by Roger Hayden
Knight drove around a slow-moving pick-up truck in the left lane. Once past, he slammed on the gas, barreling down the road.
“Any word from Detective Slater yet?” Garrett asked.
“Nothing yet,” Knight said. He gripped the wheel, staring ahead as the yellow lines in the middle of the road raced under him. “Doesn't matter right now anyway.”
“Do we know if Jenny Martin's parents hired the Evans Brothers before?” she asked.
“I haven't talked to them yet,” Knight said. “I drove right past the house. I couldn't face them.”
“Understood...” she said in a flat tone. “I'll keep to the east side, you keep to the west.”
“Affirmative,” Knight said. His cell phone suddenly vibrated with another call. This time it was Bonnie. “My wife's calling. I’ll call you back in a bit.”
“Okay. Good luck and stay safe.”
He switched calls, taking his eyes from the road. “Bonnie? Is everything okay?”
She was sniffling, providing him the answer that everything wasn't okay. “I'm scared, Charles...”
“What happened?” he asked. His exit near home was only a few miles away.
“Holly's been gone all day and not returning calls,” she continued. “I can't stand being alone any longer, not after this morning.”
The exit drew closer as he veered into the right lane. “Where has she been?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you done for the day? I need you to come home.”
“I'm driving now,” he said. His words stopped as he hesitated to go any further. He couldn't tell Bonnie about the third missing girl. She was shaken enough.
“You're on your way home?” she said hopefully.
“Not quite,” he replied. “Let me see if I can get a hold of her.”
Bonnie's tone grew more desperate as she continued. “She's not answering. I need you to be here. Please...”
Knight sighed as he steered the Challenger along the curved road, stopping at a busy intersection. It was already ten past seven, and the light was giving way to evening. “I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
Bonnie sounded relieved as she told him to be careful on his way home. He turned the police radio back up, guilty that he wanted to keep looking, but wanting to be home with Bonnie too. Dispatched cars filled the line with brief code and random information about their search. A drunk driver had been discovered at one of the checkpoints, along with a white, newer-model Cadillac at another, with an elderly couple inside who knew nothing of any kidnapping.
Such dead ends were to be expected. Knight called his daughter's line, and it went to voice mail after a few rings. He tried to dismiss his concerns. Holly was twenty-six years old and could handle herself. He told himself this even as his speed increased along the open road, engine rumbling in the night.
The Challenger idled in the driveway under the glow of street lights. Knight sat at the wheel, observing his quiet home. The lights were on, showing through the blinds in the windows. Bonnie's blue Volvo sat next to him. Holly's car was nowhere to be seen. Knight switched off the ignition and remained seated. He turned and looked down the street from his driver's side window. There were cars parked alongside the road as always, most of them familiar.
He wondered at that moment if the kidnapper was watching his house, plotting another letter. He doubted the charade would be ending with the last one. If finding him planting the letters was one way to catch him, he was as good as caught.
Knight would stake out the front of his house for days and weeks on end; whatever it took. He’d get help. He lived on a quiet street, seemingly removed from the crimes he investigated. But this time, the person he was looking for knew where he lived. He opened his door and shifted out of the car, staying low. He closed the door lightly and circled the front of the car, sneaking to the front door along the shadows under the roof.
Once inside, he closed and locked the door, walking through the foyer and into the living room. Bonnie looked up at him from the couch, stricken with worry. Her hair was tied up, and she was wearing a green bathrobe, phone clutched in her hand. She rushed into Knight’s arms, and he held her close as tears slid down her cheek. He glanced at the TV and saw the news in bold letters at the bottom of the screen: Third Girl Goes Missing.
“Do you know about this?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.
Knight grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off. “Yes. Don’t worry. We're going to catch him. Only a matter of time now.”
“This happened in broad daylight in front of the girl's house,” she said. “The letter is on the kitchen counter. They said the name Jenny. That's this missing girl's name. Jenny Martin. The Jenny in the letter.”
They sat on the couch and he placed a hand on her knee. “I know. It's the same person. The kidnapper knows where I live. He knows that I'm investigating the case. But he'll never show himself. He lives in the shadows.”
“I can't stay here another day,” she said, voice trembling. “I'm frightened and exhausted and angry as hell.”
“Me too,” Knight said, patting her leg. “We've got someone. He may not be the kidnapper, but I know he's involved.”
Bonnie shook her head, eyes closed. “Our own home isn't safe.”
Knight leaned closer and spoke with conviction. “I'm going to request a watch detail first thing tomorrow, round the clock. Whoever is leaving these letters is going to do it again. And then we'll catch him.”
Bonnie opened her mouth but stopped before she could get a word out. She then dabbed at her eyes and turned away from him. Knight didn't like to see her like this, defeated and broken. It was unlike Bonnie, but everyone had their limit. In their fleeting moment of silence, the door opened and they heard Holly walk in, announcing herself as she entered the living room. Knight stood up as she smiled at them, purse hanging from her shoulder, wearing a glittery dress, her hair and makeup done up.
“We've been calling you,” he said sternly. “Where have you been?”
