The Silent Child Boxset: A Collection of Riveting Kidnapping Mysteries

by Roger Hayden

  “Lieutenant Ken Felder,” she continued. “Where is he? Is he okay?” It seemed that the answer was obvious, but she hoped and prayed against it.

  “I don’t know his condition, ma’am,” he continued. “Three police officers were injured in the blast, yourself included. One of them unfortunately didn’t make it.”

  The world stopped as Harris held a nearby handkerchief against her mouth, unable to breathe. “No…” she said, gasping. “It can’t be.”

  Sensing a change for the worse, the paramedic stood up and walked to the doors, hunched over. “We’re going to get you to the hospital.” As he grabbed the doors, Captain Star suddenly appeared behind the ambulance with headlights from the patrol cars lighting his face. “Hold on a second,” Captain Star said. “I need to talk to her.” He climbed inside, his face wearing a stern and solemn expression. His crew cut was trim as always, his face smooth and free of stubble. He wore his dress uniform with the captain bars pinned to his shoulder. He sat next to Harris, struggling for words as he studied her.

  “Okay…” he said with a sigh. “You’ve got to tell me what happened.”

  Tears leaked from Harris’s clenched eyes. “We got too eager… should have waited.”

  “What are you talking about?” Star asked. “Eager for what?” A few people had gathered at the doors, but nobody said anything. “I’ve got one dead and two unconscious,” he said, his voice heavy with frustration. “Sergeant Gibbs is fine, but she only knows so much. Let’s start at the beginning…”

  Harris opened her eyes, sobbing as she wiped away the tears. “Ken found a key into the trunk. I guess he thought that we had gotten lucky. It was a trap.”

  Star’s eyes closed briefly in acknowledgment. He then leaned forward and tenderly took her hand. “Detective Harris, I want you to listen carefully. You’re right. The explosion was no accident. There were at least six pressure cookers placed inside the trunk, rigged to explode upon a breach.”

  Harris lunged forward, trying to get up. “Pressure cookers? No. No.”

  The captain held his hand up. “Take it easy. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I want to see Ken,” she said, struggling to sit up.

  The concerned paramedic watched them from outside as smoke wafted past. Firefighters were still dousing the fire, leaving behind the charred remnants of an Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. Star told her that Lieutenant Felder was in no condition to be seen. She fell back and stared at the ceiling, sighing.

  “I know that he’s dead. I saw him. He was… burned beyond recognition.”

  She wiped tears from her eyes and felt a crippling emptiness. The monitors around her beeped in unison. She had survived with what appeared to be minor injuries. The blast was still vivid in her mind. Felder hadn’t had a chance from the moment the trunk was opened. It was obvious the explosion was meant as a diversion, but it wasn’t the work of an ordinary kidnapper.

  Captain Star folded his hands and spoke urgently. “This act of terrorism changes everything. The Feds are going to get involved. There’s going to be an investigation. We’re going to need to find out who found the car and why it was left in this particular place.” He paused. “So many unanswered questions… I don’t know even know where to begin.”

  “We start with Crystal Parker,” Harris said, sitting up. “She was kidnapped earlier this afternoon walking home from her bus stop.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that,” Star said.

  “The car and the kidnapping are connected,” Harris continued. “We wouldn’t have even known about the Oldsmobile had one of her friends not stepped forward. But I’m certain those involved wanted us to find this car. It was a trap.” She thought of the letter and began to search her pockets frantically. Her coat, badge, and gun were all missing, furthering her panic. “Where’s all my stuff?”

  Star placed a hand on the thin vinyl mattress as fluorescent lights flickered from above. “It’s in my car. Everything is bundled up and secure, don’t worry.” After a brief pause, he then reached into his pocket and produced a single letter burnt around the edges and slipped into a plastic evidence bag. “Let’s talk about this,” he began.

