The Redemption

by David Boiani

  Ricky gave her a comforting smile. “I’m meeting with John and Captain Johnson in five minutes. You can stay at my desk or in the lunchroom, if you’d like. There’s coffee and maybe a few donuts left.”

  “Okay, I could use a hot coffee.”

  “Follow me.”

  12:00:03, 12:00:02, 12:00:01…

  The trio gathered around the computer awaiting the clue to arrive on the screen. Suddenly, right on time, it appeared:

  MERRY DALE LANE

  Merry Dale lane appeared in large, capitalized block letters in Times New Roman text, typed in a violet hue.

  “Merry Dale Lane. Anyone heard of it? John?” Captain Johnson asked.

  “No. I know this city inside and out. I don’t believe there is a Merry Dale Lane.”

  Captain Johnson picked up his phone. “Marty, run a statewide search for a Merry Dale Lane. Let me know as soon as you’re done.”

  “Why would he send us right to the street? It doesn’t make sense. There has to be more to it than that,” Ricky said.

  Captain Johnson shrugged. “You’re probably correct, but let’s start with the most obvious and work our way from there.”

  John continued to stare at the text on the bottom of the screen. Brian Simmons started pulling against his restraints and shaking uncontrollably. John’s eyes landed on the poor man submerged in water up to his shoulders.

  “Even if we’re able to find this poor guy, he’ll be totally insane by then. Look at him.”

  His two colleagues joined him as they watched Brian Simmons finally relax and slouch back down, having depleted his body of its final energy supply.

  “Captain, pick up,” Marty Burns said over the intercom.

  “What do you got for me, Marty?” The captain paused, then: “Nothing? Okay, expand to neighboring states… Idaho, Montana, Oregon, just to be sure.”

  “He is in Washington, he wouldn’t leave the state. He wants a fair competition. It is his code, just like there is a code here in this text somehow,” John said.

  “Well, let’s figure it out,” Ricky replied.

  11:45:03, 11:45:02, 11:45:01…

  Ricky entered the lunchroom, sat down across from Alexis and smiled. As she smiled back, he once again felt his stomach flutter. Her smile was a drug to him, and he was quickly becoming addicted.

  “Hi, did you eat? There’s some food in the fridge.”

  “No, thank you, coffee is enough,” she said as she gripped the steaming cup in front of her.

  ‘Alexis, does Merry Dale Lane mean anything to you?”

  “No, why would it?”

  “He sent it to us, as a clue. I’m just being thorough.”

  “He really pisses me off. My father’s life is at stake, and he’s making a game out of it.”

  “I know, but that’s the point. It’s him versus us; only the best wins.”

  “Yeah, but he has the deck slanted in his favor.”

  “Of course he does, but it’s the only game he’s willing to play and if we want a chance to save your father, we need to follow his rules.”

  Alexis looked down into her cup and a pang shot through Ricky’s heart. He put his hand over hers.

  “Look at me. I will do everything I can to save him. We’ll figure this thing out.”

  “Promise me.”

  Ricky looked away for an instant and decided to give an answer that he prayed he would not regret.

  “I promise. I promise you will see your father alive again.”

  11:00:03, 11:00:02, 11:00:01…

  “There is no Merry Dale Lane on the West Coast. In fact, the closest Merry Dale Lane is on the East Coast in South Carolina and Georgia,” Captain Johnson said.

  “Okay, so what else could it mean? It is definitely an address, encoded somehow,” John replied.

  “Expand our search to addresses that include Merry, Dale, and Lane separately. Maybe something will hit that makes sense,” Ricky said.

  “Does anyone else think the color of the text means something? Captain? Ricky? The text he sent for the Kerry Reid case was all black, along with his greeting. Now he switched to purple.”

  “Purple, what the hell could that mean?” Ricky said.

  “We need to expand our searches to every city, town, street, avenue, and lane that includes purple in its name,” Captain Johnson said as he hurried out of his office to track down officer Burns.

