The Price of Candy

by Rod Hoisington

  “Was the bike still there?”

  “Yes. And before you ask, yes, he dusted it. So we can add his name to the list of persons sticking their neck out who might be fired because of you. Only usable prints found belonged to a child.”

  “So, if Jamie ever participated in one of those Children’s Fingerprinting for Safety drives at school, we could prove the bike belonged to her.”

  “Not necessary. I took the bike over to Abby Olin and it positively is her daughter’s bike.”

  “And?”

  “And, nothing. According to her, you’re probably the one who took Jamie. She still won’t report her as missing.”

  “Okay, I hereby report Jamie Olin, a ten-year-old, is missing.”

  “No good, the report has to be made by a parent or some sort of guardian.”

  “Can’t Child Welfare or somebody step in?”

  “Not without more evidence that she’s missing.”

  “Okay, I’m going to get you more evidence. I wonder where Jamie’s father is. If I can locate him, would you instigate an investigation on his behalf?”

  “Maybe we’d have to. One more thing. Everyone and his brother knows Chip will be helping you on your arrest and on the kidnapping. Warn him he’d better be damn careful. Because Moran would love to nail him for getting involved.”

  “What’s the latest on Detective Pomar? Is he still on the shitlist for helping me that night?”

  “I put a warning in his personnel file. Told him to watch being influenced by wild women, especially cute ones.”

  “Thanks for everything.”

  She drove the short distance over to where she had stopped at the ficus hedge near the school. She walked around where she had found the bicycle and up and down the nearby curb. Across the street was a vacant lot and next to it the only house on that side that would have had a view of the abduction. The occupant was an elderly woman who was happy to cooperate, but she hadn’t gone to her front window until she heard the honking.

  Sandy waited there in her car and approached the few people who walked on either side. Did they remember a young girl riding a blue bike in the neighborhood yesterday morning? Perhaps someone stopping a car to talk to a girl with a bike. Nothing. A long shot, at best. She’d come back in the morning to look for people that might walk at the earlier time every day. She was there until dark. She had the odd feeling that Jamie, wherever she was, somehow knew Sandy was looking for her.

  She drove back to Park Beach and to Kagan’s law office. She let herself into the dark and quiet office and booted the computer. She searched Florida Vital Records online and found Jamie Olin’s birth record immediately. It had a Kevin R. Olin, age 31, listed as the father.

  Next, she did a “find-anyone” search and came up with three initial listings for Kevin R. Olin. Twenty-one dollars later, she had three DOB’s, current addresses, and cell phone numbers. Let’ see, Jamie is now ten and one man listed is forty-one, so bingo! The Kevin R. Olin living in Athens, Georgia is the daddy.

  She tried the Kevin Olin number—no answer. She left an innocent sounding message mentioning Jamie on his voice mail. He called back immediately. He sounded like an intelligent person on the phone. She tried to explain Jamie was missing and his ex was refusing to alert the police. He didn’t understand who Sandy was. He said he’d phone Abby and then phone back.

  She took out Detective Triney’s card. “Sorry to bother you. You must be off duty by now,” she said when he came on the line. “I wanted you to know I was able to identify Jamie’s father.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “His name is Kevin R. Olin...lives in Athens, GA. He sounded upset when I told him his daughter was missing. He’s checking me out. Will phone back. He’ll be happy to report the kidnapping, and then you can start the official search.”

  Silence.

  “You there, Triney?”

  “I’m thinking I know that name. Yes...a couple of months back. This gets a little weird. I need to explain it to you in person. Let’s meet in the parking lot of the Ramada out by I-95.”

  “Okay, I know where it is. When?”

  “How about eight in the morning? One more question before we meet. Were you down here in Florida in November when that woman’s naked body was found on the beach?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Triney had her thinking all night about locating Jamie’s father. And why had the detective mentioned a naked body on the beach in the same conversation? Triney was waiting in his unmarked vehicle in the parking lot of the Ramada when she arrived. He waved and motioned her over. “Unless you’re dying for coffee, let’s talk out here.”

