by Roger Hayden
“We're losing them,” she said.
Knight turned to her with increasing frustration. “We know exactly where they are. Unless Dixon is in on it too, this is a waste of time. We’ll catch up with Daniels, don’t worry.”
“Fine. Then turn around,” she said.
Knight gripped the steering wheel. “Not yet. There's somewhere I want to check first.” Slater's apartment complex was a mile or two away, which seemed awfully convenient. He caught a glimpse in his rear-view mirror of Dixon and Daniels exiting their car.
Garrett turned around completely in her seat, watching them. “Wherever you plan on going, I hope it's quick.”
“It will be,” he said, accelerating as traffic thinned out. “Trust me.”
11
The Meetup
Green Harbor was an old apartment complex that seemed to change its name every year. Its three-story buildings had brown wood siding from the 1980s. Slater had been living there since the separation, spending many of his nights at the pub across the street. Knight turned into the parking lot, past the management office and toward one of the buildings at the end. Nothing was gated, allowing them easy access into the facility.
There were several spaces available near Slater's second floor apartment. Knight pulled up to the building and parked next to a dumpster. Agent Garrett didn't understand his insistence on going there to look for Slater. Short of revealing the pictures he had found, Knight simply told her that it was important.
“I have to speak with him,” he said as they parked. “Find out what he knows.”
The comment made Garrett more suspicious. “What do you think he knows that we don’t?”
Knight glanced up at the apartment directly above them, looking through the balcony railing. “Maybe nothing. But I haven’t heard from him since yesterday, and it has me concerned.”
Garrett lowered her cell phone and looked at Knight. She didn’t look happy. “Wait. Are you saying that Detective Slater might have found something?”
“I think he knows more than he's telling us,” Knight said, letting the mask slip. He knew eventually that his suspicions were going to come out. All he had to do was show her the pictures. But something in Knight still afforded his partner the benefit of the doubt. Despite the betrayal, he couldn't bring himself to reveal his findings to Garrett, not until he verified the culpability with his own eyes. He opened his door, stepping out as the car idled. “Just wait here, please. I'm going to check on him.”
“Make it quick,” she said, still studying the map on her phone. “Dixon and Daniels could be leaving the office any time.”
Knight closed his door and continued across the cracked pavement toward the stairs at the corner of the building. Slater's car was nowhere to be seen. No one else was around. Everything was quiet. Knight hurried up the stairs, making it to the second story, where doors lined the shaded walkway close together like hotel rooms. He approached apartment 222, a few doors ahead, with his hand readied at his pistol. He stopped at Slater's door and listened. The blinds were closed, and not a sound could be heard. He braced himself and knocked heavily on the door, calling out Slater's name.
“Come on. Open up!”
He leaned toward the window beside the door and tried to peek inside. There was only darkness beyond the slits in the blinds. He knocked again with his voice raised, demanding that Slater come out. Knight backed away from the door and pulled his cell phone out. “You can't hide forever. I can get into this apartment if I must. All I have to do is talk to the manager.” He waited in vain, with only one option left. “All right, Simon. You leave me no choice.” He searched for Slater's ex-wife's number and placed the call. After a few rings, she answered.
“Hello, Anne. This is Charles.”
“Charles? Oh, hi. You caught me at the store. What's going on?”
“I don't want to take too much of your time, but I was wondering. Have you seen or spoken with Simon in the last day or two?”
She paused, and when she came back on, she sounded worried. “No. I haven't spoken to him in a few weeks. Is everything all right?”
“It's probably nothing. He left the office yesterday a little upset, and I haven't seen him since. He's not answering calls or text messages. I'm at a bit of a loss.” He glanced down from the balcony and saw Garrett in the passenger seat through the windshield. She was talking on her Bluetooth again and not seeming to notice him.
“I don't know what to say,” Anne continued. “I wish I could help, but we're not really on the best of terms right now, Simon and me.”
Knight nodded as the sickness in his stomach grew. “Listen, thanks. I'm sure it's nothing. He'll turn up sooner or later.”
“Have him call me, please,” she said. “I worry about him.”
“Of course. Thanks, Anne. I'll keep you posted.” Their call ended, and he was no closer to answers than when he had arrived. Knight rapped on the door and called out to Slater one last time. It was no longer a question whether they should try to find him. Nothing else seemed as important, not even the missing girls. Walking away from the apartment, Knight stared at the broken concrete, his thoughts racing with scenarios. He could search every bar in town, and it wouldn't help. It was clear Slater didn't want to be found, and that's what bothered Knight the most.
Agent Garrett wasn't happy by the time they returned to the building where Dixon's office was. His Chrysler was no longer in the parking lot. They couldn’t have missed them by much, maybe five or ten minutes by Knight's estimate. No one seemed to stay in one place too long anymore. They turned into the parking lot, just to make sure, but saw no sign of the lawyer or his client.
“Damn it, we missed him,” she said, hitting the dashboard and giving Knight an accusing look.
“Watch it,” Knight warned her.
She turned to him, livid. “I told you to stay on them. This puts our whole operation in jeopardy and my plan in the toilet.”
