by Roger Hayden
“Fine, thank you,” Miriam said. “It’s a very unique hotel.”
“I know the spots,” Hayes replied, smiling.
Miriam looked around, glancing out the window as they drove past shops along Main Street that were just opening their doors for business.
“So where first?” she asked. “I have some suggestions.” No one said anything, so she continued. “We should start at the Food Mart. I’m not satisfied with these witness statements. More people had to have seen this blue van. I want to talk to every employee and see what we can find.”
She paused, waiting for a response, but neither detective was biting at the moment. “Hello?” she said.
Detective Shelton turned his head slightly as though he was distracted. “I’m sorry, we’re listening. Please go on.” She could see that he was texting on his phone, while Hayes’s eyes were on the road.
“I’ve been observing this town, its low buildings and flat terrain,” she said. “Everything is close and bunched in. There’s not a lot of space between anything—houses, businesses, or anything else. This leads me to believe that nothing happens around here without a witness or two.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Hayes said. “We’ve got a plan of our own.”
“What do you mean?” Miriam asked.
“It’s not perfect,” Shelton added, “but it’s pretty damn good.”
“I’d love to hear it,” she said, turning to her window as they passed an elegant town hall, arguably the nicest building in town. There were Greek columns at the front atop several cement steps, and water gushing from a glistening fountain in the front. Neatly trimmed bushes, statues of historical figures, and benches lined a smooth cement sidewalk that circled the area.
A few blocks down, the car slowed at a small police station, staffed by a limited police force she had yet to meet. She noticed Hayes turn his left blinker on, prepared to turn in.
“The suspense is killing me,” Miriam said, leaning back in her seat with her hands out. They were acting strangely reserved, which made her suspicious.
Hayes pulled into the small, cracked concrete parking lot, where there were two police cars and six empty spaces. The police station looked old and certainly less glamorous than the town hall they had passed. There was faded wood paneling outside the rectangular building and tinted windows that gave no indication of what was inside. The flat roof looked weathered, much like the wood-carved white lettering displayed near the entrance that read “Odessa Police Station.”
“Don’t mean to keep you in the dark,” Hayes said as he pulled into one of the empty spaces. “We’re still working out the details and don’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”
Miriam held the open notebook in her lap, looking down at the schedule she had made. A schedule, it seemed, they were already deviating from. “It’s okay,” she said, closing the notebook. “Let’s hear it.”
Shelton turned around to face her with enthusiasm in his eyes. He was clean-shaven as always and wearing a navy-blue tie over his light-blue dress shirt. She wondered what had been discussed during her slumber. Shelton spoke with a careful, methodical tone, explaining himself as though he was giving a deposition.
“We know that this guy enjoys playing games. He likes to taunt law enforcement. He likes to taunt the parents. He’s obviously getting a kick out of this, but with each move, he doesn’t realize how much he’s giving away each time. The letter placed directly in the Foresters’ mailbox, for instance. I think he lives somewhere in town.”
Miriam thought that was obvious enough but kept her thoughts to herself. She respected Shelton, even if he was a little strange at times.
“He’s confident,” he continued. “Confident enough to leave letters at the crime scene and elsewhere, and there will be more. The point is, Lieutenant Sandoval, our suspect is trying to lure you in. I say, if we’re ever going to have a chance at finding those girls in time, we need to lure him out.”
Miriam nodded as though she understood, but she still had questions. “Lure him out how?”
Shelton exchanged another satisfied glance with Hayes and then looked back to Miriam. “We’ll simply dangle a carrot at him and get him out of hiding.”
Miriam knew what he meant. It had been her immediate suspicion upon being recruited, but they had guaranteed otherwise. Now this. Had they lied to her from the beginning? She had to find out.
The Bait
Walter stormed to the bed and ripped the sheets off, dropping to his knees and reaching under the bed, only to grab at air. It was as if she had disappeared. Stunned, he knelt and examined the single handcuff dangling on the rail. The two aspirin tablets lay on her tray, minus the glass of water. Walter turned quickly around and looked into the darkness ahead. Her hiding spots were quickly running out.
“Natalie,” he called out, standing up. “You made me drop your breakfast. That was very bad. Now you’re going to make me late for work.” He continued his slow pass toward the closet, where he was certain she was hiding.
Never in a million years did he think that a child could escape from a pair of handcuffs. Maybe they were a defective pair, but he couldn’t recall where he had purchased them. He stopped in his tracks a few feet from the boxes stacked up in front of the closet. He noticed they had been pushed out slightly, providing the girl just enough space to open the thin wooden doors and slip inside.
“What did you think?” he continued. “That you were going to run out of here when my back was turned?” He paused for a moment and attempted to talk in a lighter tone. “Come on, Natalie. I’m not angry.” He turned to look at the empty bed and then back to the boxes. “I’m actually pretty impressed. You’re a regular Houdini.”
There was no response, but he could feel her fear. He took another few steps toward the boxes, ready to swing open the doors. His smile dropped as his patience neared an end.