  “I don’t know your first name.” She slid in beside him.

  “Harold, Harold Triney, perfectly awful, I know. They called me Skinny in high school. Would you rather go inside and have tea?”

  She shook her head. “Skinny Triney isn’t much better. Bet they don’t call you Skinny these days.”

  “Hey, watch it, girl.” He laughed. “First off, it’s good you located Jamie’s father, Kevin Olin. However, you’ll have to deal with him yourself. Out of line for me to do it until there is an official kidnapping.”

  “You mentioned the case of a nude body on the beach. I’m almost afraid to ask. Does this have something to do with Kevin Olin?”

  “Yes...”

  “Oh god, don’t tell me!” she interrupted.

  “Let me explain. It was Privado Beach, just inside the city limits. Last year, November. It was a Park Beach city case, however they briefed all of us at the sheriff’s office. Do you know about the case?

  She shook her head. “I’d just arrived from Philly and was preoccupied with getting my brother out of jail.”

  “Busy getting close to Chip Goddard, from what I hear. He’s a lucky guy. Anyway, Privado has a reputation as a party beach and there had been trouble out there before. Nothing like a dead woman. An early morning beach walker spotted the body of an adult female out there. Most would call her nice-looking, your age, maybe a bit younger. Half in, half out of the water. No clothes found anywhere.”

  “Skinny dipping?”

  “Nothing found, no sunglasses, no swimsuit, no purse, nothing.”

  “Murdered. I suppose we’re getting to that?”

  Triney wasn’t the kind of man to waste time or words. He turned away from her toward the highway as though checking the traffic. “Some would say worse.”

  “Got it. Rape and murder.”

  “No, the M.E. determined the cause of death was asphyxiation. Said she choked to death on a pretzel.”

  “Choked to death on a pretzel,” she repeated slowly, unsure of what she heard.

  “Death by choking is not uncommon,” he explained. “A leading cause of accidental death. People underestimate the danger of choking. Stop breathing and you’ll die within five minutes.”

  “So there was no murder, so where’s the crime? If she started choking and no one was around to help her, it’d be a horrible way to die. But surely not worse, as you said, than being murdered.”

  “Death isn’t always the last outrage.” The detective hesitated and then said, “Posthumous penetration.” He looked down and then up slowly at her face to see if she flinched.

  She did. She drew a quick breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and swallowed hard. “I could never be a cop. Did you catch the sick piece of shit?”

  “I feel like I’m talking to my daughter.” The detective shifted some on the seat. “You really want to hear all this?”

  “Truthfully I don’t. I don’t get off on crime scene details. Doesn’t take much to turn my stomach. I prefer the sweet investigative part that comes later, after the victim is cleaned up and lying under a clean white sheet.” Her mind raced on ahead. “I feel sorry for the girl and the people who knew her. But what does this have to do with Kevin Olin? And for Jamie’s sake please tell me there’s absolutely no connection.”

  “I’m going to discuss some of this be
cause I know your reputation, you’re professional and discreet. The case is still open. The city police never made an arrest. Abuse of a dead body is a second-degree felony in Florida. It’ll get you fifteen years. They think the felony abuse on the corpse took place higher up on the beach and the tide dragged the body down to the water. Unfortunately, the tide also smoothed all the sand erasing any activity or footprints.”

  “Nonsense, beach party evidence would be all over the place.”

  “I didn’t mean there was a party that particular night. It’s just that Privado is known as an out-of-the-way beach if you don’t want to be bothered. If someone doesn’t direct you there, you’re not going to find it. Locals love it, never crowded.”

  “How’d she get there?” Sandy asked. “She didn’t walk there naked. What about tire tracks? Someone had to park. That leaves evidence. Someone had to walk down to the beach. That gives you evidence.”

