teen Angel had tutored Hicks over the Internet.

  I came to the last e-mail in the binder. It was dated only a few short days ago. Teen Angel had wished Hicks good luck, and given him some parting advice. It read, Remember, TWO HOURS MAX!

  I knew what that meant. Two hours was the maximum amount of time that most abductors wanted to keep a child before turning them over to a buyer.

  “How long has Angelica
been gone?” I asked.

  Heller looked at her watch. “One hour and fifty minutes.”

  We were running out of time. I tried to put myself in Hicks’s shoes. This was the first time he’d done this. My guess was, he’d taken Angelica to a place where he felt safe.

  “Where do the maintenance men hang out?” I asked.

  “They have a shed behind the gymnasium,” Heller said.

  “Show me.”

  Heller led me outside behind the school, and pointed at a prefabricated shed nestled behind the gymnasium.

  “For what it’s worth, the police searched the shed earlier,” she said.

  Not very well, I nearly said.

  “Call the police and tell them to get over here,” I said.

  With Buster by my side, I ran to the shed. The dog had tuned into my apprehension, and his hackles stood straight up. The shed had a single window, and I cleaned the glass with my fingers, and peered inside.

  A lanky guy wearing a green uniform covered in grass stains stood inside the shed. He had a pair of scissors in his hand, and he was giving a radiant, dark-skinned little girl sitting in a chair a haircut. The girl held a box of Milk Duds, and was squirming uncomfortably. I had found Ray Hicks and Angelica Suarez.

  “Sit still,” Hicks said in broken Spanish.

  “I don’t want my hair cut,” Angelica replied in Spanish.

  “Eat some more candy, and shut up,” he said.

  “I don’t want candy,” she said.

  Angelica threw down the box of candy, and started to cry. Hicks looked nervously around the shed, then violently clamped his hand over her mouth.

  “Shut up!” he said.

  Drawing my gun, I found the door to the shed, and kicked it three inches above the knob. It came down, and I rushed inside. Buster flew past me, and went straight for Hicks’s legs.

  “Let her go,” I said.

  Hicks pulled Angelica out of her chair, and held the scissors against her throat. My dog had latched onto his pants, and was tearing the fabric.

  “Get your dog off me,” Hicks said.

  I yelled to Buster, and he let Hicks go. He came back to my side with a piece of pants in his mouth.

  “You a cop?” Hicks asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Her daddy?”