The Silent Child Boxset: A Collection of Riveting Kidnapping Mysteries

by Roger Hayden

  From the looks of their surroundings, Knight didn't know what road he could have pulled onto. There wasn’t a road that he knew of. Then it hit him. “There's a ravine about a mile up the road with an old bridge running across it. Been closed for years. You don't think he's going to drive through it?”

  Garrett shook her head. “I don't know. He's traveling very slowly. Just stopped, now he's moving again.”

  Knight leaned toward the tracker, trying to get a better look. The flashing dot was inching down the trail. The map was largely green with few roads indicated beyond the one that they were on. Beyond the bridge was more undeveloped land, maybe some homes. Knight wasn't sure. It was clear that their isolated surroundings would be ideal for a hideout. He accelerated up to 70 MPH as the road rushed under them. Daniels wasn't going to get away.

  “He's stopped,” Garrett said, excitement in her tone. She called back to her team, filling them in. “Be advised, we may need backup. Stay in place until further notice.”

  “What's going on?” the captain said on the radio. He didn't bother using a call sign this time. Knight ignored him, focused ahead and increasing his speed. Another vehicle appeared at the top of the road, a large truck.

  “Trail closing in,” Garrett said, reading the tracker. “First turn on your left.”

  Knight only saw forest and long-stretching power lines on both sides. The truck in the other lane neared and then raced past them at top speed. It had big spotlights on the roof and giant tires. Hunters, probably. Knight ignored them and kept alert for a concealed path on their left.

  Garrett warned him that they were about to pass it. Up ahead, he saw a barely visible dirt road, hidden by tall weeds. The car shook as he hit the brakes, dropping from seventy to a near stop. They took a sharp turn onto the trail, where there were tire tracks ahead amid compacted grass and weeds. Looming oak trees curved atop the path, shading it. The Dodge coasted forward at an idling speed. Its engine wasn't loud, but it was loud enough to give them away if they got too close.

  “Is he moving yet?” Knight asked.

  Garrett studied the tracker. “I don't know if Daniels is moving, but his truck hasn't moved an inch.”

  Knight looked around as they continued along the rocky path. “We should probably get off the road in case anyone else shows up.” Daniels had driven all this way to either meet with someone or go hiking. Knight was betting on the former. Garrett pointed to an area off road where they could park. He drove over a patch of bushes, scratching against his front grill and under the car. The Dodge would forgive him in the long run. They pushed through the brush and turned behind a fallen tree, broken at its base. They had cover, but not completely.

  “Let's go,” Garrett said as she felt for her side holster. Their pursuit had taken a different turn than Knight had imagined. For much of the way, he figured that Daniels was just trying to make a clean break for the state line. Garrett was already out the door before Knight had even unbuckled his seat belt. He radioed headquarters that they were pursuing Daniels on foot.

  “Where are you?” the captain seethed.

  “By the old bridge near Wymore County,” Knight said, opening his door. “I'll send coordinates by phone.”

  “Watch your backs,” Marshall said. “It's no man's land out there.”

  “I know, sir. Thanks,” Knight said, returning the mic to its holder. He grabbed his coat and the pictures and quickly left the car, following Garrett as she moved around the fallen tree.

  She whispered into her earpiece, eyes forward, one hand clutching the tracker. There was no sign of the truck yet, but they were close. Knight could feel it. They continued up the pine needle-laden ground as dead leaves and sticks cracked underfoot. The trees above shielded the overcast sky. Garrett had her pistol drawn, not taking any chances. Knight slipped his coat on, trudging behind Garrett as they reached a winding trail. They moved fast and kept low, stopping as the red truck came into view, parked just ahead and empty. Garrett held a fist up, halting. She crouched down for cover and scanned ahead. Daniels was gone, but he wasn't far.

  “Which way is the bridge?” Garrett asked in a hushed tone.

  Knight pointed ahead. “Just down that trail.” He then stepped ahead of her and continued walking. “Follow me.”

