The Abducted Super Boxset: A Small Town Kidnapping Mystery

by Roger Hayden

  Miriam said nothing but kept her eyes locked on his. She walked over to him slowly. Her words were calm and measured. “So he shot my partner? He shot Deputy Lang, leaving his wife without a husband and his children without a father.”

  Gowdy’s eyes darted in all directions, panicking. “He didn’t mean to. The cop just got in his way.”

  “And again, you helped him.”

  “I had to!” Gowdy shouted out. “After all he’s done for me, I owe him. I was nothin’ before I met him. No one wanted me. He took me in. His family took me in, and they made me one of their own! Do you understand that? You understand what it’s like to be unwanted and unloved?”

  Miriam raised her pistol, aimed squarely for his head. He covered his face with his hands, shaking and crying out. “Do you understand what it’s like to be a terrified young girl?”

  “Please… I’m sorry,” Gowdy said. “Don’t shoot me!”

  She hesitated. Gowdy clenched his eyes shut, blubbering and crying. For a moment, she just stood there with her pistol aimed. She closed her eyes and took a breath. Her last bullet wasn’t for Gowdy. It was for Phil Anderson—the man responsible for it all. She lowered the pistol as his eyes slowly opened. His hands shook as he continued to shield his face. She looked down and noticed a ring of keys on his belt.

  “Are those for the bunker?”

  Confused and shaken, he lowered his hands. And looked down. “Yeah…” he sputtered. His legs twitched as he winced with every move.

  “Toss ’em here,” Miriam said, holding a hand out.

  Without a second thought, Gowdy reached down, unhooked the key ring from his belt, and tossed the keys inches from her shoes. She picked them up and walked toward him. His hands went back to his face as he pleaded with her not to shoot him. She ignored his cries and picked up the Uzi that was just out of his reach. She put her pistol in her pants pocket and took the clip out of the Uzi.

  She shook her head and looked at Gowdy, displaying the empty magazine. “Not a lot of good this is going to do you.”

  She swung her arm back and threw the magazine into the bushes while holding onto the Uzi. Gowdy looked at her, stricken with fear. He had no idea what she had planned next. She studied his pale, frightened face and then gave him an answer.

  “You better hope those girls are still alive.”

  “I’m sure of it!” he cried.

  She said nothing else and kneeled down next to the trapdoor, pulling it up by the handle. The door was heavy, nearly impossible to budge. She clenched her teeth and pulled again with all her might. Nothing mattered more. She pulled until the heavy door began to lift. She screamed out and used every last ounce of energy to get it open. Halfway there, she pushed it open on its hinges, and it slammed open onto the ground, exposing an underground tunnel leading straight down.

  “Down there,” Gowdy said, in a strained, exhausted voice. “That’s where they are.”

  She saw a ladder and began climbing down into the darkness. Her eyes took a while to adjust the farther down she went until finally she reached the bottom, where a door, set into a heavy frame, blocked the way. There was just enough light coming in from outside to let her see what she was doing.

  The thick metal door was locked, but she managed to fumble through the keys, trying each one, sometimes too hurriedly and having to try again. By the fifth key, the door unlocked with an almost magical-sounding click, and then she felt the door handle turning in her hand. She swung the door open and called out, her voice faltering and high pitched.

  “Hello? Is anyone in here?”

  She nearly tripped on a small battery-operated LED light that illuminated the long hallway, with its catacomb-like rooms arrayed off to the sides. She grabbed the lamp and walked down the hall.

  Each room was the size of a broom closet, with chains mounted to the wall and a small mattress on the ground. There were board games and toys everywhere. One of the rooms even had a tea set and table. The sight made her sick to her stomach.

  “I’m here to help you. My name is Miriam. You can come out now. The bad men have gone away.” She came to the last room on the left and saw a young girl crouched in a ball in the corner of the room, sniffling.

  Miriam stepped closer, inches from the girl. “It’s all right, honey. Don’t worry.”

  The girl looked up, beyond her matted hair, and backed farther into the corner, screaming.

