by William Mark
The team had no luck finding any of the lost. All their potential targets were accounted for legitimately. That’s how it would go sometimes, but putting that in perspective, it was a good thing. Morale of the team had taken a hit from how things panned out in Vail. They were trying not to get caught up in the wake of the investigation and focused on moving forward. The team seemed just to exist, not prosper.
During the downtime, Beth researched the traffickers and was able to link Julio and Cortez to a dangerous drug cartel with ties in Juarez, Mexico. She connected phone records from Cortez’s phone, which mysteriously disappeared from the crime scene, thanks to a chaotic scene and a borrowed Crime Scene Investigator’s jacket. From there, she was able to find connections to other trafficking locations and similar brothels in Florida and Texas. She sent anonymous tips with pertinent details and descriptions in conjunction with phone records to those jurisdictions to make the needed connections in the case. She provided the same information to the Vail police as well, hoping they would focus on the criminal enterprise over the murders. It was a gamble, sending help to the investigators, but ultimately, right is right—a life lesson that Beth was trying to grasp.
Louis routinely checked in on the investigation in Vail to keep tabs and to watch for any exposure of the team. He managed to get into the police records’ management database and see that no queries were made of the team members directly, which was a good sign. He was able to set up a flag on all their names and aliases in case they were discovered and cross-referenced in the database. With the help of Beth Young’s research, in the form of an anonymous tip, the investigators were able to identify the two dead traffickers as illegal aliens and establish a basis for an investigation into their enterprise. This was corroborated by the link to Jack Cauldress and the sex video he had of one of the girls performing a sex act at the house. That too was sent anonymously to the Vail police. The rescued girls proved to be the most damaging as far as exposure to the team was concerned. However, they only provided descriptions of the skinny John that went by the name “Brian” and the heroic woman, nameless, with the blonde ponytail that fought off the traffickers and aided their escape with the white man in the trench coat. It wasn’t much to go on, but Louis could attest to the resolve of a determined detective, Curt being the best example of how something as little as a name could yield huge results.
Remarkably, the story had been quelled in the media after the first sensationalistic shock of the shootout broke. Louis was able to find some emails that were sent back and forth from the detective to his supervisors and someone in the local FBI office as to the extent of the human trafficking network they had uncovered. Thanks to Beth and her research, they quickly put a lid on everything to protect the rest of the investigation into the human trafficking that stretched over three states. This was evident as Tony Mason had yet to produce a follow up article to the shootout and his calls to pester Alexis increased.
The third day of fruitless attempts was winding down. Curt grew more and more anxious at the snail’s pace. He wanted to be out there looking and leading the way, hunting for the lost. Out of respect for Alexis, he remained on the sidelines for now. But this day stood out amongst all others and crept by even slower. It was the anniversary of Josh’s disappearance, and his thoughts remained solely on his missing son. It was to the point where Curt needed the sting of alcohol to distract him from the reminder.
Images from the night Josh went missing flashed through his mind. He relived the incident once more and felt the full range of emotions all over again. From the joy of having his son hanging out with him for the night to the bitter misery of knowing he may never see him again. He was exhausted. He thought about his wife, Tracy, and the look on her face when she learned of Josh’s disappearance. The blame in her eyes had always been too much for him to handle, and it drove a wedge through their once strong, loving relationship.
As dusk approached, the sun hung low hovering over the vast plains of the Midwest, casting beautiful, purple and orange hues on the underbelly of the cloud blankets above. A brisk wind swept through as the team exited the van and walked up to the hotel. Another day had passed without knowing where his son was or what had happened to him. The guilt and anger began to boil inside the bowels of Curtis Walker. There was only one way to silence this pain. He turned around and started walking toward the restaurant across the street that was advertising an extended happy hour until closing.
Rachel saw where Curt was headed and called out for him, wanting to change his mind. He simply turned and looked back at her helplessly.