“You have a team at the trailer park. That’s what matters.” Knight slammed on his brakes, halting the car. “If you want to personally follow Dixon all day, I'll gladly drop you off at the station, and you can take your own car.”
Uncomfortable silence passed between them as Garrett glanced out her window. “That won't be necessary.” She paused and took a deep sigh. “I apologize for haranguing you. Let's try to get back on track.” She then touched her Bluetooth earpiece to communicate with her stakeout team, who Knight had yet to meet. “Any status on Daniels?” She paused, listening. “Okay. Thanks. Let me know as soon as he arrives.”
Knight's foot remained on the brake. He hadn't moved since stopping in the middle of the parking lot. He wanted to toss the pictures in her lap and tell her how blind they both had been but decided against it. There was enough friction between them as it was. “Where to now?” he asked.
Garrett looked around and then referred to her cell phone map. “There's a coffee place down the road. Would you mind going by there?”
“Sure thing,” he said, releasing the brake and hitting the gas. They circled the parking lot and then turned off another one-way street going in the opposite direction. A few blocks down, they came to Harry's Coffee, in a small building of other shops. Knight pulled alongside the sidewalk and parked. “Want anything?” Garrett asked. He could tell she was feeling a little bad about their earlier spat.
“I'm good, thanks,” he said. Then he immediately changed his mind. “Just some tea, if they have it.”
“Anything else?” she said, smiling, and he shook his head.
She swung her door open and got out, entering the crowded coffee store as Knight waited, still on the job, alert for Dixon’s Chrysler, or any Cadillac for that matter. The street was crowded with cars and trucks of varying makes and models, but nothing he was looking for. He placed yet another call to Slater for the hell of it. Like clockwork, the voice mail greeted him. He hung up, not leaving a message. He then grabbed the hand mic from the police radio and called out for all uni
ts to be on the lookout for a black four-door 2009 Chrysler.
“Do not engage,” he clarified. “Just report the location.” Responses of acknowledgment flooded the airwaves. He set the mic back onto its clip just as Garrett rushed to the side of the car and swung the door open in a panic.
“I just heard from my team,” she said, jumping inside. “The goose has landed.”
“What?” Knight said, “they’re on him?”
“Yes. The lawyer just dropped Daniels off at home. They're watching him now.”
Knight shifted his car into Drive as she closed the door. “Are we joining the stakeout?”
“Negative,” she said. “We'll take a position outside the trailer park, in case he makes a move. Eyes in separate places, you know.”
The instructions were clear enough. Knight waited for traffic to pass and then continued down the street. Garrett had left the store without her coffee or his tea. They were on a mission, though vague in its intent. They would have to drive ten miles across town to reach Palm Landings. Knight hoped it would lead somewhere. There was still hope for the three missing girls. That was if he and Garrett knew what they were doing.
They parked in a dirt lot on Saxton Avenue, a long stretch of rural road, surrounded by deep Florida woods. As they arrived, Daniels had been home for approximately twenty minutes. The two federal agents in the car, flown in from D.C., reported that the subject had gone straight inside after being dropped off and hadn't come back out. Agent Hicks and Agent Desmond were their names. Garrett explained that she only knew them by reputation and that their hasty dispatch to Melville County was by order of her superiors.
If the FBI couldn't figure this mess out, Knight believed that no one could. The plan, as he knew it, involved following Daniels's GPS signal once he left his home. But there were no guarantees. They could be waiting for days.
“I sure hope this works,” Garrett said, sharing Knight's sentiments.
They didn't have any drinks or snacks either, making their stakeout tedious, with what could be hours ahead of them, waiting. Knight unbuckled his seat belt and took off his coat, preparing for a long day and possibly longer evening. His department was following the bureau's instructions now, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“This is what happens when we can't get the job done,” he said.
Garrett glanced away from the empty road running past them. “What do you mean?”
“This was my case, and I blew it. So, that's why we're here. Not that it bothers me.” He tried to clarify. “I'm just thinking out loud.”
“You're as much a part of this case as I am,” she said. “I know that your boss puts on a big show, but he's told me great things about you. You were right about Daniels, and we're going to prove that soon enough.”
Knight offered a sheepish grin. “I appreciate the kind words, but there's no need for a pep talk. I accept things for how they are. You have to in this line of work.”
The rumble of a semi-truck echoed down the road as it shuttled past them, shaking the windows. Knight thought to himself in the silence that followed and then came to a decision, reaching behind him and grabbing his coat. “I told you about the letters and all, right? The ones that were left on my front door.”
Garrett looked up from her cell phone as it charged from a dangling cord connected to the dash. “Yes. Gives me the chills. Our kidnapper is confident. He clearly considers this a game for his amusement.”
“I requested a twenty-four-hour detail this morning to watch my house. Captain Marshall hasn't gotten back to me yet.”
Garrett seemed surprised. “If that's the case, I'll call him now.”
Knight moved his hand toward her. “Wait. There's something else I need to show you, but I ask that you keep it between us for now.” He searched for a hint of understanding on her face but wasn’t encouraged by what he saw. But there was no going back now. Knight reached into his coat pocket and produced the three photographs, handing them over. Garrett took the photos, wide-eyed and silent. There was no need to explain what she was looking at, beyond where he had gotten them. She stared at each picture, motionless, until she flipped them over and read the name written on the back.