  Harris stared at the letter with its familiar typewriter font and wording. “The game…”

  Star lowered the letter and then cleared his throat, holding a fist against his mouth. “Something very similar happened about five years ago, before your time. There were three kidnappings, all unsolved to this day. The investigators who came close to unraveling it were led to an abandoned car in the woods. It too was rigged to explode. That time, however, the explosive was on a timer. The lead investigator, Detective Charles Knight, retired sometime after that. His partner, Detective Simon Slater, was implicated in the conspiracy but died at the scene. The car’s physical evidence went up in flames.”

  Harris put it together. The ‘Charley’ in the letter now made sense. “This same person is still at large?”

  Star nodded and lowered his solemn eyes. “I’m afraid so. The department moved on. Lots of forced retirements as a result. My predecessor, Major Marshall, hung in there but has since transferred. And now that my command is nearing an end, we find ourselves in the same position.” He cleared his throat again and then stood up. “We can expect these kidnappings to continue. But now that we know this heinous individual’s tactics, we can be ready and finally catch the bastard.” He turned to leave and then offered some parting words. “Just rest up. I’ll need you alert and ready tomorrow.”

  He left the ambulance, hunched down, and then hopped out as the paramedic closed both doors behind him. Harris could barely get her thoughts straight. The back of her head throbbed from the impact suffered during her fall. She feared a concussion but also wanted nothing more than to return to the field. The reality of Felder’s death hadn’t fully sunk in. None of it had.

  16

  Past Protocol

  By morning, the Melville County Police Department was overwhelmed with activity. The local news media had dubbed the parking lot bombing a terrorist attack. Crystal Parker’s abduction hadn’t been factored as a connection yet. As far as the news was concerned, the two were separate incidents. Detective Harris arrived before nine with barely a parking space available. She had been discharged from the hospital the evening prior with a few cuts and bruises, but her entire body ached, and she had been advised to only perform minimal work.

  The Band-Aid on her forehead and left cheek was a constant reminder of what she now had to do. Sergeant Sykes and Cummings were still at the hospital, recovering. Corporal Rodriguez and Sergeant Gibbs, both a fair distance from the explosion, were fine but understandably rattled. The loss of Lieutenant Felder was sure to be felt throughout the station. His picture had already been shown on the news as the victim of the deadly bombing.

  Harris sat behind the wheel with the vents blowing cool air on her face. She braced herself and reached for her cell phone, staring at the screen through dark sunglasses. She navigated through her pictures and swiped across to shots of her last beach outing with Felder. They smiled together in each one, happy as they could be.

  Harris closed her phone immediately and choked back tears. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the sight of his charred face, blackened and red. His mouth was open, exposing teeth with the skin melted from the skull. It was a needless and tragic death, and part of Harris blamed herself. But how would she have known? How would any of them?

  “Ken,” she said, tears trickling down. She gripped the wheel and lowered her head. “I can’t do this. I can’t just move on and go about this case. You were my closest friend here.” Her forehead pressed against the wheel as she sobbed. “What the hell am I going to do now?”

  There were no easy answers. Maybe she wasn’t ready to go back to work. Captain Star had suggested taking some time to recover, but she couldn’t stay away; not with the killer at large. She opened the door, hesitating to step out. Her pistol hung from her shoulder holster, her badge
clipped on her belt.

  Her shoulder-length hair was neatly brushed on both sides and parted in the middle. Her makeup covered several of the small cuts on her face. The bandages wrapped around her arms and wrist were concealed by the sleeves of her blazer. She grabbed her satchel from the passenger seat and got out. Closing the door, she turned toward the long brick building she called home.

  The crowded briefing room bustled with chatter. There were uniformed police officers, plainclothes detectives, and high-ranking officials. Captain Star stood at the podium, preparing to address the room. He was wearing his dress uniform, as he had the night before, with his shiny badge at the chest and rank on the shoulder of his blue coat. He stood in front of a bulletin board with black and white photographs pinned along the top and a county map in the center. An U.S. flag hung in the corner from its flagpole.

