by Roger Hayden
“You got a phone number listed on there?” Keely asked, pointing his pen at the binder.
“Nope. Just a name and address. Now, are we done here? I’m not one to give out information on customers, so let’s just call this a one-time deal.” He closed the binder, knelt down, and put it back under the counter.
“Fair enough,” Keely said. Miriam’s gaze went back to the television, where an unusual sight seized her attention. Her eyes froze on the screen above. Keely turned to her, satisfied, and was about to speak when he noticed her distracted gaze. His eyes shifted up as he froze in place.
There was an ongoing press conference on screen. A silver-haired well-groomed man in a suit and tie stood at a podium with a sharply-dressed woman at his side. Both seemed to be in dire straits. The woman had tears in her eyes. The podium had at least five microphones attached. Behind the couple rested a blown-up, poster-sized school picture of a smiling brown-haired girl with freckles. The caption on the screen read: Congressman Bynes speaks about daughter’s kidnapping.
“He didn’t…” Keely said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Miriam glanced at D’Alessandro with disbelief in her eyes. “Turn up the television, please.”
He turned and looked up at the screen, unaware of the significance of what was happening. After a shrug, he grabbed a remote near the cash register and turned up the volume. The congressman continued speaking in a wavering voice, full of panic and sadness.
“I can only say that at or around 11:30, our precious daughter, Sarah, was abducted from school property in a rusty blue van, as evident by the security footage.” He stopped and cleared his throat as the woman in the red dress to his right, rubbed her leaking eyes. “My wife, Jacelyn and I, are facing every parent’s worst nightmare. And, as parents, we implore the community to do all that you can to help us locate this individual in the blue van and find our girl before it’s too late.”
“Son of a bitch…” Keely said under his breath. Miriam looked at him surprised. She hadn’t known him to curse twice in one day.
With one arm resting on the counter, D’Alessandro turned to them and pointed at the television. “That the girl?” he asked.
“Yes,” Miriam said with her eyes still frozen on the screen.
“Good luck finding her,” D’Alessandro said. “I’d start with that address, and go from there.”
The two detectives snapped out of their daze and turned toward the exit, thanking him. He waved as the bell rang and the door shut. He then muted the television, sat on his stool, and went back to his newspaper as classic rock music played on.
Duplex
Keely tore down the city street as fast as the Dodge would go—weaving through traffic with their windshield lights flashing and engine roaring at top decibel. They raced through another intersection, then headed toward South Cooper Road, only five blocks away.
It was hard to believe that their suspect would be so easy to catch, but sometimes a case just worked out like that—or so they hoped. Miriam had deep reservations. Something seemed off kilter about the whole thing.
The burned man reentered her mind. He had what she imagined would be the mottled face of Phillip Anderson—burned flesh, but with his cold, steely eyes still intact. Whoever Eddie Silva was, Miriam thought it unlikely that he was their man, unless by some strange coincidence the stars had aligned to guide them directly to where Sarah Bynes was being held.
Keely slammed the steering wheel, frustrated, as they slowed down behind two dump trucks blocking both lanes. The impeding traffic wasn’t the only thing that had him upset.
“I can’t believe Bynes did that. Went on TV like that. What is he trying to do?”
Miriam gripped the side armrest as Keely braked too hard, trying to swerve around the dump trucks. “He’s the girl’s father,” she said. “I’m sure he’s doing what any concerned parent would.”
“By messing with our case?” Keely said with his face reddening. “Now every freaking nut job in the city is going to be calling our offices, claiming to be the kidnapper!”
“It could broaden the search. Maybe help her chances,” Miriam said.
Keely turned his head and looked at her shocked, as though she had been supplanted with someone else. “Do you hear yourself?” he asked. “That congressman was supposed to give us time to look into this. The girl hasn’t even been missing twenty-four hours and he’s already holding a press conference?”
