by Frank Zafiro
Kathy stared at him long and hard, as if she were searching out the truth in his eyes. He did his best to appear trustworthy.
“All right,” she said.
“Thank you,” Gio told her. “Now, if Amy were to hide somewhere in this house, where would she hide?”
“In the house?”
“Yeah. Sometimes kids will hide and then fall asleep while they’re waiting to be found.”
“Are you saying this whole thing is a hoax?”
“No. But we can’t rule it out until we know for sure.”
Kathy drew a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s look. I’ll help.”
Together, they hurried from room to room, calling Amy’s name and searching. Kathy seemed to cringe every time Gio’s voice boomed out the child’s name, but after a short time, she added her own voice to the calls. In almost every room, Gio thought of places to check for the child that Kathy overlooked. She gave him a surprised look when he pried up a floor vent and shined his flashlight into the duct-work, but she said nothing. He got the feeling she was slowly beginning to trust him.
Mid-way through the search, Chaplain Timothy Marshall arrived. The middle-aged man was adorned in casual slacks and a long-sleeved denim shirt that bore a sewn-in badge and the word “Chaplain” above the opposite breast pocket.
Gio paused in his search to introduce the two. Kathy Dugger held out her hand. Chaplain Marshall took it and covered it with his own. He didn’t say a word, but even Gio found some solace in the warmth of his quiet features. New tears formed in Kathy’s eyes.
After a few moments, Chaplain Marshall asked if he could help with the search. The threesome resumed looking for Amy in what Gio knew would likely be a fruitless effort. Fifteen minutes later, a little sweatier and dirtier, they returned to the kitchen. As he expected, there had been no sign of Amy.
“What now?” she asked him.
“Other than the school, where else might Amy hide? Someplace she plays, maybe. Or another friend.”
Kathy paused, thinking. “I can call a few of her friends. I’d expect them to call if Amy just showed up, though.”
“That’d be great. Is there anywhere else she likes to play?”
“Just the school. And Kendra’s.”
“Are you sure?”
Kathy started to nod, then stopped. “Unless maybe she went to Fairy Castle.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Fairy Castle,” she told him. “Jill told me about it once over coffee. It’s just a little dirt cave some kids dug into a pile of dirt in the empty lot over on Stevens.”
“She plays there?”
“No!” she said. When she realized how sharply she’d spoken, she glanced at the Chaplain, almost in apology. Then she softened her voice and explained. “No, I told her she couldn’t play there. It was too dangerous. Plus, it was dirty. But she and Kendra thought it was a wonderful, secret place, and…”
Gio brought his radio to his lips. “Adam-257 to Adam-256.”
“Go ahead,” answered Jack Stone.
“There’s an empty lot on Stevens near here. You know which one I mean?”
“Affirm. It’s at Longfellow.”
Gio nodded. “There’s a dirt mound there overgrown with weeds. I need you to check it for a small cave that some kids dug out.”
“Copy.”
Gio slid his radio back into the holder on his belt.
“That’s another cop?” Kathy asked.
Gio nodded. “A good cop, yeah.”
Kathy let out a deep breath. “Well, if he brings my little girl home, I’ll vote for him as Cop of the Year.”
Gio nodded his head in agreement. If he found Amy Dugger, Stone would get his vote, too.
1023 hours
“You thought what?”
Lieutenant Hart licked his lips nervously. Captain Reott, his face was bright red with anger, loomed over the front of Hart’s desk.
“I thought we should verify—“
“You’ve got a goddamn eyewitness!” Reott boomed.
“She’s only six,” Hart whined.
“That’s an awful lot of detail for a six year old. Did you even consider that, Lieutenant?”
Hart cringed. When Reott started using ranks and titles, he was beyond angry.
“I sent a second officer and had them initiate standard procedure for—“
“For a missing child,” Reott finished for him. “This child doesn’t sound to just be missing, does she? She sounds abducted to me.”
