by Ty Patterson
Another figure joined them. Zeb. There was pointing, gesticulating, and then Zeb bent and lifted Beth easily and carried her inside.
Gramma made calls, the cops arrived and at that point Meghan froze the feed.
She ran it a few more times, checked the other cameras, but realized with a sinking feeling that none of them had caught the assailant.
All they could see was a gray sweatshirt, a hoodie, gray track pants, and white sneakers.
The man’s face was indistinguishable. They could make out he was white, but that was the only feature they could spot.
Meghan rose, brewed herself another cup of coffee while Beth typed furiously. She returned, stood over Beth’s shoulder and watched as her sister commanded Werner to trace any Maddie related chatter on the internet. She attached several pictures of the girl to her commands.
Werner would sniff out social media posts and blogs. It would go to chat programs and look into emails. It talked to hundreds of databases all over the world. Secret databases guarded zealously by government agencies, and public repositories. Werner had access to them all.
Beth slid her chair back, rose, and stretched.
‘What now, sis?’
‘Let’s talk to Amy Kittrell.’ Meghan replied and when she turned to head out of the office, Zeb was there.
He led them out silently, down the elevator, to the SUV which roared and lunged forward as if it too could join the search.
Amy Kittrell wasn’t alone. Gramma was with her and the two women were sitting in silence when Meghan and Beth entered the Kittrell home.
Meghan didn’t wait for pleasantries. She caught Gramma’s eyes and signaled her to stay quiet and then pounced.
‘Maddie told us.’
‘About your husband hitting you.’
Chapter Six
Amy Kittrell reared back as if stung. Her wan face tightened and her skin suddenly looked like parchment.
Her mouth opened soundlessly and she didn’t seem to breathe.
‘What? What did you say? What did Maddie say?’ her voice trembled.
‘Maddie revealed everything. How your husband used to beat you. That one time he broke your shoulder.’
The mother shuddered, her eyes wide, her hands doing the twisting motion.
Gramma rose and brought her a glass of water. She grabbed it and drank it, heedless of the drops that spilled and ran down her chin.
‘It’s not true. Maddie doesn’t know anything.’ Her voice rose in a shout and she slammed the glass on a table.
‘Ma’am, why would your daughter lie?’
‘She didn’t. My girl never lied about anything. She misinterpreted.’
‘Josh never raised a hand to me. We were in… Oh my God.’ A hand cupped her mouth. ‘You think Josh took her because of that, don’t you?’
Her eyes looked accusingly at Meghan, then at Beth, and lastly at Gramma.
None of them responded.
Amy Kittrell took a deep breath. She rose, walked to the door, and held it open.
‘Get out.’
‘Get out of my house.’
The twins were in Gramma’s home half an hour later. They hadn’t spoken on the drive back and when Gramma ushered them in, Lizzie and Peaches had run up to them, questioning looks in their eyes.
‘We are searching, honey.’
‘The cops, us, everyone in the city are hunting for Maddie. We will find her.’ Meghan hugged Peaches tightly and released her when Gramma approached from the kitchen. She was carrying steaming mugs of coffee and a batch of freshly baked cookies, on a tray.
Beth bit into a cookie, savoured it for a moment -- the world could be ending, however there was always time for a cookie -- and looked at Gramma. ‘We should have warned you, ma’am. We felt a shock tactic would work best.’
Gramma waved her apology away. ‘You think that might be the reason?’
‘We don’t know, ma’am.’ Meghan confessed. ‘If he was abusive toward her –’ she raised a calming hand at Beth’s protest.
‘I’m not saying he wasn’t. However we have to look at all possibilities.’
She returned to Gramma, ‘If all that’s true, then their marriage might be in trouble.’
‘Kittrell snapped for some reason and made away with his daughter.’
Something about the distraught mother’s behavior struck her. ‘Ma’am, you must have spoken to her several times since yesterday. Met her as well.’
‘How was she with you?’
Gramma was puzzled. Her brow furrowed and she replied slowly, thinking. ‘Upset.’ A slight smile crept on her face.
‘That’s an understatement. In shock. Falling to pieces. Unable to think or act.’
Beth got where Meghan was heading to. ‘She wasn’t furious with you?’
Gramma frowned. ‘No. Why would she be?’
‘Most moms would feel anger.’
‘They would feel betrayed, if their child was kidnapped while in someone else’s care.’
‘They would be accusatory. We have seen friends turn on friends. Families split apart.’
An understanding light came in Gramma’s eyes.
‘Dear God, what was going on in that home?’
Neither of the twins felt like having lunch; however Zeb made them stop at a café near their office and grab a bite.
Meghan and Beth took the opportunity to speak to the stores, restaurants, and coffee shops in the neighborhood. They handed out Maddie’s photographs which they had gotten from the police. They spoke to baristas and the regulars.
They turned up empty-handed.
In a city of eight million, no one saw anything. People lived in their private bubbles and thousands of them never broke out of theirs.
Their quiet desperation was broken once by Beth when she said she would get a bullhorn and ride around the city calling out Maddie’s name. Meghan rolled her eyes at that and shoved her in the direction of the next store.
