They found a place across the picnic table from Neil and a young woman who had some interest in flying and kept asking Neil about acquiring a pilot license.
It was a few minutes after nine when the boy Meghan recognized milling through the crowds earlier came up to her from behind. He tucked his hands in front of his stomach and addressed Meghan in an official capacity.
“Chief Sheppard,” he said. “I can’t find my sister.”
Chapter Five
Cecil Tuktu was thirteen years old. The impression Meghan got from the adolescent was his intuitiveness. He managed to articulate his concerns and got Meghan’s attention. Dana got involved immediately. A missing child was something that took priority over everything and halted the festivities.
They used the sound system to broadcast to everyone in the sports arena. They had a missing child. Her name was Christine Tuktu, and she was ten years old. It went sideways for Meghan when Cecil and Christine’s mother found her way to the front of the crowd, because the look on her face told Meghan everything she needed to know; the girl was missing.
“When did you see her last?” Meghan asked.
Joane Tuktu was a round woman with mild concern and long raven hair. “I saw her this morning.” It came out in the same way someone put in an order for fast food at the drive thru.
Her partner, a man named Earl Melton, shook his head. “I didn’t see her this morning. We left the house around noon.”
“How about you and I go back to the house,” Meghan said “We’ll take a look. We’ve got an Amber Alert broadcast through the radio.”
“I can take a look around the arena for you,” Dana said.
Meghan gave her friend a look with a nod. She wanted Dana to stay out of it, but a missing child took precedence over jurisdiction. As she walked out of the gymnasium with Joane, Meghan called Oliver.
“Hey, take a look around, Shore Avenue. See if any of the kids are playing around the ice floe,” Meghan said.
“I went by earlier before dark. I saw a couple of kids on four-wheelers. I didn’t see anyone on the ice.”
“That’s good.” Meghan wanted to talk more about the missing girl.
Having her mother riding in the passenger seat of the Suburban filtered her conversation with the sergeant. “We’re heading to Joane Tuktu’s house now. When you finish checking Shore Avenue, head back to the school. Ask around; see if anyone saw her leave the gym. I don’t want anyone to panic.” She glanced at Joane, who started fishing a cigarette from her purse. Meghan caught the woman looking at her before she lit the cigarette. Meghan shook her head before the lighter touched the tip.
“I’ll meet you at the gym when we get back from the house.” Meghan ended the call as the truck bounced over the potholes at the intersection of Friend’s Way and Ptarmigan Way. After a few minutes of travel, Meghan noticed the woman didn’t appear worried. The fact her daughter wasn’t around during the event suggested Joane experienced something similar.
“Does she take off sometimes?” Meghan asked. She wanted it causal. Keeping a level tone showed courtesy without appearing anxious, meant to show interest without suspicion.
Joane waited to get out of the truck to light the cigarette. Parking was easy at Mountain Manor. The thirty units, three-story apartment complex without an elevator, and was only ADA approved for base-level living. The rest of the tenants had to take one of the two stairwells inside the overcrowded building. She managed a few deep puffs before tossing the smoldering cigarette in a snow berm.
Every time Meghan walked into the place, it reminded her of Nancy McCormick. The former tenant of the apartment complex and late sister of Cheryl and Brian Snyder, owners of the Midnight Sun Café, Nancy died at the hands of a real estate property manager. Meghan almost lost her life to the same man. Had it not been for an allergy to peanuts, Meghan’s career as police chief for the city of three thousand people almost abruptly ended.
Meghan saw the various characters peeking from the doors as Meghan followed Joane to the third floor. The few people who didn’t attend the big event at the sports arena stayed home to monitor anyone returning early. Meghan closed her eyes for a few seconds as Joane turned down the hallway. If the woman turned left, Meghan didn’t have to look at Nancy McCormick’s apartment. Joane turned right, and Meghan sighed, following the woman down the corridor. Outside some of the doors, cluttering the hallways, snow boots, cleats, and a pair of snowshoes made natural tripping hazards.