  They moved together with stealth, keeping their steps light. Knight drew his pistol as they passed the red truck. He peeked inside and saw the same empty beer cans and cigarette packs strewn about from earlier. He continued and checked their surroundings for the slightest movement.

  Ahead, through the trees, he saw an old wooden bridge with a barricade in front of it. The sound of flowing water became louder with their every step. They followed the road as it curved around a thicket of palmetto bushes. Garrett kept watch behind them as Knight led the way. He stopped roughly fifty feet in front of the bridge and ducked for cover behind the nearest tree.

  “What is it?” Garrett asked, taking a knee.

  “Daniels,” Knight whispered. “He's on the bridge, and he's not alone.” They could barely see Daniels or his mystery companion through the branches and hanging moss on the surrounding trees. Garrett fished a pair of miniature binoculars from her coat and surveilled their twelve o'clock. Knight watched her as she seemed to freeze with shock.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She kept the binoculars to her eyes, hesitant to answer. “It looks like... Detective Slater.”

  Knight's heart skipped a beat as he grabbed the binos from her. “Let me see.”

  He held them to his eyes and saw two men standing against the railing of the bridge with their backs facing him. He could recognize Daniels anywhere. The person next to him had gray disheveled hair, thick stubble on his cheek, and a trench coat.

  “Oh no...” Knight said as he watched the two men converse. Garrett was right. His missing partner had been found. Knight returned the binos and then wiped the sweat from his forehead, hanging his head.

  The truth was obvious enough. Slater was a part of the entire scheme. Knight had been a fool to cover for him so long. The betrayal enraged him. With the pistol in hand, he wanted nothing more than to use it. He stood up from their concealed position as Garrett pulled on his coat.

  “What are you doing?”

  He turned around and looked at her. “I'm going to arrest my partner. What does it look like?”

  “Wait,” she said, rising next to him, binos to her eyes. “There's something happening. They're arguing.”

  Knight turned and saw the two men face to face, yelling at one another. Slater suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Daniels with both hands by the collar of his shirt, shaking him as he shouted. “We have to move in,” Knight said, hands on his pistol.

  “Stay in position,” Garrett said. “This bridge is a rallying point. There could be others who arrive.”

  Knight paused, emotions raging, and then darted off down the trail without looking back. Garrett yelled at him to stop, but she was a distant echo. He ignored the pain in his knee, charging forward as dirt kicked up behind him. Garrett was off and steadily approaching. He didn't know if she was joining his pursuit or trying to stop him. Either way, he pushed forward and reached the wooden bridge with its creaking planks under his feet.

  “Tell me, you bastard!” Slater shouted with Daniels still in his grip. Neither of them noticed Knight approaching them. He reached the middle of the bridge, ten feet from them, and raised his pistol, shouting at them to freeze.

  Slater looked over Daniels's shoulder, startled, and released him immediately. Daniels fell back and turned around, equally shocked as both men stood there, frozen.

  “I said freeze!” Knight said. “Hands in the air!” His arms were extended outward with both hands gripping the pistol. His index finger caressed the trigger, prepared to fire.

  Daniels turned slightly with his hands in the air. Slater stood against the railing, hands down with his eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I s
hould ask you the same thing, you lying son of a bitch!” Knight shouted. He heard hurried footsteps behind him as Agent Garrett approached. She kept a careful distance, slowing behind Knight, and ordered both men to turn around and drop to their knees. Daniels complied immediately and fell to the ground with his hands as high as he could hold them. Slater, however, had yet to make a move.

  “Do you two mind?” he flippantly stated. “I'm in the middle of something.”

  Knight reached into his pocket and tossed the pictures toward Slater's feet. “You want to keep playing dumb? We found these in your coat. I wondered how the kidnapper knew where I lived. And now it's clear. You're the mole!”

  Slater scoffed. “Give me a break.”

  “You haven't answered your phone in twenty-four hours. Now, tell me exactly what the fuck is going on!”

  “Easy,” Slater said. “I'm trying to find the kidnapper.”

  Agent Garrett stepped forward, pistol aimed. “Detective Slater, I'm not going to tell you again. Get down on your knees and put your hands in the air.”

