by Roger Hayden
Daniels scowled. “I told you that sock belongs to my daughter!
Knight hit the table with his fist, startling the room. “Who are you working with? How long have you been following me?”
Agent Garrett jumped up to diffuse the situation. “Let's stay on track here. I've made him aware of the benefits of cooperating, and he’s in the middle of writing a statement.”
Knight swiped the notebook from the table and held it up as the yellow pages fanned in the air. “This load of garbage?” He glanced at the scribbled writing and read aloud in a mocking tone. “On Tuesday afternoon, I was at my home of residence and watching TV when Detective Knight and Agent Garrett kicked down my door and scared me. I ran, and they chased me. I had no idea what I'd done wrong.” He tossed the notebook with contempt as Daniels ducked out of the way. Someone knocked loudly at the door, bringing the room to silence.
Knight spun around as Slater opened the door, revealing a suited man with jet-black hair, balding in the front. His striped tie and air of indignation was familiar enough, and Knight knew that their investigation was about to get more complicated.
“I'm the legal counsel for Mr. Daniels,” the man said, walking in without an introduction. “How long have you been engaging my client?”
“A few minutes at most,” Slater spurted out.
“That’s a lie,” blurted Daniels.
Knight and Garrett glanced at Slater, signaling him to keep quiet.
“Marv Dixon…” Knight said, recalling his name.
Dixon hurried past him, briefcase in hand. He set it on the table and noticed Agent Garrett with her FBI badge. “What's going on here? What's the charge?”
“Conspiracy, evading police, resisting arrest, for starters,” Knight began.
“Mr. Dixon...” Agent Garrett began.
“Please, call me Marv,” he said.
Agent Garrett continued, all business. “Mr. Daniels is involved with this investigation whether he likes it or not. While he denies having any connections to the kidnappings, we believe he knows more than he's saying.”
“Kidnappings!” Dixon feigned shock, followed by an exaggerated laugh. “Have you lost your minds? My client works part-time for a painting company, barely getting by. He possesses neither the skill nor inclination to engage in such criminal activity. He needs to be released at once.”
Knight stood beside Dixon, inches from his face and wishing he could throw him out of the room. But that wouldn't help the investigation any more than threatening their hapless suspect, who observed them in silence. “We have evidence that led us to believe he’s involved in two kidnappings.”
Dixon stared back, amused, and then noticed the notepad tossed in the corner. “What's this?” he seethed, moving around the table. He knelt and picked the notebook up from the floor as his eyes scanned the writing. “What in the hell...?”
“They asked me to write a statement,” Daniels said innocently.
“Not another word,” Dixon said, cutting him off with a raised hand. “Got it?” He glanced up at Knight with new contempt. “I'd like a moment alone with my client. That is, if constitutional rights still matter around here.
Knight signaled to Garrett and Slater. “Very well, Mr. Dixon. Take your time. We'll be outside.”
“You're too kind,” Dixon said testily. He then pulled a chair to the table and sat as the room cleared out. Knight and Slater walked into the hall and turned around as Garrett closed the door behind her. Slater stood nearby, asking what they were going to do next.
“Daniels isn't going anywhere,” Knight said, hand cutting through the air.
They went to the nearby cubicle with the monitor screens and watched as Dixon talked to his client. It was privileged; they couldn’t hear what they were saying. Daniels was waving his arms excitedly and jumping to his feet. Dixon got up too, putting a hand on his shoulder, and getting him to sit back down again.
Slater pointed at them on the screen. “Lawyers like Dixon don’t come cheap. How do you think our boy can afford it?”
“I don't know,” Knight said, “but we need to keep an eye on them. Probably pro bono, court appointed.”
Slater shook his head and then glanced toward Garrett, who had so far been quiet. “Agent Garrett, have you heard the latest?”
She looked from Slater to Knight, and her brow furrowed. “About what?”
Knight took the lead and cleared his throat. “Bad news. Another girl was just reported missing.” He paused with a long sigh. “A witness claims to have seen a red Cadillac drive right by the girl's house.”
For a moment, Garrett said nothing, seeming to cope with the impossible. A third missing girl from the same vehicle meant that Daniels was off the hook... for now.
“She was taken just outside her house?” she asked.
“It would appear so,” Knight answered.
“And you’re just telling me now?” She was irate. “Wait till Dixon hears this, and that you continued to interrogate his client while already knowing it and continued after Daniels had asked for an attorney!”
Deputy Gibbs appeared from down the hall, looking to be in a hurry. The radio on her belt crackled with urgent-sounding cross chatter and gained their attention immediately. Knight looked at her, surprised. The hours and days had all blurred together from the beginning of the week. “Detective Knight, good. You're all here,” she said, out of breath.
“What’s up?” Knight said.
“Captain Marshall wants to see you and Agent Garrett immediately.”
It was time to face the inevitable. The captain was predictably upset, only this time Agent Garrett was included. Knight thanked Gibbs as she hurried off. “Ready to face the captain?” he asked, turning to his team.
Slater rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I think I'll sit this one out.”
