by Roger Hayden
She left the aisle and walked to the registers, choosing the express line, where a man in cargo shorts and a boonie cap was ahead of her purchasing some fruit. Miriam eyed him suspiciously, along with the customers in line at the other registers. The middle-aged cashier rang the man up, asking him about his day, as Miriam glanced at the tabloid magazine rack and then turned to watch the man in cargo shorts walk off with his bag of fruit as the cashier turned to her with a smile.
“How are you doing today, ma’am?”
“Great. How are you?” Miriam asked.
“Doing wonderful, thank you.”
The cashier rang up the Folgers just as the young, blonde-haired girl bagging groceries approached her register and spoke to the cashier almost in confidence. Miriam couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“Walter called in sick today, just to let you know.”
The cashier ran the coffee over the scanner and turned to the bagger. “Are you kidding me? He was supposed to cover my register today.” She paused and looked at her watch. “I have an appointment in an hour.”
The girl shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Sheila told me.”
Fully distracted, the cashier continued as Miriam patiently waited. “What happened? Why did he call in?”
“Heard he was sick. You never know with that weirdo.”
The cashier sighed and ran a hand down her face. “Sick? He was just trained last week. We had a deal.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl said. “Talk to Sheila.”
The cashier turned back to Miriam, visibly stirred, and then tried to feign a smile. “I apologize,” she said. “That will be $6.29.”
“No problem,” Miriam said.
She paid with her card, and as the receipt printed, she had an idea. It might have been a stretch, but the mention of a sick employee piqued her interest. The words they spoke rang out like warning bells—weirdo, called in sick, and trained last week. Could there be any possible connection?
“Excuse me,” Miriam said, taking the receipt. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the girl who vanished from this parking lot the other day. Did anyone get statements from the employees? Do you know of any employees who drive a blue van?”
The cashier looked at Miriam with a reserved expression. “Um. Are you with the police?”
Miriam nodded with a smile. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but yes, I’m assisting with the investigation.”
The cashier shook her head. “I think it’s just terrible what happened to that girl. They spoke to a bunch of us, but no one saw anything. I really hope you find her.”
“And the blue van?” Miriam asked. “Anyone come to mind?”
Pausing, the cashier thought about it. “I don’t think so. I saw the AMBER Alert that day mentioning a blue van, but no one here drives one that I know of.”
Miriam could tell that the last thing the cashier wanted to consider was that one of their employees had played a part in Natalie’s disappearance. She hoped, however, to get the woman to say something, anything, even if by accident.
“What about this Walter individual?” Miriam continued.
The cashier jerked her head back, surprised at the implication. She then looked around as though she wasn’t sure if she should be talking to Miriam in the first place. “Walter?”
“Yes,” Miriam said. “What’s his last name?”
The cashier responded with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know if we can give out that information.”
“It’s okay. I’m just following up. If there’s anything helpful you can provide, that’d be great,” Miriam said in a calm, reassuring tone. She certainly didn’t want to spook the woman.
“No one drives a blue van here that I know of,” the cashier repeated curtly.
“If I could just get his last name please,” Miriam reiterated.
“It’s Browning,” the cashier said. “Walter Browning. But he’s harmless.”
“What kind of vehicle does he drive?” Miriam asked. She could see in the cashier’s flustered face that she was pushing it, but she had come to the Food Mart for answers, not just coffee.
The cashier looked around again and then waved to the man at the customer service desk.
“It’s okay,” Miriam said. “I’m just curious. You do understand that we have to explore all possibilities, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. It’s not my place,” the woman said. “I’m just a cashier.”
The man appeared almost immediately and asked the cashier what the issue was.
“This woman is asking questions about employees,” she said with a nod toward Miriam.
The man eyed her with concern but remained polite. “How can we help you today, ma’am?”
Miriam decided to forego any sense of impropriety and got right to the point. “I’m investigating the case of Natalie Forester, and I have some questions about your employees, Walter Browning being one of them.” She noticed two people waiting behind her in line and stepped away with the man as he walked her to the customer service counter.
Suddenly the cashier called out to Miriam as though she’d had second thoughts. “He drives a red Datsun, just to let you know.”
Miriam turned and thanked her as the man leaned close to her, speaking quietly and with concern about creating a scene. The tag on his vest identified him as the assistant manager. “Look, Ms.…?”
“Sandoval,” Miriam said.
“Ms. Sandoval,” he continued. “We want to help the investigation however we can, but I cannot have my employees being questioned in such a manner.”
“I understand,” Miriam said. “I don’t wish to make anyone uncomfortable. There are just a lot of unanswered questions, and we’re at a crucial time in finding Natalie.”
He folded his hands and leaned back with a nervous nod. “And you’re free to ask us anything you wish. Our team has been more than cooperative the past couple of days. We pray for Natalie’s return, but please, if it’s answers you want, I’d expect something more official, more professional.”
