by Roger Hayden
Karen looked at her watch. They were running behind. She had mail to drop off, and the post office was closing soon.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Go grab a box and meet me down the frozen food aisle, but hurry.”
Emily nodded and ran off toward the cereal as Karen looked for an empty checkout line. Three were open, and each one had a line. Karen sighed and looked to the cereals three aisles down. Something didn’t seem right. Another strange feeling in her gut. She bypassed the checkout line and went to the cereal aisle. Emily was nowhere in sight.
Karen looked at her watch and sighed again. “Emily!” No one answered. She pushed the cart back toward the checkout line, growing nervous. She looked around past the blurry lines of customers in front of her.
She backed away from her cart and began walking past each aisle. “Emily!”
“Mom?” she heard Emily’s voice say. Karen stopped at the frozen food aisle to see her daughter standing there with a box of Fruity Pebbles in hand and looking at the frozen pizzas. “What’s wrong?”
Karen hurried down the aisle and took her by the arm. “You said you were going to the cereal aisle. Let’s go.”
Emily struggled and tried to pull away. “I was just looking at the frozen pizzas!”
“No,” Karen said, dragging her away. “We have pizza rolls at the house.”
Emily groaned again as they went back to the cart all by itself near the first checkout line. Karen told her to help unload the groceries onto the conveyor belt. It had been a long day for both of them, and all Karen wanted to do was get home and relax for a minute. Tom, her husband, would probably get home from the office around the same time, asking about dinner, and she wasn’t in the mood.
They exited through the automatic doors with six paper bags of groceries in her cart toward the third parking row, where her blue Nissan Sentra was parked. Karen pulled her keys out of her purse and unlocked the car remotely.
“Can you help me with my homework tonight?” Emily asked, skipping along beside her.
Karen opened the trunk and began loading groceries. “I’ll try, but you might have to ask your dad first. I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”
“But he makes it so boring!”
Karen laughed. “That’s not true. Your father is a very exciting man.”
Emily rolled her eyes as they placed the last of the groceries in the trunk. “Yeah… sure,” she said with a laugh. She then placed her hands on cart and began to push it toward the cart return. “I’ll take it.”
“Thanks, honey,” Karen said, shutting the trunk.
Suddenly, the mysterious person in the polka-dot dress grabbed the end of the cart, blocking it from moving. Emily looked up as Karen turned around, shocked. She felt a chill and pulled Emily away immediately.
“Excuse me, miss?” The person asked, beehive perfectly still. In one hand she held a tote bag full of groceries. “I can’t seem to find my car around here. Do you think you could help?”
Karen pulled Emily closer and inched toward the front of the car. “Sorry, no. We’ve got to get going.”
“Please,” she pleaded. “I’m not feeling too well. Eyesight is not what it used to be.” Her voice sounded too deep to be a woman’s. The makeup was unconvincing. At a little over six feet tall, the “woman” was about the tallest Karen had ever seen.
With Emily at her side, she looked around and inched backward toward the car. There were people in the distance going to their cars, and their presence was reassuring.
“Have you been following us?” Karen asked.
“What do you mean?” the person asked in a surprised tone.
“I saw you in there. Multiple times. What do you want—”
At the tail end of Karen’s sentence, a big, meaty fist pummeled her right between her eyes. A pop sounded, and she collapsed to the ground like dead weight. It happened so fast that Emily wasn’t even sure what had happened. She turned to see her mother lying on the pavement next to the car, unconscious. And the same woman was now moving toward her as Emily backed away, ready to run.
She opened her mouth and breathed in, prepared to scream, when a cloth came down over her face, followed by a hand on the back of her head, pushing her nose and mouth into the noxious fumes. She kicked and swung, desperately trying to break free, but the woman was much too powerful. She tried to scream but only panicked, and muffled wheezes came out. The sounds of the parking lot—the cars, the carts, and the chatter—began to fade.
She managed to grab the thick, hairy arms holding her and dig her nails into the flesh as deep as they would go. The woman winced in pain and pushed her against the car in a fit of anger, knocking her out.
Emily fell to the ground next to her mother. The woman bent down, picked up the cloth, and then grabbed Emily, pulling her up, lifted her easily, and carried her away. No one, it seemed, noticed anything amiss. Several minutes passed before a car drove by and stopped abruptly when the driver apparently noticed a woman lying next to her car, motionless, and an empty cart wheeling away.
***
O’Leary got the call around six thirty p.m., soon after leaving Miriam’s. Another abduction. A mother assaulted—punched in the face and left stone cold in the asphalt parking lot. Her daughter, Emily: nowhere to be found.
He was on the road when he got the call. “When did it happen?” he asked, holding his cell phone to his ear in disbelief.
“A little after five,” said his partner, Lou.
“I don’t understand,” O’Leary continued. “In the middle of a Safeway parking lot? In broad daylight?” He was beside himself.
“So far, that looks to be the case,” Lou answered.