“No one’s supposed to leave anything in the hall,” Joane said. “Rowland comes by about once a week telling everyone he’s going to issue tickets.”
“Okay,” Meghan said.
She stepped over a pair of wet snow pants. Rowland Searson, Fire Chief for the Kinguyakkii volunteer fire department, had no legal authority to issue a citation. Perhaps the tenants of Mountain Manor were unaware of that. Either way, by the look at the cluttered hallway, it didn’t matter to anyone.
Meghan followed Joane through the door across the hall from late Nancy McCormick’s apartment. The design of the building didn’t put doors directly across from each other. That meant someone living across the hall where someone got murdered, didn’t have to look at the door every day.
The apartment had a new occupant. Someone hung a nontraditional décor arrangement on the door. It gave the place a lived-in look instead of a memorial shrine.
The first thing Meghan noticed when she followed Joane through the threshold of the apartment was the thick cigarette smoke clinging to every available surface. The building was nonsmoking, but people like Joane Tuktu thought the rules applied to everyone else except her.
“Two bedrooms?” Meghan asked.
“Yeah, I got one with Earl. Christine and Cecil share the other bedroom.” Joane went as far as the edge of the linoleum where the threadbare carpet took over the rest of the apartment. “Christine, you here?” she called.
“Is it okay if I look in their bedroom, Joane?”
“Yeah, sure, go ahead. I think Cecil is causing trouble.”
“Is that something he does?” Meghan asked. She didn’t remove the boots because Joane didn’t seem to care either way.
The woman leaned against the counter at the edge of the kitchenette. Meghan ignored her lighting another cigarette. The ‘no smoking’ rule applied to everyone else, and only in the hallways.
Meghan scanned the bathroom as she walked by the open door. Dirty clothes on the floor, a stand-up shower, and the raised toilet seat meant a crowded place.
“You live here with your husband and the two kids?”
Joane scuffed in a way that suggested Meghan said something offensive. “I live here with Earl and the kids. I ain’t married anymore.”
Meghan turned on the bedroom light to the kids’ bedroom. The boy and girl shared the space. It was a tight fit, no boundaries or privacy, but two parts to the same room. At thirteen and ten, children needed some independence and a little retreat.
“Cecil likes to read?” Meghan asked.
“Yeah, that kid always has a book.”
The contrasting difference from the rest of the house and the bedroom of two adolescents took Meghan by surprise. She saw neatness and a clean, orderly bedroom. Cecil’s side of the room had the closet without a door. He had a bookshelf over the bed. Meghan saw young adult fantasy and science fiction novels populated the ledge. More books stacked on the floor beside the small nightstand. His bed had a generic male-themed navy colored bedspread.
Christine’s side of the bedroom had a floral little girl flavoring with stuffed animals, a pink comforter, and a bed skirt. Christine had a few posters on the wall. Movie posters, characters, and a popular boys’ band filled the limited wall space. The children shared the other closet. It had a clear separation between the boy’s and girl’s clothing. The board games that occupied the closet shelf had crisp cardboard packaging. Meghan stared at the contents inside the closet for a while. She noticed the games looked well-used. Some of the cardboa
rd had dog eared edges, but the corners had clear tape to keep from tearing or spreading. The games she noticed were in alphabetical order.
The children shared a dresser. Cecil had the top three drawers. Christine had the bottom three drawers. Meghan pulled open one drawer of Christine’s side. The clothes, underwear, t-shirts, had neat folds. The socks had twin tucks and stacked on one side. She pushed closed the drawer, turned off the light, and returned to the smoke-filled living area.
The family spent a lot of time in the living room. It had a single recliner and a large couch. The coffee table had dirty dishes and an ashtray.
“Is that Christine?” Meghan asked. The school picture showed a pretty girl with dimples and missing a front tooth. Her silky black hair went to her shoulders, encapsulating her round face.