Miriam paused, not wanting to argue. She could understand Keely’s anger. Too many people on the force were already stepping over each other to find the girl. With the general population knowing, it would either help or greatly hinder the investigation.
She’d been in the congressman’s before, with Ana. Parents fearing the loss of their child didn’t act rationally.
“He jumped the gun,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “But we have to push on in spite of it.”
Keely gripped the steering wheel with both hands and swerved into the middle turn lane, bypassing both dump trucks, whose drivers remained oblivious to their urgent quest. Miriam turned up the police radio, listening in on the reports.
The helicopters hovered in the distance, continuing their search above the late-afternoon rush-hour traffic. A dozen different officers radioed in with descriptions of other vans that might or might not have fit the bill. The eagerness of every lawman could be felt in the radio reports. With officers spread all over the city, someone was going to find something. It was only a matter of time.
“Thoughts on backup?” Keely asked.
Miriam shook her head. “We don’t know how this’ll play out. Wait until we get on location.”
The Dodge thrust forward as Keely gunned it—cars parted like waves. South Cooper Road was an easy drive until a clueless driver careened into their lane, trying to avoid the long line of traffic. Miriam’s hand instinctively clutched the dashboard as Keely slammed the brakes and the car screeched across the pavement. A close call.
“Shit!” Keely shouted, surprising Miriam.
Their heads jerked forward as the driver in the Buick ahead, startled at what was coming at him, gunned it forward as smoke trailed from his exhaust. “Let it go,” said Miriam. They proceeded on. Miriam thought her heart rate had increased twofold—either from the near collision or the fact that they were so close to the suspect’s house.
She often thought about what she would do if Anderson crossed her path again. She’d like to think that she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him—ridding the world of one more evil soul. But her penchant for vengeance wasn’t something she was proud of. She certainly didn’t want Ana to grow up feeling the same way.
Keely took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’ll tell ya’, this job might just give me a heart attack someday.”
“Goes with the territory,” Miriam said. “Didn’t you catch that in the detective manual?”
“Har, har,” Keely said while merging into a left turn lane onto South Cooper Road. The alarmed Buick driver raced on ahead, most likely relieved to see that the flashing, unmarked vehicle was no longer following him.
They took a sharp left and continued down South Cooper, which became a two-lane street with a line of cars parked along the curb. The street was aligned with several identical two-story duplexes and one-car garages. The dashboard GPS indicated the address as three blocks ahead.
“Blue van,” Keely said. “That’s all we need to find and then this guy’s ours.”
Miriam reached for her pistol and pulled it out from the side holster at her hip. Keely glanced at her as she pulled the slide back, chambering a round.
“Little anxious, aren’t we?” he said.
“Not taking any chances.”
The Dodge slowed, since they had little chance of passing the line of cars ahead of them. The opposite lane was just as full. Keely shut off the flashing lights and coasted along with the rest of the traffic to avoid attracting attention to themselves.
If Eddie Silva was indeed home, they wanted to catch him by surprise. They could be dealing with a foolish, impulsive criminal too confident in his ability to leave town. Miriam took at least a smidgen of comfort in believing that Sarah’s disappearance wasn’t tied to a drug cartel.
A mail box was up ahead with the numbers displayed clear as day: 2512. It was a particularly run-down two-story duplex, tightly wedged between others similar in size and in their faded brown color. There was no vehicle in the oil-stained driveway, which looked barely large enough for a compact car, let alone a big blue van. The wooden garage door was closed, but the ramshackle structure also looked small. Keely slowed the Dodge and pulled to the side of the road, parking about two houses down.
“Best to go on foot from here,” he said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Miriam responded.
As they parked, Keely turned up the police radio below the dashboard to listen for any developments. Nothing new seemed to be coming in, though there was noticeable anger expressed at the congressman in many of the calls for delivering his unexpected press conference.
“Someone tell the congressman to let us do our job,” one officer said.
“You got that right,” another chimed in.
