The Abducted Super Boxset: A Small Town Kidnapping Mystery

by Roger Hayden

  Miriam paused, resting her chin in her hand, elbow propped on the table, and then quickly opened his notebook marked “journal.” She displayed page after page of his deranged handwriting with the same sentence repeated: Make them pay. “That’s what it’s all about,” she continued. “Anabelle Turner was kidnapped and held in that cabin sixteen years ago. I think, through some perverse fantasy, he’s playing it all out again.”

  Shelton’s eyes widened. “Which means…”

  Miriam turned to him with a serious expression. “That he’s not going to give himself up willingly. April’s life is in immediate danger.”

  Sensing urgency, Pinkerton looked at Murphy. “Do we have any record on the exact location of this cabin?”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Murphy said. “Is there anyone with the Ector County PD who were on-ground back then?”

  Shelton shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve only been with the department for two years.”

  “Well, we need to find out,” Pinkerton said. “And then we need to get a team out there immediately.”

  Miriam felt vindicated as the agents rose from their seats, appearing to spring into action.

  “Was there anything else?” Pinkerton asked her.

  “That’s my main theory,” Miriam said.

  “And it’s a good one. We appreciate your help. Now, I’d suggest you finish any statements you have with the department and return to your jurisdiction immediately. Certain parts of this case need to remain under wraps until the Bureau finishes its review of the county’s procedures and accountability, beginning with bringing you on board. For your sake and theirs, I hope it all plays out in your favor.”

  Her words were like a punch in Miriam’s gut, though she didn’t find them unexpected. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I mean, there were mistakes, but that’s what led me here,” she said as Shelton touched her arm, sending a subtle message. “It’s true,” she continued, turning toward him. Her face reddened when facing the agents again. She could feel their judgment no matter how much it remained concealed behind politeness.

  “Personally, I think you’ve done some remarkable things,” Pinkerton said. “But procedures are procedures, and it’s never acceptable to ignore them. You were a detective, Lieutenant Sandoval. You should understand that.”

  For the moment, she almost felt relieved. What was she doing there anyway? Lou was upset with her. Her family was in danger. She was in hot water with the Ector County Police Department and her own. Her chest hurt like hell, and Trudeau was still on the loose. Perhaps Agent Pinkerton was right. It was time to go home.

  “I was only trying to catch him,” she said. “And save those girls…”

  Pinkerton turned to look at Shelton without response. “Please make sure she gets on her flight safely.” She shook Miriam’s hand first, followed by Agent Murphy.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” he said to Miriam. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Agent Pinkerton handed Miriam her card. “I’ll let you know what we find at the cabin.”

  Miriam took her card and placed it in her pocket, thanking her. She then turned around to hide her sadness while looking out into Trudeau’s empty backyard.

  Shelton touched her shoulder and offered some momentary solace. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. They’re in charge now.”

  “I understand,” Miriam said, facing him. “It’s not about me. I can’t rest until they find April. This is torture.”

  “You’re torn, I get it. But it’s not your responsibility anymore,” he said.

  “I know,” Miriam said. “It doesn’t make it easier.”

  They stared out the window together, both feeling the weight and exhaustion of the past few days. Their moment of peace ended suddenly when the cordless phone on the table rang. Heads turned toward them from all directions. Miriam spun around and looked down as Detective Hayes appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and told her to pick it up.

  “Everything’s ready,” he said. “If that’s him. Make sure to keep him on the line.” He then directed two detectives in the kitchen to activate the recording device connected to the phone line.

  Miriam took the phone, wondering if Trudeau was foolish enough to call again or if it was Lou. Their last conversation hadn’t ended well and she hoped to make amends. Special Agent Pinkerton and Special Agent Murphy entered the room with others as all eyes went to Miriam.

  “Hello?”

  Her ears were met with crackling distortion, different from any of the calls she had taken from Lou. No. This was someone else. Someone on what sounded like a satellite phone.