“I’m going to count to three, and I want you out here now,” he said, pointing at the ground.
He found the mere thought of her escape ludicrous. The thought made him laugh despite his growing anger.
“All right, Natalie. Last chance!” he said.
Before he could follow through on his demands, a stack of boxes came crashing down, revealing Natalie, pale and panic stricken, holding an empty water glass in one hand and a broken shard from the plate Walter had dropped in the other.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, Walter still stunned that she had escaped. Without a word, Natalie hurled the water glass at his face, scoring a direct hit and sending him stumbling backward. The pop against his cheek and the pain that followed sent him into a rage.
He swung his arms in the air, regaining his balance, just as she rushed toward him, gripping a shard of the brown glass plate in her small hands. She plunged the shard into his side, deep into his flesh. Walter screamed in pain, his voice cracking, and smacked her across the face as hard as he could. Natalie flew back like a rag doll and hit the floor in a daze as she rolled to her side. Walter tripped and fell, flat on his back, and joined her on the dusty hardwood floor with the shard still stuck in.
“You’re going to pay, you little bitch,” he cried out, struggling to get up as drool puddled on the floor from his mouth.
His hands hovered carefully around the glass shard. It was going to have to come out; there was no other way around it. Natalie rose with her hand over her cheek, glaring at him. In response, he cocked his leg back as far as he could and launched it forward, pelting her in the gut with his foot. She gasped and flew back farther than before, smacking into the wall. For a moment, his rage subsided as he looked at her motionless body on the floor, wondering if he had gone too far. A sharp pain clutched his side and brought him back to reality.
After a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and yanked the glass out in a single movement, swift and agonizing. And now his hand was also bleeding. He tossed the shard aside and quickly covered the wound with one hand, applying strong pressure. Moaning, he pu
shed himself up, rising to see that Natalie was still breathing. She’d live. He stumbled to the bed and yanked her white sheets off the bed, tearing one sheet in half.
Warm blood flowed from the wound, soaking his hand. He bent over to apply pressure and quickly got to work, folding the sheet around his waist in layer as blood soaked through.
He limped over to Natalie where she lay on her side, holding her chest. “Get up.” But he could hear nothing above a whimper. He nudged her back with the tip of his shoe, but she wouldn’t move.
“I’ve got to go to work. I’m willing to overlook this for now if you get back into bed.” She still didn’t respond. He sensed that there was no reaching her. As he stood over her, pondering his next move, she said something low and faint.
“What was that?” he asked, kneeling with a grunt. She whispered again, and he leaned closer, inches from her face.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
Walter smiled and shook his head. He quickly grabbed her by the neck and yanked her upward, causing her to cry out. She tilted her head up, sobbing with eyes closed and her hair matted and wet.
“How did you do it?” he shouted. “Tell me!”
“I used a fork,” she cried out. “The one from dinner.” Her trembling arm rose as she pointed to the bed. “It’s under the mattress.”
Gripping her neck, Walter stared at the bed in wonder. “Really?” Without warning, he rose and pulled her up with him. He gripped her shoulder with one hand and the back of her neck with the other and pushed her along as she cried. With every ounce of adrenaline left, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed with one quick heave.
Natalie lay there defeated as his wild hands searched under the mattress, pulling out the familiar fork. He stared down at her in a moment of bewilderment then grabbed her arm and handcuffed it back to the railing. He pulled at the cuffs a few times for good measure and then stuck the fork in his pocket.
“I don’t know what you were planning to do next, but don’t do it. Don’t even think about it.”
Natalie turned away from him, crying into her pillow. It was hard for him to feel bad given the injury in his side, but he tried to sound less angry than before.
“I’ve got a very busy day, and I just want you to promise me no more shenanigans, okay?”
She said nothing beyond her cries.
“Okay?” he asked again with anger rising in his tone.
“Yes,” she said softly through heavy sobs.
“Good then,” he said. “That’s good to hear.” He walked away without another word and left Natalie lying there, face buried in her tear-soaked pillow. He swung open the door and slammed it shut, too angry to clean up the mess in the room.
Walter walked into the kitchen, knowing that he had to clean the wound and would most definitely be late for work. He had never been late before, but that morning had been full of firsts, having a shard of glass thrust into his side being one of them.
He went to the counter and stared out the window into his backyard as the pain rushed back. His head hung low as he gritted his teeth in the sunlight. He lifted his head, opening his eyes to a clear new revelation.
“Natalie’s not the right one,” he said under his breath. “This isn’t going to work. She’s too wild.” He sighed and then looked at his pale and sweaty reflection in the window. “I’m going to have to find someone else.”
As was his habit, Walter turned on a small radio sitting on the kitchen counter. With the pain throbbing in his side, he felt vulnerable, frightened even. He had some disinfectant in his medicine cabinet along with gauze and cotton balls. That’d do the trick. But first, his instincts told him to check the local news for updates. He was well aware that police were in pursuit of a blue van—an issue he had remedied the day before.