Keely grabbed the hand-mike to talk into it but hesitated.
“You really want to do that?” Miriam asked.
Keely thought to himself and clicked the talk button. “This is twenty-two, approaching suspect’s house. Will report status in five.”
He hung the hand-mike up and noticed Miriam looking at him with a hint of disapproval in her eyes. “What?” he said, shrugging.
“That’s fine. You did the right thing,” she conceded.
She opened her door and stepped out onto the curb as he exited the car. Vehicles continued to pass by. The house ahead remained undisturbed—all blinds closed as though no one was home. They met on the sidewalk and continued on. A woman was standing at the window of one of the side-street homes they passed, gazing into nothing.
The sky had shifted from a vibrant blue to murky gray in the past hour. They stopped within a few feet of the house, standing in front of the small driveway of the one next door—safely out of sight. Their outfits were a clear giveaway to anyone who knew better that they were law enforcement. And for a brief moment, they discussed strategy.
Keely pointed to a tall wooden fence between the two homes. “You want me to go around back, hop over, and see what I can find?”
“That’d probably be our best bet in case he tries to run,” Miriam answered.
Keely looked around, examining the slightly dilapidated house before them. Its tiny yard was overgrown with weeds interspersed with patches of bare dirt—oddly enough, surrounded by a small fence about four feet high. “Wonder if anyone is even home?” he asked.
Miriam stepped forward with confidence toward the walkway leading to the front porch steps. “Only one way to find out.”
Suddenly a familiar voice emerged from behind them. “I guess great minds think alike.”
Miriam and Keely whipped around, surprised to see Detectives Summerson and Wright approaching them from down the sidewalk.
Keely grabbed his chest. “Whoa! Don’t sneak up on us like that.”
Wright smiled wryly. Summerson, much shorter than he, with braids tied back in a bun, strode toward the house as though they were in charge.
“What are you two doing here?” Miriam asked suspiciously.
“Same thing could be asked of you,” Summerson said as she stepped up closer. She stopped within a foot of Keely and Miriam, examining the house proudly with Wright at her side.
“We’re following a lead,” Miriam said.
“Now it’s your turn to answer,” Keely said, annoyed.
Wright placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder, boasting, “Detective Summerson has a knack for getting information out of people, especially some of these street rats.”
She nodded with a big smile on her face, exposing perfect white teeth surrounded by heavy red lipstick. “Couple boys downtown fingered this house belonging to a real creep by the name of Edwin Silva. Seems like Silva has his big toe dipped into some kinda shit.”
“Like what?” Keely asked, though the expression on his face told them that he already knew the answer.
“Same thing that brought you two here,” she responded.
Miriam leaned forward and edged closer to Summerson. “Detective Keely and I were just about to approach the house. Why don’t you guys provide us some cover?”
Amused, Summerson shook her head. “Nah, doll face. We made it this far. I think we’ll join ya’.”
“This isn’t a game,” Keely snapped.
Wright quickly attempted to mediate. “Everyone just calm down. I’m sure we can work together to check the place out. But it certainly does us no good to stand out here and chat all day.”
With the roar of an engine, a blue van suddenly smashed through the garage door and sped down the driveway, shattering the door into broken planks. The explosive shattering of wood left a giant hole in the garage and startled the four officers, who shouted and cursed in surprise and panic. Miriam and Keely jumped to the side as Summerson and Wright froze in complete shock.
The van roared into the street, screeching, and sped off like a rocket propelled from its launch pad. Miriam fell to the ground on her knees as smoke and exhaust engulfed then. Other vehicles swerved to the side, crashing into nearby mailboxes or parked cars. It continued down the road unabated, and growing more distant by the second.
Keely reached down and helped Miriam to her feet as exhaust from the van rushed over them.
“Let’s go!” he shouted.
Their heightened instincts kicked. They turned and ran past a dazed Summerson and Wright and continued to their Dodge Charger parked nearby.