“Yeah.” Joane huffed on the cigarette. “Look, I know this isn’t a big deal. She’s hanging out with her friends. Cecil shouldn’t have talked to you.”
Meghan tamped down the anger because she didn’t want to wipe the floor with Joane’s face with a potentially missing child. Instead, she kept her temper down. She needed to get out of the apartment, fearing to burst into flames. The rising heat in the place meant the third floor got everything people used on the two levels below the apartment.
“If I needed a picture, is that current?” she asked.
Meghan went to the door. She opened it to get a healthy helping of fresh air since Joane used up the air inside the apartment, coating it with cigarette smoke.
“Yeah, but look, I’m telling you, Christine’s with her friends.”
“Call her,” Meghan said.
“I can’t call her, what do you think, I’m made of money. Christine don’t have a cell phone.”
“What about Cecil? Does he have a cell phone?”
“No.”
“Do you need a ride back to the school?” Meghan asked.
“No, I’ll get Earl to pick me up.”
“Look, Joane, I get you think Cecil made a big deal out of nothing. I agree with you. It’s probably nothing. Check with Christine’s friends. Get back to me when you find her. I am not concerned about this, just like you. She’ll turn up, I know it.”
Meghan closed the door. She shook her head and bit her tongue. A missing child, a concerned brother, Meghan didn’t know Joane Tuktu or Earl, but the moment she got back to the department, Meghan knew she’d scan for criminal history. No visible signs of abuse in the apartment. The kids’ bedroom looked well maintained. The kids took priority in the home.
Meghan didn’t judge the woman. A small apartment with a waiting list that stretched months, sometimes years, before space opened. Nancy McCormick died in her apartment. The moment the police cleared it and her sister, Cheryl Snyder, removed Nancy’s property, the place had a new tenant. Rental companies weren’t obligated to disclose prior tenant issues. In a situation where housing was expensive and scarce, no one had a choice about where they finally got a place to live.
Back in the Suburban, as Meghan pulled away from the apartment complex, Oliver called her smartphone.
“What’s up?”
“Um, I think you need to get back here,” he said.
“Did you find Christine?”
“No, and I don’t think we’re in charge anymore.”
Chapter Six
The FBI had a specific plan of action regarding the recovery of missing children. They worked closely with state and local agencies, relying on resources designed to locate children. It came down to a checklist of possibilities and focused on whether or not the child was a victim of abduction, endangered, or a susceptible subject for human trafficking.
It was the kind of thing that usually happened after local law enforcement agencies made their preliminary conclusions. What Meghan found the moment she returned to the arena was a mouthy woman who had people vacating the building. At the same time, the radio station DJs quietly dismantled their stereo equipment from the gymnasium sound system.
“I think the FBI is on their way,” Oliver said. He met Meghan outside while she watched several attendees fleeing the scene.
“What’s going on?”
“Your friend, Dana, she started talking to everyone. She used the PA system to call out Christine. When she started telling everyone, they had to stay in one place. Everyone started to leave.”
Meghan and Oliver slipped through the doors where the rest of the people tried to get away. She saw Dana giving Duane Warren a hard point with a finger to his chest. She saw Ulva, Duane’s wife standing quietly to the side, watching the interaction. Meghan knew out of the two critical figures in town, between Duane and Ulva, she’d take her chances with Duane. Ulva had a lot of leverage with the council, the school board, and family members in the Alaska senate.
Meghan saw Silvia Graves watching the confrontation between the mayor and the FBI agent. Silvia saw Meghan looking at her. The woman had the smartphone to her ear. Presumably, she talked to her husband, Lester, the lieutenant for the police department, and Meghan’s second in charge. He had overnight duties, and Meghan wanted him to come in later because she and Oliver intended to monitor the school until after the place closed for the night. Dana cleared out everyone a few hours early.