  He stared back at her and then slowly raised his hands, taking his time. “Has anyone told you that you're a callous bitch?”

  “Do what she says!” Knight shouted.

  A tense silence followed, relieved for a moment by a cool breeze from the ravine. Knight kept his attention on Daniels and Slater. None of it made any sense, and he certainly didn't trust a word Slater said. As Slater slowly turned around, hands in the air, a kneeling Daniels reached into his pants pocket, feeling for something. Knight glanced down and saw a bulky protrusion from the outer lining of his pants. His reaction was automatic. He fired one shot, blasting one round into Daniels's chest.

  Slater jumped to the ground in a panic. Birds scattered from all around the bridge. Daniels collapsed onto his side. Blood was already pouring from his mouth. He lay there motionless with his eyes open, as though life had already left his body. It had happened so fast, Knight didn't even get a chance to see what he was reaching for. Before he could even register his actions, Slater leapt to his feet with his pistol aimed, shifting between Knight and Garrett.

  Garrett shouted at him to drop the weapon. Knight was still shaken, the pistol hot in his hands. He looked at Slater, stunned to see that his gun was out and aimed at them.

  “Just back off, both of you!” Slater shouted. “I was trying to find answers. Don't you understand?”

  “Bullshit,” Knight seethed.

  Slater kicked the pictures away from him as their standoff continued. “The bastard sent me those photos anonymously, just like the letters to you. I had to keep it a secret. I couldn't tell anyone, or he would kill the girls. That's what he told me.” Slater paused as he fell back against the railing, catching his breath. “I was to meet him here at this time. Him or some cohort.” He kicked Daniels, rolling his lifeless body onto his stomach. “I assumed this lump of shit here was working with him. But when I talked to Daniels, he said he was told the same thing.”

  “Quiet!” Knight said. “Drop your gun or we will shoot you.”

  “Listen to your partner,” Garrett advised.

  Slater shook his head at them with contempt and no sign of complying. “I'm just trying to solve this case. We're on the same team here, so back the fuck off.”

  Knight stepped forward. They were both inches from the barrel of each other's pistol. Garrett was rendered helpless to intervene. Instead, she took careful steps back, increasing her distance. The chaos of the situation was clear. “Tell us what you're really doing here, Simon. Enough lies.”

  Slater glared at him, livid, and then lowered his pistol at his side, shaking his head. His flushed face drooped as he stammered. The truth, it seemed, was on the tip of his tongue. “I wanted my money,” he began softly.

  “From who?” Knight shouted.

  Slater lowered his head and then looked up, anguished, a despair that Knight had never seen on his partner's face. “I don't know.” He paused and pointed to Daniels. “I only know the person as a voice on the phone. He paid Daniels to find the girls.” He paused, reluctant to go any further. But he had already said too much. “The voice, whoever, paid me for info. Cash delivered by his lackey here, no questions asked. He said that no harm would come to the girls. They'd be released for ransom, but when no ransom came, I started to get nervous.”

  “You told this man, this voice, about me?” Knight asked in a devastated tone.

  Slater dropped his head and then nodded. “I'm broke, Charles. Between alimony and gambling debts and everything else.” He let out a slight grunt with an air of defeat. “I guess I'm just a real piece of shit.”

  “Do you have a description?” Knight asked.

  “Never met the man. I was given a number to call one night at the bar. This chick said I could make some easy money by entering this game.”

  “A game? And you spoke to a woman?” Knight said. “Who is she?”

  Slater nearly collapsed against the railing and shrugged. “It doesn't matter. Those kids are probably going to die now because of me. I sabotaged the investigation.” He looked up with tears in his eyes. “I betrayed you... a friend.”

  “Is Marv Dixon involved in this?” Knight asked, sticking to his questions.

  Slater shook his head, eyes down as though he was drifting off. “He was paid to help Daniels, but he doesn't know why. I'm sure you'll get another letter soon.” With that, he brought the pistol up and aimed it at his temple. “I'm sorry...”