  Miriam set the lamp on the ground. “It’s okay. My name is Miriam, and I’m going to get you out of here.”

  The girl looked up again, a little less afraid when she got a better look at Miriam.

  “I want my mommy…” she said, crying.

  “What’s your name, dear?” Miriam asked.

  “Emily,” she answered and wiped her eyes.

  Miriam swooped down and picked her up. Emily buried her face in Miriam’s chest and cried, her thin body shaking. She was wearing an old nightgown at least three sizes too big. Her feet were bare, and she was trembling. Miriam stroked her head repeatedly, trying to calm her as they made their way back toward the ladder, but first, there were other rooms to look into.

  “We’re going home, Emily,” she whispered. We’re going home.”

  With Emily in her arms, Miriam began searching the rooms on the other side. They had obviously been occupied at one time but now were empty, and she felt a sense of overwhelming defeat. One more room, and there in the corner, she saw another girl lying on a mattress. She was dressed in tattered pajamas and would not look up when Miriam called out. Her tangled hair went all the way down her back, beyond her waist. She made no movements. One arm was chained to the wall.

  Miriam set Emily down carefully on the ground, placing the lamp next to her. “Just give me one minute, honey. We’re about to leave. Just wait here.”

  Emily curled into a ball as Miriam crept into the small chamber, where she hoped and prayed that whoever was lying on the bed was still breathing. She lightly touched the girl’s back and could feel it rising and dropping. She looked to the young girl’s wrists. They were covered in cuts and bruises from metal clamps. Miriam dug furiously through her pockets for the keys. Pulling them out, she tried each one on the padlock that connected the chain to the clamp. Emily began crying again, causing Miriam to hurry and fumble.

  By the third key, she heard a click and opened the padlock. She removed the wrist clamp, tossing the chain aside, and gently helped the girl up. She could hear faint breathing. The girl’s face was dirty. Her skin looked ghost pale. Her long hair was a knotted tangle.

  The girl groaned. Miriam spoke softly, bringing her lips close to the girl’s ear. “My name is Miriam, and we’re getting you out of here.” She could feel the girl’s rib cage. She was sickly thin and malnourished. “Can you hear me?” Miriam continued.

  “Mm-hmm,” the girl moaned.

  “What’s your name?” Miriam asked.

  The girl paused, and faint breath came from her dry, blistered lips. “Jenny…”

  An overwhelming relief swept over Miriam, almost sending her onto the ground in tears. She couldn’t believe it. Finding both girls, nothing short of a miracle.

  She picked Jenny up, cradling her long, skinny body in her arms. “We’re going home, Jenny. Hang on.”

  She faced a dilemma: two girls and one set of arms. But Jenny’s condition was ten times worse than Emily’s.

  “Emily, can you stand and walk, honey?” she asked.

  Emily nodded between sobs.

  “Strong, brave girl,” she told her. Miriam took her hand and helped her up. She then picked up the lamp and walked to the exit with Jenny in her arms and Emily at her side.

  Miriam climbed the ladder, slowly and carefully, with Jenny in one arm, balanced on her hip, and hanging onto the lamp and the ladder with the other. Emily, now the strong girl Miriam had told her she was, gathered the strength to climb by herself. Miriam was behind her, helping her along. By the time they made it to the surface, Miriam had to shield Jenny’s ey
es from the blinding light of the sun. They had all made it above ground. Miriam took a knee and set Jenny down, exhausted, her muscles shaking from the strain. She explained to both girls that they only had a little more to go.

  She stood up and noticed Gowdy watching them, cradling his legs in pain. “You’re-you’re not gonna leave me out here are you?” he asked. The color was completely gone from his face.

  “No,” Miriam said. “I’m going to tell them exactly where they can find you.”

  Gowdy’s head fell back to the ground. In his moment of delirium, he wasn’t sure what would be worse: facing the consequences and losing his pose as an innocent man persecuted by the system or simply dying. Either way, Miriam left him there to ponder his fate.

