Lost in the Darkness (Crusaders of the Lost Book 1)

by William Mark

  The mall is a staple for trendy shoppers and teenage wanderers. Built in the late seventies, it still remains the main hub for indoor shopping in Tallahassee and the surrounding areas. Outdated décor and the over use of brass railings and trim don’t detract from the draw of the popular stores and boutiques within. Had this been a new town the team had come to visit, this would have been one of the first stops.

  Curt found a parking spot close by an entrance he knew was near the mall’s office and waited for a call back on his cell phone. It was still early, and the sparse foot traffic consisted of mostly employees and the elderly looking for a dry place to exercise.

  The phone chirped in his pocket, and he answered it on the first ring, “Hello?”

  “Hey man, that’s a no-go. The mainframe won’t be hard to crack, but the problem is that they don’t even record the incoming calls. Plus, they are routed to the nearest office to the caller, not the incident. So getting a trace is nearly impossible.”

  “Okay, so nothing?”

  “Nah, man. I’m sorry. I was able to take a look around, but it’s a jumbled friggin’ mess. They designed it that way to keep it anonymous, and they did one helluva job. It’s like looking in a really messy room when you know something is in there, but there’s so much stuff, you still can’t find anything. It’s friggin’ genius is what it is!”

  After leaving the house, Curt’s first phone call was to Louis Melton with a request to look into the Crime Stoppers’ tip about his son, in the internal sense. He wanted to know if he could backtrack to find the caller and see what other information, if any, was crossed up or changed in translation. Getting more information such as where exactly at the mall the boy was seen, what he was wearing, what the man he was with was wearing, any distinguishable features about the car, and anything else that would be helpful to narrow the search. However, with Louis’ valiant attempt to hack the Crime Stoppers’ database, he was left with the ashes of shredded data designed to protect the caller’s identity. The best he was able to offer was that he located the bank account and access number of the caller, but the tip would have to pan out and be verified by a detective before payment was sent. Curt thought about extending the ruse to that point and making the tip payout but held off for the time being. He didn’t want to corrupt a system with such good intentions.

  His only move left, albeit a long shot, was the video surveillance at the mall. Curt took a walk around the perimeter of the mall after hanging up with Louis, looking for all of the outward cameras and praying that one of them captured what the tipster reported. After making the rounds, he counted eight cameras that pointed to the parking lot. The problem was that the tip never specified time or place within the massive parking lot, only the day on which the boy was spotted. This was another detail he wished to question the tipster about further, but unfortunately, it left Curt a very wide net to cast which was going to be time consuming.

  Before walking into the manager’s office, Curt made sure his badge was situated straight on his belt next to his holstered Glock. He hoped the security manager was still friendly to law enforcement that needed to take a look at the camera system.

  He badged his way past the secretary of the management office with the confidence that he’d done this before, so it came off as legit. He approached the security office and took a deep breath before entering.

  “Hey brother; how are you?”

  The young security officer spun in his chair and smiled at the presence of a law enforcement officer. Curt felt his luck turn for the better as he immediately pegged the kid as a wannabe cop. Many of the security officers at the mall went on to join the police force. He knew and had worked with several of them and was in luck, figuring this kid would be more than eager to help out in a real police investigation.

  Curt explained that he was following up on a carjacking case and needed to review the footage from the exterior of the mall. The kid was helpful but stingy. He wanted to run the controls of the system and not allow Curt blanket access, so he exercised patience and played into the ruse and explained to the security officer that the target car was a silver Honda Accord with some variation of SX444 as the tag and that it was last seen two days prior roaming the parking lot.

  “That’s all you have to go on?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  “Wow, that sucks.”

  “Tell me about it. Needle in a haystack, my friend.”