On the other side of the hall, near the banquet tables, Meghan saw Eric and Linda Kennedy sitting patiently at the picnic tables. Linda lifted a plastic cup in Meghan’s direction. Eric, the coroner for the city and contact point for the medical examiner’s office in Anchorage, gave Meghan a slow headshake that mortified her. Meghan knew when Eric saw something that caused problems in town. He made sure to point it out to her. Eric and Linda were good people and wanted only the best for the community. If something went amiss, both were reliable resources for recovery and prevention. At the moment, Meghan stepped into the vacated gymnasium. She knew Dana overstepped her margins by a few thousand miles.
“What are you doing?” Meghan asked.
“Chief Sheppard,” Duane snapped. “This FBI agent thinks she can come here and mandate how things happen in Kinguyakkii.”
Dana looked from Duane to Meghan. She saw her friend had that look of authority that suggested no one had control except her.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We’ve got a missing girl, that’s what.”
“We know that.” Meghan kept her voice low, between her and the immediate company. Unfortunately, with the music off and the open space, the sound projected everywhere. “But what are you doing?”
“I’m doing my job.”
“You’re on vacation.”
“There’s a missing girl, Meg. What are you doing about it?”
“I’m doing my job. But I come back here, and I find you trying to do my job for me. You need to relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax,” Dana said. “You know what I see every day when it comes to kids. Every minute is crucial. What are you doing about this?”
Meghan saw Duane and Ulva watching her. They expected the police chief to have a handle on the situation. Meghan felt the grip wasn’t tight, and the handle loosened as the hours stretched.
“I’m doing my job, Dana. I don’t answer to you.” She turned from her friend and addressed Oliver. “Did you talk to any of the kids?”
“I talked to a few who know Christine. I need to go to her best friend’s house. The girl’s name is Mirella Edmond.”
“Okay, talk to her and her parents.” Oliver turned to leave; Meghan caught up and matched his steps on the way out of the building. “Should I be worried about Christine Tuktu?” she asked.
Oliver shrugged. It was something he often did when addressed directly. It wasn’t that Oliver feared confrontation. He was almost twice the size of Meghan and two sizes wider than most men. Oliver wasn’t overweight. He had a lot of muscles and layers. Meghan thought of him as an enforcer, but Oliver preferred dealing with things diplomatically. Meghan thought most polar bears handled their business with diplomacy; they used their claws to cu
t things down to bite-sized pieces.
“Cecil’s dad died about five years ago. He drowned during a seal hunt.”
Meghan nodded. The incident rang a bell. The body was never recovered. It was something she read in incident reports from the former police chief, Herbert Haynes. Meghan spent a lot of time reviewing prior cases from before she took over. Meghan had an extensive list of notes and a whole notebook devoted to the unsolved murder of a girl that happened over a decade ago. She took to reviewing cases involving deaths in and around the community.
“Clifford,” she whispered.
Oliver nodded. “Clifford Tuktu was Cecil and Christine’s dad. He went out seal hunting with his brother, Eugene. I saw Gene here tonight earlier.”
“What about Joane’s boyfriend, Earl? She and the kids live with him.”
“Yeah, Earl Melton,” Oliver said. “I saw him too talking to Gene.”
“Was this before or after Christine went missing?”
“After, about the time you left, I think. When I got here, Dana had half the place cleared out.”
“Okay. Oliver, do your best. Start checking around where the kids hang out. It’s Saturday night, I don’t expect anyone to be where they’re supposed to be, but we can narrow down where Christine went.”
As Oliver went toward the exit, Meghan scanned the leftovers. The stragglers and the gawkers, word got out fast. One person she saw was Calvin. He sat on the edge of the stage, texting something.
She knew everything that took place before she returned to George Hall likely had a place in the latest edition of the Northern Lights Sounder. Dana made a big splash with the locals, and it took less than twenty-four hours. Meghan returned to Dana, standing in front of the mayor and his wife. They watched her while Dana sent a series of texts.
“What’s the news?” she asked. Dana looked up from the smartphone screen when Meghan didn’t answer. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
Lost in the Wild Page 3