  ***

  Miriam and the girls arrived back on the scene to find it swarming with police cars and paramedics. Two helicopters flew overhead, circling above the auto salvage yard. Miriam rushed to the first ambulance she saw, and paramedics quickly took over, bringing gurneys, talking to the girls and reassuring them that they would soon be going home to be with their parents. But first, a short trip for a little checkup. The girls were reluctant to separate from her, but Miriam managed to convince them that she would be along in just a few minutes. The paramedics strapped them down, lifted the gurneys into the vehicle, and promised Emily and Jenny a ride like no other they had ever had, with lights whirling and sirens blasting. Even Jenny seemed to manage a faint smile.

  “I’ll be right back,” Miriam said, brushing back Emily’s hair. She then turned to Jenny. “Then we’ll all ride to the hospital together.”

  The paramedics took over from there as they set both girls down and began measuring their vital signs. Miriam saw them loading O’Leary into another ambulance as she rushed over. Lou stood by, overwhelmed by all the activity. O’Leary took one look at her dirtied face, dried with tears, and couldn’t resist a mild jab.

  “What the hell happened to you?” he said, trying to fight the pain of his gunshot wounds. They had an IV hooked into his arm and were frantically cleaning and dressing his leg.

  “I found her,” Miriam said with a breath of relief.

  Both O’Leary and Lou looked stunned.

  “The girl?” Lou said.

  “Emily Beckett and Jenny Dawson. I found them both.”

  A smile spread across O’Leary’s face. Lou clutched his side and coughed.

  “The Dawson girl too?” he said. “I can’t believe it! Where?”

  Exhausted, Miriam pointed to the forest, where for the first time she noticed the sign on the fence that claimed the land as being owned by Anderson Properties.

  “They had them in a bunker. They were the only ones I could find. Gowdy said the others were killed.”

  “Gowdy?” O’Leary said, between heavy breaths. “Where is he?”

  “Still back there. Shot him twice in the leg. I already pointed some officers in his direction.”

  Lou’s eyes widened again. O’Leary tried to follow along the best he could despite his injuries.

  “But I don’t understand,” Lou said. “Phil Anderson is the one you’re looking for. Not Gowdy.”

  Miriam’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you haven’t got him yet?”

  “He disappeared,” Lou said. “Vanished like a bat out of hell. They just raided the place, got everyone on site except Phil.”

  “How?” Miriam shouted.

  Lou backed up and held out an arm, trying to calm her. “We don’t know. He made us somehow. But this bunker. That changes everything!”

  Miriam shook her head, feeling defeated.

  Lou touched her shoulder. “Chin up there, Castillo. We got an APB on him. He won’t get far.”

  Miriam looked to the ambulance where Emily and Jenny were being attended to. “We need to contact their parents.”

  “Already on it,” Lou said.

  “Get me out of here,” O’Leary said, in pain, from the ambulance. Miriam and Lou turned and waved as the paramedics shut the door.

  “We’ll see you soon!” Miriam said. She then looked to Lou, her expression changed. “Find Phil Anderson. And let me know when you do.” With that, she walked away to the other ambulance and got in, taking Emily’s hand.

  Its sirens and lights went on as the ambulance roared down the road, away from Anderson country and back to civilization. Three combined county police departments had descended on the area in the largest case in Palm Dale’s history. The bunker, apparently, was just the tip of the iceberg.

  Miriam stayed with Emily and Jenny at the hospital until their parents arrived. Both the Beckett and Dawson families had come alive with joyous rapture upon learning that their daughters were alive. It was the most incredible thing Miriam had ever seen. The parents called her a hero, a godsend, but she didn’t want any of it. The girls were alive, and that was all that mattered. She stayed with both families overnight at the hospital, laughing and talking as both children recovered throughout the night. Eventually, however, it would be time to go home.

  In all of the commotion, she had forgotten to even call home. But she was certain Freddy could hold things down in her absence. The next morning, Lou himself offered her a ride back home. They took the long drive as she repeatedly tried calling Freddy and Ana. It was a weekday. Ana was at school and Freddy was probably asleep in front of the television—a little part of why they had split in the first place. She finally arrived home and found both her car and Freddy’s still in the driveway.