“You don’t have to.” She put her best inviting look on her face, hoping maybe they could pick-up where they left off in Vail. She offered another bonding experience over coffee instead of booze, but his look of suffering let her know that was not an option. He continued toward the bar in complete shame, wallowing in self-pity and pain.
“Curtis! Curtis!” Louis’ whiny voice called out excitedly from the open door of the van and across the parking lot. He held a sheet of paper in his hand, waving it around purposefully. Curt looked over at him and grew annoyed by the hacker who was delaying his desired drunken stupor.
Louis was genuinely excited, and his demeanor carried the promise of good news. Curt’s mood quickly changed as faith managed to find its way back into his heart. He was hesitant to acknowledge its presence because it had been cruel over the last three years, but one look at Louis’ face made him hurry back to the van. He strode past Rachel who watched eagerly with anticipation.
“What is it?” he asked.
With a brief impromptu ceremony, Louis slowly handed over the printout to Curt, letting him read the information firsthand. Curt read the page, and Rachel could see energy and determination fill his face. He transformed before her eyes as hope prospered. He was not the same broken man he was just moments ago in search of a bottle. Whatever was on the paper was the cause. Rachel felt his excitement vicariously.
“It’s a lead man…it’s a lead!” Louis said enthusiastically, as Curt finished reading the page.
Curt looked up at the skinny man and broke a small smile but kept his mind rolling in thought. Not that he was known to be talkative in the first place, but Curt was speechless. Rachel stepped up and looked down at the sheet, trying to read what it said.
She looked down at the page and read the Crime Stoppers’ logo across the top. Just underneath the logo was a heading, Missing Persons, and the name on the tip was Joshua Walker, the city—Tallahassee, Florida. It was information on his son. She looked up in joyful anticipation and read the eyes of Curtis Walker, a father in search of his lost son. She looked back down and kept reading.
Under a section designated for a narrative, she read:
Caller stated that after seeing the news about the boy’s disappearance on this date, she believes she saw the missing boy at the Governor’s Square Mall with an unknown white male yesterday. Caller stated the boy got into a silver Honda Accord with the license plate of SX444. Caller was positive that it was the same boy, only slightly older.
“Curt!” Rachel called out in excitement for her friend and to grab his attention; she hugged him from the side.
“Yeah…um…I have to go. Now.”
Curt bolted off running back toward the hotel without saying anything further to either Rachel or Louis. Both knew the importance of the information and thought nothing of the abrupt exit. They looked at each other, hoping that the new information would pan out for Curt’s and ultimately Josh’s sake.
A moment later, the black Crown Vic sped past the Sprinter with a purpose. Rachel and Louis were still standing there as they watched the car race by. Curt wasn’t about to waste any more time.
Chapter 22
Although the gauge of the speedometer held steady at 80 mph, Curt’s mind was running at light speed. All the intricacies and details of his son’s disappearance moved to the front of his consciousness. He was still able to recall most of them in the fir
st few hours of the long drive home. The only other train of thought that broke through was what he was going to do when he found the man in the Silver Honda. Fantasies of heinous, blood curdling torture came to mind. Being this close seemed to enrage him beyond the point of murder, and he wanted the man who took Josh to suffer, just as he had for the last three years. He realized it didn’t take much thought or pre-meditation to shoot Julio and Cortez, as the human traffickers were ready to take Rachel’s life. He didn’t gain satisfaction from killing those men. It was either Rachel or them, and he had made peace with his decision, but he knew he would find pleasure in taking the life of the man responsible for kidnapping his son.
A horn blared off to Curt’s right, pulling him back in from his vengeful reverie. He glanced down at the speedometer and noticed he had pushed the Crown Vic up over 100 mph. He let up off the accelerator and tried to keep himself in check. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm down. He told himself to focus. He looked around at his mirrors, looking for any highway Troopers hunting speeders, but there were none. As he checked the rearview mirror, he locked eyes with himself and saw desperation staring back. Exhaustion too. It had taken a toll on his body and mind over the last three years.