“I understand,” Miriam said, holding the grocery bag of Folgers. “Thank you for your time.”
She turned and left the store, knowing that she wasn’t going to get more information from them without drawing the attention of the police. It was best to take whatever clues she had and leave. Their suspect hadn’t given her anything as he’d promised in his last letter.
She walked outside through the automatic doors, wondering if Walter Browning was a dead end. She stopped and quickly scribbled his name in her pad, noting that he drove a red Datsun, at least according to the cashier.
Just outside the door, her legs froze in place with a brief recollection of the night before. She was sitting at a corner booth in Maddy’s Diner with Detectives Hayes and Shelton, watching the parking lot. She could clearly remember a red Datsun slowly driving by, as though the driver was watching the place. It could be a coincidence, or it could be the piece of a puzzle tying everything together. Nonetheless, she considered it something well worth looking into.
A passing car snapped her back to reality, and she hurried back to the Crown Victoria while looking all around her, not quite out of the woods yet. She dug into her pocket for her cell phone, prepared to call Detective Hayes and tell him about their newest lead, when suddenly she noticed newly placed flyers on the windshields of all the cars in the parking lot, including hers. One glance at the flyer and she could see that it was an ad for an auto parts store. They were having a buy-three-tires-get-one-free sale, stated in big, bold letters. The flyer flapped in the dry wind under the windshield wiper as she approached the car, pressing the remote unlock button on the keychain.
She grabbed her cell phone and scrolled for Hayes’s number. The messages asking her whereabouts had ceased for the moment. She owed them an update at this point, a name at least that could help with the investigation. Her attention then reached to the flyer on her windshield, and as she went to take it off, she noticed writing on the
other side.
She grabbed the flyer and scanned the parking lot, looking for any signs of movement, any remembered changes. A few people walked to their vehicles, carrying bags and pushing carts filled with groceries, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
She couldn’t see if anyone was watching her, but she felt a presence. There was no sign even of the person who had placed the flyers on the windshields, but Miriam had an idea. There had to be a link—a clue the man had mentioned in his last letter.
Miriam ducked inside the car, slamming the door, locking the locks, and feeling safer once she was less exposed. She flipped the flyer around and read the sloppy handwriting as her heart thumped in anticipation.
I waited for you, but you took too long. I’ve taken the liberty, however, of providing you a push in the right direction. All you need to do is to take advantage of Johnson Discount Auto Parts’ amazing deals. For a limited time, promotional code 811VKQ will get you an amazing deal. Hint: look under mufflers. This is all I’m giving you. Remember, don’t tell your buddies on the force. This is between you and me.
The brief message was a further ploy to keep her guessing, and Miriam couldn’t help but go along with it. The thought of the man standing at her vehicle only moments before made her apprehensive about pursuing the matter on her own any further, but Miriam was never one to shy away from confrontation. She put the address of the auto parts store into her GPS and set the cell phone on the center console. She was only two miles away.
Her hand turned the ignition in haste, and she backed out of her parking space. The dashboard clock indicated that she’d been away from the station for some time, but it was the furthest thing on her mind. She was in pursuit of a dangerous man, and nothing was going to get in her way.
The Hunt
Miriam raced through downtown to the auto parts store three blocks ahead. She had managed to pass every intersection with ease, just as each traffic light turned yellow. Now with each clue, the messages seemed to direct her closer to some kind of answer, or so she hoped.
She was certain that whomever had composed the messages had no intention of being caught. No one would willingly give themselves up in such a manner. The man was most likely leading her into a trap. There seemed no other plausible reason for the letters in the first place, but she wasn’t going to allow him to get the better of her.
“Whatever you find here, take it to the station,” she said to herself.
She hadn’t felt the thrill of a pursuit in a long time. Her desk job with the Family Investigation Unit had protected her from fieldwork. As her heart raced with anticipation, she realized that she had missed the thrill of pursuit for some time.
For the first time in the past year, she felt alive and unafraid—an emotion more refreshing than any counseling session could ever provide. She was going to catch the man behind the letters. With only a few days left in Odessa, it was all that mattered.
Miriam slowed at an intersection as Johnson’s Auto Parts came into view. The small building was on her left, in a sandy lot with the mountains silhouetted in the background. She turned at the green traffic arrow and pulled into the front of the store, where a few cars were parked.
The Crown Victoria idled as she took a moment to think. The man could be close by. He could even be waiting inside the store for her, but such a scenario seemed hard to believe. She sent Hayes a text message, promising that she wouldn’t be much longer. It was mostly true. She just didn’t mention her last stop before doing so. Her phone then vibrated with Hayes’s speedy reply: Get back here already.
Angry, just as she expected. She knew that she was pushing it but didn’t want to give up yet. She was getting somewhere. The car pinged as she opened the door and stepped outside, carefully looking all around her for anyone watching.