“I found those this morning,” Knight began. He took a deep breath and continued. “They were in my partner's coat pocket, the one he left in the office. I don't know what it means, but—"
“Why didn't you show me these earlier?” she demanded. She held the photos up, clutching them in her hand. “This is Jenny Martin. What was Detective Slater doing with these?”
Knight shrugged in an exhausted attempt to explain. “Maybe he had sent them like I was sent the letters. Maybe he's involved in this somehow.”
Her eyes returned to the photos, where she meticulously studied each one, her hands trembling. Knight didn't have an excuse prepared. He had gotten so used to covering for Slater that it had just come naturally.
“We need to find him,” she said. Her eyes zeroed in on the one photo where Jenny's young face was fully visible.
“What do you think I've been trying to do?” Knight said.
Garrett gave no response as she repeatedly flipped through the pictures. Her silence seemed to make things worse. Perhaps she was feeling betrayed. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” Knight continued. “I didn't want to complicate things any further.”
“That's enough,” she said, raising a hand. “You need to call Captain Marshall and let him know right away. It's bad enough you kept him in the dark about this.” Before Knight could say anything, her earpiece flashed a blue light. She pressed on it and spoke. “This is Agent Garrett…” She froze, listening, and then grabbed her satchel from the floor. “Okay. We're on it. Stay in position.” She turned to Knight. “Daniels is leaving. He's in his red pickup.”
“Perfect,” Knight said. “What do we do?”
Garrett reached into her satchel and pulled out a handheld monitor. The digital map display of the hidden GPS showed a single blinking light traveling on a nearby road. “We wait,” she said. “Keep our distance while maintaining the proper range.”
They both watched the tiny screen in anticipation. Within moments, the vehicle they were watching drew near. Daniels's red pick-up truck soon passed them at top speed, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.
“He's headed north,” Knight said, “away from the city.”
“Give it some time and then follow him,” Garrett said.
There was no time now to argue about the pictures or anything else. Garrett spoke with urgency into her earpiece. “We're tracking the vehicle and will commence pursuit momentarily. Maintain your position until told otherwise. Agent Garrett out.”
The Dodge Challenger coasted ahead and peeked out into the road. Daniels's truck was far ahead and showing no signs of slowing down. Knight steadily increased his speed. Garrett looked up from the tracker screen and reminded him again to keep a careful distance, which Knight knew all too well. They continued along the road, up and then down a modest hill with Daniels far ahead. He was alone and headed toward an unknown destination that Knight hoped would shed some light on their perilous journey.
The open two-lane road stretched for miles. Chet Daniels was out of view, but his movements were being tracked. He maintained a steady trek, north toward Jacksonville. Thickets of grand pines dominated both sides of the road. There wasn't another town for some distance. Hunters frequented the area, and there were a few homes every so often, but the area was mostly uninhabited. Detective Knight had to believe that Daniels was driving this way for a reason. He could be attempting to flee the state for all they knew, but he wasn't going to get far if that was the case.
Agent Field's eyes were glued to the GPS tracker. She had her team stationed at Palm Landings, watching Daniels's trailer for anyone else who might show up. Knight had two teams pulling surveillance; one outside his home and another outside Slater's apartment. As far as the captain knew, Slater had simply gone missing. Implicating him woul
d change the dynamics of the entire case and reflect poorly on the department.
Knight wanted to verify his partner's involvement, though part of him had to accept the betrayal for what it was. As they followed the GPS signal for twenty miles. Garrett had said very little. She was either completely immersed in her work or upset with Knight for keeping information from her. Or both. The tension in the quiet car was palpable.
“Fifty-two, what is your location?” a voice said over the police radio.
Knight grabbed the hand mic, hesitating. It was Captain Marshall himself. He must have been monitoring their actions closely.
“Sir, we're headed north on 95, still in pursuit.”
“Copy that,” the captain said. “Don't lose him, and if he gets far enough, make sure to stop him before he crosses state lines.”
“Tracking,” Knight said, returning the mic to its clip. They passed a rusty 55 MPH speed limit sign. The Dodge wasn't going over sixty, lest they get too close to Daniels. He had to feel safe and alone. Only then would he lead them to the main culprit involved, or so they hoped.
“Has he made any calls yet?” Knight asked Garrett as he swerved to miss a pothole.
“Daniels?” she said, looking up. “Yes. Two when he returned to the trailer. We're trying to track the numbers now. Both local.” She looked down suddenly and stamped her foot. “He's veering off and slowing down.” She pressed her earpiece and repeated the information for the team.
Knight eased off the gas, decreasing their speed. “Follow or pull over?”
Garrett held up her hand, eyes on the tracker. “Stay on him, but don't get too close.”
Without a car in view, Knight felt blind. “How far ahead?”
“About a mile,” Garrett said. “He's stopped. He must have pulled over. Be on the lookout.” Her eyes widened as the flashing dot on the screen moved. “Correction. He's moving again. He turned left down a road.”