  Seated at the table beside him were two police majors and Sherman Jenkins, Chief of Police. The burly white-haired, red-faced chief was a no-nonsense individual. He rarely, if ever, attending morning briefs, but there were obvious reasons before them. Detective Harris entered the room, surprised to see him there. She squeezed inside and moved quickly to the back corner. Leaning against the wall, she noticed Sergeant Gibbs and Rodriguez seated a few rows ahead among other police. With no seats available, it was standing room only. The mood was noticeably tense. Sunlight poured in from the three caged windows, reflecting onto the green tiled floor.

  Harris looked for some of her counterparts in Investigations. There were some people in suits in the front row. She recognized most of them. She saw the jet-black hair of Detective Briggs and the balding head of Detective Rosado. They had called her the night before when she was at the hospital. The news of Lieutenant Felder’s death had sent shock waves through the station. Melville County Police Department hadn’t experienced a fallen officer in some time, certainly before Harris had arrived there from Chicago PD.

  From the podium, Captain Star shuffled papers and then looked up at the crowd, asking for their attention. “Good morning, everyone. Let’s get right down to business.” He adjusted his small, circular-framed glasses, seemingly at a loss of words. The decorated Chief of Police’s watchful eyes studied the captain, anticipating what he might say. The room quieted, with only the hum of the air conditioner remaining. “This is a very tough day for the department. Not only did we have to tell the parents of Crystal Parker that their daughter is still missing, we also informed the next of kin to Lieutenant Kenneth Felder that he was killed in the line of duty.

  “Lieutenant Felder left behind a son, Tommy, and is survived by his parents Leland and Judy. He was recently divorced from Sheila, who is equally distraught. A memorial service plan is underway for our fallen detective. Details will be disseminated accordingly.”

  The captain removed his glasses and ran his hand across his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He then took a deep breath and continued. “The governor has ordered flags to be flown at half-mast today, which was the first order of business this morning. This department will honor and respect the memory of this exceptional lieutenant and ensure that all that can be done, will be done, for his family.”

  “Sir, when and where can we begin to find the scumbag who did this?” a police officer called out from the back. Murmurs of agreement soon followed as the captain demanded calm. The higher-ups beside him examined the crowd of fellow officers with stern faces. “No questions until I’m done. Understand? This isn’t a press conference.” He then glanced down and opened a folder. “Speaking of which, Chief Jenkins will be holding a conference at noon from the state attorney’s office, so we don’t want to keep him here too long.”

  “Let’s hear the facts, Richard,” the chief said in his deep voice, tinged with the Bostonian inflection they knew so well.

  “Let’s recap.” Captain Star moved on with the best overview of events that he could muster. “At approximately 4:30 pm, our police department was contacted by Dana Parker, reporting that her daughter, Crystal, wasn’t home from school. She had determined that Crystal wasn’t with any of her friends. She spoke with two girls who last saw her daughter, and these girls reported a strange man circling the neighborhood in what was later reported as an Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. The driver reportedly asked the girls if they had seen his missing dog.” Star then held up the bagged letter to full display. “This was left in the Parkers’ mailbox, we assume, from the kidnapper. In it, his intentions to keep the girl are clear. No ransom is being demanded.” He lowered the letter and continued.

  “Fast forward a few hours later, a car matching the description given to us by Crystal’s friends is found in the Try N’ Save parking lot, seemingly abandoned. Officers on the scene were Staff Sergeant Sykes, Sergeant Rodriguez, Sergeant Cummings, and Sergeant Gibbs, who had found the vehicle.” He glanced in the back, noticing Harris. “Detective Harris soon arrived on the scene with Detective Lieutenant Felder, and they proceeded to examine the vehicle. The doors were locked, and an attempt was made to open the trunk with a key found just above the left rear tire. This was no amateur setup. The six pressure cooker bombs were equipped to detonate once the trunk was opened.