“I wanted to confirm that before—“
“It sounds to me like Giovanni confirmed that before he even called you.” Reott shook his head at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Hart opened his mouth reply, but Reott held up his hand.
“No, I don’t want to hear it. Your excuses aren’t worth a boot full of piss to me right now.” He strode out of Hart’s office and headed toward Major Crimes.
Hart watched him go, struggling to swallow and feeling the pink in his cheeks. Reott’s recriminations rang in his ears and he raged back silently.
I did what I thought was right!
It didn’t matter, though, because Captain Reott, like most cops, thought he knew better than Lieutenant Alan Hart.
He pushed away his audit paperwork and stared down at his desk, deep in thought.
FIVE
1031 hours
“Let’s go, Stef!”
Officer Kopriva looked up at Detective John Tower. The twelve-year veteran gave him an urgent wave. The pistol he wore in a shoulder holster swayed with the motion.
“C’mon, I can use your help.”
“With what?” Kopriva asked.
“An abduction. Come on. Browning’s already left.”
Kopriva raised his eyebrows. Tower worked sex crimes and missing persons, but Detective Ray Browning worked in Major Crimes. If he was heading out on this, too, then it was serious.
With a grunt, he rose from his chair and limped quickly after Tower, who waited impatiently at the back exit.
“Unless you’d rather run down some more runaways this morning?” Tower asked.
Kopriva made a face and shook his head.
“Then let’s go.”
They walked as quickly as Kopriva could to Tower’s unmarked patrol car. It was outfitted with a radio and a shotgun, but no shield between the front and rear seats. “What’s going on?” he asked Tower once they were in the car and rolling.
“Some guy in a van snatched up a six-year-old girl,” Tower told him.
“You’re kidding? In broad daylight?”
Tower nodded, then cocked his head. “Is there such a thing as narrow daylight?”
Kopriva usually enjoyed Tower’s humor, but he ignored the question. “Is it a custodial thing between parents?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. According to Captain Reott—and his briefing was very short and full of holes—the parents are married. The father is out of town on business or something. No, it sounds like a legitimate kiddie snatch.”
Kopriva tried to remember the last time such a thing had happened in River City, but couldn’t. At least not since he’d come on the job in 1991.
“Is there a description of the van?”
Tower nodded. “Yeah. Uh, dark blue or brown, I think. There was a witness, also six years old.”
“She saw it happen?”
“Yup, looks that way.”
Kopriva shook his head. “She’ll be having some bad dreams for a long time.”
“Yeah, well, imagine the dreams the little girl who was snatched is going to have.”
Neither man spoke for several minutes. The gravity of Tower’s words sank in quickly and deeply, as did the unspoken inference that naturally followed.
If she lives through this and is able to dream.
Tower drove through the pre-lunch traffic precisely and with deceptive speed. They soon pulled onto the 4300 block of North Arlene. A marked patrol unit sat in front of 4318 with several u
nmarkeds parked nearby.
“It’s a convention,” Tower muttered, parking his car behind a light blue one that looked brand new.
Probably a captain’s car, Kopriva thought.
They walked quickly up to the house and when Tower knocked, Officer Anthony Giovanni opened the door for them.
“They’re in the kitchen,” Gio told Tower. He gave Kopriva a short nod, then ignored him.
When they entered the kitchen, the first thing Kopriva noticed was Detective Ray Browning, who sat next to a small dark-haired woman and engaged in a quiet conversation. Standing nearby was Lieutenant Crawford, the Major Crimes commander. Crawford’s pale skin with florid blotches, his large belly and drooping mustache were in stark contrast to Browning’s cocoa-colored skin and compact features. The only thing the two men had in common were the deep lines they both wore on their faces.
“What’s he doing here?” Crawford asked Tower, motioning toward Kopriva.
Tower glanced at Kopriva, then back at Crawford. “I thought we could use some help,” he said.