  “Hello, Miriam,” Trudeau said. His voice was distant and barely audible. She pressed the phone receiver against her ear while giving Hayes a thumb’s up. FBI agents crowded the table with others listening in the kitchen.

  “Dr. Trudeau,” she continued. “How’s April?”

  “Fine,” he said. “Are you still at my house?”

  “There’s many of us here, yes. Can I speak with April, please?”

  Trudeau laughed, followed by a pained cough. “You really did a number on me. Shoulder hurts like hell. I guess I shouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. But you have that effect on people, Miriam.”

  “What do you want?” she said.

  “Just wanted to talk and see how you’re doing. Not much to do out here.”

  Out here? She couldn’t believe he had said it, and from his hasty correction, neither could he. “I mean, North Dakota is boring as hell, you know?”

  “Is that where you are?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. I wanted to ask you, Miriam. Do you think that I’m a bad guy?”

  She thought to herself then answered, doing her best to stay nice but honest. He’d call her on it if she wasn’t honest. “Three detectives are dead because of you. Men with families. Despite that, I’ve reserved judgment of your character until you are brought to trial.”

  “Nice textbook response,” he said, satisfied. “I’m glad that you’ve decided to reserve judgment. I was a man wronged, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now. Someone has to pay the price.”

  “I agree, but it shouldn’t be April. Please let her go and we can talk about this. You deserve justice for what happened to you.”

  His tone suddenly shifted to anger. “Oh, come on. You think I’m an idiot? I’m a therapist, Miriam, and I can convince most people of anything.”

  “I know,” Miriam said. “I’ve read about what happened. And it was wrong. Anabelle shouldn’t have died that day.”

  “Don’t you say her name!” he shouted. “Maybe I should pay your family a visit as originally planned and then we can talk about what ‘shouldn’t’ have happened.”

  “I’m sorry,” Miriam said. “Please. I need to know April is okay. Let me talk to her.”

  She heard him hold the phone out as his voice became more distant. “April, are you okay?” A pause followed and Miriam heard nothing. Trudeau’s voice came back as he continued. “See? That’s all I can get from her. Nothing. But I’m sure she’ll come around soon.”

  “Dr. Trudeau…”

  “What?” he asked, anger rising. He wouldn’t let her talk. “Why don’t you get the hell out of my house? You people have got some nerve. I should sue…” His anger then dropped as he followed with a more apologetic tone and what sounded like an ironic laugh. “I’m sorry. I admit, I was watching you and your family for months, full of envy. You have it all.”

  “Tell me where you are,” Miriam said.

  She was met with a long pause, and for a moment she thought he was gone. But then his breathing resumed.

  “You’re the detective, Miriam. You figure it out. Goodbye.”

  “Wait! Wait!” But he had hung up, leaving her perplexed. She looked up at the faces watching her and lowered the phone, unsure of what to say.

  “Detective Hayes, did you get all that?” she asked.

  Hayes walked in from the kitchen. “We recorded
the call, but we weren’t able to determine his location. He’s not using a cell phone.”

  Agent Pinkerton stepped forward. “That’s because he’s using a satellite phone.” She then looked at Miriam, reserved but impressed-looking. “Good work, Lieutenant Sandoval. You handled him very well.”

  “Thank you,” Miriam said. “We could always pull background noise from the call and see what we come up with.”

  “We’re working on it now,” Hayes said before he headed back to the kitchen.

  Agent Pinkerton then turned to address the other agents. “I want to assemble a team to go to Wolf Creek. We need police and SWAT on board.” She then turned back around and looked at Miriam while continuing her briefing. “I’d also like Lieutenant Sandoval to be present. If anyone can get Dr. Trudeau to peacefully surrender, she’s the only hope we may have.”

  Agent Murphy perked up next to her, surprised and looking at his watch. “But she’s due back home in two hours.”

  “Not anymore,” Pinkerton said. “That is, if she doesn’t mind. Lieutenant Sandoval, it’s completely up to you.”

  She could sense every detective, police officer, and FBI agent in the room staring at her, adding to the weight and pressure of her decision. For her, there was only one answer.