  “The explosion equated to roughly the impact of a forty-pound bomb, instantly killing Detective Lieutenant Felder and injuring the other officers at the scene.” Star paused once again as though from the weight of the investigation. “Where are we now? Ladies and gentlemen, this is not terrorism. It is a kidnapping and a car-bomb murder. They are connected, and this isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with this individual. This is not a copycat. We believe it could be the same person behind the abduction five years ago of three local girls whose cases remain unsolved.” A hand suddenly went up, making Captain Star pause. “Yes, Sergeant Gibbs.”

  “Sir, if I may,” she said, standing up to address the room. “I remember this. Roughly five years ago, I was new on the force and responded to a call from the parents of Brittany Owens. The similarities between the abductions are unmistakable.”

  Star held his hand out and offered Gibbs a slight bow. “That’s correct. Those unsolved kidnappings have been a stain on this department ever since. If there’s anything else you can remember that may assist with this case, we would welcome that help.” Gibbs sat down as he thanked her. The captain resumed his briefing. “Expect a federal task force to lead this case. In the meantime, I want everyone on staff alert and ready to catch this individual. We owe it to the community and to Lieutenant Felder.”

  Harris stepped forward with her hand up. The captain called on her as heads turned. She was hesitant and even a little nervous with the attention but pressed on. “I’d like to stress the point that we’re looking for two individuals, not one.”

  “That’s right,” Sergeant Gibbs added. “A witness at the Try ‘N Save identified two persons leaving the Cutlass behind and taking off in an old 1980s-model blue van.”

  Star nodded and stepped back toward the bulletin board. “Yes, thank you for clarifying.” He pointed to a picture of a GMC van with patterned lines running along the blue paint. “This is what we’re looking for. Not the exact van in question, but close to what Ms. Louise Garner described. Be aware that they may be using stolen or fraudulent license plates.” He turned to the chief and asked if there was anything else.

  Chief Jenkins leaned forward in his chair and observed the room, fingers interlaced. “I want this person or persons found today. Get out there and do your jobs before the Feds take over. While they’ll provide limitless resources to the investigation, there’s no reason we can’t handle this thing locally. Do I make myself clear? One more thing. Keep everything under your hat.”

  “Yes Chief,” the room said in unison.

  Star dismissed everyone as they rose from their chairs, conversing. It got loud quickly. Harris felt boxed in and unable to think. She maneuvered her way behind the last row of chairs and escaped before anyone could stop her. Once outside the room, she headed straight for the restroom down t
he hall. She rushed in and found refuge in the last stall, shutting the door behind her. Her body trembled as she leaned against the door, short of breath.

  “Can’t fall apart now,” she said under her breath. “Need to push on.” Whoever had kidnapped the girl and planted the car bomb couldn’t be far. No, they were biding their time and watching the chaos unfold with great amusement. They, or he, had managed to stay hidden for years. She only hoped that their luck would soon run out. She closed her eyes, thinking of Felder.

  Detective Harris passed her corner office and approached the captain’s door at the end of a row of cubicles. She saw lights on through the blurry glass and knocked against the wooden door frame. From inside, he called out to enter. She turned the brass knob and poked her head inside. Star was at his desk, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a striped tie. Phone against his ear, he waved her in. To her relief, no one else was around but he looked intent, nonetheless, as he listened to the caller.

  “Yes, Shelly. Tell them no further comment until the chief gives his noon briefing. We have nothing to say. And let me know when the head of the task force calls again. Thank you.” He hung the phone up and glanced at Harris as she stood in front of his desk. “How are you feeling?” he asked, distracted. He then began typing wildly on his computer. “It’s going to be one of those days, for sure.” He glanced over and offered a seat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “I don’t have a lot of time. Sorry. What do you have for me?”

  Harris sat with a clearer head since the morning. “I’m sure it’s crossed your mind, sir, but I had an idea.”

  “Oh yeah?” he said, typing. “What’s that?”

  “Charles Knight, the retired detective. I’d like to speak with him.”

  Star ceased typing and then turned to her, skeptical. “What do you expect to find out? Knight never solved the case. It’s picking up exactly where he left off.”