They were no doubt pursuing Natalie on all fronts, and Walter couldn’t decide on whether he even wanted her anymore. But he couldn’t just let her go. She’d seen his face and heard his voice. His blood was on her face from the hand he’d smacked her with. What was he to do?
“Damn it, Walter,” he said to himself, leaning against the counter in pain. “You’ve really done it this time.”
He stopped thinking as the announcer’s voice on the radio suddenly gained his attention. They were talking about Natalie, and it was exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Ector County Police Department are in possession of two letters purportedly written by the kidnapper of April Johnson, who disappeared last week, and Natalie Forester, who vanished from a Food Mart parking lot two days ago. One letter was delivered directly to Natalie Forester’s parents, taunting police and making demands for the local police to enlist the aid of Lieutenant Miriam Sandoval, the detective famous for solving the Snatcher case in South Florida one year ago.”
Walter lunged forward and turned the volume louder as sweat beads ran down his forehead.
“Local officials have stated that investigators are in hot pursuit of whomever wrote the letters, which were reportedly constructed from letters clipped from magazines to avoid leaving evidence of handwriting. These ransom-like letters, police claim, are not a hoax but messages from the person they believe is responsible for the kidnappings. More details at the top of the hour in this small-town hunt for a dangerous predator.”
Walter turned down the radio, stunned and baffled. He had been busy throughout the night and early morning and had heard nothing of the supposed letters before. The news made no sense. “Letters?” he asked aloud.
***
Miriam walked with the detectives toward the police station with no clear understanding of Shelton’s plan. A uniformed officer exited the building upon their approach and looked up, surprised. He was young and athletic looking, in his early thirties, with dark, slicked-back hair and a clean-shaven face.
“Detective Hayes. Detective Shelton. Good morning. I didn’t expect you here so early,” he said.
“We wanted to get an early crack at everything right away,” Hayes said.
“Is Sergeant Bennett here?” Shelton asked.
The two detectives then turned to Miriam almost apologetically.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Lieutenant Sandoval. This is Corporal Taylor,” Hayes said. He then turned to the corporal and introduced him to Miriam.
“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said with a smile and a handshake. For a moment, it looked as though he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“Thank you, Corporal,” Miriam said. “It’s a pleasure.”
“I swear I know you from somewhere,” he said with certainty.
Miriam shrugged without response, only to have Hayes cut in and eloquently blow her cover.
“You might know the lieutenant from the Snatcher case.”
Astonished, Taylor’s eyes widened. “It is you!”
Hayes put a hand up, stifling the corporal’s enthusiasm. “Of course, we need to keep it on the down low. Lieutenant Sandoval is here as an advisor, given her experience, but we need her involvement kept out of the public eye, if you know what I mean.”
Taylor nodded. “I understand, but didn’t this Chancellor of Doom nut case mention your name in his last letter?”
Miriam wanted to ask the corporal why they weren’t patrolling the streets for the very same man he had mentioned. There was a level of complacency at the station that troubled her. She kept such thoughts to herself for the moment, trusting that the detectives knew what they were doing.
“Were you headed somewhere?” Shelton asked Taylor.
Taylor shifted around on the concrete entrance slab, looking toward his patrol car. “Well, I was going to run to the Food Mart and get some coffee. The sergeant’s in a tizzy without it.”
“How about we just have a look at the board first?” Hayes asked.
“The board?” Miriam asked. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Hayes said. “I apologize. We’re getting right to it.”
“I just don�
��t want to waste any critical time when we should be out there looking for those girls,” she said, impassioned.
“It’s okay,” Shelton said, placing a hand on her shoulder with a sympathetic look. “We’re still on track. A good plan takes time, though. You know that.”
Miriam nodded, giving them the benefit of the doubt. A car suddenly pulled into the parking lot, gaining everyone’s attention. The car, a red four-door Kia Spectra, parked and idled for a moment, its driver concealed behind tinted windows.
“I think that’s her,” Corporal Taylor said.
Detective Shelton pulled out his cell and scrolled through the screen. “Yep. She just sent me a text a couple of minutes back.”
As the engine shut off, the driver’s side door opened, revealing a girl who didn’t look a day over thirteen. She was small and skinny, with long brown hair and jean shorts and a halter top. Things were finally beginning to make sense to Miriam.
“Who is she?” she asked Shelton directly.
Shelton smiled, clearly proud of himself. “That’s Wendy. She’s nineteen. Can you believe it?”
The girl waved and approached the group with a smile, her lips bearing the brightest red lipstick Miriam had seen in some time. Her cherub face was enhanced by finely applied makeup from eye shadow to rosy cheeks and mascara that made her look older and more mature, which Shelton explained as being precisely the point.
“Our profile of this creep indicates a taste for mature children who act older than their age. Both April Johnson and Natalie Forester were smart kids, honor roll students, and quite mature for their age as described by their friends and family.”
“Wait a minute,” Miriam said quietly as Wendy approached. “So, she’s your bait?”