  “I’m in.”

  ***

  Sergeant Timothy Bennett of the Odessa County Police Station remembered the tragic incident sixteen years ago at Wolf Creek. Back then, he was a rookie cop assigned to a security detail team who simply held a checkpoint a half mile from the cabin where Anabelle Turner was being held captive. He hadn’t witnessed the raid or what had gone wrong, but he did remember the aftermath and the internal investigation that followed. The department was soon cleared of any wrongdoing and the lawsuit against the county by the parents was ruled out, concluding that there had been no negligence on the part of the officers.

  “I always thought it was a little strange what had happened out there,” he said, sitting in the back seat with Miriam as their vehicle headed toward Wolf Creek. “Something wasn’t right. There was a real hush-hush reaction after it happened.”

  He then removed his police hat and ran a hand through his short gray hair. “There was this feeling back then that we weren’t going to let some wealthy out-of-towners us look bad, despite what happened to their daughter. I knew it was wrong, but what could I say? I was just a rookie.”

  “And you never recognized Dr. Trudeau as Anabelle’s father?” Miriam asked.

  “Can’t say that I did. We all kind of blocked that whole case out of our heads after that poor girl died. No one wanted to think about it. Heck, most of the people on the ground that day are now either retired or moved on.”

  Miriam dug into her purse and pulled out some photos taken from Trudeau’s scrapbook of the smiling family at the park and the girl with the strawberry-blonde hair. She slipped Anabelle’s photo into her pocket and the rest back in her purse.

  “I believe that the only way we’re going to get Trudeau to surrender is if we make him remember who he was before any of this happened. Reconnect him with his humanity.”

  Agent Pinkerton turned her head back, seemingly in agreement. “Whatever it takes to get him out of that cabin unarmed.”

  “If he’s even there,” Agent Murphy added at the wheel.

  “You have your doubts?” Pinkerton asked, adjusting her sunglasses.

  “Seems like a shot in the dark,” Murphy said. “But it’s worth looking into.”

  Sergeant Bennett leaned forward to offer his own bit of advice. “You know, a little reconnaissance never hurts. Maybe you should have sent a scout team first.”

  Agent Pinkerton smiled, amused by the slight jab. “There’s little time to spare, Sergeant. But thanks for your frank assessment.”

  With Sergeant Bennett’s knowledge of the area, the FBI had hastily assembled a tactical team to travel the seemingly untouched wilderness through Wolf Creek, fifty miles from Trudeau’s ranch house. Along the way, they passed hiking trails, campers, and hunters. They passed families and RVs, with forest as far as the eye could see. It looked like the kind of place people could go when they didn’t want to be found.

  Miriam sat in the lead SUV with Sergeant Bennett as a line of vehicles followed them: black SUVs, Land Cruisers, police cars, and a SWAT van. They had been on the road for forty minutes, entering a lush green rural landscape of rolling hills and darkened forest extending for miles, a yesteryear of a land seemingly uncharted. It only seemed natural that Trudeau would flee to such an area under the cover of darkness.

  Detective Hayes and Detective Shelton were behind them, Shelton at the wheel of their Land Cruiser. Farther back, police cars, with their lights flashing, followed as an FBI helicopter hovered overhead. In all, their convoy consisted of over ten federal agents, six detectives, four police officers, and an eight-person SWAT team.

  Their large assemblage comprised of what the FBI hoped would be an effective tactical search team who could secure the cabin, rescue April, and take Trudeau into custody. There was a general feeling that he was there despite little evidence beyond Miriam’s hunch. If he wasn’t, they’d have to go back to the drawing board.

  During the trip so far, Sergeant Bennett had periodically navigated the way without even a map to re-jog his memory. He seemed to remember the area well.

  “We’re looking for a specific dirt road,” he told them. “And once we find that road, the cabin is a good mile, mile and a half in the forest.”

  “Do we know if the cabin is still standing after all this time?” Agent Murphy asked, looking around from behind the wheel.