  The kid sent a few commands by clicking the mouse and typing in a password. The screen blinked from real time to the recorded time two days prior in a four by four split screen. There were sixteen screens but only eight were for the exterior. Curt noticed the others were all interior angles that captured both sides of each wing as well as multiple angles surrounding the food court. He sat next to the young security officer and watched the monitor intently as the video played on all sixteen screens. He was straining at each and every screen, hoping to catch a glimpse of his son and not Justin Hooks’ nephew.

  After an hour went by with nothing, the kid needed a break. Curt hadn’t moved and remained glued to the monitor. The kid had grown used to him and allowed him to stay in the room alone while he grabbed a snack and a bathroom break. Curt slid over into the main seat and watched closely. His careful gaze bounced from one screen to the other trying not to miss anything.

  “Do you know Whigman?”

  Curt was too focused on the monitors; he didn’t realize the kid had returned and was standing behind him, let alone hear the question he asked.

  “Huh? Who?”

  “Whigman? Officer Whigman; he’s with y’all right?”

  “Oh yeah, he is. I think he’s still patrol, right?” Curt vaguely remembered the name and believed that the officer he was asking about once worked as security at the mall before joining TPD.

  “Uh…no, I’m pretty sure he’s in robbery now. Didn’t you say you were in robbery?”

  “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I’m kind of glued into this at the moment, sorry.” Curt maintained a watchful eye on the screen bank in search of his son, but he could feel the suspicion of the kid grow into concern and hoped he didn’t call his bluff. He had to placate him for the moment because there was too much video still to be watched.

  “So, you gone through the academy yet?”

  “Oh no, but I’m putting in for the next class for sure!” he said excitedly as the conversation became about him.

  “Really, well, I know the director over the law enforcement class, so if you want, I can put in a good word.” Curt didn’t know the director personally per se or even if he was still at the academy, but he knew the kid wouldn’t know that.

  Instantly, the bored security guard with the probing questions was Curt’s best friend. He began asking him questions about getting into the academy, advice on surviving the academy, and helpful tips for successful graduation and possible employment. Curt had pegged him right, and this served to pacify any concerns of his ulterior motives as he filled the kid’s head with answers he wanted to hear.

  It was well after lunch, which Curt skipped except for a protein bar the kid had on hand, and he had still had no luck going through the footage. There had been a few possibilities of silver Honda Accords, but there wasn’t a white male driver or a young boy passenger. There were only a few hours left of operating time left on the video recording, and Curt felt his welcome was getting worn out with the kid and his supervisor who had come to check on him several times. He was able to bullshit them enough with the carjacking ruse, but he felt sooner or later, he was going to get exposed.

  The sinking feeling of helplessness returned, and he feared that the lead was truly dead, and he was grasping at straws. He was about to call it, but Tracy’s voice sounded off in his head. Go find him.

  “I’m trying.”

  “What?” said the security officer.

  “Nothing, sorry.”

  “Listen, my shift is up, and we normally don’t have someone come in until later to mon
itor the cameras. Do you want to come back tomorrow?”

  “Um, no. I really need to check this off today if you don’t mind.”

  The kid winced in irritation. He didn’t want to piss off the detective who was going to smooth his ticket into the academy, but he was done with the tedious police work, and it had cost him a protein bar. “Okay, how about thirty more minutes?”

  “Go back!”

  “Huh?”

  “Go back to that angle a few minutes; go back NOW!” Curt crossed the room and was nearly pushing past the kid’s shoulders, pointing to the one camera angle of the Dillard’s wing, upstairs.

  After he rewound the tape, he hit play, unsure what an interior angle had to do with a carjacking vehicle, but he obliged.

  The tiny screen showed a young boy, maybe ten years old, walking with his back turned to the camera. He was walking next to a man dressed in a dark red shirt and blue jeans, his back also to the camera. As the two walked away from the camera, the boy casually stuck his arm out by his side to run his hand loosely along the handrail balusters as he walked alongside hitting each one. At one point, he stopped to tie his shoe, but before he stood back up, he looked back at the camera and then was hurried along by the man in the red shirt.