  “Should have but didn’t. The perp was either clever or lucky. The body was half in the water and flushed by the tide. Nothing was left of any clothing fibers, hairs, saliva, or like that.”

  “Semen?”

  “Traces were found but unusable. Semen and DNA once contaminated by salt water are useless.”

  “You say the perp might be clever. But he must have known he was leaving his semen behind. He couldn’t have anticipated salt water helping him out. That’s dumb thinking.”

  “He probably wasn’t thinking at all. At least not with his brain. All his blood was flowing downward.”

  She nodded. “The authorities are certain the abuse was post mortem?”

  “They can tell...somehow. Also, when the victim is unidentified the medical examiner routinely looks for clues to the occupation. Like the cliché calluses on the hands of laborers. Determining the occupation often leads to the ID. In this case, the medical examiner thought her makeup was unusual. He called it theatrical.”

  “Indicating a singer, an actress, or on the stage in some capacity.”

  He continued, “Tall and in good physical condition. Leg muscles and abs were firm. Recent pedicure. With the special makeup and all, the M.E. came up with exotic dancer, stripper, whatever. Her prints didn’t help. We checked the missing persons file and a couple of people came forward who thought they might know her. So far, she’s unidentified.”

  “That’s sad. Her friends and family don’t even know she’s dead.”

  “A young woman dies and nobody cries for her,” the detective sighed audibly.

  “I’ll cry if I don’t stop thinking about it. I’d really like to help her. After I find Jamie and clear myself, maybe I’ll look into her case,” she said. “And Kevin Olin?”

  “A nearby property owner noticed a white SUV parked, backed almost out of sight, in the beach parking area that night. Now I have to tell you, local law enforcement personnel really took this criminal abuse to heart. They were angry. Would’ve thought it was their little sister found lying there violated. As you might expect, there were the inevitable vulgar comments and jokes about a nude female body you’d expect from some jerks in law enforcement. But, for the most part, we were all preoccupied with finding the bastard.”

  “And Kevin?” She started drumming her fingers on the dashboard.

  “So they put out a bulletin to all law enforcement to be alert to situations involving a white SUV. That stirred up a hornet’s nest. Any idea how many white SUVs in Florida? Street patrol would follow any white minivan or SUV, looking for some excuse for a stop. Every officer wanted to be the one who nailed the guy. If it was white and had wheels, we stopped it, some multiple times. One motorist wrote the newspaper saying cars should be marked with an X so they wouldn’t be stopped more than once. Anyway, a deputy stopped Kevin later that day for a tag light out on his white Toyota SUV. He had a wet bathing suit in the back and Georgia plates. The deputy who pulled him over went crazy—all hyper about the guy. So they sent me over to the stop to check him out.”

  “And,” she said loudly.

  “He seemed okay, said he was down from Georgia to visit his daughter. Who we now know is Jamie. I verified some stuff and sent him on his way.”

  “So that’s why his name rang a bell with you. That’s all there is to it? Geez, you scared the hell out of me. I don’t know why Abby and Kevin got divorced, but you had me thinking Jamie had another bad actor in her life besides her mother.”

  “Now get out of here. I shouldn’t be seen talking with you.”

  “As part of that investigation, are you guys trying to locate that Toby? You know, the guy Abby thought she shot.”

  “What did I just tell you about your own case? Please get out of here.”

  “So I’m the one who’s stuck with not only finding Jamie, finding Toby, and dealing with Kevin Olin if he ever phones me back.”

  “Out!”

  She thanked him for trusting her with the beach story and went back to her car. Instinctively she reached for her laptop and then remembered it was in the sheriff’s evidence room. She phoned Chip and told him she needed access to his police computer. He suggested they meet at his house. When she arrived, he was sitting in his unmarked vehicle in his driveway writing up some report. She explained she had located Kevin Olin; and needed help locating Toby last name unknown. The Privado Beach affair was out of her mind.

  “Abby Olin didn’t seem at all worried that Jamie’s missing,” she told him. “She refuses to report her missing. Why wouldn’t a mother be hysterical about a missing child? No doubt she’s already rented out her room.”