  “Need me to come in with you?” Lou asked.

  Miriam looked at him with tired eyes and smiled. “No thanks. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride.”

  Just as she opened the door, Lou stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, calling her back.

  “You know, O’Leary was right about you. You’re a hell of an asset to law enforcement.”

  Miriam waved him off. “I’m just glad we were able to find Emily in time.”

  Lou looked at her and smiled. “You did well, Sergeant Castillo. We’re all proud of you.”

  Blushing, she said no more and got out of the car. She walked to the front door, purse in hand, gym bag over her shoulder, and waved to Lou as he backed out and drove away. It was still early.

  Only a little after eleven in the morning, and she figured she would spend the rest of the day in bed. Who knew? Maybe she could convince Freddy to fix her something to eat. It would take at least a good hour to tell him the whole story. That much alone was worth a meal, she thought.

  She turned the key and entered her house. The television was on in the living room, with ongoing coverage of the Anderson bust. The news had already traveled to her neck of the woods.

  “Freddy?” she called out. She set her bag down and placed her purse on a nearby nightstand. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him sitting at the kitchen table with his back turned toward her.

  “Freddy? Hello?” She walked over to him with a smile and then froze when she saw his face staring down, his eyes still as glass with dilated, lifeless pupils. A large gash ran across his throat from one end to the other. Blood spatter ran down his white T-shirt.

  She jumped back in shock as fear gripped her. She screamed in terror. There was no way to comprehend what had happened. Her body shook, and she was losing control. Then her eyes caught a note waiting for her on the table, written in crayon:

  You took my playmates, Miriam. Now you and your daughter are all I have left to play with. Love Phyllis.

  Hi! I hope you enjoyed my latest series. Quality story telling is very important to me. It’s my living, and I can’t thank you enough for your support and for taking the time to read this boxset. But the learning never stops, and your feedback is vital to improving each new series I explore.

  I would love if you could take a second to leave a review on Amazon here: Leave a Review Here!

  If you would be so kind, please leave a review showering the book with endless praise. Of course, I’m joking, but it would be great to hear f
rom you. If there are any issues you had with the story or any pesky errors or concerns, feel free to email me and let me know. I’d love to hear your feedback, regardless. Your support allows me to do what I do, and I’m in your debt. In a way, I work for you, the reader. So let me know if I’m doing the job. Thanks again and, please, feel free to contact me or leave a review for the book at your earliest convenience.

  With Gratitude,

  Roger Hayden

  The Abducted: A Race Against Time

  Sarasota, Florida

  Phillip Anderson was a wanted man. Lee County Police Department had released an APB, and a statewide manhunt was just around the corner. What authorities didn’t know, however, was that he had one destination in mind. And once he got there and did what needed to be done, it would be too late.

  He had long since fled Anderson Auto Salvage in a getaway van—and had effectively evaded authorities. They had little knowledge of his frequent disguises and his overall resourcefulness and intelligence. Phillip knew that if he was going to remain free, he would need to utilize his talents like never before.

  He often wore wigs, makeup, and even dresses to fool his victims and earn their trust. It had worked every time. At six feet and two hundred and thirty pounds, he wasn’t the most convincing woman. But in the interest of his disguise, he often kept a clean shave. The concept of being someone else was something that had always intrigued him.

  After going through an Arby’s drive-through, Philip parked and applied his makeup in the rear-view mirror. He then put on a frumpy brunette wig and adjusted it accordingly. His red lipstick glistened and his light-blue eye shadow matched well with his rosy cheeks. He scarfed down his sandwich and then changed into a sleeveless light-blue dress that went down to his ankles. He put a pair of sunglasses on and smiled at himself in the mirror. Phyllis was ready.

  It was early Thursday morning when he pulled onto Miriam Castillo’s street, parking a few houses down. He knew that she wasn’t going to be home. In fact, he was counting on it. Miriam had joined the hunt for him with the other authorities. She had ruined everything and wouldpay a hefty price.