Holly looked surprised by his tone and the fact that he was still in his suit coat and tie with his gun holstered at the hip.
“I was out,” she said. “Kimberly and I spent the day in St. Augustine. I thought I told you guys.”
“You never told me,” Bonnie said. “And I've been worried sick!” Her voice cracked as she held the handkerchief again to her face, barely able to keep it together.
Holly stood awkwardly to the side of the couch with her hands at her side as though she didn't know how to proceed. Admittedly, she had been away from home for a while, but she was well past the age of asking permission to stay out.
“There's a lot going on,” Knight told her in a calmer tone. “We need to know that we can get a hold of you in case of an emergency.”
Oblivious to their concern, Holly dug into her bag and produced her cell phone, staring at the screen. “I'm sorry. I turned it off. Rick kept calling me about some nonsense, and I couldn't take it anymore. I just wanted to unplug myself from the world, you know.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “You should try it sometime. It feels great.”
Bonnie shot up from the couch with her anger still showing. “Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I'm going to bed.” She then hurried off down the hall and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Silence fell between Knight and his daughter as she stared down at the carpet. “I am sorry,” she said.
Knight approached her, placing his hands on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes and saw the same little girl he took to school on her first day. “Go easy on your mom. She's dealing with a lot right now.”
“Like what?” Holly asked. She noticed his perturbed glance and changed her flippant tone. “I just want to know for real what’s going on. I want to help.”
Knight backed away, rubbing his eyes. “I'll explain everything later. My head feels like it's been through the shredder.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Just be careful. Check in with us when y
ou're out. Don't leave your mother alone in the house all day. At least for the next week or two.”
“Okay...” Holly said, confused. She then stepped around him and headed toward her bedroom down the opposite side of the house. “Good night, Dad.”
“Good night,” he said, pivoting around. “We'll talk tomorrow. I promise.”
Her door shut, and Knight stood in the middle of the living room alone with his thoughts. He took his coat off and set it over the back of the recliner next to the couch. A few paces toward the kitchen, he slipped his shoes off and continued inside, switching on the light. The counters were spotless and empty. There wasn't a single dish in the sink. He approached the microwave and saw the tri-folded letter resting nearby.
Knight took the letter and walked into the dining room, where he sat at the head of the table. He then took his pistol out and set it in front of him within reach. He slipped on his latex gloves. It was only a little past eight, but it felt like midnight. Exhaustion swept over him, coupled with a range of emotions. He stared down at the letter in his hands, reading the typed font repeatedly until the words were ingrained in his head.
I've got another one. Her name is Jenny. Third one's a charm, signed X.
He couldn't have written and delivered the letter after taking the girl. He knew well in advance who he was going after and why. And it wouldn’t be too long before he set eyes on a new victim. Knight was certain of it.
10
Web of Lies
Detective Knight woke on the living room couch, startled to see that it was morning. He sat up and looked around as dishes rattled from the kitchen. Bonnie was up too. The faint light of dawn glowed from outside the shut blinds. He had slept in his clothes, tie loosened around his neck, wrinkled slacks, and black socks still on his feet. He searched for his sidearm and saw the pistol lying on the end table beside him. He didn't recall falling asleep. It must have come instantaneously when he sat on the couch hours ago.
He rubbed his hands through his hair, frustrated, as he shifted his feet on the carpet and stared at the blank TV screen ahead. The letter rested on the coffee table. He wondered if the morning would bring another. He stood up and shuffled toward the kitchen with his neck and back aching. Bonnie was making coffee.
Knight greeted her in his raspy morning voice. She turned and smiled, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts with her hair tied in a ponytail. “You didn't have to sleep on the couch. We do have a bed.”
“I know. I'm sorry,” he said, approaching. He glanced outside and saw a few cars passing by their house, probably on their way to work. “I had planned to stay up all night.”
Bonnie poured a mug of hot coffee and handed it to him. “I hate to break it to you, Charles, but we're not spring chickens anymore.”
Knight blew on the coffee as steam rose from the top. “I'm well aware of that.” He had more pressing problems and glanced at the wall clock near the refrigerator. It was seven thirty. He was due at the office at nine, earlier if he could muster it.
His pockets were empty, and he couldn't remember where he had left his cell phone. It was probably full of missed calls and text messages from Agent Garrett and Captain Marshall. Just thinking of the case gave him a headache, though Bonnie's coffee always made his mind sharper. He glanced outside the kitchen and asked about Holly. “Is she up yet?”
Bonnie shook her head, pouring her own mug of coffee. “I haven't seen her. She likes to sleep in.”
Knight laughed. “Nothing changes, does it?” He paused, noticing the worry on Bonnie's face. Leaning forward, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and assured her that everything was going to be all right. “We can't put too much on her right now. Just give her space.”
Bonnie sipped from her mug. “I've been doing that, but I refuse to spend another day alone in this house.”
“I'll talk to her,” Knight conceded. A few sips later, he hurried out of the kitchen and returned to the couch, turning on the TV. “Have you seen my cell phone and wallet anywhere?” he called out to Bonnie.
“You left them on the dining room table,” she shouted back.
