by Roger Hayden
14
Crime Scene
The call came to the station by evening. Dana Parker returned home from work and found that her daughter, Crystal, wasn’t there. Her friends hadn’t seen her since school ended. Two friends who had walked home with Crystal reported a “creepy man” who asked them about his missing dog. The man drove an old burgundy car, though they couldn’t identify the make or model. Worst of all was a letter left in the Parkers’ mailbox from the apparent kidnapper. Detective Vanessa Harris was briefed before arriving on the scene, fully expecting two distraught, grieving parents who needed answers.
She arrived in her department-issued green Ford Taurus to find two police cruisers already parked in the street. In the driveway were what she assumed to be Dana and Ronald Parker’s cars, a black Ford F-150 and a small red Datsun. Accompanying Harris in the passenger seat was the investigation unit’s second-in-command, Detective Lieutenant Ken Felder. They often worked together on cases, both in their third year with the Melville County Police Department.
“What are you thinking of for dinner?” Felder asked as they parked behind the second police cruiser.
Harris turned to him, surprised and unamused. “Are you for real? We’ve got a missing girl here.”
The handsome and somewhat vain Felder checked his trim dark brown hair in the visor mirror, brushing it back with his hand. “That’s no reason to starve. The case will go on, regardless.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.
“I’m a realist,” he responded. “Might I add that we were about to clock out for the day?”
Harris shook her head, glancing at her own reflection in the rear-view mirror. Her straight black hair went down to her shoulders, parted on the side. She had thin, dark eyes and full lips she often bit down on, leaving a hint of red lipstick on her front teeth. For an investigations detective, she was relatively young at thirty-two.
She had always wanted to work in law enforcement and had made it her career since graduating from high school. This was where she wanted to be: the first line of defense against criminals and their victims. Though as a detective, her forte wasn’t so much in stopping crime as it was in resolving its aftermath. And this was her first missing children’s case that involved an actual letter from a kidnapper.
She stepped out of the car, her black loafers striking the sidewalk that led to the Parkers’ driveway. The pleasant street had a long stretch of homes on both sides, tucked away within the quiet neighborhood. Cars slowed as they passed by, revealing curious commuters unaccustomed to the sight of police outside one of their homes. Harris saw neighbors watching from their windows across the street. Some glanced over as they checked their mailboxes or dragged empty trash cans up the driveway.
Harris pulled her handheld police radio from her belt and reported back to the station. “Jane-24 with the lieutenant.” She paused and glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s 5:45. We just arrived at 2455 Anderson Street to talk with the parents.”
“Copy that, Jane-24,” said Dispatch. “Keep us posted.”
She clipped the radio back onto her belt where her badge was displayed. Her trusty Glock .380 pistol hung at her side from a shoulder holster, concealed between her dark blazer and white button-down shirt. She waited as Felder eventually exited the car, wearing the dark suit and tie that he was rarely seen out of. “Waiting on you, Lieutenant.”
He closed his door and hurried over from the street. “Yes, yes. I’m coming.” Once on the sidewalk, he touched her hand. “Just promise me that we’ll go to dinner after this.”
Harris moved her hand away and spoke softly. “Let’s slow things down, Ken. I think that would be good for the both of us.”
Felder jerked his head back, surprised. “What are you talking about?”
She responded in a serious tone. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Look, I’m talking about takeout,” he said, arms out. “Hell, even a drive-through would work.”
“Let’s go,” she said, walking away.
He followed behind her on the sidewalk, muttering. He liked to play dumb sometimes, but Felder was every bit as perceptive as she was. Their relationship as of late had crossed professional lines. Their co-workers were getting suspicious. Harris had heard some things and denied all the rumors, but she could only deny things for so long. They soon traveled up the driveway and toward the open front door walkway.
The lawn was a lush manicure of trim thick grass as green as a summer valley. A small sign stuck into the ground in the corner advertised Evergreen Lawn Care. Harris walked under the shade of a roof overhead toward the front door as the lieutenant followed.
“The girl was kidnapped right outside her house?” he asked.
“Walking home from her bus stop, yes,” Harris answered quietly. “Her parents should be able to tell us more.” She stopped and leaned forward, knocking on the slightly open door.
“Need to get a look at that letter,” said Felder, as though it wasn’t the first thing on Harris’s mind. They heard chatter from inside as a police officer peeked her head around a corner to see them. There to greet them was Sergeant Julie Gibbs.
“Detective Harris,” she began. “Lieutenant Felder. Please come in.”
Harris thanked her and entered the foyer with the lieutenant. They walked past a closet and turned left into a spacious living room, where Dana and Ronald Parker sat on a couch together. Behind them was a darkened dining room with all the blinds shut.
Staff Sergeant Greg Sykes stood beside the couch with his clipboard and radio buzzing with static and cross chatter. As she approached, Harris noticed a letter on the coffee table in front of the couch. She saw that the words were typed in old-fashioned typewriter font. Harris glanced up from the paper, noticing the parents’ attention on her and Felder as they walked in.
