by C. E. Nelson
“You talk to anyone yet?”
“Nope, just got here,” said Palm. “Told by the chief to wait for you. What’s your interest?”
“It may tie to something we’ve been working on. Give me a summary of what you know.”
“Got a call from Leslie Jameson,” replied Grace as he looked at his notebook. “She claimed a boy she was supposed to be watching for someone had wandered off.”
“How long ago?”
“A good hour now according to her call. Said she went looking for him before she called.”
“OK, so this is your thing, so I’m just going to listen. Let’s go.”
Palm went up the steps and knocked. Jameson came to the door. “Mrs. Jameson?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective Palm,” said Palm as he showed his identification, “And this is Detective Grace and that’s Special Agent Trask. May we come in?”
“Oh, yes.” Jameson opened the door wide as she backed away. Jameson was in her late thirties, sandy brown hair cut short, with blue eyes and a round face. She was about the same height as Grace, wearing dark blue shorts and a sleeveless pink cotton blouse. A little too tall to be called cute, but she was. “This way.” She led them into the living room where the men were surprised to see another woman about Jameson’s age sitting on the couch. “Please, sit down.”
“And you are?” asked Palm, as he moved to the couch; Jameson sitting next to the other woman as he did.
“Jill Terry. I’m a friend of Leslie.”
Palm heard voices, looking up through a doorway to see two children, a boy and a girl, sitting at a table. It looked like they were coloring.
“Jill was here with me when Austin went missing.”
“Austin Newman?” said Grace.
“Yes.”
“And why was Austin here?” asked Palm.
“His parents live just a few blocks away. I watch him while they work.” Tears ran down Jameson’s cheeks and her hands went to the side of her face. “Oh my God! I haven’t told them!”
“We can take care of that. Have you got their contact information?”
“Yeah. Just a minute.” Jameson went to another room, returning with her phone. She pushed a few buttons and then handed the phone to Palm who handed it to Grace. Jameson fell back on the couch, head down, hands folded in her lap, Terry putting her hand over Jameson’s hands.
“So, Mrs. Jameson, can you take us through what happened?” asked Palm.
A heavy sigh. “OK. The kids were downstairs, Jill and I in the kitchen having coffee. We thought it seemed a little quiet downstairs so I went down to check on them. Jamie and Cindy were in the family room.”
“Jamie is?”
“My son. Cindy is Jill’s daughter.”
“And how old are they?”
“They’re both seven, same as Austin.”
“OK. So, you went downstairs…?”
“Um, let’s see. Jamie was on the rug in front of the couch playing with Legos. Cindy was on the couch looking at her tablet. I didn’t see Austin anywhere, so I asked them where he was. Cindy said she thought he went outside, but neither one knew for sure or when he might have left. The back door was open, so I went out and looked at the play area back there and around the yard. I still didn’t see him, so I came back in and looked through the whole lower level to be sure he wasn’t there.”
“Do the kids often go out in the yard without you knowing?” asked Grace.
“No, they’re only allowed to go out if they ask.”
Trask walked through the kitchen and looked out the sliding glass door that overlooked the yard. It was a big area, one hundred feet wide by two hundred, three big oaks providing shade, bordered by trees on either side and along the creek, the trees and brush thickest there. Someone could walk through the trees and brush on each side of the yard, but the back of the lot looked impenetrable. There was a row of debris lining the yard where it met the trees guarding the creek. Someone had raked after the storm. They had put together a treated timber play area in the northeast corner – swings, slide, jungle gym – all over pea gravel and bordered by treated six by sixes.
“OK, so what time was this?” said Palm.
Jameson looked at Terry. “Maybe 1:30.”
“So, what did you do then?”
“I came back upstairs and told Jill. We looked up here, and then I walked down the block and back, but I didn’t see him. I called for him, but there wasn’t any answer.”
“How far did you go?”
“Nearly to Oakwood, and then I went the other way all the way to Martin.”