  Curt’s heart nearly burst into pieces at the sight of the boy, for he was overcome with excitement that he had recognized his son, Josh. He ordered the security guard to rewind it again, and as the video played out again before him, Curt reached out and touched the screen as he watched his son look back at the camera as if to say, “Here I am Daddy…please come get me.”

  Curt burst out in a joyful sob that carried excitement but managed to scare the unaware security guard, confusing him to the point that he just remained silent and let the cop have his weird moment. Curt let out the initial wave of emotion but realized the validation of holding onto hope only got him this far, so now he had to complete the mission.

  Go Find Him!

  He pushed the kid out of the way and commandeered the video system, back tracking and following Josh throughout the mall. He was only inside for about twenty minutes total and seemed to avoid getting close to the camera angles. The kidnapper clearly didn’t realize the camera that first captured them was affixed behind him, and luckily for Curt, he was unable to take an evasive maneuver to avoid its eye.

  Finally, as it was apparent the man was leaving with Josh, Curt followed their movements outside into the parking lot. It was painful as he watched and wished he were there to stop the man from taking his son; he wanted Josh safely returned to their home. He wished he could somehow jump into the screen and time warp back to this incident and right the wrong. He kept watching and saw the boy accidentally bump into a short, curly-headed woman just outside one of the anchor stores. She did a double take at him and stood still, contemplating something before continuing inside the mall. After this, the man in the red shirt got into a silver Honda Accord parked near the front of the mall, close to the entrance where Curt had parked the Crown Vic. His nose was only inches away from the screen as he willed the Honda to back up toward the camera angle and expose the correct tag.

  “C’mon, c’mon you son of a bitch—do it!”

  In slow agonizing movements, the car’s brake lights flashed, followed by the white reverse lights. The car backed up slowly and turned toward the camera angle. Curt’s eyes were wide with anticipation. He tried to read the tag, but it was blurry and unreadable. The car stopped, then drove forward shrinking smaller on the computer screen as it left the area. No matter how hard he strained his eyes, he couldn’t make out the tag.

  “No, no, NOOO! Goddammit!” Curt yelled frantically. He grabbed the mouse and rewound the footage several times hoping to read the tag, but it was still too blurry to read. He slammed his fists down on the desk vaulting several pens and paperclips into the air and scattering them across the room. He cussed out of frustration at being so close but still so far away.

  “You can enhance it a little bit.”

  Curt’s head whipped around at the small security guard. “Huh?”

  “Yeah, just freeze frame the video, and we can enhance it.” The kid explained that the video records to a digital server in high definition, but distance blurs out details in the regular mode. Once a specific scene is captured on the monitor, he can zoom in to see close up. Curt released the controls of the system and allowed the kid to take over as he anxiously awaited the results.

  He captured the frame of the Honda stopped from backing up and its tag facing the camera, then he pulled it from the bank of screens and expanded it in front of the program. Then he clicked and rolled the mouse forward to zoom in on the Honda’s tag.

  Curt saw in amazing clarity the tag of his son’s abductor and the reason why Louis Melton’s searches came up with nothing but Justin Hooks as a possible suspect. The tipster had the tag correct all along, and there was nothing lost in translation, for it was clear as day. The tipster, or call taker, failed to relay one important piece of information though, the tag’s state of registration. The common Florida license tag has an orange, appropriate and stately, situated in between the tags characters, but Georgia has a peach, also appropriate. From a distance, they look similar, and the kidnapper’s tag was no exception—it was a Georgia tag.

  Curt faulted himself for not thinking of that earlier, as Leon County, which encompasses Tallahassee, actually borders Georgia, and it was pretty common for people who live in the nearby Georgia counties to visit and go shopping in Tallahassee.

  “Do you want a copy of…” the security asked as he turned around to see Curt had already left the room.