Holding onto hope is the hardest aspect of loss. Hope grips your entire being with a promise of one day being whole, and it won’t let go, perpetuating the suffering. It would be so easy just to move on and ignore the possibility that Josh would someday return, but Curt couldn’t bear the thought of moving on without his son. He would search to the ends of the earth for one last chance to be with Josh—no matter the cost.
Three years had passed since Josh was taken, and he thanked God for the tenderhearted victim’s advocate who remained on the case back in Tallahassee. She had assured him that the local media would do a news story on each anniversary of his disappearance. It paid off today. This Crime Stoppers’ tip was the first tangible lead since the incident occurred.
Curt searched through his memory of the case and couldn’t recall anything about a silver Honda. He remembered a few vehicle descriptions from the canvass at the softball complex, but nothing was consistent enough to focus on. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling he got after thinking about the tip. He knew when new information like this surfaced, it was likely a misidentification and altogether just a case of misunderstanding. The likelihood of some random person seeing a missing child, fugitive, or other key component of a cold case was extremely rare, and the colder the case was, the higher the odds. He tried to focus on the positive aspects that the lead held and the promise it brought.
The pang in his bladder was growing more annoying as he pushed the Crown Vic straight through the eastern half of Oklahoma then Arkansas, and soon he was about halfway through Mississippi. He was making excellent time, but as a distraught father, he couldn’t move fast enough. He had always imagined getting news such as this Crime Stoppers’ tip while out on the road with the team and he had known he wouldn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing to return to following Josh’s trail. But, now, he knew he needed help.
He pulled out his cellular phone and dialed a number without taking his eyes off the road.
“Hello…Curtis?” Louis picked up on the first ring.
“I need you to run that tag and give me everything you can find.”
“Um, sure. I already have and sent it to your email. I see you’re almost in Alabama. You are flying my man!” Louis sounded impressed and hoped the humor hid the fact that he was tracking Curt’s phone.
“I guess I am. You sent it already?”
“Yes. Didn’t you get it?”
“I haven’t checked. Find anything?”
“Well, yes and no; the tag the tipster gave didn’t come back to a silver Honda. It came back to a silver Chevy Tahoe. Kinduv a big difference right?”
“Shit!” Curt felt like he was gut-punched, and the sinking feeling returned exponentially. Louis was right. It was hard to mistake a Honda Accord for a Chevy SUV.
“Yeah, no silver Honda. So I ran all the similar characters in the tag given assuming they missed one or it was lost in translation. So the email is a compilation of all the similar tags that came back to cars that look similar to a silver Honda, all in the Tallahassee area.”
“Okay, anything stick out?”
“I haven’t had time to vet each one, but nothing seemed to stand out. Do you want me to widen the search? Surrounding counties?”
“Yes, I don’t want anything to slip through the cracks.”
“Not a problem.”
A silence fell on the line. Curt could see Louis sitting in the back of the Mercedes Sprinter, at the helm of his computer station, working feverishly for him and ignoring his duties for the team.
“Thank you, Louis.” Curt had a sincere tone in his voice.
Louis rarely heard that from the man in the trench coat and was quickly overcome with pride. He couldn’t stifle the grin on his face but realized Curt couldn’t actually see him, so he let it go.
“Anytime.”
Curt hung up the phone at the same time the engine of the Crown Vic started to sputter. Panic set in as any hurdle could prove too costly in catching up with Josh’s abductor, but then he noticed the needle on the fuel gauge was past the “E.” He looked up and praised the timing of the upcoming exit with at least three options for gas.
As he pumped the gas, Curt took the break to read Louis’ email containing all the license tag possibilities. He had not only provided all the alternatives to the tag and similar matching vehicles but also provided a list of the registered owners to include their photo, criminal history, and a last known address for each person. There were nine total potentials, and Curt liked the odds of one of them being the kidnapper whom the tipster saw with Josh at the mall.