“No, you won't,” Knight said. He walked toward the hall as Garrett stayed by his side. Slater soon caught up despite his reluctance. The captain could yell all he wanted to. Nothing was going to change the fact that the case before them was a mess from top to bottom. And things were getting worse.
Captain Marshall sat at his desk with the lights blinking on his office phone. There were stacks of files in front of him. A nearby filing cabinet had its drawers open as though it had been raided. His flat screen television in the corner displayed the local news on mute. Nothing had been reported yet about the third missing girl, Jenny Martin. A tense silence filled the air as he typed wildly on his keyboard. Knight stood in front of the desk with Garrett and Slater on opposite sides.
The captain abruptly stopped typing, adjusted his glasses, and looked up at them. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loose at the collar. He then spoke with a surprising calmness as the color drained from his face. But it was a calm that could be deceiving.
“I've been doing some thinking,” he began, finger to his chin. “I've come to the conclusion that this case might be too much for you.” He then made eye contact with Agent Garrett. “With all due respect, I'm including you in this too.” His leather chair squeaked as he leaned forward. “I just heard that another girl has gone missing. How is that possible when you have a suspect in custody? And how is it going to look when you have to release him?”
Knight could feel the anger rising in his voice. “We have a perpetrator who is operating in broad daylight with no fear of being caught. What do you suppose gives someone that kind of confidence?” He shook his head, eyes down as though he didn't know what else to say. He then looked up at them, seemingly defeated.
“You have one day to fix this mess and find these girls.”
Knight stepped forward. “I still believe that Daniels is involved. He could be working with someone.”
Marshall grabbed his keyboard and smashed it against the desk, startling them. “Get out there and find this red fucking Cadillac! You hear me? We have multiple families relying on us.” They heard somebody knock. “Just a minute!” the captain yelled. He then narro
wed his eyes at them, taking special notice of Garrett. “Agent Garrett, do you have anything to say about this? Your superiors called today, asking my objective opinion on your assistance with this case. I told them I thought you were doing a good job. Don't make me a liar.” A knock came again at the door, causing Marshall to shout louder, the veins bulging at his neck. “What is it?”
The door creaked open, revealing a timid Gibbs sticking her head inside. “I apologize, sir. The counsel for Mr. Daniels wishes to speak with the detectives at once.”
Marshall leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands out in frustration. “Well, we can't keep Mr. Marv Dixon waiting, can we?”
Knight hesitated. “Sir, if I may—”
“Out of my office. All of you. Dismissed.” He resumed typing without another word. Knight, Garrett, and Slater exchanged glances and then turned to leave. Once outside, Knight perked up at the sight of Dixon standing near his desk down from the captain's office. He was leaning against the cubicle wall, scrolling on his cell phone. He approached Dixon with his anger rising.
“Hello again, Detective Knight,” Dixon said, glancing up. “Agent Garrett, hello.” He then paused and looked at Slater, curious. “I'm sorry. I didn't get your name.”
“What do you want?” Knight said, cutting in.
Dixon smirked as he slipped his cell phone into his pocket. “Mr. Daniels suffers from several acute afflictions, all verified by his therapist. I spoke to her earlier.”
Knight stepped back, amused, and crossed his arms. “Oh yeah. Like what?”
“Fear of tight spaces, for one,” Dixon said. “He also suffers from agoraphobia, which is a fear of leaving one's home. A look at his history, and you might find that it's impossible for my client to engage in these kidnapping escapades.”
“Escapades!” shouted Garrett.
“Nothing is impossible,” Knight said. “And you're wasting our time.” He attempted to bypass Dixon, but the lawyer's hand touched his shoulder to block him. Knight glared at him, stone-face.
Dixon backed off, offering a nervous smile. “Easy there, Detective. I just want to give you a heads up. You broke into my client’s home, on the flimsy excuse that he had once worked for two of the grieving families. And then you battered him and took him into custody and interrogated him after he had asked for an attorney.”
Agent Garrett offered her own stern warning. “Your client is looking at two years minimum for evading a federal agent. We'll see you in court soon enough.”
Knight then studied Dixon with suspicion. “Who's paying you? We know that it's not Daniels.”
Dixon's smile grew wider. “We worked out a very sensible retainer. I like to help the disadvantaged when I can. It makes for some great PR.”
Knight shook his head, holding onto whatever patience he had left. “We're done here.” As he began to walk away, Dixon called out, “I heard another girl got kidnapped.” Knight stopped and slowly turned around, surprised that the news had reached him.
Dixon approached and spoke quietly. “I know that my client is most likely going to spend the night in jail--”
“You're damn right,” Knight said.
“But being held in a cell could lead to severe psychological damage.”
Slater then pushed Dixon aside. “Save it for the judge. We have work to do.”
Dixon gasped as he fell back into the cubicle wall, holding his arm. “That's assault, Detective!”
Slater pointed his meaty finger inches from Dixon's nose. “Keep pushing it, Dixon. I'll kick your head so far up your ass, you won't see daylight for a week.” Garrett intervened and pulled him away as other officers began looking in their direction.