Crawford grunted and gave Kopriva a dark look he couldn’t quite interpret.
“You’re certain of that?” Browning asked the dark haired woman. Chaplain Marshall sat next to her, his chair turned slightly in order to sit closer.
“Yes. Absolutely,” she said. She held a balled-up piece of Kleenex in her hand and her eyes were red, but her voice was firm.
Browning looked up at Tower and Kopriva. “This is Kathy Dugger, Amy’s mother. I was asking her about her husband, James Dugger. He’s out of town on business, and she’s sure that there are no marital problems. She doesn’t believe James might have taken Amy and run.”
“There’s no chance of that,” she told Tower and Kopriva.
“What about other family members?” Tower asked.
Browning shook his head. “She’s called all of them. Except her mother.”
Tower raised his eyebrows, but Crawford interrupted. “Tower, I want you to go over and re-interview the witness. All we’ve got right now is the patrol interview.”
Kopriva saw Tower cringe slightly and look around to see if Officer Giovanni was within earshot. Crawford didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, sir,” Tower said.
Kopriva moved to go with him, but Crawford shook his head. “No, you stay here. You won’t be any help to him over there.”
“He rode with me, El-Tee,” Tower said.
“And he can ride back with someone else,” Crawford said shortly.
Tower shrugged and left.
All eyes turned back to Kathy Dugger. If she noticed, she didn’t give any indication.
“Tell me about your mother,” Browning said.
“What’s to tell?” she said with a shrug.
“Start with her name.”
“Her name is Nancy Henderson.”
“Does she live in town?”
“Yeah. Down in West Central on Swanson Avenue.”
Browning slid his notepad across the table to her along with the pen. “Would you write down her address and phone number?”
Kathy scrawled the address, then looked up. “Honestly, officer, I don’t know her number. I can look it up for you, if it’s still the same. My mother and I don’t talk. We haven’t in years.”
“Why’s that?”
Kathy pushed the notepad and pen back to Browning. “Because she’s crazy,” Kathy said. “She’s crazy and she’s a drunk.”
Browning let that lie for the moment. “What about your father?”
She shook her head. “He left her as soon as I graduated high school.”
“Where’s he now?”
A touch of sadness dimmed Kathy’s eyes. “Passed on,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Browning said.
Kathy wiped away the beginnings of a tear. “You didn’t know.”
“Does your mother live alone?”
“No. She lives with her new husband.”
“Who’s he?”
“Fred Henderson,” she told him. “They got married about ten years ago.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Next to nothing. Anyone who can deal with my mother, I’d prefer not to know.”
Browning leaned forward and fixed Kathy with a careful gaze. “Now, Mrs. Dugger, I have to ask you a question. Do you think there’s any way your mother could be involved in this situation?”
Kathy Dugger took a deep breath and gave the question careful consideration. Kopriva watched her eyes as they digested the question and calculated the odds.
“No,” Kathy said. “She’s nuts, but not like this.”
1106 hours
After the interview, they gathered in the front yard on the walkway. Kopriva was sure that they looked like a football team, huddling up to call a play.
“What do you think?” Crawford asked Browning.
Browning stroked his gray-speckled goatee for a moment, then answered, “I think she’s telling the truth.”
Crawford snorted. “I know that. Even hero-boy over here—” he motioned toward Kopriva—“can tell she’s telling the truth. Jesus, Ray, I’m asking you where you wanna go on this one.”
Browning wasn’t fazed by Crawford’s diatribe. “I say we let Tower finish his interview of the little girl. Bring that info to every patrol roll call after that. We should also get a description of the suspect and a picture of the little girl out to the media, once Tower is finished. And we need to keep a patrol guy here with the mother, in case a ransom call comes in.”
Crawford sighed. “Like I said, I know all that. I’m asking what you want to do.”
“I think this grandmother deserves a look-see, even if she is a whack job.”
“You want to go talk to the crazy lady?”
