Beyond the Roses
Page 10
Lissa recalled Robin’s fears when her son Alex had been caught in a well on a farm in rural Pennsylvania. The Limerick township police department responded quickly. After four hours, they extricated the little guy from the well. Although she understood Robin sharing the worried-mother-syndrome experience, the woman’s fears were no match for her own. Alex had always been in plain sight. Or relatively. Lissa could only imagine where Lacy was right now. All she knew was she was gone.
Robin chattered while Lissa kept her eyes and ears tuned for the police. Her friend’s southern drawl soon became nothing more than blather. Lissa could no longer focus on the woman’s words, and she hoped that Robin hadn’t been asking her anything because she was barely able to process her words let alone respond coherently. Her jangled nerves could barely hide the quiver in her voice that mimicked the stammering of a five-year-old after a crying jag.
The lanes of I-70 curved through the trees like a long, mocking tongue. Not knowing from which direction the police or Brian would be coming, Lissa kept her gaze focused in both directions, twisting her head from side to side as though watching a tennis match. Each set of headlights gave her stomach a twinge. She wondered whether they would make the usual spectacle of using the sirens and flashing lights. The sight and sound of everyday police vehicles in full engagement mode, zooming down the road with peeling sirens and red flashing lights, was enough to make her tense until they passed. Now, on the verge of her own frenzied predicament, her tension doubled.
For a brief moment, she recalled a vivid dream where her 911 call never made it through to the police department. She could barely dial the number before something happened to the phone—either it melted, or the number wouldn’t connect or misdialed. Or when she did speak to the authorities, something always kept them from arriving.
The set of headlights coming down the highway flashed with urgency. Finally. “Hey, Robin, the police are here.”
“Okay, you better go. I’ll be praying, Liss.”
“Thanks.”
Lissa hung up the phone wishing this was just another bad dream when the first responding officer pulled up. She didn’t know whether to stay inside the car or step out to meet him. She wasn’t being arrested for anything. Not wanting to be alone with a stranger, even if he was a member of the police force, her body tensed with uncertainty.
“Are you Ms. Logan?”
She nodded and stepped out of the car.
“I’m Officer Jennings.” He looked down at his notebook. “Says your daughter’s missing?”
“Yes, sir.” Still nodding. “Please help me, Officer. She’s out here—” Her panic-stricken voice bordered on hysteria as she swung her arm in a wide gesture toward the copse of trees adjacent to the development.
“Okay, you need to calm down. It’s going to be okay.”
“She was invited to a party, and when I went to go pick her up, they said she wasn’t there. She was nowhere in the house.” Her words flew out of her mouth so quickly that she realized she may have sounded like someone on cocaine. She made a conscious effort to slow down and then dissolved into tears.
“We have a description of her… eight-years-old, 4 ft. 3 inches and 60 lbs. with auburn hair and green eyes?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, wailing. “She’ll be nine in December. We need to find her, Officer. I’m so afraid that—”
“Not to worry, ma’am. Worrying isn’t going to help us find your daughter. It’ll be better for all concerned if you just kept a level head.” He punctuated his words with a firm nod. “Now, I need to ask you some questions, ma’am.”
The officer began asking a litany of questions just as another car pulled up behind them. Lissa recognized the car as Brian’s. He threw open his door, got out, and in three strides he was by her side with his arms wrapped around her. “I’m so sorry, Liss.”
“Oh, Brian,” she said, latching onto him tightly.
She wiped her eyes as Brian pulled away and extended his hand to the officer. “Brian Pickering, Chief of Security, Department of Defense.”
The officer nodded and with a reserved smile said, “Officer Jennings, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” He glanced back at Lissa. “Just going over protocol here. We’re almost done.”
Lissa answered the remainder of the officer’s questions. “Was she a happy child…? Where did she go to school…? What would make her run away?”
“She didn’t run away,” Lissa sobbed.
“Most all of our missing kids are runaways—”
“She wouldn’t run away. She’s not that kind of kid.” Lissa looked up at Brian, trying to convince him, too. “Something happened to—” Lissa couldn’t finish the sentence. “I—I found her costume.”
“Her what?” Officer Jennings stoic face grew stern.
“Her costume.”
“What costume?”
“From the party. Her Halloween costume. She went as a ghost.” Lissa pulled open the car door and grabbed the crumpled sheet lying on the front seat. “I found it on the roadway right over there.”
In the light of the overhanging street lamp, she saw a small bloodstain.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Are there any other people in your daughter’s life that we should know about? An ex-husband, a caregiver, or someone you know who might want to do her harm?” Officer Jennings questioned.
Lissa, still nervously shivering, tried to focus on the officer’s words. She glanced first to Brian and then back to the officer. Neither of them could help her with this. She was on her own. She shook her head. “No, no one.”
“No one at all? A father, father figure, uncle—can you think of anyone?”
Lissa paused. “My husband is dead,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Killed in the military.” This was the first time she ever referred to her husband as dead. The word sounded odd and chafed her sensibilities. She wished she’d said passed away or killed in action.