It was late afternoon by the time they had finished canvassing stores and were climbing into their ride when Meghan’s phone rang.
‘Chang,’ she mouthed when she saw the number.
‘Yeah, super cop. Give me some good news.’
She listened and ended the call with a We’ll be there.
‘We have a meeting with Mayo and Kane.’
‘We left several messages for them and at last one of their partners returned our call,’ Chang told them when he and Pizaka greeted them outside the law firm’s offices.
The firm was housed in a modern, forty-floor high-rise in downtown Manhattan, a block away from Freedom Tower.
Chang had made an effort for the meeting. His jacket had fewer wrinkles. Pizaka looked as if he was going for a modeling shoot.
Chang led the way inside a cavernous lobby, past smiling security guards, and toward an elevator bank.
A well-dressed woman greeted them and took them to the seventeenth floor.
They waited for a few moments in a reception area and presently a tall man approached them.
He had a red tie over a crisp white shirt. The shirt was tucked into trousers whose edges rivaled Pizaka’s.
His smile was white, his blonde hair was smartly cut and his body language said, Trust me. I’m here to help you. At five grand an hour.
He shook their hands with a firm grip and introduced himself.
‘I am Josh Kittrell.’
Chapter Seven
Meghan stared at him in shock. She was dimly aware that her mouth was hanging open and her companions were in a similar state of disbelief.
Chang was the first to recover.
‘You can’t be.’
A frown appeared and swiftly disappeared on the man’s face.
‘I most assuredly am, sir!’
Chang looked at Pizaka and then at the twins. ‘Maybe we should discuss this someplace else?’
The man pivoted on his heel and walked down a hallway toward his office. A few people greeted him on the way and look
ed curiously at those with him.
They call him Josh.
The man calling himself Josh Kittrell pushed opened the door to his office and ushered them into a room that was half the size of a tennis court.
A large wooden desk, burnished and polished to a rich shine, was at one end. Floor to ceiling picture windows brought the city inside the office.
The man gestured at several chairs, went to a side table and brought a silver salver on which was a carafe filled with coffee, and several cups.
Meghan took the seat opposite him, declined the offering, and watched him seat himself.
The man crossed his fingers, steepled them and a helpful expression came across his face.
‘What’s this about?’
Meghan told him.
He listened silently, his face expressionless but for a well-shaped eyebrow lifting.
‘That’s one heck of a story,’ he exclaimed when she had finished. He turned to the cops.
‘Presumably you are investigating.’
‘It’s why we are here,’ Chang said baldly. ‘Where were you yesterday? You didn’t get our messages?’
‘I was out of the country. Just got back this morning.’
The wide smile flashed again. ‘Detective Chang, I hope you aren’t suggesting I am involved in any way.’
Pizaka’s shades trained on Kittrell. ‘No suggestions, Mr. Kittrell. Josh Kittrell is the missing dad. He works here. That’s why we are here.’
The man chuckled. ‘I can assure you I am the only Josh Kittrell in this firm. You can confirm for yourself, if you wish.’
He lifted a phone, spoke quietly in it and after a short while there was a discreet knock on the door and an elderly woman entered. She was dressed in a cream-colored suit and was carrying a folder.
‘Helen Limbaugh. She heads our HR,’ Kittrell introduced her.
‘Helen, these folks are from the NYPD. Can you tell them how many people we employ?’
Limbaugh looked at him for a moment.
‘It’s alright, Helen. They are investigating a missing person who is apparently connected to our firm.’
‘Mayo and Kane has two thousand eight hundred and fifty staff all over the country. Three hundred are partners. Over fifteen hundred are lawyers. Mr. Kittrell is Partner of our Settlements Division.’
Limbaugh’s voice was dry and precise as she recited the figures while looking at Meghan.
It must be in her contract. No emotion to be shown.
‘And how many Josh Kittrells do we have, Helen?’ Kittrell grinned.
‘Just you.’ Limbaugh smiled slightly.
Smiles are allowed. Small ones. Except when you make partner. Then, large ones are mandatory.
They spent an hour more at the law firm and got nothing useful out but for the fact that Amy Kittrell’s husband didn’t work there.
They showed photographs of the husband. No one in the law firm recognized him.
The number that the mother and Pizaka and Chang had rung, belonged to the firm. Kittrell had no explanation for that. The mobile number for the missing father wasn’t the firm’s.
‘Something you should be looking into, detectives.’ Kittrell was amused. He seemed to be enjoying himself and at one point nearly rubbed his hands together.
Probably a change from advising stuffy corporate types, Meghan thought. Beth looked at her sideways. She had the same thought.
‘What’s the settlements division?’ Meghan asked him and braced herself mentally for a lengthy reply.
The partner didn’t disappoint her.
The firm worked with defense outfits, he explained. Many of them supplied military contractors to the Army.
‘Mercenaries,’ Beth interjected.
‘Not at all,’ Kittrell refuted smoothly. ‘That word doesn’t do justice to the people our clients provide. Their contractors are professionals, ex-military, highly trained and disciplined. Not the picture that Hollywood paints.’