“Yeah. Just in case. Then I’ll hit Crime Analysis with the info Tower gets. He and I can start looking at area sex offenders and then—“
“L-143,” crackled Crawford’s radio.
Crawford held up a finger toward Browning while he raised the portable radio to his mouth and depressed the button to transmit. “L-143, go ahead.”
“South side units have detained a vehicle matching your suspect vehicle in East Central near Medgar Evers Elementary.”
Crawford’s eyes lit up. “Suspects?” he asked.
“Officers on scene report a match.”
“Hot damn,” whispered Crawford and copied the transmission. Then he looked directly at Browning. “Still want to check out the kook mother?”
“No, I want to go see what patrol has.” Browning glanced over at Kopriva. “Stef, you feel like going over and checking out this grandmother? Just to be sure?”
“Sure,” Kopriva said. “Only I didn’t drive.”
“He shouldn’t be doing active field investigations while on light duty,” Crawford said, unwrapping a short, fat cigar.
“He shouldn’t be out here,” Browning said, eyeing the cigar, “but since when are you a stickler for bullshit rules, El-tee?”
Crawford scowled at Browning and lit the cigar.
“Besides,” Browning said, “it’s probably nothing. I just want to be sure.”
A plume of blue cigar smoke rose in front of Crawford’s face. He spit a small piece of tobacco from the tip of his tongue, then turned to Kopriva. “Call a uniform. And don’t fuck it up.”
1109 hours
Gio watched through the kitchen window as Browning drove away. Lt. Crawford stood with Kopriva and smoked his cigar. Even from a distance, Gio could read the lieutenant’s contempt for Kopriva. He struggled to feel bad for the guy, but couldn’t anymore.
At first, back in August of last year, he’d felt sorry for Kopriva. He had to watch Officer Karl Winter die, the victim of a robber’s bullet. He even felt a touch of admiration for the way the three-year officer handled himself during the shootout at the Circle K that followed a few days later, though he noted that it took Officer Thomas Chisolm to finish the job. As time passed, though,
and he learned more about what had happened, his admiration faded and in its place grew anger and resentment. Jack Stone had told him that Kopriva could have saved Winter if he had applied some basic first aid. Instead, he stood there like he was helpless and let the veteran officer bleed out on the street.
Some members of the department thought Stefan Kopriva was a hero, but there were others, like himself, who felt the kid was lucky to be alive and that he was the reason Karl Winter was dead.
And as far as the shootout goes…
“What’s going on?” Kathy Dugger asked.
Gio turned and looked at her. She was a tiny woman with jet black hair. Even with mascara smeared beneath her eyes and the tip of her nose red, she was pretty. At first, he thought the chaplain might answer, but the clergyman deferred to Gio.
“The lieutenant is…,” Gio said, “Well, he’s sending folks where they need to go.”
“Do you guys have a plan?” she asked him.
“I’m sure Crawford does,” Gio said. “He’s the Major Crimes lieutenant. He’s used to dealing with incidents like this.”
Kathy nodded absently and wiped her eyes.
Gio turned back to the window in time to see a patrol car pull up. A moment later, Kopriva got into the passenger’s seat and the car pulled away from the curb. Lieutenant Crawford clipped the ember off the end of his cigar, crushed it under his heel and strode back into the house. He entered without knocking.
“Giovanni!” he bellowed and Kathy Dugger winced.
“In here,” Gio answered, several decibels lower than Crawford.
The Lieutenant stomped into the kitchen. He looked at Gio and then at Kathy Dugger, then back at Gio. He heaved a sigh and turned to Kathy again.
“Ma’am, when is your husband due back?”
Kathy cleared her throat and spoke. “He’s in a small town outside of Atlanta on business. There’s a manufacturing plant there. He’s supposed to inspect them. That’s his job, an inspector.”
“Yes, you told me that,” Crawford said and Gio cringed at his bluntness. “But when will he back?”