“And where were you, Mrs. Terry?” said Palm as Grace made a note.
“I stayed here to watch the kids and in case Austin came back.”
“What time did Austin get here today?”
“Eight. He always comes at eight,” said Jameson.
“And how about you, Mrs. Terry?” asked Grace.
Terry looked at Jameson. “A little before eleven. The kids all had lunch not long after we got here.”
"That’s right,” confirmed Jameson.
“What time did the kids go downstairs?”
“It was right after they ate. Not quite noon.”
“Did you check on them before you went down at 1:30?” asked Palm.
Terry spoke up. “Yes, I did, about 12:30 or so.”
Grace took a note. “What is Austin wearing?”
Jameson looked at her lap, thinking. “Umm, yellow t-shirt and navy shorts. Tennis shoes. I don’t remember what color.”
Palm looked at Grace and then Trask. “OK. Have you got a picture of the boy by chance?”
“On my phone. It’s from last week when we were at the park.”
“Good. Please send that to Detective Grace. We’ll notify the parents and get a search going. Thanks.” Palm left Grace with the women and walked out the front door with Trask behind, stopping halfway to the street. “We’ll activate ACIM (A Child Is Missing Alert Program) and start a house to house. Grace and I will talk to the parents, go through the kid’s room. Hopefully, he just went home.”
“Hopefully.” Trask turned back to the house. “Those two seem a little odd to you?”
“How’s that?”
“It was like they had a story prepared, looking at each other to make sure they got it right. They’re not telling us something.”
Grace looked at the house. “I assume you want to be in the loop on this?”
“Please. If you can’t get me, call my assistant.” Trask wrote Stoxon’s number on the back of his card and handed it to Palm. Palm gave Trask his card in return. Trask looked at the house again. “They know something.”
Chapter 11
Trask sat in his car, motor running, jacket on the passenger seat, top shirt button undone, tie pulled loose. Some investigators wore the look regularly, but Trask didn’t care for it, thought it looked sloppy. But the sauna outside had him making an exception, and he angled a vent to let the air-conditioning blow full on his chest. It didn’t seem to help.
He had parked across the street from the Jameson’s home, behind the Minnetonka Police SUV. There was a steep bank to Trask’s right, covered in a dense corrugated ivy, the homes above back from the bank so they couldn’t be seen from Creekside Drive. A person could grab a kid and be up and over the bank, out of sight of anyone on Creekside, but it would be tough to carry or pull a kid up. Still…
A small white SUV drove past, and Trask watched it move away until it disappeared around the curve ahead. The clock in his car said it was nearly five. Probably someone coming home from work. Time was slipping away – time they didn’t have. If they wanted to find Austin Newman alive, each minute was critical. Trask looked at the Jameson’s home again, tempted to go back in, to find out why the women were withholding, but he thought it best not to step on toes any more than he had, and he wasn’t sure it would make any difference. Trask looked at his phone, at the text from Stoxon, the text with Daniel’s ad
dress. As he was about to pull away from the curb two more squads from Minnetonka pulled in behind. The search was starting.
Trask’s phone buzzed. “What have you got, Pike?”
“Probably poison ivy, but not much else.” Trask was silent. “You there?”
“Yeah. How far did you get?”
“We checked out three sites. I figure we got a good day left.”
Trask was quiet for a moment and then said, “Another kid went missing today.”
“Ah shit. Same area?”
“Yeah. I’m at the house now. It’s on the creek.”
“How old?”
“Seven.”
“Damn. You want us on the search?”
Trask thought about it, but that would mean more coordination with Minnetonka, and Seton and his men had been out in the heat all day. “No, Minnetonka has it covered. You guys go home and cool off.”
“You sure? We’re not far.”
