Cold Dark Places (Cady Maddix Mystery Book 1)

by Kylie Brant

  The building and grounds might be soothing, but the security measures were reminders that the facility housed dangerous, criminally insane patients.

  Ryder opened his mouth to answer when Isaacson’s cell rang. The man fumbled with it as he took it out of his coat pocket. His face went even more ashen as he read the screen. “It’s the governor’s office.” He turned his back and took several steps away to answer the call.

  “Sheriff Talbot.” Ryder turned. A bear of a man lumbered up, credentials in hand. “Special Agent Bob Sweeney, SBI.” The agent’s unbuttoned leather coat with sheepskin lining flapped as he walked. “Took longer than it should have to get here. Damn country roads. My GPS got me turned around twice. Is that coffee? Mind if I grab a cup while you catch me up on your efforts here?”

  What Ryder wanted was to get back inside the facility and interview the guard tending the security cameras. But he’d invited the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation and the FBI onto the case. The Highway Patrol had been alerted, as had the United States Marshals Service and the regional fugitive apprehension task force. His office didn’t have the resources to quickly resolve this case on its own.

  He ambled alongside the agent, briefing him on the steps they’d taken so far. “The dog followed Aldeen’s scent to the employee parking lot,” he finished. Sweeney lifted the cup he’d filled to his lips and took a large gulp. From his expression, it was clear he was no more a fan of the taste than Ryder had been. “He lost it in the lot there.” Ryder pointed in the direction of the employee lot behind them, with its smattering of vehicles. “We’ve spoken to the officials in the guard stations and gone through the security feeds from both gates. I think we’ve got a clear shot of him at the first one.”

  “You think.”

  Ryder shoved aside a quick flare of irritation. Everyone here was short on sleep, so he wasn’t going to wonder if SBI agents were taught the tone that cast doubt on every other law enforcement officer’s decisions or if the agency only hired assholes to whom it came naturally. “He was disguised, but I’m fairly certain it’s Aldeen.” He pulled out his cell and brought some of the images up on it. In the first was the inmate’s ID picture. The next two showed a man with darker, thicker hair and a heavy mustache wearing scrubs under a hooded sweatshirt. A hospital employee ID could be seen hanging around his neck. “Aldeen has been in the infirmary for two days after instigating an altercation with his roommate. Given the level of planning this escape required, I’m guessing the fight was staged as well.”

  He saw the agent’s gaze shift to something over his shoulder and turned. A woman in a dark coat and cap was striding rapidly toward them. Five eight. Midthirties or younger. The cap hid her hair. It wasn’t until she got close enough for him to see her pale-green eyes that recognition flickered. The new marshal out of the Asheville office. Ryder had met her a couple of times at regional task force meetings.

  “Cady Maddix with the Marshals Service.” She stopped beside Ryder. “My colleagues are pulling together all the information they can on Aldeen. Can you update me on what happened here tonight?”

  Ryder repeated what he’d just told Sweeney, ending with, “Highway Patrol has a description of the car and is setting up roadblocks in a one-hundred-mile perimeter. They’ll be stopping and searching all vehicles, in case he switched to a different one. We’ve also got two Highway Patrol helicopters doing recon for similar cars from the air. Aldeen had to have help on the inside to make his escape. There’s no reason to believe he doesn’t have assistance on the outside as well.”

  “We need a list of all of the center’s employees,” Sweeney said. He was linebacker material. He’d make two of the marshal. “And tapes from inside the facility.”

  Ryder nodded. “We’re on it. The director is over there in the gray coat. He’s already got people in the office working on employee rosters. I’ve reviewed tonight’s outdoor security feeds, and they validate our working theory about how this went down. There are two outside security checkpoints, each manned with an officer who conducts a search of the vehicle. The gates can only be opened by the security guard manning the cameras on the inside. All vehicles are searched upon entrance and exit from the property. Including the one Aldeen drove away in.”

  “Do you think the guard is an accessory?” Sweeney took another swig of coffee. Grimaced again. “An escape like this? The guy had help. Whose car did he drive out?”

  “We’re in the process of reviewing more footage. We aren’t sure yet whether a worker or visitor parked it there.”

  Sweeney swiveled to look from one parking area to the other. “Are you saying the guard stations don’t have a camera view showing the lot side of the property?”

  “Not until the car gets within range of the guard station,” Ryder told him. “There are other security cameras situated in front of the building where we’re probably going to be able to see some of the parking lot space, though.” He hunched his shoulders a bit. A wind had come up, and its chill held a bite. “Every employee at the facility is in a database with their name and occupation, including substitute workers.” The officers at the gates had explained that much to him. “The guard monitoring the cameras either has to recognize each person or find them in the employee database and verify their identity through their ID badge and photo before buzzing them through. In the meantime, my deputies are conducting interviews with all other employees on duty.” And the process wouldn’t be complete until they’d gotten statements from every single person employed by the facility, from the cooks to the professional staff. Ryder was acutely aware that every passing minute meant the escapee was probably that much farther out of reach. “Aldeen’s psychiatrist is on his way. Director Isaacson and I just finished talking to Captain Rowland of the Highway Patrol before you two arrived. We’ve got a press perimeter set up fifty feet beyond the outer security checkpoint.”