‘Unfortunately some of these contractors get injured or killed when deployed. My division makes sure their families get all the benefits due to them.’
In many cases family members had to be traced, dependents had to be identified, before benefit payments could be made.
‘I was in the Army myself. Three tours of Afghanistan.’
‘Got a law degree when I left, worked my butt off, and here I am.’
‘I know what families go through when their men or women are away, or don’t return.’
He glanced at a family picture on his desk with a sombre expression. He did righteous work even if he charged a fortune for it.
He answered a few more questions and then flicked a cuff back to reveal an expensive wristwatch. He rose. Non-chargeable time was over.
‘Your man never worked here.’
Chapter Eight
‘We have a John Doe?’ Meghan asked the two cops.
Pizaka’s shades inclined silently while Chang sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair.
‘This couldn’t get any worse,’ Chang replied morosely.
Beth was silent as she slurped at her juice. They were in a coffee shop, filling up with liquids, regrouping after the whammy the law firm had delivered.
A girl walked past them, tugging on her mom’s arm, pointing excitedly at muffins on the counter.
Beth’s gaze rested on her and then she rose suddenly. ‘Let’s ask the mom.’
‘Whoa. Hold up, sis.’ Meghan put out a hand and pulled her down.
‘She’s coming apart. I don’t think she can handle this blow.’
‘Maybe she knows,’ Pizaka dabbed his lips with a paper towel.
‘And maybe she doesn’t.’ Meghan shot back. ‘Why don’t we find out who the missing dad is, before asking her?’
‘We’re on that too.’ Chang left a few bills on the table, rose, and slipped into his jacket.
‘A couple of female officers interviewed Amy Kittrell earlier today. Asked her about his usual haunts, their friends.’
He stopped, one hand inside his jacket, one hand outside. ‘Here’s the funny thing. He doesn’t have any usual haunts. He went to work. Came back home. No visits to the bar with friends. Weekends were spent at home or in the park.’
He slid the other hand into his jacket. ‘They have a few friends, we’re following up on those.’
He waved at the twins and turned to join Pizaka who was waiting impatiently.
‘Anything from the hotline?’ Beth stopped him, referring to the number the NYPD had set up for Maddie.
‘Usual crank calls. Wrong or false sightings. No gold dust.’
Meghan glanced involuntarily at Mickey Mouse when she and her sister entered their office.
Thirty hours since Maddie’s kidnapping.
They went to work on their computers.
Meghan would track down the missing father’s records, while Beth would go after his social media presence.
They didn’t take long to complete their search.
‘No DMV record. No bank account, at least none that we can find.’ Meghan exhaled slowly.
Beth’s head rose sharply. ‘He doesn’t have a driver’s license?’
‘Nope. No record, at least. I think Amy Kittrell said something about that – that he didn’t like driving.’
Late afternoon became early evening. Shadows elongated and became dark and then disappeared. The twins didn’t stop working.
‘He’s not on the internet either. Probably the only male of his age that isn’t on social media.’ Beth pushed off from her desk finally, stretched, and paced their office, a squeeze ball in her hand.
‘Let me try facial recog.’ Meghan connected to Werner and after scanning the father’s picture, commanded it to search for the father’s likeness.
Werner had sophisticated algorithms that compared images based on several nodal points on a person’s facial structure, with the numerous databases it had access to.
‘Werner didn’t get any hits for Maddie. I
bet dad won’t turn up either.’
Meghan ignored her sister and clicked furiously. She called Chang when she had finished and had a short discussion.
‘They are running similar searches at their end.’
A thought struck her. ‘Let me check for records in Baybush.’
Nothing came up in Baybush. Werner didn’t return any facial recog hits.
They went for a run in Central Park when it became dark, alternating between slow and fast sprints. They slowed and stopped when perspiration matted their hair and streamed down their faces.
They launched into a routine Zeb had taught them. A mix of martial arts and Tai Chi. A cyclist slowed to watch them. They ignored him.
A bunch of runners split around them. They didn’t let up.
It was as if fury was driving them.
‘Killing yourself won’t find her,’ a quiet voice spoke from behind.
Meghan whirled around, ready to do combat.
She relaxed when she saw it was Zeb.
She grabbed a towel, gave one to Beth, and followed Zeb out of the park.
‘Let’s ask the mom.’
Beth called Chang while Zeb was driving, and argued with him. ‘We’re going to question her regardless of your presence.’
Meghan craned her head back and looked at her, taking in her pinched face and hollow eyes. She didn’t comment on her sister’s appearance. ‘They’re coming?’
Beth nodded.
Zeb drove through flashes of red and orange, cutting in and out, vehicles parting as if sensing the force field inside their SUV.
Chang and Pizaka were waiting for them when they arrived.
‘Magic of light bars,’ Chang replied smugly at Meghan’s asking glance.
He waved a hand.
Lead the way.
Amy Kittrell opened the door when Meghan rang the buzzer. She hadn’t changed since they had met her earlier in the day. A faded sweatshirt over jeans, hair pulled back loosely and held by a band.
Her face was listless and seemed to have aged in a day.