“Sure, Chief,” he said and ended the call.
Meghan shared a look with Lester.
“Where?” he asked.
***
Four miles south of Kinguyakkii, the General Surveillance Radar station was an active long-range radar site that acted as part of the Alaska NORAD region. In 1958, the Army Transportation Corps completed the project to act as early warning defense system for the United States. The United States Air Force commissioned the construction for the Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron as an extended arm for the Air Support Group out of Elmendorf AFB outside Anchorage.
Since it began operations in 1958, the support barracks and ongoing construction created a township on the south peninsula arm of the Kinguyakkii spit. The personnel stations, power and heat plant, gymnasium, furl storage, and full facilities had an active military presence year-round that never interacted with the city. Meghan never worried about the place because the soldiers never went to Kinguyakkii. The barge dock and airstrip were off-limits to civilians.
Most of the radar dishes and civil engineering barracks meant the manned station had military personnel who completed tours and went directly back to Anchorage without interaction with anyone. The Air Force eventually had a five-mile road connected to the airport in Kinguyakkii and the high chain link fence had military warning signs. Even the wild youth of the north knew better than scale the fence and venture into federal lands. Sometimes civilian contractors stayed at the Chena Hotel during the summer when they continued performing top secret upgrades.
The military police had a fiberglass skiff with a trolling motor. They used oars to pull the boat over the submerged ice sheets, making their way to the object in the water. Something caught on a floe and colliding pieces caused the ice pan to tilt upward where the material snagged the crushed ice.
Lester pulled up next to the other snowmachines and four-wheelers on loan from the police department. Meghan saw Dana standing beside Wilcox and Reeve. Riley and Chandler had another flat bottom aluminum boat they pulled behind the Honda. They had it in the icy water and negotiated their way offshore to aid in the retrieval.
Meghan saw Wilcox with a finger in his left ear with the smartphone pressed to the right side of his head. He had a phone call active while the others watched helplessly from the shore. Meghan and Lester stayed back out of the way. She saw the nylon fabric from the distance. She didn’t want to admit what it looked like, but it was impossible to ignore. Meghan updated the Amber Alert after midnight to include the description of the winter coat Christine had on in the gymnasium.
Wilcox scanned the shore until he saw Meghan. He walked in their direction, away from the operations in the water several meters away. He finished his phone call before reaching Meghan and Lester.
“I’ve got a team in the apartments that have a suspect.”
It took Meghan by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“We’re treating this like abduction, Sheppard. That means when our boots hit the ground, we were actively looking for a perpetrator for the crime of kidnapping.”
She knew better than say anything.
“I called the AG this morning for possible search warrants. We got one for Joane Tuktu’s residence.”
“Who is your suspect?” Meghan asked.
Wilcox scanned the smartphone screen. “A man named Vincent Atkinson.”
“Why?”
“Atkinson lives in the apartment complex. He allowed one of my team to walk his apartment. Upon eyes-only review, the cadet saw a collection of women’s undergarments. Among them were two adolescent female panties. We secured the active search warrant for Atkinson residence. He had a large collection of women and girl’s undergarments.” Wilcox shook his head. “Some of his neighbors witnessed Atkinson talking to the girl three days ago in the stairwell.”
“Look, Special Agent Wilcox, I know Vincent. He’s a little slow and he has a fetish.”
“We’re sending the undergarments to Fairbanks for DNA analysis. The AG gave us priority over the other cases so we can get a quick turn around.”
He turned from Meghan to watch the progress to claim the garment caught in the ice. Meghan shared a look with Lester.
“Where is Vincent right now?” Meghan asked.
“We’re arranging transport from the apartment to the police department. I’ll calling in the rest of the team.”
Meghan saw Trooper Chandler climb on the ice pan and snatch the item before the ice sheet tipped from his weight and sunk deeper. He climbed back into the boat with Riley’s help. The military boat turned around and headed back to shore with the troopers. Meghan saw Chandler holding the coat up to examine it and inadvertently showing the rest of the people watching from the shore that the child’s jacket was identical to the coat last seen on Christine.
“We need to get divers in the water,” Wilcox said.
“Don’t do that,” Lester said. It was the first time Meghan saw her Lieutenant speak to the federal agent.
“Why not?” Wilcox said.
“We’ll get a few more boats out here. We can scan the waterway and ice floe better without worrying about a diver getting crushed between the ice sheets. It’ll be dark soon. We can use spotlights and they have a better penetration range at night. If she’s down there, we’ll see her.”
Wilcox considered Lester’s point. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “See if you can get some volunteers to loan us boats. I don’t want any civilians in the water. I talked to the capital at the base. They can get the Coast Guard out here in about four hours.”
“It’s better if we find her from the water,” Lester said. “The choppers stir up the visibility too much.”
“You have experience in recovery, Lieutenant?” Wilcox asked.
“I do, sir. Unfortunately,” he said. Lester was an invaluable asset for the community. It meant he endured a lot and saw even more.
Wilcox started back toward Dana and Reeve.