  John noticed Ricky glance at him, a small frown on his lips and his eyes blinking repeatedly. John knew something wasn’t right with his young colleague.

  “Ricky, what is it? Do you have an idea what this means?”

  Ricky ran his hand through his short dark hair and lowered his head.

  “Seriously, what the hell is it? You look like you are about ready to puke,” John said.

  “John, I fucked up. I promised Alexis we’d find him, alive and well. What if we can’t? Something about this woman makes me do things I know I shouldn’t. Things that go against my training, decisions made against my better judgment. I feel like I have no control when I’m with her.”

  “Seems to me like you’re falling for her, rookie. You need to separate emotion from the equation. I know it’s difficult, but every decision we make, everything we do, is decided by analytical thinking unless my instinct tells me differently,” John said. “You’ll be fine, Ricky. Just think before you make promises you aren’t sure you can keep. We will find him, don’t worry.”

  “What if we don’t?”

  “Well, if we don’t there is always online dating.”

  10:22:03, 10:22:02, 10:22:01…

  The dark figure watched as his captive slumped, his weight being held up only by his restraints. He turned the sound up on his computer and adjusted the screen to its brightest setting. Night had crept in, turning the video feed gloomy and shadowy. He knew his prey had given up hope and welcomed death. Thoughts circled his mind: This is the high I crave, the ability to play God, to decide who lives or dies, just because I have the power to. This is what my life has become, this is what I have become, and I love myself for it. There are no demons, there are no voices. I kill because I enjoy it and it is a means to an end. I have found my reason for being here, my higher calling… and I couldn’t be happier.

  9:43:03, 9:43:02, 9:43:01…

  John leaned back in his chair and interlocked his hands behind his head in a gesture infused with stress. As his eyes wandered from the ceiling back down to his desk, they came to rest on a picture of his family he recently placed next to his computer. It was the family enjoying Easter dinner together a few years back, taken by Julie’s mother. John sat at the head of the table smiling happily with a prideful glow. Julie was wearing a white sundress, looking like an angel sent from above. Ryann sported khaki pants and a white button-down shirt, one of the few times he would be caught in formal clothes. Then his sight came to rest on his baby girl. She wore a purple sundress, a smile from ear to ear and a bright, brilliant glow overtaking her face. She is such a beautiful girl, on her way to becoming a woman, he thought. Then a memory shot into his mind. A conversation they had that day while eating dinner came back to him like it was yesterday…

  “Gianna, I like your purple dress,” Ryann said.

  “Yes, it’s very pretty, darling,” Julie chimed in.

  “Thank you, but it’s not purple,” Gianna replied.

  “Looks purple to me,” Ryann said.

  “It’s lavender, you fool.”

  John sat up like he was shot out of a rocket, jumped to his feet and rushed into the captain’s office. He brought the address back onto the screen:

  MERRY DALE LANE

  Why, you mother fucker. John picked up the phone and called the captain and Ricky, who were in the office with the feds. “Guys, get in here quick.”

  Moments later the duo rushed into the room.

  “What is it?” Ricky said.

  “Occam’s Razor,” John answered.

  “What? Okum’s what?” The captain
asked.

  “Occam’s Razor, I know it. It’s a scientific philosophy written by William Ockham, an English friar and theologian. It means the simplest solution is usually the correct solution,” Ricky said.

  “Exactly,” John replied.

  “Well I’ll be damned, I didn’t know I was dealing with two Rhodes Scholars,” the captain said. “But, just what the hell does that have to do with our little clue.”

  “The text is lavender, not purple. What town do we know that is famous for lavender? What town is actually the lavender capital of the world?”

  “Holy shit… Sequim.”

  John nodded his head and said, “Gentlemen, Brain Simmons is being held somewhere in Sequim.”

  9:23:03, 9:23:02, 9:23:01…

  Marty entered the office responding to the captain’s request.