“Mr. and Mrs. Parker, I’m Detective Harris,” she said, extending her hand.
They nodded and shook hands, their anguish brewing just below the surface and noticeable on Dana Parker’s tear-streaked cheeks. As she twirled the end of her blonde, curly hair, she looked understandably frazzled and in a state of shock. She was dressed sophisticatedly in a teal-colored silk dress that stopped at her knees and an open, white cardigan sweater. “I just don’t know what to make of this,” she began with a wavering voice. “It can’t be happening.”
“What should we do?” her husband asked, staring at them through his glasses. He wore a beige Dockers sweater with the collar of a dress shirt poking out. He ran one hand through his thinning hair and sighed. “How do we find this guy?” He then smacked the coffee table with his palm. “There’s no ransom or anything else. It’s all gibberish.”
Felder stepped forward to introduce himself, his earlier playfulness hidden behind a serious demeanor. “Could we see this letter, please?”
Sergeant Gibbs circled around. “It was found in their mailbox, placed there with the regular mail.”
“Yes…” Dana Parker said, wide-eyed and lips quivering. “I-I checked the mail like I always do. It was around four o’clock this afternoon. The door was locked. Windows were locked. Everything was locked.”
She paused and pulled out some Kleenex from a box on a nearby end table. After dabbing her eyes, she continued.
“I expected Crystal to be home. We tell her that she can’t go to her friends until her homework is done. It didn’t even look like she’d been home yet. I called for her and checked her room and couldn’t find her anywhere.” She grabbed the letter and held it up, frantic. “And then I found this in our mail, hidden between the bills.”
Harris reached for the letter as Dana released it, crying. The message was brief and offered no real insight into Crystal’s kidnapping. It also provided a name she was not familiar with.
After much deliberation, I’ve decided to start the game once more. You will not see your daughter again. But do not worry. No harm will come to her if she accepts her place in th
e family. Be sure to tell Charley that I’m at it again. He would love to know.
Harris flipped the letter around and saw nothing on the back. She then handed it to Felder, who was dying to get a look. “Seems like one giant riddle to me,” she told the parents, though she knew her assessment wasn’t helping. They wanted clarity, but the crises before them offered none.
“Who’s Charley?” Felder asked while reading.
Dana looked up, near hysterics. “We don’t know! What are you going to do to find Crystal?”
Staff Sergeant Sykes interjected with a calm, professional tone. “We’ve got some teams looking for Crystal now based on your description: fifty-nine inches, roughly ninety pounds, blue eyes, blonde hair, and carrying a Hello Kitty backpack.”
An angry Ronald shot up from the couch. “We need to put her picture on every damn telephone pole on every damn street around here. Get it on the news. I don’t care. We’re wasting time here.”
Dana held up a shaky hand, urging him to calm down. “Please, Ronald. Keep your voice down.”
He spun around, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “I told you that we needed to hire an afternoon sitter. She’s not old enough to be home alone. I told you that.”
Dana looked away and seethed under her breath, “How dare you…”
Ronald placed his hands on his hips. “You know I’m right. If anything happens to our daughter, I’ll put the blame squarely on you.” A tense, uncomfortable silence followed. Sergeant Gibbs and Sykes exchanged awkward glances. Harris understood how difficult the situation was for them, as it would be for any parent, but arguing and placing blame wasn’t going to help get Crystal back. Before she could say a word, Dana grabbed the box of Kleenex and threw it at her husband. He ducked, avoiding it, as she stumbled to her feet. “Don’t you speak to me like that, you son of a bitch!”
Harris quickly stepped between them not only to mediate, but to get them back on track. “Let’s everyone stay calm. Right now, each minute is crucial in finding Crystal.” She paused as the tension between the sparring couple simmered and they both returned to their seats. “It’s my understanding that you have a son, too. Is he home yet?”
Ronald shook his head. “No, Jeremy is at football practice right now. Or should be there, anyway.”
“Someone must have seen something,” Dana said, wiping at her eyes. “It happened in broad daylight.”
“We’ll talk to your neighbors,” Felder said as he lowered the letter.
Dana’s eyes lit up with hope. “We haven’t called all of her friends yet. That letter could be a hoax or a prank. A mean prank, but a prank nonetheless.”
Harris wanted to consider the notion, but her instincts told her otherwise. She leaned closer to the couple and spoke in her most understanding tone. “It’s best that we proceed on this as a legitimate kidnapping. While the motive remains foggy, we’ll put the pieces together and figure it out.”
Silence again settled around them like a fog as an undeniable certainty filled the air. Harris wished that she had the answers, but they could only operate on what was known: Crystal Parker was lost in the unknown. Someone could have been stalking the neighborhood. It could have been days or weeks even. They could have seen Crystal before or sensed the opportunity and taken her on an impulse.
Felder then offered his take. “If we get a better description of this car, that will help narrow it down. If your daughter never made it into the house, that means she was taken between two-thirty and three o’clock. That puts her kidnapper at an advantage of approximately two hours and forty-five minutes.” He paused as two police officers entered the dining room from the back porch. Apparently, they had combed the house inside and out, including the backyard. A police officer entered the living room, wiping sweat from his forehead as his partner followed.