“I’d like to talk to Vincent,” Meghan called. “I know him. He’ll talk to me.” She had to shade her eyes because the sun began its descent along the western horizon. It hadn’t reached the mountaintops but the milky clouds on the far side of the Sound already had a pink hue.
Wilcox turned back to Meghan. He waited to answer.
“Have my cadets present. Make sure your interview is on record.”
“Thank you, sir.” Meghan turned to Lester. “Can you stay here and help them with the search?”
“I wasn’t going anywhere.” He climbed off the Polaris. Meghan straddled the saddle.
“Hold off on telling anyone. I have a feeling we’re already behind on the notification. We don’t have anything yet except a jacket. We still need to locate Eugene. I need to find out what Vincent knows. Are you going to be warm enough?”
Lester pulled at the rim of his ski cap. He pulled up on the zipper of his jacket. Heavy boots, snow pants and thick gloves, Lester knew how to protect himself against the weather. He turned away and tracked down the beach toward the rest of the crews.
Meghan throttled the four-wheeler, swung around and kicked up gravel from the beach racing back to town. She feared someone already cast judgment on Vincent. Meghan witnessed a miscarriage of justice earlier in the year when Riley’s ex-girlfriend went to prison for a murder she didn’t commit. Meghan wasn’t able to fight the charges. Hannah Payuk was wrongly accused and accepted the punishment without a trial. Meghan knew the real killer got away and left town shortly after Hannah consented to the crime. She couldn’t unpack the layers of psychological bubblegum that Hannah had inside her misguided brain. Meghan knew Vincent wasn’t a violent man or a pedophile in the same way she knew a dog could never be a dog. She knew if someone started leaning on him, Vincent might share the same fate as Hannah and accept a charge to a crime he didn’t commit.
Chapter Twelve
Vincent Atkinson was pushing forty and looking guilty. Meghan saw he had red-rimmed eyes from uncontrollable crying. T
wo cadets brought him to the police station while handcuffed. It was standard procedure and not something Meghan could undo. He saw Meghan from the archway as he sat quietly at the conference room table. He had round prescription glasses that made his round face look chubbier.
Three troopers stood together with the two FBI cadets. Meghan unlocked her office and shed the coat. She tossed her knit cap on the desk. She collected the digital camera gear and motioned to one of the younger men to set up the camera.
“Chief Sheppard, I didn’t do nothing,” Vincent said.
“Hey, what did I tell you?” The cadet pointed the finger at Vincent as if to openly scold him. Vincent looked to his sneakers.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Vincent,” Meghan said. She ignored the young man glaring at her. She knew Wilcox authorized her to talk to Vincent. They didn’t stop her. “We’re going to set up the camera for documenting the interview. All this happens only if you want it to because I don’t know if these guys said anything, but you are here voluntarily.”
Vincent lifted his hands on his lap. The handcuffs weren’t something added for conversation.
“I know. It’s precautionary,” she said. Meghan used her cuff key to remove the handcuffs from Vincent. She handed off the cuffs to one of the cadets. “You and I will have a discussion.”
“If this is about Chrissy—”
Meghan lifted her hand, and Vincent immediately stopped talking. “Let’s wait until we get the equipment set up. This way, you won’t have to sit too long or answer questions twice.”
It took two cadets to set up the tripod and the camera. Meghan grabbed the laptop from the office and plugged in the HDMI cable from the camera into the computer. While the program started, Meghan sat in a chair with the lens over her right shoulder. The camera focused on Vincent.
Someone pounded on the front door. Meghan turned to the troopers.
“Can you guys see who that is, don’t let any civilians in here. Word might be out about finding the jacket.”
“What jacket,” Vincent asked.
Meghan ignored him for now. “If there are a lot of people out there, do your best to take names and keep them calm. We don’t know what’s happening yet, and with the agents bringing in Vincent, people might get the wrong impression.”
“I didn’t get the wrong impression when I saw that stuff.”
“What did you do with it?” Meghan asked.
“I left it in the apartment. My colleague is standing guard in the hallway until we get a federal warrant authorized to collect the panties.” When he said it, the cadet glared at Vincent.
Meghan shook her head. “You need to relax. You’re supposed to detach your feelings from your assignments. Remember your training.”
“What would you know about it?” he asked.
One of the troopers coughed, catching himself from laughing.
Meghan regarded the young man. He was all upper body strength, athletic lean with a thick neck that matched his sloping shoulders. He was the new breed of federal recruits. The kind of young specimen better serving in the military than the bureau, he didn’t read briefs, Meghan knew that. Wilcox was a man of little surprises. He had highlights for the cadets before they arrived in town. Knowledge was the best defensive weapon. He had notes that including biographies on all people involved, including Meghan. She wasn’t interested in refresher lessons.
“Get the camera started.”
He looked at the troopers as they moved through the archway before he followed Meghan’s directions. Meghan knew they did or said something that prompted him to act. She didn’t care what happened, only that he followed instructions.