  “Marty, jot this down. I want a search of Sequim, Washington. Search for any street, lane, boulevard, road, drive, or highway that may include the words merry and/or dale. Please be quick, we have just over nine hours to save this man,” the captain said as he pointed to the screen.

  “Yes, of course, sir.”

  As John watched Marty Burns rush out a feeling of nausea came over him. He walked out of the office and through the front door of the station to get some air. He bent over and put his hands on his knees as he took a couple of deep breaths. Slowly, his queasiness faded. As he stood up and looked up at the sun which was partially tucked behind a white fluffy cloud, he thought: This world can be so beautiful, so clean. Why must it be inhabited by evil, sick people who only want to destroy innocence and good? He looked around at the people living their lives, the mailman delivering a love letter to a woman who had long ago given up hope, an old man walking his dog with gentleness and love, a young woman holding her toddler’s hand with pride as she leads him into the barbershop for a haircut.

  So much love is around us, everywhere. Why can’t we keep the innocent safe? Why must there be unrelenting evil? After thirty years I still ask the same questions. When will it end? When will I stop seeing innocent faces being torn apart in my dreams. John quickly walked over to the side of the building, bent down and vomited in the grass.

  8:22:03, 8:2202, 8:22:01…

  John washed up in the bathroom and walked back into the office.

  “Hey, where’ve you been? There were no matches for merry or dale in Sequim,” Ricky said.

  “Where’s the captain?”

  “He’s with Marty, researching the roads of Sequim. John, do you have any ideas? I keep looking at the text, but nothing comes to me. Alexis asked me if we are making any progress and I don’t know how to answer. I told her we narrowed it down to one town, Sequim. She looked like she had no idea where that is. John? Jesus, you look terrible, pallid. Are you okay?”

  “Pallid? What the hell is that?”

  “Pale, white,” Ricky said impatiently. “Like you just saw a ghost.”

  John’s ears went deaf after the last sentence came out of Ricky’s mouth. He was staring at the screen with an intense look in his eyes.

  “John? What is it?”

  Ricky, jot these words down.”

  Ricky pulled out his pad and pen and looked up at John.

  “Happy, Cheer, glee, joy, sunny, vale, valley, ravine, glade, dell.”

  “Got it. Any more?”

  “Let’s start there,” John replied.

  “Wait, I don’t understand—”

  “Synonyms Ricky, they are synonyms of the words he gave us.”

  Ricky jumped up after nearly falling off the chair and ran out of the office to find the captain, John assumed. A small smile came over his lips as he glanced at Brian Simmons. Hang in there, sir. We are coming.

  7:58:03, 7:58:02, 7:58:01…

  “There’s a Happy Valley Road in Sequim. I’m sending all the available men I have to search for any shed, hut, shack, shanty, or outhouse.” Captain Johnson pointed to locations on a digital map on his computer. “The feds will start from the east, here, where it meets 101. Our men will start from the west, here, where it meets River Road,”

  “That road must be ten miles long, it’s going to take some time to cover that ground,” Ricky said.

  “That’s why we’re going to get out there to help. Captain, as soon as you coordinate the search, let us know,” John said.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I map it out. It will take you an hour to an hour and a half even with your lights and sirens active, so hit the road ASAP. I’ll be directing search groups on the fly.”

  “Will do. Ricky, meet me at my truck in ten.”

  “You got it.” Ricky rushed out of the office and headed for the lunchroom. He saw Alexis, stretched out on the couch in the small rec room off the back of the lunchroom. He walked over and knelt beside her, brushed her hair out of her face and waited for her to stir. Her eyes slowly opened, and a small smile appeared.

  “Hi,” she said as she sat up.

  “Hi, I’m sorry for waking you but I wanted to fill you in on the case. We think we have the street. We are all heading there for the search in ten minutes.”

  “Where?” she replied as her eyes grew wide in wonder.

