by Roger Hayden
The distorted voice on the end of Walter Browning’s home phone taunted Miriam with the same calm assurance evident in the letters. It was him all right. He boasted about having April, the other kidnapped girl, in his “possession.” The call was brief and without any details. Walter, it seemed, was only a part of the kidnappings. Her mystery man on the other phone was the other.
“I have April right here,” he had said. “Walter was just a primer to get things going. Think you can solve this thing without my help? It’s going to be exceedingly difficult, but I wish you luck.”
The call cut off before she could say much more. She tried to call the police, but the line was dead. It was no coincidence, she believed.
“Come on, Natalie,” she said, brushing back the frightened girl’s sweaty bangs. “We have to go now.”
Curled in a ball under the sheets, Natalie whimpered at first, but then seemed to understand that she was finally safe. There were bruises on her tear-soaked face and her right hand was handcuffed to the bed railing. Miriam examined the railing in haste, searching for a way to free Natalie. The thought of the other man closing in on them filled her with dread.
He knew that she was in the house. He had likely heard the gunshots and surmised that Walter had been taken out. Why else would he congratulate her? But what he didn’t know was that her cell phone had been damaged. He had to suspect that she would be calling the police, wouldn’t he? Then it occurred to Miriam that he knew more about her than she could contend with, starting with the fact that she had pursued Walter Browning alone. He could bust through the door any minute.
Miriam yanked at the cuffs in frustration while noticing the red marks they had made around Natalie’s wrist. Walter Browning’s dead body still lay on the floor in the living room. There were no sirens wailing in the distance. No police battering down the door. They were sitting ducks.
Miriam’s hands moved along the railing, looking for a spot to detach them from the bed. She tried her best to comfort Natalie with reassurances while feeling along a small latch on the railing under the bed. She assumed there to be another latch on the other side of the bed and discovered as much with a simple click. Relieved, Miriam disconnected the railing bar and slid Natalie’s handcuff off the top bar, freeing her.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” Miriam said, pulling her closer. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
Natalie spun her head around with her eyes widened toward the door. “Where is he?”
Miriam squeezed Natalie close and rubbed her head. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
She then guided the frightened girl off her bed and led her out of the room by hand. As they reached the hallway with the living room in view, Miriam held her back. She could see the black socks on Walter’s feet just beyond a footstool.
“Keep your eyes down, honey, and follow me out the back,” she said.
Natalie nodded, not only looking downward but closing her eyes in the process. Miriam turned right and entered the kitchen where there was a sliding glass door leading into the backyard. She pulled the curtain back and slid the door open as the early afternoon sun shone into their faces.
She planned to go out through the backyard. With one hand in Natalie’s and the other gripping her 9mm Beretta pistol, Miriam moved down the steps leading to the barren fenced-in yard past three dusty lawn chairs and toward the fence gate on the side of the house.
“You can open your eyes now,” Miriam said.
Natalie squinted with her head down. Her oversized T-shirt went down to her knees. She had socks on but no shoes. But it was time to move, and Miriam wanted them anywhere else but in the house.
“Stay with me now. We’re almost there,” she continued.
They made it around the side of the house and out the gate. Miriam kept along the side of the house, staying hidden in the shade, and peered out into the driveway where the red Datsun that had alerted her to the house sat.
The neighborhood street was quiet beyond the distant rumble of an airplane flying high overhead. Their best bet, Miriam believed, was to get to a neighbor’s house and use their phone. There might still be hope for April yet.
As Miriam prepared to emerge from the shadows with Natalie at her side, a troubling sight caught her attention below. A phone line leading directly into the side of Walter’s wall had been cut. She moved away and examined the line, snipped perfectly in half. It was no accident. Walter’s phone line had been cut immediately after the man talked to her. She was now standing in the same spot where he had been. She knew it.
Her eyes darted around nervously as she backed against the wall with Natalie, holding the girl at bay. He could be anywhere, watching them. She could hardly fathom the idea that he had been standing outside only a few moments ago, unless, of course, there were others.
The thought sent chills down her spine. It would certainly explain how he seemed to be in so many places at once. What kind of missing person’s case had she gotten herself involved in? Nonetheless, it was time to move.
The neighbor’s house to the left looked promising. There was a blue Honda Civic in the driveway and she could hear something shuffling around in the closed garage. It was unusual that no one had heard the multiple gunshots coming from inside Walter’s house. Or if they had, no one had seemed to act.
“Let’s go,” she said, gripping Natalie’s hand.
She moved fast as Natalie impressively kept up with her pace. They scurried across the neighbor’s yard and to the front door, banging on it. “Ector County Police. Open up!” she said. It wasn’t the exact truth, but it was close enough. She stood there for a minute with Natalie at her side, waiting, but no one answered the door. She tried to consider the windows, but the blinds were drawn.
Not wanting to create more of a scene than she already had, Miriam looked to the house next door. There was no car in the driveway, only two closed garbage cans at the end and a mailbox with the flag up. Farther ahead, she could see some people standing in their yards and a car turn onto the street driving toward them. What she wanted was shelter, a place where she could get Natalie out of the open.
There was no telling where the “voice” on the phone was or whoever he had working with him. Walter Browning, it seemed, was one of how many she did not know. A conspiracy of such magnitude in a town so small was impossible. At least that’s what Miriam’s better instincts told her.