O’Leary pressed the gas, trying to get to the crime scene as fast as he could. He was about an hour away and bound to hit traffic the closer he got to Palm Dale. He felt angry and defeated—like getting a punch to the gut. He was certain that the Snatcher had struck again and infuriated that the bastard had gotten away with it. His head throbbed. He couldn’t think clearly. It had to be some kind of sick joke.
Lou told him, “We knew that he was going to strike again. It was just a matter of time. Until we catch this guy, that’s all there is to it.”
“Not good enough,” O’Leary said. “This girl.”
“Emily?”
“Yes, Emily. We have to find her, Lou. There’s no excuses. Tell them to call the damn FBI. I don’t care.” He could barely see straight. Panic had seized his heart, almost as though his own child had been abducted. There would be significant fallout over another abduction; that much he knew. There had to be an answer—some way to catch the Snatcher before he disappeared once again into obscurity.
“The feds have already been called in,” Lou said. “Just get here as soon as you can, or we’re going to lose this one. We’ll be put on backbencher status before you know it.”
“Don’t let that happen,” O’Leary said. “Damn it, Lou. Hold out, whatever it takes. Where’s the mother?”
“She’s in the hospital,” Lou said. “Got banged up pretty bad. Broken nose. Ruptured disc in her back from the fall. She didn’t take the news about her daughter too well.”
“Of course not,” O’Leary said. “Who would?”
“Tried to run out of the hospital. Started hitting walls, kicking and screaming. Her husband just showed up, and he’s trying to calm her down.”
“Listen, Lou. We don’t have a lot of time. Make sure they cordon the hell out of that parking lot. I want witness statements, DNA, anything we can find.”
“Sure thing,” Lou said. “What the hell you doing out there in the first place?”
O’Leary glanced into his rearview mirror then at a flashing road sign off to the side that read, “Congested traffic ahead: Five miles.”
“I had some business to take care of. But I…” O’Leary paused, lost in his own thoughts.
“You still there, Dwight?”
O’Leary slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder
of the road as his tires kicked up dirt and pebbles. He braked and stopped the car. Vehicles rushed past him. Then everything went still and quiet.
“Dwight?” Lou asked.
“Yeah… I’m still here. Listen, I have to bring someone in on this. That’s why I came out here.”
Lou sighed into the phone. “You still wasting your time with that Castillo chick? She’s done, Dwight. She quit the force a year ago, and you’re not gonna get anything outta her now.”
“I beg to differ,” O’Leary said. “I’ll be there soon. Get the feds on this thing, but don’t let them take it over.”
Lou scoffed. “That’s a hell of a contradiction, Kojak. You know that’s what they do.”
“I need time!” O’Leary said, frustrated.
“We don’t have any time, pal. The media are gonna have a field day with this one.”
There was no sense in arguing. O’Leary told his partner that he’d be there as fast as he could and said goodbye. He hung up the phone and sat there in silence, torn between two entirely different options. He still believed in bringing Miriam in on the case, for whatever reason. It just made sense to him, and he didn’t see the harm in it. The department frustrated him. He didn’t know who he could trust. There had to be a reason that he had come up cold a year later following Jenny Dawson’s disappearance. Would things be any different after Emily’s?
He held his cell phone in his hand, hesitant. Before he could even make his decision, his phone rang, buzzing loudly. He didn’t recognize the number, but he hoped it was who he thought it was.
“Hello?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Detective O’Leary?” A faint female voice.
“Sergeant Castillo? Is that you?”
“It’s me,” she said.
“There’s been another kidnapping.”
“I know. I just heard.”
“But how’d you—”
“Never mind that. I still talk to people on the force. Another girl. Right in front of her mother…” She paused as if holding back her emotions. “I don’t know what I could do to help you at this point, but I know that I have to do something.”
O’Leary fumbled through his pockets, looking for his notepad. It was an instinct. “I-I’d love to have you on board. What can you do?”
“I’ll give you a week.”
O’Leary paused. “A week?”
“I’ll take the rest of the week off and help you find this girl.”
A sense of relief rushed over him. He couldn’t explain it. Miriam had a gift. The gift of a skilled outsider. He felt ten times more confident with her on board, but he still couldn’t explain why. “A week would be great.”
“After that, I’m done with police work, no matter the outcome.”
“Of course, no problem. Thank you. Should I pick you up now?” He looked at his watch. “I’m about twenty minutes away.”
“I have to get a sitter for Ana and talk to my job.”
“I realize that, but I just want you to know why we need to get on this thing fast. They’re calling in the feds,” he said.
“I can’t leave my daughter on the drop of a dime. I understand that time’s critical. Just let me do what I need to do,” she said.
“Of course. When do you want to meet up?”
“Give me an hour or two,” she said.
O’Leary considered the gamble. The first forty-eight hours of any missing persons case were the most critical. He needed to get back to the station fast. But he was seldom one to deviate from an initial plan.
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll be over soon.”
Miriam said a quick goodbye and hung up. O’Leary sat in his car trying to think. There was a way to solve the case, he was sure of it. But he didn’t think he could do it without Miriam. She meant something. She had encountered the Snatcher, saw her partner get shot right in front of her, and quit the force soon afterward. She needed justice every bit as much as he did. That was the only answer he could come up with to explain why he was parked on the side of the interstate while a crime scene festered one hundred miles away.