Curt studied the list of nine names and focused on their faces, trying to recall that awful night. He strained his memory and forced their faces into his psyche, but nothing stuck. However, it would stand to reason that the kidnapper would have taken great strides to keep out of sight.
As soon as Curt was back on the road, he noticed that Louis had sent him another email. It also had an attachment and the subject read, “God Speed.” He clicked on the attached file and held the tiny screen up so he could still keep his focus on the road ahead. It was another list of the same names but with an addition after one of the entries. It was a narrative cut and pasted into the email. He recognized the format. It was from the record’s management system from the Tallahassee Police Department. He used it regularly as a detective. The information was collected from all police contacts and reports. He read the narrative that Louis had added. It was under the name Justin Hooks.
The entry was from an FIR (Field Interview Report) dated a week before the tipster saw Josh getting in the silver Honda at the mall. It read:
While on patrol, I observed a silver 2004 Toyota Camry traveling eastbound on Apalachee Pkwy operating with no brake light on the passenger side. I conducted a traffic stop at the intersection of Blairstone Rd and Apalachee Pkwy for the equipment violation. Hooks was the driver and sole occupant of the vehicle. Hooks appeared nervous, and upon running his driver’s license, I learned that he was a registered sexual predator. I conducted a consent search in the interior of his vehicle but did not locate any contraband. However, it should be noted that in the backseat, Hooks had a new Xbox gaming system and new games that targeted young children as well as new clothes for a young male approximately 10-12 years of age.
Hooks stated that he had just purchased the items from the mall and they were for a relative who lives elsewhere in the state.
Hooks allowed a search of his person and nothing was found as well. When asked to search Hooks’ trunk, he declined consent, so it was not searched. Photographs were taken of the items which were not confiscated.
I contacted Hooks’ probation officer and advised him of the items found in Hooks’ possession, and the probation officer stated
that he would follow up with Hooks and possibly violate his probation.
Curt could feel blood boiling in his veins as he read the Field Interview Report on Justin Hooks. He engrossed himself in the report to the point that he ignored the road and didn’t notice the Crown Vic suddenly shuddering violently underneath him. He looked back at the road and realized he was driving on the shoulder of the highway at nearly 90 mph. He jerked back the wheel to correct but noticed traffic was at a stop because of some crash up the road. If he continued, he would slam into the back of the car, possibly killing them and himself. He quickly pulled the wheel back to his left staying on the grassy shoulder of the median and applied the brakes to slow down. He dropped his phone and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, holding it steady over the bumpy ground of the median. He passed several other drivers who were clearly frightened by this maniac passing them uncontrollably. As soon as he was able to slow the car, he held the brakes until the car slid to a stop on the wet grass. He ignored the yells and honks of the passing motorists and caught his breath. He fished out the worn photograph of Josh from the interior jacket pocket of his trench coat and placed it back on the dash. He stared at the boy with dimples, combed, dark brown hair, and a wide smile that looked back at him. He smiled back. He had to give all of his attention to getting home safely for Josh’s sake. He was too close to allow something so stupid to erase all his efforts and allow his son to remain among the lost.
When traffic cleared up, he pulled back into the traffic lane and held a steady course for home. He allowed his thoughts to move back to Justin Hooks. He’d never heard of him or recognized his face, but the fact that he had items for a young boy no less than a week before the tip came in, infuriated him to the point of madness. He realized, as did Louis, that he drove a silver Toyota which is mistaken quite often with a Honda in the eyes of a witness. He quickly glanced back at the report on his phone and read the address Hooks had provided to the officer during the stop. He recognized the address, and he pictured it in his mind. He knew the neighborhood, and it was within a mile of Tom Brown Park. His breathing grew shallow as his rage boiled within. Curt knew his first stop would be at the front door of Justin Hooks.