Once they had the digital camera recording the interview, Meghan sat under the lens, watching Vincent. She took a breath, making sure he saw her relax. It wasn’t an interrogation.
“Vincent, can you state your name, occupation, and date of birth for the camera?” Meghan asked.
She saw Vincent look up at the lens and give the information.
“Now, I want you to know before we get started. At this time, this is an informal interview. You are not required to be here. I’m not going to read your rights because you’re not under arrest. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said.
“How about you explain that back to me,” Meghan said. Active listening wasn’t easy to gauge on other people. Meghan wanted Vincent to know that he had rights, and no one tried to violate them for misgivings and misinterpretations.
Vincent did his best to give back what she said to him.
“At any point, you don’t want to continue, or you don’t want to answer questions, we will stop. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Now, you know about Christine Tuktu, right? You know about the Amber Alert?”
“Yeah,” he said. Vincent squirmed in the chair. Meghan didn’t think it had to do with his nerves, only that his round bottom overlapped the edges of the plastic molded seat.
“So, you know why you’re here, right?”
“I guess,” he mumbled.
“I don’t care about something that isn’t actively hurting someone. But I warned you before about your little fixation. Some people have a problem with men having women’s undergarments. What I need to know, to cut through all of this, do you have a pair of Christine’s underwear?”
Meghan first learned of Vincent’s interest in ladies’ unmentionables when she investigated the strangulation death of Nancy McCormick. The former tenant in 3E lost her life. Briefly, Vincent showed up on Meghan’s radar because, in the course of routine interviews, she entered Vincent’s apartment. She found a collection of underwear that didn’t belong to him. One pair came from Nancy.
Dealing with Vincent through redirection at the time of the murder investigation worked to a point. The trouble with an obsession, it doesn’t go away. Vincent wasn’t charged with second-degree burglary or had to register as a sex offender because he didn’t collect the items from inside people’s residences. He stole them from the laundry room. No one ever filed a complaint with the police department. If anyone ever found items missing from their laundry baskets in a public use laundry room, they weren’t concerned enough to care.
Meghan saw Vincent look from the camera to the other men in the situation room. As far as she understood, without looking around, they hid their emotions. Vincent brightened with embarrassment.
“We had a discussion a while ago about that, didn’t we?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“You understand that right now, with the cadet finding more items in your apartment, it doesn’t look good, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you know, and I know that one or more of those items belong to persons under the age of sixteen. You know what that means, right, Vincent?”
“I guess so,” he said.
Meghan rubbed her face. She leaned her elbows on the table. “Do you know if you have a pair of Christine Tuktu’s underwear in your apartment?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You need to be straight with me. If you say something that gets under my skin, you and I are going to stop talking until after I read you your rights. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know if those belong to Chrissy. I mean, I found them, but I didn’t follow her or her mom around to get them. They were in the laundry on the floor between the washers. I just grabbed them.”
“Is that how you get the other pairs?”
“Well, yeah. Sometimes,” he said. Vincent looked at the floor again. His face looked so red, Meghan thought if she touched it, she’d burn her hands. “There’re online girls, too, you know.”
She nodded. Meghan knew. It wasn’t a crime. It was a thing. Some men paid thousands of dollars for the right pair of panties. Meghan carefully avoided using that word. Men like Vincent, who had a fetish, it was a trigger word. Making money selling underwear through the inter
net and the mail was a lot safer than a woman selling physical contact. Prostitution was dangerous and unsanitary. Online intimacy kept both consenting adults safe and clean.
“What we’re concerned about right now is locating Christine. When was the last time you saw her?”
Vincent waited a moment to speak again. He considered the timetable.
“I saw her and Cecil in the store on Thursday after three-thirty.”
“How do you know the time?”
“Most of the kids get out and head to the store. The store manager has someone standing in the candy aisle after school. I saw Chrissy and Cecil together. They didn’t look at candy. I think Cecil bought some bread and sandwich meat.”
Meghan waited, letting the information simmer. “I need to know how you are so sure what Cecil got on Thursday. It seems very precise.”
“Well, I was standing at the end of the candy aisle near the cooler doors. Cecil and Chrissy came into the store. They went around the front walkway and came up the dairy cooler side of the store. I saw Cecil with a loaf of bread, and he got cold cuts from the fridge while Chrissy said ‘hi’ to me.”
“So, you talked to her on Thursday afternoon. What time was that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe around four.”
Meghan used Vincent’s conversation to verify the time again. He answered without thinking about it. That was a sign he told the truth.
“Do you remember what she was wearing at the time?”
“No, I just remember seeing her and saying, ‘hi,’” Vincent said.
“Do you and Christine talk a lot?”
“No, I see her sometimes hanging out in the stairwell. She likes to draw pictures when she’s alone.”
“You see her drawings?”
He shrugged.
“Some kids like to show off their work. Did she ever give you any of her pictures?”
“No, and she didn’t like showing anyone her pictures.”
“So, you see her in which stairwell?”
“Sometimes the center one,” he said. “Sometimes, I see her in the side stairwell when I get home after work.”
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