***
Miriam set her cell phone down on the counter. Ana had not yet been dropped off by Jessica’s mom, and while she waited, her mind was swimming, sorting through all the obstacles the case presented. O’Leary had called her only twenty minutes before—a courtesy call—to let her know that another girl had been abducted. A girl who fit the same profile as the others: ten to twelve years old, pure, and innocent.
Things were different for Miriam after the call. She not only wanted to catch the Snatcher, she also wanted to kill him. That was her purpose.
Her mind raced with questions, mainly: Who could take care of Ana in her absence? Freddy, Ana’s father, entered her mind. It wasn’t the most appealing choice, but it was reasonable, given the short notice. She walked to the stove and stirred the Hamburger Helper, not sure exactly what she had just agreed to.
Another girl had been taken, and Miriam knew she could not let her fade away into obscurity. Her anger, sadness, and shame resurfaced from the year before, though she felt ready. She was going to find the monster who had haunted her dreams and end his reign of terror once and for all.
On the Case
O’Leary stopped at a diner, waiting as patiently as possible to give Miriam the time she needed. He was anxious and unrelenting but had made his mind up and decided to stick with it, waiting. Miriam would be an asset to the investigation. That was what he believed, no matter how impractical it appeared. He took a corner booth and placed his satchel next to him, full of files from the case.
He pulled one file out and examined it carefully—the criminal profile for the Snatcher that he’d initially devised. His suspect was thought to be a Caucasian male in his late thirties to early fifties, average height and build, and someone who could blend into the community without being noticed. He was believed to be an intelligent, cautious man who rarely took chances. A family man, perhaps. Someone who kept his activities as private as possible. Someone who didn’t arouse suspicion. And ultimately a psychopath who would never stop.
In her report, Miriam claimed that the driver who shot her partner had long blonde hair. She assumed the driver to be Betsy Cole, the owner of the vehicle. And no one at the department could blame her for making that assumption.
O’Leary believed that they were dealing with a suspect who frequently changed appearances, even wearing disguises and wigs. The subject fit the profile of a potential sociopath—charming and charismatic. Someone who could manipulate and earn the trust of his captives. Judging by the intervals between the crimes, the lack of evidence, and the baffling disappearance of his victims, O’Leary believed they were dealing with someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
The victims had all been abducted close to their homes and never seen again. And with the exception of Emily's kidnapping, there were no witnesses. He thought to himself as a waitress came to the table asking him if he wanted another Coke. He shook his head and thanked her. He’d had yet seen a picture of Emily, but he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
***
Ana was dropped off by Jessica’s mom around eight p.m. She walked up the driveway with her book bag over the shoulder of her blue cardigan sweater. Her short black hair bounced above her neck, and she quickened her step when she saw two cars parked in the driveway. There was her mother’s Tahoe and what looked like her father’s Toyota pickup truck. Ana was suspicious. She walked in between the cars and hurried to the front door as lightning quietly flashed above like white electric veins.
She walked inside and could smell the aroma of Hamburger Helper. Her mom’s voice sounded from the kitchen. She was talking to someone, likely her dad, and when Ana came around the corner of the foyer into the kitchen, she could see him sitting at the table, just like the old days, his same short, frazzled dark hair and good tan, looking like he always had. He raised his head and smiled at her. Her mother s
tood against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, as if Ana had interrupted something.
“Hey there,” Freddy said. His thin face looked more sunken than before. He looked tired and overworked. He had issues Ana knew little about. Issues that had driven her parents apart, though her mother wasn’t entirely innocent either.
Ana stood motionless for a moment with her backpack still in hand. Her dad pulled a chair out from the dinner table and patted the seat with a smile. “Come sit next to your dad.”
She hung her backpack over one chair and sat in the other, next to her father.
“I’ll go ahead and make you a plate,” Miriam said, turning to the stove.
“I already ate at Jessica’s,” Ana said.
Miriam dropped the spoon into the pot and sighed. “I told you I was going to make dinner.”
“Relax,” Freddy said. “You can’t expect a kid to wait that long to eat, can you?”
Miriam said nothing as she held the pot up and shoveled the rest of the food into a Tupperware container with a spoon. Ana looked toward the sink and saw two empty bowls. Confused, she wondered what it was all about. Had they eaten dinner together? Her dad lived close but rarely visited. Why was he there now? When they spoke, their courteous tones made her suspicious.
Miriam placed the Tupperware in the refrigerator and walked to the table. “I asked your father here tonight so we could all talk.”
“About what?” Ana asked.
“Your mom has to do something important, and I’m going to be watching you for a little bit,” Freddy said.
Miriam cut in, as though she didn’t trust Freddy’s assessment of the situation. “I’ve been called back onto a case that’s very important to me. It’s important to a lot of people.” She stopped and placed a hand on the back of Ana’s chair. “I’ll be gone for a week, and I’d rather you stay here and continue school. Your father agreed to stay here and take care of you while I’m gone.”