Summerson pulled her pistol from her side holster and sprinted off in the direction of the van, jumping over planks of wood lying in the driveway.
Wright stood by and cupped his mouth. “Where are you going? You’ll never catch him on foot!”
“Watch me!” she yelled back.
Frustrated, Wright ran back to his car, a few houses down the road. Miriam and Keely jumped into theirs. Keely jammed the keys in the ignition, turned, and revved on the gas pedal. Miriam grabbed the radio hand-mike. “Pursuit of suspect in a blue van. We need immediate backup and air support!”
Keely peeled out and tore down the road like a drag racer with his lights flashing and engine revving. Engaging in a high-speed pursuit on a narrow two-lane road wasn’t the safest endeavor, or encouraged in most circumstances in their code of conduct. But they had a high-value suspect in their midst and couldn’t risk letting him get away. Miriam urged him on as the blue van ahead barreled down the street with little regard for anything in its path.
“He’s getting away,” she said. “Step on it!”
Keely floored it. The RPM needle on the dashboard vaulted to the right and started quavering. With his own lights flashing, Detective Wright was behind them, gaining. They passed Summerson as she ran down the sidewalk as fast as her legs could take her. Wright swerved around a pickup truck that had sideswiped a Mini Cooper. Miriam gripped her armrest as Wright dodged a collision involving a Corolla and a Volkswagen in the left lane. The van had left a path of destruction in its wake and they kept its small red taillights in view up ahead just as it took a sharp left at the next intersection, right through a red light.
“Damn, he’s going for the highway,” Keely said.
“Stay on him,” Miriam said. She called for backup once more on the radio. They needed to block him off. Create a barrier and box their suspect in so that more drivers wouldn’t be at risk.
Wright managed to stay right on their heels as the Dodge careened from lane to lane, avoiding stopped vehicles that had little room to go anywhere to get out of the way.
For Miriam, the chase was both frightening and exhilarating. She wished it was her beh
ind the wheel. They neared the next intersection.
“He’s taken a left at South Gilbert,” Miriam said into the radio. “All present teams please pursue.”
Traffic in all lanes slowed and parted as drivers did the best they could to make way. Once Keely turned onto South Gilbert, tires screeching, they could see the blue van swerving into a back street to avoid an incoming barrage of police cruisers headed in its direction. Backup had finally arrived.
Whoever was driving the blue van wasn’t going to get far—that Miriam was sure of. She was fraught with anticipation. Wright gunned it forward as they turned onto the four-lane street, racing past gas stations, fast food restaurants, and onlookers with stunned, open-mouthed expressions. Miriam could hear the rumbling of a helicopter approaching in the distance.
Keely veered into the right lane and jerked the wheel to make a sharp turn down a back road, sending the engine rattling. The blue van was ahead, sparking from the rear tire that seemed to have popped. Thick smoke billowed from the van as it pressed down the narrow road, flanked by dumpsters on both sides.
Keely maintained their pursuit, despite the smoke and exhaust engulfing the windshield and obstructing their view. The driver was clearly pushing the van beyond its modest capacity. Another rush of black smoke and then they heard a loud crash as the van crashed into a large green metal dumpster. Keely slammed the brakes, coming to a sudden, neck-jerking halt. A parade of police cruisers, lights flashing and in wild pursuit, all made abrupt stops that sent them skidding within inches of parked cars and each other.
The Charger screeched to the side of the road just past the collision, which had left the van smoking, its front end smashed in and the dumpster tilted on its side. Miriam opened the door and jumped out before they came to a complete stop. Keely yelled after her and swung open his door. Police cars surrounded the dumpster, kicking up dust in the air that, combined with the van’s blanket of smoke swelling into the air, created a veritable sand storm.
Miriam ran to the passenger side with her pistol aimed. The windows were tinted beyond any legal measure, and it was near impossible to see inside. “Hands up!” she shouted. “Come on out now.” There was no response.