  Knight lunged forward in a panic as the gun blast ripped through the air. Blood exploded from his partner's head. He collapsed, slumped next to Daniels's body. Knight fell to the ground next to him, unable to hear his own screams over the ringing in his ears. Garrett rushed from behind him and called for backup.

  “We need an ambulance here right now!”

  Knight knelt beside his partner's twitching body. He placed an arm around his bloody head and attempted to hold him. As Slater convulsed, his eyes looked at Knight with remorse. He was trying to speak but couldn't form the words. Knight saw shame and regret in his eyes before they closed. Sirens wailed in the distance. He could hear the familiar approach of a helicopter. Blood flowed into the ravine below, in sharp contrast to the natural beauty around them.

  Knight couldn't get his thoughts together. He couldn't think straight. He felt like he was in a waking nightmare. Slater was his partner. Nothing mattered more. Knight held him until the dark red blood trickling from the exit wound pooled on the other side of his head. “Hang in there, buddy,” he said, crying. “I got you. I'm here.” He remained crouched down at Slater's side, holding him as the sirens got closer. A man and a woman. Daniels. Dixon. They were all connected somehow. They were all part of this game Slater had spoken of. And it wasn't over yet.

  12

  A Reprieve

  Two bodies lay across the blood-stained bridge. Water ran below from a shallow ravine, under a gray, overcast sky. The smell of gunfire was in the air. Detective Charles Knight had fired once at their suspect, hitting him in the chest. His partner, Detective Simon Slater, had then placed the tiny barrel of his revolver against his own head and pulled the trigger. Knight was kneeling at his partner’s trembling body with his coat sleeve pressed against the open head wound in vain. No amount of pressure would stop the blood flow. Slater’s mouth was open. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head. Knight knew that he was losing him. Sweat dripped from his face, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  “Stay with me, Simon.”

  He yanked the tie from his own collar and wrapped it around his partner’s head. Thick red blood ran down his motionless face and over Knight’s shaky hands. Blood was everywhere, but there was still hope, desperate as it seemed. Knight had seen people survive gunshot wounds to the head before, depending on where the bullet was lodged or had fired through. He didn’t see an exit wound, but as he checked Slater’s pulse, he felt it fading.

  FBI Agent Tanya Fields paced behind h
im along the creaky wooden bridge, calling for backup. “Need EMTs here right away. We’ve got an officer and one suspect down.” She provided their location the best she could. They were on the outskirts of town off a rural state road.

  After trailing their suspect through the woods, they found him on an old bridge where he was engaged in a secret meeting with one of their own. Detective Knight had begun to suspect his partner of being involved in the kidnappings that had lately plagued the area. Once he saw Slater and Chet Daniels together, he felt vindicated but also deeply saddened and betrayed.

  Daniels was a drywall repair man and their lead suspect in the case of three girls who had gone missing in the past two weeks. Daniels had led them to the bridge, and what had happened next changed everything. A standoff ensued. Knight had moved in to arrest them, his pistol drawn, with Agent Fields close behind him. Daniels had reached for what Knight believed to be a weapon. He wasn’t sure.

  It had all happened so fast, and before he knew it, his partner of ten years pressed his own gun against his left temple, confessing to his role in the plot. He had been paid for information about the case by an unknown benefactor, the same individual Daniels claimed was paying him. The kidnapper, they explained, was someone they had only talked to by phone or letter. Sirens wailed in the distance. A faint helicopter sounded. Help was on the way. Chet Daniels lay on his side. He wasn’t moving and was presumed dead. The shot to his chest must have reached his heart. Knight pulled Slater’s coat off, hoping to use it to prop his head up.

  As he began to roll the coat, he noticed a letter on the inside pocket. He took the letter out and set it carefully to the side. He glanced at his hands and saw that they were covered in blood. He didn’t want to compromise evidence, but he had to know what Slater was being told and how he had gotten involved with this mess in the first place. Agent Fields’s footsteps echoed across the wooden beams of the bridge as she paced up and down, talking to her team. Even she struggled to explain the situation.