  He ran out of the mall and jumped into his Crown Vic rejuvenated in the search for his son and fueled by the realization the tag was from Georgia and not Florida as he and everyone else had assumed. His thoughts were flooded with his next set of moves and how he was going to get his son back, for there was nothing that was going to stand in his way.

  “I’m coming Josh. I’m coming.”

  Chapter 28

  With the help of Louis Melton and his “crafty” ways of navigating through the firewalls of government databases, Curt had a name for the man in the red shirt. The tag the tipster provided came back to a man living in Valdosta, Georgia, a city just north of the Florida state line off I-75. Curt wasted no time after learning where the man lived and hit the interstate. It was over an hour’s drive, but the anticipation of following the legitimate lead made the trip agonizingly long. It seemed like he couldn’t get there fast enough. He pushed the Crown Vic up toward 100 mph but dialed it down, trying to avoid any unnecessary attention from watchful state troopers. He didn’t want any record of his being in or heading to Valdosta, knowing what the outcome would be for the man who took his son.

  The image of the man in the red shirt was stamped clear in his head after watching the footage from the mall. The man had been careful not to reveal his face to the camera, but after seeing him with Josh, he knew he’d never forget his face. He had soulless eyes that were black as night, his face disgustingly distorted from the evil he’d committed, and he had no regard for what he’d put Curt’s family through. He was a monster.

  However, when Louis sent a picture of Glenn Gregory to Curt’s phone, he looked surprisingly human. He appeared clean cut, average, and as for outward appearances, normal. He did not have the face of a monster, but Curt noticed the picture was several years old. He figured something must have sent Gregory spiraling down to the murky bottom of criminality where he dared to kidnap a child.

  Without wasting any time, Curt zeroed in on Gregory’s residence, located on the west side of town near the interstate. Curt didn’t bother stopping for gas, food, or anything. His body was shaking in anticipation when he realized how close he was to finding Josh. His plan was to grab the boy, no matter the obstacle in his way and get back to Tallahassee as soon as possible. He could care less what kind of chaos he left in his wake.

  The GPS zeroed in on Gregory’s
apartment and told Curt to take a right into a large apartment complex. He sucked in a long breath, held it in his lungs to the point they started to sting, and then blew out the return. This calmed him down to a level of functionality as he looked for the apartment.

  Gregory lived in a gated apartment complex that was geared toward the young professional or recently married couples waiting to take the plunge into the housing market. It was a nice, landscaped, and seemingly peaceful place to live, but because of the reason Curt was brought here, he found the place repulsive and had to ignore thoughts of burning it to the ground.

  He found it…apartment G49. It was on the bottom floor mid-way into the complex. The silver Honda Accord was not there. Curt did a slow search of the entire parking lot and even in the surrounding business parking lots that neighbored the complex, in case Gregory was trying to hide the car. It was not there either. It was nearing five o’clock, and Curt assumed he was still at work. His next move was simple; he was going inside.

  He stowed the Crown Vic in the “future residents” spot up front by the office and casually walked back toward Gregory’s apartment. He looked around feigning interest in an apartment. When he saw no one was watching, he slipped behind the G building and up to the back door of Gregory’s apartment. He noticed he was remarkably calm as compared to when he was standing behind Justin Hooks’ townhome the day before. He made quick work of the lock and slipped inside with little effort.

  The apartment smelled like gardenias. It was neat and orderly, not the dungeon of horrors Curt imagined where Josh was being held against his will. He looked around and called out for Josh in a whisper, but there was no answer. He searched around the living room and found what he expected—furniture, a coffee table, a moderate sized television, a desk top in the window, knick-knacks displayed here and there, and pictures of Gregory with friends. Curt picked up one of the pictures on a sofa table near the front door, and it showed Gregory in an arm-in-arm embrace with another man. They were too close to just be friends, and Curt believed they might be romantically involved with each other. He set the picture down as an uneasy feeling began brewing in the pit of his stomach. He fought off the thought, telling himself he was letting his imagination go wild.