The officer stared silently at her until he heard the word, military. He nodded and just above a whisper said, “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Anyone else?”
“I have family; they live in Farmington Heights.”
“Their names?”
“Charlie and Celia Rossi.”
“Do you have a phone number for them?”
“Not off the top of my head, no. But I can get it for you.” Details, details. This is such a waste of time.
“That’s all right, I’ll have someone check it out and get back to you, if necessary.”
Lissa’s knees quivered like jelly and another chill ran through her. The lightweight denim jacket she wore along with thin cotton jeans didn’t do much to keep her warm. She rubbed her hands together and tried to calm herself again through the steady breathing technique. The officer continued asking her questions, and she went on to describe the people in Lacy’s life recently, including her landlady, Miss Rucker, and all the neighbors she could think of, along with some of her daughter’s friends.
“Oh, wait,” she began. “There was an odd thing that happened a few months ago.”
The officer jotted down notes as she gave the details of the incident in July regarding the break-in along with Miss Rucker’s Peeping Tom story.
“I just thought it odd is all. It’s probably not even related,” she said with a shrug.
“Nothing’s too small to overlook, Ms. Logan.” He gave her a discerning look and closed his notebook. “Chances are your daughter will be found. Many of these cases are surprisingly coincidental as to where the missing person ends up. Sometimes they’re found where you least expect.” He gave her an encouraging nod.
“How soon can they come out and do a search of the neighborhood?” Brian turned toward the wooded area.
“Soon as I file this report, sir, I’ll get the paperwork started asap and have CED on it after that.”
Lissa didn’t understand and gave Brian a quizzical look.
“Criminal Enforcement Division,” he explained.
The dark pines shimmered in the breeze, lending a sharp, clean scent—the aroma she always associated with the carefree summer days spent at her grandmother’s house after the floor had been mopped with pine-scented ammonia. She feared the pleasant memory would forever be usurped by this present dark and dreadful moment.
Brian pulled her back. “Liss, wait.” He turned to the officer. “This could—”
“These woods—” Lissa cried out, making a sweeping gesture toward the pines, “she could be in there—anywhere.”
“Officer,” Brian said, “this could take hours. Could you expedite this, like now? I’ll take full responsibility.” As a federal employee there were certain ways to break rules that would not disrupt protocol or, hopefully, not get anyone’s shorts in a knot.
****
The detective assigned to the case stood imposingly tall at the door. Dark, slicked-back hair met with the faint scent of cigarettes. The man flashed his badge and a polite professional smile. “Evening, I’m Detective Sergeant Hal Hastings, Pinewood Bureau.”
Brian pulled the door back and motioned him in. He shook the tall man’s hand. “I’m Brian and this is Lacy’s mother, Melissa Logan.” The detective nodded and then addressed her. “Sorry to hear of your little girl, Ms. Logan.”
“Thanks for coming so quickly, Detective.”
“Just call me Hal. Like to keep my job a secret,” he said with a wink, “if you know what I mean.” He pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket and sat down on the edge of the fireplace. “So you say she was at a party, that correct?”
“Yes, sir, a Halloween party hosted by a girl named Becca Robson. A friend from Lacy’s class. She’s in third grade at Chilly Acres.
He made notes as Lissa spoke. “I’m assuming the kids at the party were also from the school?”
“I guess so, sir. I’m pretty sure it was Becca’s birthday, so…”
“Was your daughter—”
“Lacy,” interjected Lissa.
“Was Lacy in a good frame of mind when she went to the party?”
“Yes, sir, as far as I could tell.”
“No angst about anything?”
She gnawed her lower lip. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “not that I’m aware of. But she did mention an incident that happened to her when she was walking home the other day. Some girls—older girls, she said, blocked her from passing by.”
“When was this?”
“Just last week. Just off Chilly Acres road.” She raised her finger to indicate the direction. “Oh, and there was someone in a car they were talking to.”
“She didn’t know the girls?”
“No.”
“How old were they?”
“Lacy didn’t say.”
“What kind of car?”
“I have no idea. Does that matter?”
“Just checking.”
Lissa thought about the other day when Lacy came home out of breath, mentally retracing her conversation with her the day of the encounter. “It’s yellow.”
“Yellow?”
“The car. It was a yellow car.”
“Yellow car,” he repeated while writing.
“That’s what my daughter said.”
Detective Hastings continued his probe of questions as he went through his protocol checklist for missing persons. She gave him all the names of Lacy’s friends and the people and places she knew Lacy frequented. He scribbled down the information and put the notebook back before standing.
“Oh, now I remember,” Lissa said to him as he moved toward the door. “His name is Tommy.” The detective’s brow arched inquisitively. “Lacy’s friend from up the street. Earlier, the policeman asked me about Lacy’s friends, and I just remembered the one boy she hangs out with sometimes. I don’t know his last name. And his brother is the one who was in the car.”
“Hmmm…” He pulled out his notebook again and made a notation. “The yellow car, I’m assuming?”