“There are no signs of a break-in. Backyard is undisturbed,” one officer said. He then held up a small hair tie. “Found this at the end of the driveway. Could be your daughter’s.”
Dana slowly rose from the couch and walked over to him to get a closer look. “These are the kind I buy her,” she said, taking it.
Ronald scoffed with increasing frustration. “What the hell does that mean? Her hair tie was found?” He lunged forward, ripping the letter from the lieutenant’s hand. “You should start by getting fingerprints off this damn letter. Or maybe I can take it to the university and do it myself!”
Felder nodded in understanding while trying his best to remain sympathetic. “It’s okay, Mr. Parker. The letter will be taken into evidence with anything else we find.”
Heads turned from the living room as a young girl cautiously entered the house with what looked to be her mother at her side. Dana walked over to them and looked as if she was about to burst out sobbing again.
“Sandra. Amy.” They all reached out and hugged each other.
Amy too looked to be on the verge of tears. Sandra stood behind her, hands on her daughter’s shoulder. “After you called, I sat down with Amy and tried to figure out what kind of car she saw,” Sandra began. “I got a pretty good description and then sort of searched on the Internet until I found a matching car that Amy said looked like it.”
Ronald stood up from the couch and walked over anxiously. “What did you find?”
Sandra continued. “The closest I could get was a 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera, but it was more than just close. When I showed her the picture, Amy identified it as the same car.”
“He had a hat and sunglasses and a big mustache,” Amy said in a nervous tone. She had clearly been crying too, and guilt was written all over her face. Harris almost cried for her, knowing the pain she must feel. But Amy was no more responsible for what happened to Crystal than anyone else.
“We’ll get a sketch artist here pronto,” Felder said. He then beckoned the other officers to join him outside. He turned to Harris before leaving. “Get whatever information you can. We’ve got to pounce on this with every resource at our disposal.”
He walked past Sandra and Amy, thanking them, as the four police officers in the room followed him outside the front door. Having a specific vehicle in mind certainly provided an advantage, but Harris still couldn’t shake her growing apprehension. If they were fortunate, their mustached suspect was a careless criminal. Anyone who would abduct a young girl in broad daylight in front of her house possessed some degree of sloppiness. Or he knew exactly what he was doing and ditched the car in question long before law enforcement got involved.
Ronald suddenly grabbed his coat from a nearby rack. “I’m going to find this car. I’ll drive all night if I have to.”
Harris stepped forward to intervene. “Mr. Parker—”
“No!” he said, spinning around. “I’ve seen my share of crime shows. You think I’m going to just stand idly by and let this turn into some cold case file?” He paused, seeming to realize the harshness in his tone. “I know you’re only trying to help, Detective, but it’s my job as well to find her.”
“You should really let us handle this,” Harris said.
“Listen to her, Ronald. This is no time to play the vigilante,” Dana said, looking at Sandra and Amy for confirmation as they stood awkwardly to the side.
Ronald, dismissing her, grabbed his keys and wallet from an end table. “I refuse to sit here one minute longer.” He paused and raised a stern finger in the air. “I’m going to cut his balls off.”
The lieutenant suddenly entered through the foyer alone and looked at Ronald, curious. “I sent the officers out to find the car. We’re putting an APB on it as well. Should only be a matter of time.”
For a moment, Ronald seemed satisfied enough and hesitated leaving. “I think we should all be out there looking,” he announced.
Felder glanced at him with masked skepticism, repeating Harris’s point. “We have to assume that this individual is particularly dangerous. Your heightened emotional state could put you and your daughter at risk.”
Ronald stared at t
he lieutenant in disdain. “God forbid either of you have to deal with something like this.”
Sandra hugged Dana, allowing her to cry into her shoulder. Amy inched away and looked out the window in what appeared to be a lingering state of shock. Felder took Harris by the arm and led her toward the dining room, stopping out of view in the kitchen.
“What is it?” Harris asked, pulling away.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, smile growing on his face.
“I’m worried for that little girl,” Harris said. “We don’t know what kind of sicko we’re dealing with here.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “The sketch artist should be here within the hour to get a description from her friend. Maybe we could canvas the neighborhood and see if there are any other witnesses.”
There were countertops and cabinets on both sides of them, a humming refrigerator and a top-of-the-line stove. Everything in the house seemed clean and untouched. She began to wonder just how random Crystal Parker’s kidnapping was. If it involved extortion, the amount could indicate whether their suspect was known by the family. That was usually how such cases went. Suddenly both their handheld radios blared with chatter.
“Detective Harris, Lieutenant Felder,” an officer’s voice said. “Do you read me?”
They both drew their radios out at the same time. Felder paused and looked at Harris, smiling. “It’s all you.”
Harris then pressed the side button of her radio and spoke. “Copy. This is Detective Harris. What do you have?”
Static. Lots of it, followed with a pause. It was none other than Staff Sergeant Sykes. “I just got word of a car matching your description at the Try N’ Save parking lot. Headed there now.”