THE ABDUCTION OF CASSANDRA

by William Melden

  Dr. Dayle intends to return to his home in College Station as soon as Katherine Anne is able to travel. Details of Mrs. Dayle’s interment will be announced.

  * * *

  Katherine Anne Dayle

  Daily Reflector, College Station, August 26 — Katherine Anne Dayle, 15, of College Station, passed away August 24 in Kissimmee, Florida, following a traffic accident two weeks ago which took the life of her mother, Marcia Tobias Dayle. Katherine Anne was the daughter of Marcia and Dr. Eldon Dayle, and a student at A&M Unified High School, where she was a leader in various student and service groups and a member of the girls’ swimming and basketball teams. After a valiant struggle in the Intensive Care Unit at Osceola Regional Medical Center, Katherine lost her battle at 3:26 a.m. on the 24th. Following their cremation at Hadleigh Funeral Home in Kissimmee, Dr. Dayle will return to College Station with the earthly remains of Katherine Anne and her mother. No memorial services have been announced. Dr. Dayle has asked that, in lieu of flowers, contributions be made to the University, or the American Humanist Association.

  * * *

  DAYLE HONORED AT RETIREMENT

  Daily Reflector, College Station, May 3 — Dr. Eldon Dayle was honored with a retirement dinner in his behalf last night at the Brazos Country Club.

  Dr. Dayle, an academic prodigy, joined the A&M faculty 35 years ago, at the age of 23. He was Associate Professor of Biochemistry for ten years, and became Professor of Biochemistry and Molecular Microbiology 20 years ago. Although his scholarship and contributions to his field will be missed, Dr. Dayle has elected to take early retirement. He has not announced his subsequent plans.

  * * * * *

  His eyes were dry. He closed the scrapbook and returned it to the desk drawer. As though coming out of a trance, he reached for the fountain pen. Then the hissing voice returned. “Do you remember now? Are you ready to quit dawdling, and do your job?”

  Dayle cleared his throat and looked up at the video monitors, watching the workmen renovating the white room. “I’m ready,” he replied, his eyes full of tears.

  CHAPTER NINE: Strawberries

  Chad Walker slouched in a leather wing chair in his father’s office.

  His father, sitting at his desk, shuffled some papers and looked up at him. He contemplated his son: 5’11, 185 lbs, the hard, lean body of an athlete, but not muscle-bound. I’m surprised he’s not, Mayor Walker thought. As much time as he spends with those barbells . . . I guess Coach Coleman keeps an eye on things like that. He considered the boy’s buzz-cut blonde hair and chiseled features. He got his mother’s looks. He can be grateful for that.

  The phone beeped on his desk and he picked it up. “Yes, Louise?”

  “Agent Maclean is here, sir.”

  “All right, thank you. Give us two minutes, then send her in.” He hung up.

  Straightening up from his slump, his left leg no longer draped over the arm of the chair, Chad made himself presentable. Mustn’t give the wrong impression to the Mayor’s guests! He smoothed out the creases in his blue shirt and glanced down at the cargo pants and leather boat shoes, worn without socks. “Why are we doing this here, Dad?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it have been more private at home?”

  “Yes it would,” his father agreed. “That’s why we’re having it here.” His son looked confused. “Chad, you’ve done nothing wrong. We have nothing to hide. There are always reporters hanging around City Hall, and if they see an FBI agent visiting the Mayor’s office, we want them to know exactly why it’s happening. That it’s not a story. If anyone saw them coming to our home, they’d think it was a personal problem.”

  “And you couldn’t wring any sympathy votes out of that, could you?” The bitterness in his voice made his father almost wince, but the man was practiced at hiding his reactions.

  “I know this is tough for you, son,” he said, “and that you’re under a lot of pressure. But show some respect. Especially with this Agent Maclean.”

  “Whatever,” Chad muttered.

  The office door opened and the secretary stepped in. What a hottie, Chad thought. She must be 60 years old, she can’t even weigh 100 pounds, and she’s probably never been with a man in her whole life. . . . Well, so what. Dad says she gets the work done. His father glanced up at the woman, who had been with him since his first campaign. “Mister Mayor, this is Agent Maclean of the FBI. Agent Maclean, this is Mayor Walker.” As soon as the visitor stepped through the door, the secretary slipped out silently, closing the door behind her.

  The Mayor stood and extended his hand as the young woman approached. “Hello, Agent Maclean. I’m Bob Walker.”

  Chad closed his eyes and sighed. Good old Bob, he thought. Just one of the folks.

  “Thank you for making time for me, sir.” She shook his hand, then turned and smiled at the son, who was standing. “And you’re Chad. How are you holding up?”

  This wasn’t what I expected at all, Chad thought. How old is this woman? She’s not bad, not bad at all. “Um, I guess I’m holding up okay, Agent Maclean. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Maclean said. “Sit down, please. No need to be formal.” She turned to Chad’s father, as Chad’s eyes devoured her. She knows how to wear a pantsuit! Not too tight . . . but wow, not too loose! And that yellow blouse . . . she oughtta undo a couple of those buttons. He sat back down as the agent turned to his father.

