by Jon Mills
“I know, darling. Time to move on. I wish it was that easy.”
It had been three years since he’d lost Amanda in a car accident. Noah had met her when he first moved to Clallam. She worked at PENCOM dispatch center located in Port Angeles Police Department. She had attended a Christmas event for the county. They’d hit it off from the first drink, yet she would have said it was the second. Four years together, six months married when the accident happened. All he could remember was life before her, and then after it was like his world collapsed. He took two months off from work before he couldn’t afford to take any more. It hadn’t taken long for him to bounce back from it, at least that’s what a colleague said when he returned. But what did he know? People made assumptions on appearances. If he wasn’t wallowing, he must be healing. The truth was he was hiding more than healing.
He sank into his chair and flicked the TV on to try and unwind. Since taking the position as a detective it had become increasingly hard to switch off. When his mind wasn’t on suspects, witnesses or victims, he was thinking about whether he’d remembered to file certain paperwork associated with a case. It was never-ending. For four years he had Amanda to confide in. She understood and had a way of getting his mind off it. But that was then. After surfing through one too many channels he flicked off the TV and got up to get the folder he’d brought home. It was only one of many related to Charlie Walker. Seeing Anna’s daughter today, and answering her questions, made him think about the numerous interactions he’d had with her mother. He didn’t want to say anything to Kara but he was intrigued by the lengths Anna had gone to in order to uncover who was behind her son’s abduction. Every victim was different; few dug as deep as her or left an impact on him. He sat back down and took another swig from the bottle and flipped the file open. He thumbed through tips and leads she’d given him over the years. Her words came back to him as he pored over it. Among the many persons of interest and suspects in the original case there had been three that had stood out:
Ray Owen, a guy with a low IQ who claimed to be psychic, and had contacted the police on a number of occasions back in the ’90s to say he knew where the boys were buried. He’d even called Anna a few times.
Seth Leonard, a Catholic deacon and child welfare advocate who resembled the original sketch and had done eight years in state prison for sexual interference, and had been out on a ten-year supervised release at the time of the abduction. He was a local of Blackmore.
Then there was Darryl Clayton, a resident of Forks, an angry individual who worked as a handyman with his son Gregory Clayton. Some of the statements he made around the time of the abduction and his resemblance to the suspect sketch had put him in the crosshairs. However, he was never brought in for questioning.
Anna was convinced that one of them was responsible; unfortunately she didn’t have any evidence. I’m gathering it, she’d said.
None of them had been brought in and yet they were all residents of Clallam County, all within his jurisdiction. He’d wanted to follow up but sticking his nose out there without solid evidence would have been career suicide, and after all he’d been through with Amanda, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the backlash.
Behind Noah his cell rattled on the counter. He set the file down and answered it. It was the department.
“Goodman. Sarge wants you in. We’ve got an attempted abduction.”
Part II
Chapter 13
Thursday, October 27, 2016
4 Days Before Halloween
Noah was just about to tuck into his breakfast special of three eggs, bacon, home fries, and rye toast when Kara took a seat across from him in the Blackmore Diner. The Peninsula Daily News was tossed in front of him. It was folded open to an article. He caught the headline before he glanced up at her, then turned his head to scan it.
Clallam County Police Investigate Attempted Abduction of 10-Year-Old Boy in Highland Hills
Police are investigating an attempted child abduction in the Highland Hills of Sequim. A man approached a 10-year-old boy on Wednesday evening near Overlook Trail and Stampede Drive and tried to lure him into his vehicle after asking him for directions, according to the Clallam County Sheriff Department. The boy managed to escape his grasp and ran to his nearby home, police said, and the van sped away.
The driver is described as a Caucasian male wearing dark clothing, a black jacket, and had a dark mustache. Police are looking for a white Ford van with tinted windows, a side sliding door, roof racks and a broken rear taillight.
Anyone with information about this incident is asked to contact the Clallam County Sheriff Department.
Noah shook his head. “How did the media get their hands on that story?”
“Uh, I dunno, maybe someone is leaking information or the parents called it in,” she replied leaning back and taking in the sight of his breakfast. “You know how many calories that has?”
“Hopefully a lot,” he said, cutting some bacon and shoveling it away.
“Ray Owen has a mustache. Has anyone checked to see what kind of vehicle he’s driving?” she asked.
His eyebrow shot up. “Have you been stalking him?”
“I might have driven by his residence.”
Noah took another bite then washed it down with coffee.
“Ms. Walker. Don’t you have something better to do? Look after your father, get home to New York?”
A waitress came over. “Can I get you anything, darling?”
“Just a coffee, thanks,” she said without taking her eyes off him. The waitress scrawled on her pad and then ambled away leaving her staring at him waiting for an answer.
“So?” she asked. “You want to fill me in?”
He took a napkin and wiped his lips before taking a second to add a spoonful of sugar to his coffee. He stirred slowly. “We’re handling it.”
“Four days away. If everything my mother compiled is accurate, she believed he would take another boy four days from now.”