“I’m sure, Pike. Thanks for offering. You guys have busted your butts today, and tomorrow won’t be any better. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Trask disconnected. The Minnetonka police were gathered around the front steps of the house; Palm giving orders. Trask looked at Stoxon’s text again and then pulled away from the curb. Daniel’s house was only two blocks away.
He almost missed her. She was hidden by a large oak when he rounded the corner, and if she hadn’t bent over as he passed, he may not have seen her at all, his mind focused on Daniel. Even after he glanced over, her movement attracting his attention, he considered passing by. The Minnetonka police would get to her soon, but soon may not be soon enough. Trask pulled to the curb and walked across the street.
The woman was in jean shorts, a checked top, with a floppy blue hat over wiry silver hair. She was short but fit for a woman in her early sixties. She was wearing dirty yellow gardening gloves, standing to wipe the sweat off her glistening brow with the back of her hand as Trask neared.
“Hello.” The woman had a soft, friendly voice.
“Pardon me for interrupting your gardening. My name is Don Trask and I’m with the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension.”
“Oh, my. Has there been a crime?”
“We certainly hope not.” The woman was standing in the midst of a number of large hostas, a small wheelbarrow nearby filled with pulled weeds. “Looks like you’ve been out here working for quite a while.”
“All afternoon, I’m afraid. I swear these weeds pop up overnight.” She bent and picked up a bottle of water, taking a sip, making Trask thirsty.
“You haven’t happened to see a small boy come by this afternoon, have you?” Trask took out his phone and showed her the picture.
“No, I’m afraid not. Is he missing?”
So, Austin didn’t come this way, towards Daniel’s house, but he could have passed through her back yard. “Yes. Got away from his babysitter earlier.”
“Oh my. I hope he hasn’t gone down to the creek.”
“You’ve been in your front yard the whole afternoon?”
“Afraid so. The back yard is next.”
Trask could see that the hostas ran down the woman’s driveway, with several more directly in front of the house. “You’ve got your work cut out for you Mrs.?”
“Miss Felder. Ginger Felder.”
“And what do you do, Miss Felder?”
“I’m retired. Except from pulling weeds.”
Trask smiled. “OK, thanks for your time. There may be some Minnetonka police officers coming your way in a bit to have a look around.”
“I do hope they find the child.”
“Me too.”
Palm thought Trask was probably right; the women were withholding something. He was about to go back in the house, push them a little, when the squads showed up. He waited for them to reach the house.
“The kid is seven years old. You have a picture and description on your phone. Yellow t-shirt, navy shorts, tennis shoes. Walk around every house. If no one answers, look in the windows. Bang on the doors. I want to be sure as much as possible which houses are empty. Note every empty house and who you talk to and what they say. We need to find this kid in a hurry. Questions?”
As Palm answered questions and gave assignments, Grace came out and stood next to him. The officers began their search.
“Parents will be home in a couple of minutes,” said Grace. “You want to go meet them or stay?”
“You go. I’m going to see if I can get a boat on the creek.” Palm paused, looking at the house. “Trask thinks the women have more to say, and I think he’s right. I’m going to push them.”
“All right. I’ll let you know if I find out anything of interest from the parents.”
“OK, I’ll do the same with the women. You do the ACIM?” Grace shook his head no, and Palm said he would take care of it. Both men stood, neither wanting to move. “This sucks.”
“Yeah.”
Palm watched Grace move towards their car before calling in the ACIM and calling for the boat team. He finished the call and then turned on the step, pulling open the door, surprised to see Mrs. Terry holding the hand of her child. “Where are you going?”
“I need to get home and make dinner.”
“Not yet. Back inside please.”
Terry turned, pulling her girl with her, back into the living room. The girl escaped her mother’s grasp and returned to the table.
Jameson was in the kitchen, her boy still seated at the table, surprised to see Terry return. She stood. “What’s going on?”