  “Because she isn’t really missing?” he suggested. “Possibly Abby left her with a friend or relative. She’s not worried because she knows where Jamie is. You’ve already notified the father. I think you should hold off on pursuing some alleged kidnapper and concentrate on clearing yourself.”

  “If Jamie’s safe, then why was her bike found in the bushes? No, I’ll worry about me later. I need to find this Toby. He definitely has something to do with it. Abby intended to kill him. If I can find out why, then I can clear myself and might find Jamie in the process. Toby sounds like a nickname and that didn’t get me very far tracing on the Internet. Abby knows his full name, however she’s not talking. Can you search through the national crime database for me?”

  “Sure, let’s do it right now. He reached over and booted his Police Vehicle Computer. “Toby is short for Tobias. Of course, Toby could be a legal first name also. If the given name isn’t Tobias, then it’s likely the last name is fairly unusual and starts with a T and O. Such as Toblanski, or Topol. We’ll search for first name or alias.”

  They sat doing searches for various areas. List of names and addresses started scrolling on the screen. “Here’s five possibles in adjacent counties and three others that are local.”

  “I thought there’d be many more, Chip.”

  “Remember, these are criminal offenders only, not everyone called Toby. And those addresses might not be any good, except for these two here. See they’re marked as sex offenders? Sex offenders must give us their current address. You still have a lot of legwork to do. If this Toby you’re after doesn’t have a criminal record, you’ve a long tedious search ahead of you.”

  “Ok, print out those eight.”

  He did, and tore off the printout and handed it to her. “I just noticed, you can forget that last name there. He’s presently in Okeechobee Correctional.”

  “Thanks. I’m going now to find the addresses on this list. Thank god my car has GPS.”

  “I’m telling you again, you should drop this entire idea. Too dangerous. Think about it, Sandy. Toby intended to go around to Abby’s house the night of the shooting. At least that’s what Jamie told you—that’s why you went there with Detective Pomar, right? Therefore when Toby heard about the shooting, he must have figured out that the bullet was meant for him.”

  “That’s what I thought. They arrest Abby, and Toby becomes afraid she’ll bring him into it. So he snatches Jamie for insura
nce. Then he phones Abby and tells her to shut up about him or else. That means a dangerous man has his hands on Jamie.”

  “That means a dangerous man knows you’re looking for him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Although Sandy was convinced the mysterious Toby was involved in Jamie’s disappearance, she also had to admit she had absolutely no evidence to support such a belief. She needed to find him and needed to figure out where to start. An Internet search for people named Toby or Tobias in nearby counties had resulted in far too many hits with haphazard demographics. The criminal offender list Chip printed out zeroed the search down to eight suspects. Certainly, a more manageable list, although the Toby she sought might not have a documented criminal past.

  This might take some time and was full of guesses. Locate each listed offender, get a look at him, and try to guess if he was likely to be involved with Abby Olin, either as her boyfriend or someone she might want to kill for a reason yet unknown. Is he nervous? Does he appear to be hiding? Is it likely Jamie is hidden somewhere around the premises? All of it a shaky guess, and the chance of hitting bingo with only eight names on the list was slight.

  She needed to stop by and get something from Kagan’s office before she started out. Kagan was there at his desk eating a fish sandwich with creamy coleslaw.

  “You have lunch yet? Want a mouthful of this?”

  “I’m skipping it today.” She held up the printout. “I’m off on a scavenger hunt. I have a list of bad guys.” She explained what she was up to.

  “Might I help somehow?”

  “As a matter of fact, I need to borrow a clipboard and one of your business-sized checks.”

  “A check?”

  “A blank—straight out of your checkbook.”

  “You’re welcome to them, although I’ve no idea what you’re going to do with them. Just don’t write the check for more than five million or it’ll bounce.” He tore out a blank check. “You’ll find some clipboards in that cabinet over there.”