“Yes, sir.
“Okay, well, I’ll be getting the information to NCIC as well as the NCMEC data base. And if there’s anything else you can think of to help the process along, just call.” He handed her his business card. “Any questions, don’t hesitate.”
Lissa looked at him questioningly. “What’s in the databases?”
“NCIC—is National Crime Information Center. NCMEC is for missing and exploited children. They’re basically our lifeline,” he began. “They’re the national data banks for any criminal information that will lead us to your little girl, Ms. Logan.” He glanced at Brian and then back to her.
“Will there—is there going to be a search party?”
“Search party, interviews…also, I’ll need a picture of Lacy, preferably recent for the Amber Alert. And the sooner we get it posted in the right places, the sooner—well, the sooner the better.”
“Hold on,” she said, quickly slipping down the hall. She went to her bedroom closet, hoping the box of pictures stored there wasn’t buried too deeply among everything else stashed inside. Surprisingly, it was on top of the others and already torn open. When did I do that? Inside were dozens of photos of her daughter from infancy through toddlerhood. Her fingers rifled through them in search of a more recent one. There was one of her and Lacy in a delicate gold frame atop her dresser, but she wasn’t about to part with that one. Other than some candid photos of Lacy alongside other children or with the family at Christmas time, the only decent one of her alone was her second-grade class photo when she was seven.
“This is the most recent one I have,” she said and handed it to the detective. Her heart dropped suddenly, realizing the reality of his request. Lacy had been kidnapped.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Unable to sit still, Lissa paced up and down the front room of her apartment. For the next hour, questions circled in her mind. How would they go about the investigation? Would the detective work alone or be assigned a team? How long was this going to take? Either way, she wanted to be involved. Panic swept through her. Every minute away from looking for her daughter was a minute wasted. She was not going to desert her.
“I want to go back, Brian,” she said, anxiously, darting to the closet. “I need to be there.” She slipped into her jacket, grabbed her keys, and opened the door.
“I can’t just sit here and worry.”
****
Several police cars formed a barrier on the road leading to the Golden Meadows estates, all with their flashers on. A K-9 unit truck sat off to the side next to a local news station’s van. Pulling up to the scene felt surreal.
“The detective didn’t waste any time,” Brian said. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m so n-nervous, Brian,” Lissa, flushed with adrenaline, stammered. “I can barely talk.”
“Let me do the talking then.” He pulled her closer and gently warmed her hands in his.
“Thanks. I’d probably sound drunk.” I don’t really care what they think… I just want my daughter. Lissa struggled to remind herself that this was in God’s hands.
Brian pulled up to one of the officers standing by the side of the road. “Evening, Officer. I’m Brian Pickering. This is Melissa Logan, the mother of the missing child.” Brian flashed his Department of Defense credentials to the police deputy on watch. “I assume the road is blocked for the investigation?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“May we go in? We want to help in the search.”
The deputy’s eyebrows knit when he bent down to peer inside the car. He straightened and held up a finger. “Just a minute. Radio 331 to supervisor 123.”
“Radio 123.”
“Sir, I have the missing person’s mother with me
and—”
Brian held up his security ID, and the officer leaned forward to inspect it.
“—and a Mr. Brian Pickering.”
“Pickering? DOD’s Pickering?” came the static reply over the radio.
“Looks like it, sir. They say they want to assist in the search. Permission to let them through, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Copy that.” He leaned in toward the window. “Go ahead, sir.”
Brian drove through the barricade and parked behind one of several police cars sprawled on the road leading to the Golden Meadows housing development. The sound of barking dogs came from somewhere in the parcel of nearby woods. Another stab of panic hit her gut. They got out of the car, and she latched onto Brian’s arm as they made their way over to one of the officers on duty.
“Evening, sir,” Brian said. “I’m Brian Pickering, and this is Melissa Logan, the missing girl’s mother.”
“Evening, I’m Sgt. Matthews.”
“We were looking for Detective Hastings,” Brian said.
“Hastings? He’s around here somewhere. I’ll page him.”
A sickening chill ran through her despite the warmth of Brian’s body next to hers. Lacy, where are you? Why did you run away?
The night sky held a scattering of stars that glowed bright as neon. Above the horizon, she spotted the seven stars of the Big Dipper. A moment of déjà vu hit. Constellations were always a puzzle to her with the plethora of stars sprinkled across the great wide expanse of night sky. She wondered if Lacy was somewhere in the woods or on her way home and looking at the night sky, too. Did she see the Big Dipper? Was she being guided by the North Star back home or was she lost? Either way, Lissa knew amid the darkness, the creator of the moon and stars had his eye on her daughter. It was the only comfort she derived at this moment. God, please lead her.
“He’s over on the other side,” Sgt. Matthews said, pointing. “Told him you were looking for him.”
Brian nodded. “How wide is the search?”
The officer held a flashlight over a map of the county. “We’re right here by the red X. These woods run for the next 1800 yards or so right up to Piney Creek. We’ll take it as far as the creek where it meets up with I-85.”