She grabbed the flyer, stuck it in her pocket, and shut the car door. She approached the store. A bell sounded from above the door as she walked in, eager to investigate. The store had a few customers strolling the aisles, and no one looked her way. There was a clerk at the front counter, a teenager searching through the tail light rack, and a father and son walking down the oil aisle.
Rather than immediately talking to the clerk, Miriam circled the aisles to make sure that she was safe. She then went down an aisle of car parts, stopping at a hanging three-ring binder with a book inside as thick as a phone book. An idea came to her in line with what she had strategized in the car. She opened the book and scanned the muffler section, where various numbers corresponded with vehicle models.
She came across 811VKQ, the same alphanumeric digits written on the back of the flyer, and then located a muffler for a Datsun 510, the very classic model she had envisioned. The connection was clear. All she needed now was an address.
Was the kidnapper willing to give himself up so easily? There had to be a catch. Miriam made note of the muffler type, scrawling the item number into her pocket notepad. She approached the front counter and took a deep breath.
The skinny clerk looked up from his magazine as Miriam approached with her best smile.
“How can I help you today?” he asked.
Miriam handed him the torn piece of paper with the item number on it. “I’d like to see if you have this muffler in stock. It’s for my husband’s Datsun.”
“I’m sure we do. It’s a popular model. Let me just take a quick look in our system and I’ll let you know.” He typed quickly on the keyboard of the outdated computer on the counter as Miriam patiently waited. She could see the green digits of the computer monitor reflect onto his glasses. He nodded with a smile and told her that they had the part in stock.
“How much is it?” she asked.
“Forty-nine ninety-nine,” he responded. “Would you like me to get it?”
Miriam hesitated a moment, thinking. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I only came here to check to see if you had one in stock. Does your store deliver?”
“Yes, ma’am. We do.”
“Can you look to see if my address is in your system?” she asked.
“Sure,” the clerk said while trying to mask his slight confusion. “What’s your phone number?”
Miriam felt her pockets and gave a look of panic. “Darn it. It would be my husband’s number probably. I don’t remember. If I had my cell phone on me…”
“Okay, what’s your husband’s name?” the clerk asked, clearly trying to get things moving along as another customer approached and stood behind Miriam.
“Walter Browning,” Miriam said, her voice lowered. She looked behind her only to find the teenager standing there and scrolling on his cell phone.
The clerk typed quickly and leaned closer to the screen as though he had found something. Miriam grew ecstatic upon seeing a faint address reflected in his glasses. “I have… 2051 Alamo Drive. Is that correct?”
“Sure is,” Miriam said.
The clerk tapped on the desk and looked at Miriam for direction. “So, would you like us to ship the part, or did you want to go ahead and pick it up today?”
“Let me think,” Miriam said, appearing flustered. “Walter wanted me to check on muffler prices, but he didn’t say whether he wanted me to get it. I guess that’s why he always comes here instead.”
“That’s quite all right,” the clerk said, with a look of relief that their business was coming to an end clear on his face. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“That’s all. Thanks, and sorry for the confusion.”
“No problem at all.”
Miriam turned and let the teenager step up with his purchase. She scanned the store on her way out, half expecting her suspect to jump out at her at any moment. Did he plan on her figuring out the address, or were the digits provided meant to further confuse her? Either way, she felt like she had the pieces she needed to close in on her mysterious pen pal and end the entire ordeal.
She looked out the store windows for any new vehicles nearby or someone watching her from a distance. Traf
fic cruised along past the store at a steady rate, with no one seeming to watch the store. She felt safe enough to walk outside, even though he could be near.
What would he think when she drove to the address? Would she find anything at the house of Walter Browning? A thought suddenly occurred to her that her suspect, whoever he was, could very well be pushing her in the direction of an innocent man.
It was at times like this that Miriam felt she could use some guidance from the detectives, her supervisor, or even Lou, but she felt alone and without options. She had gotten too far to simply turn back, feeling both trepidation and excitement at what she would find.
“Just go to the address first, and call for back up from there,” she said to herself while exiting the store.
The car engine hummed as Miriam backed out of her parking spot, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings. If she got even the slightest hint that she was being followed, she would return to the station, but as she pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, no other vehicle appeared in her rearview mirror.
Her phone GPS indicated the address as being a mile and a half from the auto parts store. Arrival in 3 minutes. The thought gave her jitters. Someone was waiting for her. The notes had stopped. Nothing had been left on her windshield and before leaving the auto parts store, she had checked under the car for tracking devices.
She took a left at her first three-way stop as directed by the GPS, driving in silence and deep in thought. The turn brought her into a residential neighborhood with several small and identical two-story town homes packed along the street. The driveways were barely big enough to fit one car, though Miriam had only one vehicle in mind.
Another glance in the rearview mirror showed no one following her, though she could feel his presence. He had to be watching her from somewhere, awaiting her arrival. There were hundreds of possible scenarios before her, and she couldn’t decide on which one was the most likely. Her journey, it seemed, was being fueled by curiosity alone.
No, that wasn’t true. She had a mission.