He picked at his food. “Then this isn’t your guy, so leave it with us.”
“Or perhaps this was a warm-up.”
He eyed her as he took his cup and sipped it. The waitress returned with a white cup and poured out some coffee. Steam swirled above it.
“Okay, I’ll bite. A warm-up?”
“If my mother’s notes are correct, in the years leading up to Charlie’s abduction, several boys were approached and sexually assaulted. That’s how they managed to get a suspect sketch. Now you said the only thing that the four boys who were abducted had in common was the date of abduction — Halloween — and the years they were spread apart. Now I was going over it last night. You know, wondering why he waits five years? Does he keep them alive then once they hit a certain age he disposes of them? Or is there some other significance to the date?”
“Hold on a minute. What are you on about assaults leading up to his abduction?”
“My mother unearthed some additional information, I would have thought she mentioned this to you.”
He sighed. “Look, you know how much of my workload involves sexual crimes?”
She knew he was going to tell her so she waited.
“Nearly eighty percent of what crosses my table are sexual crimes.”
“But how many are minors, taken by strangers?” Kara added, knowing what BCI dealt with each year.
“Ms. Walker, I was out late last night, and I’m back at it again today. So if you don’t mind skipping to the part where you tell me where you are going with this, it would really help.”
“I spoke to Kyle Harris.”
He took another bite of toast and glanced at someone who walked in the diner. He must have stared a little too long as Kara followed his gaze, then he said, “Let me guess how the conversation went. You asked him if he did it. He said no. The end.”
“Not far off. However, he told me that my mother had come across some information that led her to believe that he wasn’t involved.”
> “In Charlie’s abduction?”
Without missing a beat she blurted out, “I believe she knew who was behind it.”
“Or…” He took a casual sip of his coffee. “After all her searching, knocking on doors and hassling people she reached the unfortunate conclusion that the man who was truly responsible is the same one who is locked up.”
“And you think that crushed her and she offed herself out of guilt or sorrow, is that what you’re suggesting?”
“You said it, I didn’t.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t buy it.”
He wiped at his lips with the napkin. “Okay, let’s go out on a limb for a moment. Let’s say your mother did know. Maybe she managed to uncover something that multiple agencies couldn’t. Why kill herself? Huh? It doesn’t make sense unless she realized that she’d got it wrong.”
Kara opened her mouth to state the obvious but he cut her off.
“And don’t tell me she was murdered because the ME has already signed the release. There was no evidence to suggest that it was anything more than suicide.”
“But you don’t have back the toxicology report.”
“No we don’t but when we do, I’m confident what it’s going to say.” Noah took another sip of his coffee and leaned forward. “Look, I can’t imagine what it must be like to go twenty-five years without knowing what happened to your brother but I’m telling you from one detective to another — leave it. Go spend time with your father, have a drink with old friends and take a trip down memory lane but don’t linger. It’s not healthy.”
She was about to respond when an older gentleman in his late sixties approached.
Goodman groaned. “Now Hal, we’ve already been through this before. Walk away.”
“All I’m asking is you reconsider. She’s paid for her—”
“Really? Three years. Is that what you think is fair?”
The old man laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder and he shrugged it off. “Walk away now!”
Another man, younger, early forties with short, curly blond hair, came over and tried to guide the old man away. “Leave it, Pops, he’ll just arrest us on some bogus claim.”
That got a reaction out of Noah. “It was reviewed by a third party. I wasn’t involved in the decision and if I had my way she would still be inside. And I aim to make that happen with the appeal.”
Hal became all upset, tears streaked his face. “Mr. Goodman, I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s waste of time,” the young man beside him said.
But he couldn’t hold the old man back, he lunged forward and grabbed a hold of Noah by the jacket and started pleading with him. Noah reacted like anyone would if they were grabbed and pulled his arm off. The younger guy snapped. “Get your hands off him!”
Before she knew what was happening, Noah was up and shoved him back into a table, knocking plates and full cups of coffee to the floor.
A woman cried out, “Jesse! No.” A dark-haired older woman in a booth farther down stepped out and grabbed a hold of him. She and Noah exchanged an icy glare, though most of the glare came from Noah. He turned and fished into his pocket for some cash and tossed it on the table. Before Kara could say anything he stormed out of the diner leaving behind a room full of stunned patrons. Before the three individuals left, the young guy referred to as Jesse walked over to Kara and said, “Word of advice, choose better company.”