  He saw the question on Sweeney’s face and forestalled it. “No sign of a reporter yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” The cover of darkness likely helped. That, and none of the on-duty employees had had a chance to tip off the press. The small feeding frenzy Eryn Pullman’s release from Rolling Acres Resort had galvanized a few short days ago would dim in comparison to the media fireworks Aldeen’s escape would elicit.

  “Have you viewed the interior security feed yet?” Sweeney took one more gulp of the coffee before dumping the rest of it on the ground beside him.

  “No. It’s being compiled for me. I’m heading there next. Isaacson has a call in to Aldeen’s head unit nurse. She’ll put together a list of any employee who had at least occasional access to the escapee.”

  The SBI agent grunted. “I’d like a word with the director before I go inside.” He turned and beelined for the man, who was still on the phone.

  “If he got through the gates, he wasn’t dressed as an inmate,” Cady observed.

  Ryder showed her the pictures the SBI agent had viewed earlier. “He passed through the exterior gate nearly ninety minutes ago.” And Ryder was all too aware of how far the man could have traveled since then. “The infirmary night nurse reported him missing shortly after.”

  She nodded. “Highway Patrol is our best chance at this point. But there are also visitor logs and the list of allowed phone contacts, which will give us a place to start. I’d like to sit in for the conference with Aldeen’s psychiatrist when it occurs.”

  “No problem. Follow me.” She matched him stride for stride across the parking lot as he spoke. “The director did mention Aldeen has had occasional visits this year from one person on his list. He was transferred here three years ago to be closer to his only living relative, a great-aunt. She lives in Charlotte. Police there have a patrol car sitting on her house, in case that’s his destination.”

  “I’ll check it out when I leave here.”

  Ryder nodded. “Like all patients, Aldeen was required to fill out a list of allowed phone contacts. Only four or five names were on it. They were vetted
by security. All were cell phones with the exception of the great-aunt. Hers is a landline.”

  “We’ll check out the names. Here, and those at the previous facility.” Cady sent him a questioning look.

  “Bridgeport,” he supplied. Ryder turned at the sound of an approaching vehicle. The mobile command post had arrived. His chief deputy, Jerry Garza, would be manning it for the time being.

  If they didn’t catch the escapee tonight, the manhunt would grow exponentially. The thought of the multiple agencies that would be assisting had tension tightening in his shoulders. It was going to require massive organization. Some of their roles would overlap. The task of collecting and disseminating timely updates on leads followed by each agency would be a full-time job in itself.

  He returned his attention to the woman beside him. “We didn’t find anything helpful in Aldeen’s room. Patients spend the majority of their time together in common areas. They return to their personal spaces by nine p.m., and breakfast is at seven thirty a.m. I’ve got a deputy searching the common areas now, and we’ll be inspecting other patient rooms on the unit.”

  “You think he might have hidden something of note or given it to someone else to hold?”

  “It’s possible. Since he escaped from the infirmary he would have been unable to carry anything there with him. If, as we believe, Aldeen had an accessory on the inside, he may have had maps. Correspondence. He wouldn’t have left either in his room.”

  “Sounds like you’ve covered a lot of ground already. How long have you been on-site?” she surprised him by asking.

  “We arrived twenty minutes after we received the call.” And Ryder was beginning to feel the hour. He pushed the encroaching exhaustion aside. It’d be a helluva lot longer before he’d get any sleep. “We tried to move fast. If it had been a normal escape situation, we’d have a lead on Aldeen already, with the dogs and infrared capabilities in the air.” Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked. “The possibility of an accessory changes things. Interviews and physical searches are labor intensive.” But they had to be done. And there’d be days of camera images to view. The outside assistance on this case would be imperative for providing the personnel to handle all of the man-hours the investigation would demand.

  Cady nodded. “My team is already pulling together all the details we can about Aldeen’s history, relatives, and acquaintances. Did the director have any other insights?”

  Hedging, Ryder said, “He’s given me everything I’ve asked for.” Isaacson was in full cover-your-ass mode, bracing for the shitstorm about to rain down on him. The scrutiny soon to be trained on this facility and its leadership after its first patient escape would be brutal. And given the government cutbacks in recent years that had carved at every department, Ryder wouldn’t be surprised to discover Fristol was understaffed. If true, the press would have a field day with the fact.

  They showed their identification twice before accessing the building again, and then a guard quickly attached himself to them. Ryder knew he’d accompany them wherever they went inside. Every twelve to fourteen feet the passageway was blocked by a set of locked double doors, with a camera aimed at them. The guard pressed the button on the wall beside them and turned his face up to the camera. “Haywood County Sheriff and Deputy US Marshal Maddix,” the man said each time. A moment later, the doors would slowly swing open.

  Cady shot Ryder a sidelong glance. “Given this process, Aldeen was allowed through multiple sets of doors by the guard manning the cameras. Is it a one-person job?”

  “Two on first and second shift. One on third.” He’d run a quick check on Pat Simpson, the man on duty tonight. No criminal record. But they’d be digging deeper into his background, as well as the personnel on duty tonight in the infirmary.