“Let's all calm down,” she said. “None of this is helping.”
“Fuck this,” Slater said, pulling away from her grip. “I’m done.” He stomped off down the hall and left them behind. Knight called out to him but was ignored until Slater reached a pillar at the end of the hall and shouted back, “I'm going to find this guy. Enough is enough.”
Garrett and Knight watched him leave. Dixon adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “I merely wished to stress the point that my client is innocent. And one more thing: when Internal Affairs investigates your conduct today, do you think it might affect your retirement and pension, Detective Knight?” And with that, Dixon walked toward the lobby with his briefcase in hand.
“We need to focus,” Garrett began. “There's still someone out there, and he has Jenny Martin.”
Knight took a deep breath. “We've got half the department out there looking for both girls. What do you suggest?”
Garrett grabbed her satchel from his desk as though she was ready to go. “We'll take separate cars and search the entire city if it takes all night.”
Knight nodded, but then hesitated, as though he’d reached a decision. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a Ziploc bag with an envelope inside and handed it to Garrett. She took the letter, which she took to be evidence, since it was in a baggie.
“This was sent to me yesterday,” Knight began. He took his phone out and displayed the picture Bonnie had sent. “I’ve been meaning to give it to Forensics. The second letter was delivered to my house today, where they mention Jenny by name.”
Garrett stared at the screen, astonished. “You're just telling me this now?” she asked.
He offered a halfway sincere apology. “I didn't think it was related at first. I thought it was some stupid prank. I don’t know…”
Garrett looked around at the other officers, observing their surroundings with caution. Knight wondered if she was feeling the same paranoia that was gnawing at him. She handed the letter back to him with his phone as though there was nothing more to say about it.
“You better face the music and turn that letter in. If you don’t, things will only get worse.”
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”
As they turned to leave, he noticed that Slater had left his jacket hanging on the back of his desk chair. He thought of taking it with him, but quickly changed his mind. They had work to do.
The radiant pink sky was amassed with streaked clouds and a sun that was slowly sinking. Darkness would be problematic in the search for Jenny Martin. The red Cadillac was still missing, and for the life of him, Detective Knight didn't understand how one car could be so difficult to find. There wasn't one witness yet who had managed to get a plate number, which also baffled Knight. He drove steadily through the latest neighborhood to be singled out by their serial kidnapper.
Jenny Martin lived in an upscale area of newer suburban homes known as Windsor Falls. Though not gated, the community had little criminal activity. Its rural location, among other housing developments under construction, separated it from most of the town.
The Dodge Challenger growled through residential roads, past houses with freshly cut grass and street lights that were just juicing up. Windsor Falls was within the same general vicinity as Sarah Riley and Brittany Owens's home, roughly five and a half miles from both neighborhoods. The kidnapper had a clear pattern, a stalking ground all his own. And for some reason, he had so far been able to operate with impunity.
Knight turned onto Berkshire Drive, drawing closer to Jenny Martin's house on his right. There were police cars in the driveway, which was a scene all too familiar that week. He slowed the car, as though parking near the sidewalk in front of the house was his intention. But instead, he rolled past it.
The two officers standing outside the open front door didn't even take notice. The house was soon in the reflection of his rear-view mirror, growing smaller as he continued down the road. Knight couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to face another ailing, traumatized mother. His entire focus was on finding the car.
He listened to every radio transmission through the police box below his dashboard. Law enforcement had cordoned off much of the area, setting up checkpoints within a twenty-mile radius. All hands were on deck. He reached a stop sign and bra
ked as a station wagon passed. Hesitant at the wheel, he turned left to circle the area again, wondering which way the kidnapper had gone. He continued down the long, newly-paved road, which had a lake on the right side and homes on the left. More questions entered his mind. He hadn't yet wanted to consider what the kidnapper was doing with the children he had abducted. The closest link between two of the girls was Daniels, and he wasn't talking.
Knight guided the Challenger toward the right lane of a forked road, leaving Windsor Falls behind. He remained alert to any off-road tracks that might lead into the passing forest at his side. “Where are you?” he asked under his breath. Their suspect was local. He had to be. Whoever it was, they knew how to stay hidden. Knight jumped as his cell phone rang from the middle console. He glanced at the screen, expecting more bad news. It was Agent Garrett, which gave him some hope. He turned down the police radio and answered his phone on speaker.
“Hey,” he said, as he turned onto State Road 75 into town. The two lanes on each side were a constant flow of semi-trucks and trailers passing through. The cracked pavement, splattered here and there with roadkill, passed through an area that was desolate and isolated, flanked by wide pastures and thick forest. Such surroundings stood in stark contrast to the city miles away. The kidnapper had chosen this area for a reason.
“Find anything yet?” Garrett asked.
“Not yet. You?”
“I'm downtown. Traffic is moving slow. No sign of any red Cadillac yet.”
“He couldn't have gotten too far.”
“Well, I've never seen so many police cars around one area in my life,” Garrett said.