They walked back to their booth and after paying, quickly left. Kara sat there wondering what the hell that was all about. She shook her head, drained the remainder of her cup and turned her attention to the paper to zigzag the article again. Was this an attempted abduction by him? She wasn’t sure but it was possible. But if it was him, why take the risk of getting caught? Why strike now before Halloween? And if he was responsible for the kidnappings in the surrounding four counties, why had no bodies been found? Disposing of a body was for many serial killers another form of pleasure. Taunting police, media and the families was all about head games and most enjoyed them, but this one was different — none of the boys abducted were ever found. That’s why she found it hard to believe this was their guy. In the previous four abductions he’d not been seen. Why was he changing his M.O. now? Or maybe Goodman was right. Perhaps it wasn’t him. The waitress came over and handed her the check. She dropped a few dollars for the coffee then sat back and reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. It was a list of seventeen names scrawled in black ink with fourteen crossed out in red leaving only three remaining. She’d spent the better part of the previous evening sifting through the many names her mother had obtained from news articles and police incident reports related to the abduction of Charlie. She still had to determine why she had crossed them out and if she had questioned the three remaining. With a head full of questions and a long day ahead of her, she placed a phone call to Bobby to see if knew anything. If the article had been given the go-ahead by County, it was possible they were selective in what information was released to the public. Often they would hold back key pieces of information that would help them nail a perp.
“I would have thought you’d be on a flight back to New York by now,” Bobby said.
“Staying a few extra days.”
“It’s your mother’s wall, isn’t it?”
“That and the recent event in the paper.”
“Oh that.”
“Yeah, about that. What can you tell me?”
“I’m sorry, that was all we got,” Bobby said.
“Goodman acted a bit perplexed on how the newspaper got word of it. I told him it was probably the boy’s parents.”
He scoffed on the other end. “It wasn’t the parents who gave us the tip.”
“Who was it?”
“Sorry, can’t tell you.”
“Come on, Bobby. Someone had to have had some interest in the case if they thought it warranted telling the media.”
“It would have got out sooner or later.”
“Right, but someone gave it a nudge in the right direction. Who?”
He hemmed and hawed, and she heard him muffle the phone. “I’ll be right there. Just taking this call.” Kara heard him walk a short distance and a door close.
“Look, I could get into a lot of trouble for telling you this. It’s a guy named Henry Ellis.”
“From ISB?”
ISB was Washington State Patrol Investigative Services Bureau. They had been called in with the FBI at the time of Charlie’s abduction.
“That’s the one.”
She frowned. “But he’s retired.”
“Officially, yes, but he’s still got his ear to the ground. Don’t ask me how but he was the one that gave us the tip.”
“Huh!” Kara said looking off outside the diner. “Anything else?”
“That’s all. Now I need to get back to work. Just do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“If you ever nail this bastard, give me the first scoop.”
She chuckled. “Said like a true journalist.”
Chapter 14
Kara had to do some digging but she soon unearthed the address for ex-special agent Henry Ellis. He was a resident of Port Angeles, a city located in Clallam County, just northeast of Blackmore. Kara drove out on WA-113, which then merged into WA-112 E. The A-frame home was nestled in a wilderness valley surrounded by lush forest and meadows. It was a short distance from the pristine waters of the East Twin River and was set back on a rise, a hundred feet from the road on twenty acres of quiet river frontage. The house itself was made from pine with dark brown shingles, with an overhanging roof that doubled for the porch, and it sat squarely facing the county highway. The yard looked as if it had fallen into disrepair with weeds growing up through the paving slabs that snaked up to the doorway. Two vehicles were angled at the top of the driveway, a dark blue Impala and a brand-new red Ford 4 x 4.
Off to the left of the home was an old barn and outbuilding, along
with a garage and storage shed for yard tools. Down to the right of the house was the glint of a propane tank.
Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she eased off the gas and shut it down. She eyed the front porch where a man was bent over with his hands in the dirt. Beside him was a pile of weeds. He was wearing jean overalls, dark brown boots and a white T-shirt with a red bandanna tied around what was left of his wispy white hair. He’d watched her approach and waited until she got out before he pulled off the bandanna and wiped it across his brow. He had a bit of paunch, and moved like any typical retiree who might have had knee surgery. He wobbled over to the front porch and took a seat on the step.
“Henry Ellis? Special Agent Henry Ellis?”
He smiled. “That would be me. Though I haven’t been called that in a long time.”
She made her way up and stopped a few feet from him. “My name’s—”
He cut her off. “I know who you are. Seen you on TV. Followed some of the cases you worked on.”
“Right.”
“Guessing you’re here about the missing four.”
“That and some other things.”
“Well let’s get out of the sun, or what’s left of it. We don’t get much sun around these parts but I guess you’d know that.” He got up and placed a hand on his knee and let out a groan.
“Knee surgery?”
“Hip. Double. They don’t make them like they used to,” he said before chuckling and making his way to the storm door. “Take a seat.” He motioned to an Adirondack chair. It was at the far end of the porch alongside a porch rocker. “You thirsty? Cause I am,” he said before she could reply. He disappeared inside the home. A small hound dog was sleeping at the other end of the porch. He didn’t raise his head but lifted a droopy eye as if to find out who was disturbing his rest. Kara took a seat and glanced at a dog-eared book resting on the rocker. On top lay a pair of reading glasses. She took in the fresh air, and could hear the steady churn of the river nearby. Dark clouds tried to blot out what remained of the blue sky. The smell of damp pine lingered in the air.