“You want to come out here please, Mrs. Jameson?” Jameson, apprehensive, moved slowly into the living room. “OK, you can both sit where you were.” The women looked at each other and then did as instructed. Palm stood in front of the women. “Ladies, I’m going to lay this out very clearly for you. Every second we lose in trying to find a lost child makes it that much more likely that we never find that child again, at least not alive anyway.” He paused, letting what he said take hold, both women staring up at him. “Now, if we find out that either of you has been withholding information, or not told us the truth, you can be assured that you will be charged and you will go to jail. Do you understand?”
The women looked at each other and then Jameson looked at Palm. “Austin may have been missing a little longer.”
“A little longer than what?”
“Than what we told you. We don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
Jameson looked at Terry again and then back at Jameson. She bowed her head and blew out a breath.
“We didn’t check on them after they first went downstairs, not until I found Austin missing.”
“And why not?”
Jameson folded her arms across her chest and looked at Terry again. “We were in my bedroom until after one.”
Palm looked at the women and shook his head. “Ah shit. So, he could have been gone for a couple of hours before you knew? Shit.”
“I need to go,” said Terry as she stood.
“You sit!” replied Palm, pointing at the couch. Palm stepped out the front door and pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Trask.
“Trask.”
“Palm. You were right. The women were having a romp in Jameson’s bed when the kid disappeared. He could have been gone another hour or longer before they knew about it.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. I will let the others know.”
“Thanks for the call.” Trask disconnected. A lot could happen to a kid in an hour. Trask looked at Daniel’s house across the street from where he was parked. This would make it a lot easier for the kid to get this far. Was he home? Trask knew he should stay away, let the Minnetonka police handle it. But it could be an hour or more before they reached Daniel’s house. Too much could happen in an hour. Trask got out.
Chapter 12
Daniel stepped back from his kitchen window into the shadows. The lights were off and he didn’t think he had been seen, but he didn�
��t want to take any chances. The silver Lexus had stopped across the street, and he thought the driver might be lost or wanted to talk on his phone, but now he knew better. There was no question. It was Trask.
He knew this would happen after he saw the news report of the recovery of the skeleton of Libby Carlson. His stomach had lurched, bitter acidic fluids coming into his mouth, when he saw the reporter on the bridge and then the helicopter footage of the police searching the creek. He had worked in the morning but found he felt nauseous, drifting, and gave up before lunch.
He had been in the kitchen, thinking maybe he could eat something when he spotted Trask. How could he have come so soon? He expected Trask to show up; he didn’t think his name change and move would put him off for long, but this was too soon, too sudden. He wasn’t ready.
Trask had made his life hell after the disappearance of Libby Carlson, following him everywhere, parking across the street from his home like he was doing now, sometimes during the day on weekends and seemingly every night. Trask would call him at all hours and accost him in the parking lot at work when his coworkers were walking by, making sure they knew Trask thought he was a killer. They ostracized Daniel at work and eventually let him go because of his lack of performance.
The media joined in after Trask made it known that Daniel was a suspect, tailing him and pushing cameras and microphones in his face wherever he went. People stared and pointed, and he soon found it impossible to go out, even for groceries in the middle of the night. The media seemed to lose interest after he obtained the restraining order against Trask. He was never sure if it was that or just a matter of them moving on to other things, but the damage had been done.
Daniel no longer felt able to be out in public, even for a short time, becoming a vampire venturing out only at night. People rarely recognized him but stared nonetheless, especially in the summer at the ghastly pale man. He ordered everything he needed online. There were noises in his house that he didn’t notice before that now kept him awake and on edge, so he changed his name and sold the house. This seemed to lessen his anxiety, but the nightmares of a small girl’s face looking up at him from under the water still came with regularity. His shiny thick blonde hair fell out in clumps, his head mostly bald, the bags under his dark eyes from his lack of sleep a permanent fixture on an Ichabod Crane face. The weight came off too; he had been quite heavy when Libby went missing, but quickly the skin seemed to hang on his bones, and his head drooped forward like a vulture.