  “Any chance I can see Aldeen’s room before we head to security?”

  Ryder stifled a flare of impatience. He had a mental image of an hourglass with the sand quickly running out. But they’d walk right by the man’s unit. It’d take only a few minutes. And it wasn’t like they had no capture plans in place. Roadblocks had been erected. The Highway Patrol was out in force.

  But he still felt stymied here, and would until he had clear intelligence on how the escapee had managed his Houdini act. He informed the guard of the change in plans, and minutes later they turned off the main hall to the locked unit where Aldeen had been housed. There were six such units in this wing, with ten rooms in each, two patients to a room. A separate wing held female patients. One section housed patients for court-ordered evaluations of their fitness for trial. Other sections were for long-term residents like Aldeen, who’d been found guilty but insane by a judge.

  The lighting in the hall outside the patient rooms was set to twilight rather than the harsh overhead glare in the passageway they’d left. The area was quiet. The official accompanying them halted in front of Aldeen’s room and unlocked it, swinging the door wide for them. The roommate had been relocated. Two of Ryder’s men had gone through the space already. Both of the cots had been taken apart, the mattresses sliced open, the covers removed. There were no pillows. The bunks had been disassembled, the hollow tubes comprising the frames dismantled and examined. Nothing had been found.

  Shallow shelved indentations that passed as closets marked both back corners. One space was crowded with personal belongings. The contents in Aldeen’s showed the effects of the search. They’d taken some of the man’s possessions into evidence. The only things remaining were some clothes and a small stack of books, each bearing the stamp of the facility’s library. “He had an MP3 player and earbuds,” Ryder said. He stood in the doorway and scanned the small area as she moved around inside it, touching nothing. “He had plenty of money for incidentals and had thousands of songs downloaded on his device. Director Isaacson said IT would have taken care of the downloads, and the payments were subtracted from the patient’s account.”

  She turned around and retraced her steps to the door, clearly having seen enough. He stood aside to let her pass before stepping into the hallway. “Maybe the MP3 player will bear fruit,” Cady said. The guard locked the cell behind them as they began retracing their steps to the doors leading to the main hallway. “I once worked a warrant where the guy was obsessed with a country music star. I mean, he had CDs, posters, a matching Stetson . . . even a ringtone of one of his songs. When we heard the star was appearing in concert within a hundred miles of the bandit’s last known residence, we blanketed the venue with fugitive apprehension task forces.”

  Ryder slanted a look at her. “You captured him?”

  She smiled. “A marshal ID’d him at one of the entrances, and we caught him waiting in line to buy a T-shirt. Never underestimate the lengths a true fan will go to, to see his idol.”

  They waited for security to open the next set of doors. “Where’d this happen?”

  “Saint Louis.” The note of finality in her voice was impossible to miss. More to the story there, he mused. Much more.

  They arrived, finally, at the three rooms making up the security offices. Simpson, Ryder recalled from their earlier meeting tonight, was in the middle one. The guard accompanying them rapped on that door and announced them. Simpson looked up from a laptop with split screens showing different camera angles. Wariness flickered over his expression when they walked in.

  “Sheriff. Ma’am,” he said with a nod in Cady’s direction.

  Because he was looking at her, Ryder caught Cady’s slight wince.

  “I’ve been combing through the database I was telling you about earlier.” Simpson wheeled away from the laptop he was monitoring to another a few feet away. “Here’s the ID of the man in question who I allowed out the doors tonight. And through the gates.” He indicated the screen. Ryder and Cady stepped forward as one to look. Aldeen’s picture, with phony glasses and a wig, looked back at them. “Carl Mitchell. He was entered into the database for facility personnel a week ago. I didn’t recognize him when I buzzed him through the i
nterior doors and gates, but when I pulled up his ID, I figured, hey, he just started. That’s why I didn’t know him.”

  “Did everything else about this addition look normal to you?” Cady asked.

  “Yes. There’s always a photo with the employee badge number, and their job description. He was hired as a substitute orderly. I mean, according to what it said here.”

  “Who enters the new employees into this database?” Ryder wanted to know.

  “Teresa Resling, in human resources. Or her assistant, Tammy Bell. It usually takes a while after a hire to get all the paperwork and training done. But once it is, before a new employee is scheduled for his or her first shift, they’re put in this system.”

  “Who else has access to the database?” Cady asked. Simpson looked confused, so she went on. “I’m assuming anyone working here could bring it up.”

  “Well, sure, it’s meant to be used widely. But the only ones who have editing privileges are people in HR. It’s password protected.”

  “Passwords can be cracked.”

  Ryder nodded at Cady’s remark. “Is the database online?”

  The man nodded miserably. “Not the patient records, of course, which are confidential. But this is a federal facility, so we’re government employees. All of the personnel employment records would also be on a server somewhere.”

  A server meant someone on the outside could have hacked into the database. It was possible, but Ryder’s focus would remain on the Fristol employees for now. It wasn’t an outsider who had left the ID, clothes, and disguise hidden for Aldeen’s use.