  She didn’t sit. “As I say, Mr. Mayor, I appreciate your time, and Chad’s. But I won’t take up much of yours. Is there a room someplace where I could chat with your son privately?”

  Mayor Walker’s eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. “Pardon me, Agent Maclean, but why is that necessary? The Yorkville police have already interviewed Chad. We agreed to this additional meeting as a courtesy. Is my son being interrogated about something?”

  “No sir, not at all. It’s simply Bureau policy to interview crime victims individually if possible. And because of Chad’s relationship with Cassandra Hixson, the Bureau considers him a crime victim. May I ask which officer in the Yorkville police spoke with him?”

  As he sat back down, Walker eyed the woman in a much different way than his son had done: not as a female, but as a potential problem. “I’ll answer that, Agent Maclean, and then I’ll ask you a question. All right?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” she replied.

  “The investigation is being headed up by Lieutenant Jerry Peacock, of the Major Crimes Unit. He was given that assignment at my personal request, a request which Commissioner Turner and Chief McFalls endorsed. As you’ve pointed out, my family has a personal interest in this case. Lieutenant Peacock spoke to Chad. Now, my question for you. I’m sure you’re excellent at your job, but why wasn’t the senior agent in this investigation sent to interview my son?”

  Shannon Maclean steamed inside, but maintained an icy composure. “Special Agent Burgess is very busy with trying to identify and locate the kidnappers, sir. I’m handling most of the interviews. Now, if there’s a place where Chad and I can talk?”

  “Very well,” Walker replied. “There’s a small conference room two doors down the hall, where I have morning meetings with my staff. Ms. Byrd can show you where it is. If I can be of assistance, let me know.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Mayor. I appreciate it.”

  A few moments later, the secretary had escorted the two to the unused room. Chad settled into one of the seats at the conference table. The agent sat directly opposite him, opening her ever-present leather folder and pulling out a yellow legal pad.

  “No tape recorder?” Chad asked, watching her.

  “Nope. As I told your dad, this isn’t an interrogation. I’m not gathering evidence against you. I’m just hoping you can help me.”

  “Maybe. I mean, I hope so.”

  She was looking at the pad, scribbling the time and date. She looked up at him and flashed a smile. “Okay, we’re all set. Let me tell you up front, I won’t be asking you any embarrassing or incriminating questions.
I’m not interested in your sexual relationship with Cassandra, or whether you smoke weed together. If there are any questions you’re uncomfortable with, let me know. Fair?”

  “Sure,” he replied. He laughed, but without humor. “I’ll even tell you about those things. Cassie and I have never hooked up. Just a little making out. She doesn’t go for it. And if I smoked weed, Coach Coleman would cut me from the team.” He sat up a little straighter. “I’m a running back.”

  “So I’ve heard,” the agent said. “As a matter of fact, I’ll be interviewing Mr. Coleman, too. We interview everybody.” She rolled her eyes, as if to say how boring the job was, trying to establish a rapport.

  She made a note. “She doesn’t go for hooking up.” Not, “She wouldn’t go for it.” He’s tried.

  “Sounds pretty dull,” Chad commented. I wonder if she goes for it? I don’t see a wedding ring. “Anyway, I’d like to be quarterback, and probably would be if I were at McCallie or Montgomery Bell. But Dad wants me to go to West York Academy. It’s a charter school, not private.” He shrugged, as if it he didn’t care, although he clearly did.

  “Why is that?” Maclean asked. “I mean, why not McCallie or Montgomery Bell?”

  He scratched his head. “West York is a charter school, but it’s part of the city system. Dad wants to show his support for public education.” A note of resentment tinged his reply.

  “I see. Well, that brings up my first question. Cassandra’s home schooled, and you go to West York. How did you meet?”

  “We met at church, when we were kids. We both go to Shiloh Community Church. She’s really active in the youth group, and I’m the vice-president. Anyway, we never paid much attention to each other until high school.”

  Maclean was writing rapidly, not looking up at him. “So she’s very active in the group, and you’re vice-president.” She suddenly looked up at him, studying his face. “Why not president? You’re probably popular enough.”

  “I don’t know, maybe I am, maybe not,” he replied. Is she complimenting me? Sure she is. I saw how she looked at me. But she’d never say so. “Actually, I didn’t even care about being vice-president. I’m not, let’s say, as religious as a lot of the people. I mean, I see things kinda differently. But they wanted to make me something, so it was vice-president. It was, um, unanimous.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m only at the meetings about half the time. Do you go to church?”

  This kid is trying to impress me, the agent thought. He actually thinks he’s succeeding. Do the girls at school really think this boy is interesting? “With all due respect, Chad, we’re here to talk about you, not me.”

  His face reddened, like he’d been slapped in the face, but he quickly recovered. “Yeah, sure, Agent Maclean. It’s none of my business.” He gave her his most sheepish smile, the one that the girls found so adorable.