  Agent Pinkerton lowered the volume on the police radio affixed to the dashboard. “We don’t, but we did find something interesting in Desmond Turner’s financial records.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “A thirteen-hundred-dollar land purchase two years after his daughter’s death for a ‘camp site.’ The location, Wolf Creek.”

  Murphy showed a look of shock and disgust. “You mean that he bought the very cabin where his daughter was killed?”

  Miriam wasn’t surprised at the finding. Deep in thought, her attention turned to the blur of trees and flashes of sunlight passing outside the window. The FBI had shown faith in her with the way she had handled Trudeau on the phone. They had switched their decision to send her back home, partly, she believed, because they wanted to wrap the case up as soon as possible. She was glad to be there, but also doubted that her words alone could bring Trudeau to surrender. Somewhere in his twisted mind, there had to be the man he used to be.

  Agent Murphy slowed the vehicle as they passed over a set of old train tracks in the road, weeds sprouting down the rails on both sides. The white X railroad crossing sign was rusted and its letters were barely visible. Many of the roads they had passed looked like they had been forgotten by time—pavement faded and neglected with undergrowth sprouting from cracks.

  “Turn right,” Sergeant Bennett said as they neared an intersection with stop signs at each corner.

  The rusted red sign in front of them had what looked like bullet holes through it. Miriam could only imagine. The road to their right narrowed into a single lane where grass covered what was left of the pavement. Agent Murphy and Pinkerton looked around, examining their surroundings, as the SUV idled with a line of vehicles behind them.

  Sergeant Bennett paused, thinking to himself. For a moment, he seemed lost. Miriam looked at him with concern as his eyes darted nervously between the road to their right and a fork in the road ahead. He then snapped his fingers as though it all came back to him. “Okay. After you turn right, like I said, you go down that way for about half a mile I think, and then you’ll come to a dirt road on your left. That’s where I was sixteen years ago, pulling watch.”

  “Are you sure?” Agent Murphy asked, turning onto the bumpy dirt road.

  “Sure am,” Sergeant Bennett replied. “Stood on this road for two days. Could have been lo
nger. Didn’t think the ordeal would ever end.”

  The convoy followed as the helicopter above them increased its altitude and flew into the distance. Miriam could hear the pilot as Agent Pinkerton turned up the volume on the dashboard radio.

  “No structure in sight just yet. Going to circle the area and see what I can find.”

  They continued down the uneven dirt road as it curved and narrowed. Potholes as large as saucers rocked the SUV as they dipped and rose, tires digging into soft sand.

  “Yep,” Sergeant Bennett said. “This is the road, all right.”

  “We’re counting on you, Sergeant,” Agent Pinkerton said, hand clutching a radio mic from her waist belt, which contained her portable two-way.

  “If either of you know a better route, feel free,” he said, sensing their doubt. Miriam could feel it too. Both agents were passive aggressive in their own way.

  Agent Murphy glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Is there anyone who can offer a second opinion?”

  Sergeant Bennett shrugged. “Not that I know of. Back then, there were county and local police on the scene. Seemed like everyone. Everyone wanted this guy, Willie Malone. Today I look around and wonder where they all went.”

  “Was it really that big of a stain on the department?” Agent Murphy asked. “It’s not like they pulled the trigger.”

  Bennett held his hands out. “Call it a coincidence, but there’s not a single person involved in that raid who is still on the force.”

  Their SUV approached what appeared to be a dead end. Trees blocked their path ahead for as far as anyone could see.

  “What is this shit?” Agent Murphy said, groaning with frustration.

  Undeterred, Agent Pinkerton turned around to face Sergeant Bennett as Murphy smacked the steering wheel, his frustration growing by the minute. “You say they’ve all left, but there had to be someone within the department who had recognized Dr. Trudeau as Anabelle’s father. The story was all over the news.”

  “Time marches on,” Sergeant Bennett said. “Guess if you’re someone who remembers faces really well, he’d be easy to spot. I’d say that he had played us all for fools.”