  “Happy Valley Road in Sequim. It’s a few hours west of Seattle.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’re fairly certain. We’ll find him, Alexis, or die trying.”

  6:42:03, 6:42:02, 6:42:01…

  John turned west onto Happy Valley Road with Ricky by his side.

  “Captain wants us to search between Sporseen Road and McFarland Drive, on the western section of Happy Valley.”

  “Got it. I think I know the area,” John replied.

  As John drove west they saw many officers from the Sequim Police department already searching their assigned areas for every shed, shack or hut they could find. John felt that with just under seven hours to spare, they would find Mr. Simmons. Hopefully, alive.

  “We’ll get to him, Ricky,” John said as he turned and nodded to his partner.

  Ricky nodded back and let out a deep sigh as they continued west towards their destination.

  6:32:03, 6:32:02, 6:32:01…

  They arrived at their location, parked, and exited the truck.

  “You take the north side and I’ll take the south side. We’ll start at McFarland Drive and work our way west to Sporseen,” John said.

  “Sounds good,” Ricky said. “Good luck.”

  John watched him cross the road and they both started their trek on opposite sides. John searched a small wooded area directly off the road where McFarland Drive meets Happy Valley Road. He cleared the grove and entered what looked to be a small industrial building with a couple of steel storage facilities.

  “Can I help you?” a man in overalls said as he walked towards John.

  “Hi, my name is Detective Corbin,” John said as he held up his badge. “Not sure if you have noticed the police activity on Happy Valley Road, but we’re searching for a missing person and believe him to be in the area. May I take a quick look around?”

  “Sure, anything to help, detective.”

  “Thank you.” John cleared the two buildings and retreated west down Happy Valley Road as he gave a courtesy wave to the worker. The South side of the road contained thick woods with few buildings. He would have to clear the woods up to Sporseen Road, as deep as he could. John took a deep breath, glanced at the bright, blue Sequim sky’s descending sun, and entered the trees.

  6:28:03, 6:28:02, 6:28:01…

  Ricky approached a large, residential house and knocked on the door. He would have to clear as much as he could without a search warrant, hopefully with the consent of the resident. But, with someone’s life being at stake, he was prepared to do what he had to. He would make sure Brian Simmons wasn’t being held anywhere on the land he was responsible for.

  The door opened and an attractive woman in her thirties opened with a small child grasping her leg. Ricky already had his badge out at eye level.
<
br />   “May I help you, officer?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We have reason to believe a missing person is being held in this area. I would like your permission to search and clear this house and land. You will be doing everyone involved in the search effort a great service and may help us save a life.”

  The woman focused on Ricky’s eyes, looked down at his gun and two- way radio before cracking a slight smile and agreeing.

  “Thank you, Ma’am. It will only take a minute or two.”

  “I noticed the heavy presence of police in the area. I hope you find him or her.”

  “Him, and thanks again.”

  After clearing the area, Ricky said goodbye and continued down the northern side through a small wooded lot. When he reached the end of his designated area and found nothing of significance, he radioed John. “Nothing here, over.”

  “10-4. Same on my end. Meet me back at the truck,” John answered. Just as John broke the tree line and quickened his pace towards his vehicle, he noticed Ricky cross the street from the opposite side. They met at the truck and got in. John radioed Captain Johnson to brief him.

  “Sir, we got nothing.”

  “John, I have great news, they just found him. He was being held in a wooden shed just east of Happy Valley Alpaca Ranch, behind a small pond in a thicket of trees.”

  “I’m heading there now,” John said as he turned the truck around and raced east to the site.

  6:21:03, 6:21:02, 6:21:01…

  John pulled his truck over at the rear of a collection of assorted cruisers, unmarked federal agent cars and SUVs, a Sequim fire truck, and ambulance. The shed was located between the ranch and Osprey Gun Road, a thousand feet south off Happy Valley Road. John jumped out of the truck with Ricky following close behind and headed for the congregation of officers and agents on the side of the road.