“Thanks...” he said as the morning newscaster appeared on the screen, delivering a weather report. He got up from the couch and walked toward the foyer, where the front door awaited him. Part of him didn't want to open it.
“I'm going grocery shopping later,” Bonnie said from the kitchen. “You need anything?”
“No thanks,” he said, reaching for the door knob. He swung the door open with one thrust. His heart pounded with anticipation. Sunlight streamed inside, and he saw that the door was untouched. No letter had been placed there. He let out a big breath. He stood on the outside step and looked around, feeling as though he was being watched.
“Your phone's ringing!” Bonnie said from the kitchen.
He went back inside and shut the door behind him, hurrying to the dining room. One looked at the screen and saw that Agent Garrett was calling. He answered with an immediate apology.
“Agent Garrett, hi. Listen, I'm sorry. There were some issues at home last night, personal matters I had to deal with. I didn't mean to bail on you. I'm headed to the office in a minute—”
“Slow down. It's okay,” she said. “I was worried about you. That's all.”
Knight paused. “You were? Again, I apologize.”
“It's okay. The kidnapper is still at large. No Cadillac. No girls found. Nothing. But I've got a plan.”
Knight left the dining room with his phone against his ear, listening as he walked down the hall toward his bedroom. “What is it?”
“How soon can you get to the office?”
Knight moved through the darkened room like a madman. He threw the closet door open and grabbed some fresh clothes, tossing them on the bed. “Thirty minutes tops.” He thought about it some more and realized that with morning traffic, it would be closer to forty-five. He could always forgo a shower, but he needed one.
“Very well,” she continued. “I'll pick us up some coffee and meet you there.”
Knight said, “Got it,” and hung up. A quick scroll through his phone showed two missed calls and a text message from Agent Garrett the night before. There was nothing from Slater, which concerned him. Pressed for time, he made the call anyway, hoping to hear something from his absent partner. Predictably, it went to voice mail.
“Son of a bitch,” he said as the automated message played. He then spoke after the beep. “Simon, it's Charles. Starting to worry about you, buddy. Meet me at the office. Agent Garrett has a plan. Just... call me back. We need you.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the queen bed next to his clothes. His eyes remained on the screen as he undressed in haste. No message from Slater appeared. Knight cursed under his breath and then went into the bathroom, where his hot shower awaited.
The Dodge Challenger pulled into the station at 8:31 on the dot, nearly an hour from his last phone call to Agent Garrett. He had sent her a text message on his way, telling her that he was running behind, receiving an “OK” in return. He felt on edge and overwhelmed. His nerves were shot, and there didn't seem to be a silver lining to any of it. The parking lot was filled with police and civilian cars alike, and it was strangely crowded before nine. It made Knight feel more behind.
With the door open, he flew out of the car and almost tripped. The sun beat against his face without the comfort of a breeze, despite it being October. He pivoted around to take one last glance of himself in the reflection of his driver's side window. His hair was slicked back, his face clean shaved, and his suit neatly pressed. He always made sure to have a fresh one on standby. His roundish face and double chin were inescapable.
“Okay, let's go,” he said to himself, hurrying toward the precinct building. There was a news van at the end of the parking lot with its crew setting up. He had no doubt what story they were covering. News of Jenny Martin's disappearance had gotten out. The focus on the investigation had only intensified, and Knight was at the heart of it.
/> He hurried past a group of police officers exiting the building, acknowledging them with a head nod and a good morning. They offered curious glances in return, as though the frenzy of his mind was on full display. Once inside the lobby, the cool air conditioning provided immediate comfort. Two orderlies at the front desk gave little notice as he raced past them, scanning his card at the double doors. Once opened, he continued down the hall with his bad leg throbbing every step of the way.
Reaching his cubicle, Knight felt winded from the journey. To his relief, Agent Garrett was nowhere to be seen, though a store-purchased coffee cup sat next to his computer. He plopped down at his desk with a sigh and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Phones rang from nearby offices. He heard low chatter and saw his co-workers pass by from both directions.
Everyone seemed fixated and into their work, whereas Knight didn't know where to begin. He spun his chair around to see Slater's unoccupied desk behind him with his partner's coat still hanging on the back of the chair. Knight shifted uncomfortably in his chair and pulled his cell phone from his side pocket, swiping at the screen. There were no calls or messages from Slater. Knight's patience was nearing its end. They were at too crucial a moment in the case for Slater to pull his vanishing act. This was the final straw. Knight was prepared to tell the captain just that. He stared at the abandoned coat and noticed something sticking out from the side pocket.
Knight wheeled his chair closer and pulled the coat off. He looked around for a moment with the coat in his lap and then pushed himself back to his desk. His hand reached into the side pocket and pulled out three photographs, seemingly developed by a professional. As he examined the pictures more closely, his heart nearly skipped a beat. There was the same young girl in each one of them, playing in her yard.
The pictures were shot from some distance near the front of the house, but the girl's side profile was clear enough. Knight had seen her picture on the news last night. It was Jenny Martin. He flipped the photos around and saw a name written in marker on the back of each one: “Jenny.”