  “You say that you see things differently,” she continued. “That you’re not quite as religious. I appreciate your honesty. Does that create any problems with Cassandra?”

  He looked down, suddenly very interested in the tabletop. “We don’t talk about it very much. Hey, we believe the same stuff, right? We go to the same church. But she just . . . it’s like the most important thing in the world to her. And . . . I don’t want to sound like a hypocrite . . . it’s important to me, too, but not like that.” He looked up at her suddenly, searching her face. “You know what I mean?”

  “I . . . think so,” she said slowly. “Tell me if I’m wrong, Chad. It’s like religion, Jesus, whatever . . . you believe it with your head. Cassandra believes it with her heart. Just two ways of looking at it. Does that sound about right?” She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t said the wrong thing.

  To her surprise, he grinned, and slapped his hand on the table. “Yes! That’s just right. I’m not an atheist or a Jew or anything. I believe in Jesus. I even belong to the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. But it’s not like my whole world revolves around it. And you know what, Agent Maclean? Cassie — Cassandra — she knows that’s how I feel. She accepts it. And I accept . . . well, never mind.”

  “Accept what, Chad?”

  He looked down at the table. “Um, what we said earlier. Hooking up. She says she’s waiting until she’s married. I don’t pressure her.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t pressure her about sex, and she doesn’t hit me over the head with the Bible. See what I’m sayin’?”

  “Yes,” she answered quickly, nodding her head. “I really do understand. The two of you have . . . an unspoken understanding.”

  “Right!” he exclaimed. This woman is not only hot, she’s smart. Now the words began to pour out, unbidden. “See, Agent Maclean . . . the other guys on the team . . . most of ‘em are hooking up all the time. They brag about it. The girls, too. And some of ‘em get drunk, or smoke weed, like you said. That’s okay for them, but I can’t do any of it. I can’t even do much with my Snapchat, I have to give this really boring image. I’m the Mayor’s son. It’s like, the big rule in my house is no scandal. The other guys on the team show me all these nudes they’ve traded with girls, on their phones. . . . If I did that once, Dad would probably pull me off the football team.” He paused. “Cassie and me . . . we make a good couple. For dates and such. She’s got a boyfriend, I’ve got a girlfriend. Everything’s ‘proper.’ I wish . . . I wish I could just be normal. But I can’t, at least until I get to college, away from Yorkville. So . . . our English teacher was talking about this thing . . . maybe it was from Romeo and Juliet . . . what do you call it? A marriage . . .” He struggled to remember the phrase.

  “A marriage of convenience?”

  “Yes! That’s just what she said.” He looked relieved. This was a conversation he’d never had with anyone, and it felt good to get it off his chest.

  “Chad, you and Cassandra aren’t the only people with that kind of relationship. Maybe it’ll change. Anything can happen when you get to college, you know.”

  “She’ll get there before I do,” he said, frowning. “I don’t understand it. She’s home schooled, and I’m a few months older than she is. But she gets to graduate a whole year before me, partly because I lost so much school time because of that stupid Chinese virus. And it’s not like I’m a bad student. I’ve got a 2.8 GPA. But she’s just so far ahead. . . .” His voice trailed off. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  The agent made another note. A whole 2.8, huh? Not exactly a whiz in the academic department . .. and he talks like he’s the only kid in the country who was affected by the COVID pandemic. “Okay, one more question. I’ve already heard, from another student, that there are cliques all over the place, and jealousies. I’d expect that in any school, or with any group of people. You and I both know that’s how the world works, right?”

  He snorted. “Tell me all about it! My dad’s a politician, right?”

  She paused, taken aback by his bitterness. “I get the idea you don’t like being a politician’s son.”

  “You got it. I live under a magnifying glass. I’m supposed to be perfect. I wish he were still a lawyer. He made more money doing that, too. We had privacy. And now they’re planning to run him for the Senate. We might have to move to Washington. It sucks!”

  She waited until she was sure he was finished. “I understand, Chad. Public service is fine, but it’s not much of a deal for the families, is it?” He shook his head, looking down at the table. “Anyway, back to the subject. Jealousies and rivalries aside, can you think of anyone who’d really like to hurt Cassandra? Get her out of the way? Get revenge on her for something, maybe?”

  He sat and thought, chewing on his lower lip. After a few minutes, he shook his head. “No. Sure, some girls hate Cassie. Some guys hate me. But really hurt her? No, I can’t think of anybody.”

  She nodded her head and slipped the yellow pad into her folder. “Thank you, Chad. You’ve been a big help.”

  “Hey, you too. You ought to be a shrink or something. You know how to talk to people.”<
br />
  “Thank you. Now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me? About this case, I mean,” she added, smiling.

  He paused again, then cocked his head to one side. “No, I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll think of something later. You really helped me understand things. I mean, about Cassie and me. Thanks.”

  She slipped a business card out of a small case. “If you think of anything else, give Agent Burgess a call. He’s a very nice guy, and as you heard, he’s the agent in charge of the case.” She slid the card across the table.

  “That’s it? We’re through?” He sat up straight and slipped the card into his hip pocket.