She pushed on, trying to remain focused, and led Natalie to the next house as the sun beamed on them. She knocked on the door with the same amount of force, but this time concealed her pistol with only her badge at the ready. The door opened and revealed an older woman who looked to be in her late sixties, wearing a muumuu, flip flops, her gray hair in curlers.
“You scared the bejeezus out of me!” she said at first.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Miriam began with her badge held up. “I’m Lieutenant Miriam Sandoval with the Ector County PD. Can we come inside your house for a moment? It’s an emergency.”
The woman squinted ahead, examining the badge. She lifted the glasses hanging from a string around her neck and examined it further. If she had a question about the Phoenix PD info on her badge, Miriam was sure she’d have an explanation. The woman then glanced at Natalie with concern upon seeing the purple bruise across the side of her face.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” the woman asked.
Natalie gave her a blank stare in response.
“She needs medical help,” Miriam said. “That’s why we need to use your phone.”
The woman nodded and stepped aside for them to enter, and Miriam didn’t waste any time.
“I’m Agnes, by the way,” the woman said. “Agnes Collins.”
“Ms. Collins, I’m afraid there’s been an incident a few houses down from you. But I promise that we won’t take up too much of your time.”
Agnes waved Miriam off as though it wasn’t an issue and then led them to her pastel-tiled kitchen where an old circu
lar table sat in the middle with three chairs, a small basket of fruit in the middle. Miriam pulled a chair out for Natalie to sit as Agnes went to her refrigerator and offered them a drink or snack.
“Just some water for Natalie, please,” Miriam said.
Agnes grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it from a jug of water in the fridge as Miriam went to the old-fashioned green phone hanging on the wall. She almost asked Agnes if it even worked but answered her own question with the coming of the dial tone in her ear. The handcuff dangled from Natalie’s arm as she sat, drawing questions from Agnes in return.
“Goodness. Why are you wearing handcuffs?”
Natalie took the water and nearly gulped it down in one sitting. “I don’t know,” she said in a soft voice after taking a deep breath. “He put them on me.”
“911?” Miriam said. “My name is Lieutenant Miriam Sandoval with the Phoenix PD. There’s been a shooting at 2051 Alamo Drive. The perpetrator, Walter Browning, is dead. I’ll be waiting for you at the scene. Please tell Detective Hayes and Detective Shelton.”
A pause on the other end indicated slight confusion on the part of the female operator.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” Miriam continued. “Just please send them out here now.”
“The man…” she said. “How did he die?”
“I shot him,” Miriam continued. “After he tried to shoot me.”
“I’m trying to get a car out there, but many of them are tied up right now,” the operator said.
Miriam thought to herself with worry. They were probably occupied with the sting operation, but none of that mattered now to Miriam. April Johnson was still missing, and her alleged kidnapper was still at large.
“Tell them that I’ve got Natalie Forester here, understand? Whatever they’re doing can wait.” She thanked the operator and hung up, hoping for backup. The aftermath of the shooting began to bubble in her mind. The repercussions she could face could put an end to her career. Odessa was far from her jurisdiction, far from her authority. She’d signed on to the missing person case as an advisor and exceeded that role more than she could have imagined. But was it ever going to go another way?
“What’s this about a shooting?” Agnes asked while taking a seat at her table.
Miriam snapped out of her trance. “Ms. Collins—”
“It’s Agnes, please.”
“Agnes. Can I have you watch Natalie for a moment? I need to be outside and watching for the police when they get here,” Miriam said.
Natalie turned her head quickly around with a look of panic, as though Miriam was abandoning her.
“It won’t be far, Natalie,” she said, approaching the girl and touching her head. “You stay here with Ms. Coll—Agnes—and I’ll be right back.”
“What’s going on?” Agnes said, deeply concerned. “Are either of you all right?”
Miriam breathed out with a sincere expression in Agnes’s direction. She wanted to tell the old woman everything, but time didn’t permit the full version. She’d have to settle for the short. “A kidnapping, Agnes,” she said with a hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “As part of our investigation, I tracked a man to this address two houses over from you. It was there that I found Natalie. It was also where I found him.”
“And you shot him?” she asked, covering her mouth with one hand.
“In self-defense,” Miriam said with no remorse.
“Good,” Agnes said. Her wrinkled arms lay across the table as she examined Natalie. “Why don’t you lie down in the living room? I could get you a nice warm rag and some soup if you need it.”
“That sounds nice,” Miriam said.
She told them both that she’d be back soon and darted off out of the kitchen, ready to wait for the police outside—or face whatever else was out there. She had the sneakiest suspicion that the voice would be tempted to return to Walter’s home. For what, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he was waiting on Miriam to return or maybe he wanted to dispose of Walter’s body.
Whatever the reason, Miriam wanted to be ready for him. She rushed through Agnes’s narrow hall and out the front door where sunlight met her gaze and the sound of sirens could finally be heard in the distance.
Her heart beat with nervous anticipation of what she would have to answer for. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like it did, but at least Natalie was free, the largest consolation of all. She turned and walked back to Walter’s house, not to tamper with the scene, but to ensure that no one had returned. Of course, the thought of finding something useful to the investigation fueled her curiosity.
What could she get from Walter Browning now that he was dead? The answers, she believed, were in his house. Friends, names, associates, it had to be there. No one was a blank slate, no matter where they lived or what they did.
The Sting
Odessa, Texas
The Ector County Police Department had descended upon the small town of Odessa in an unprecedented call to action, though they were doing their best to keep their activities unseen. For the plan to work, their presence had to be kept to a minimum. Several officers walked the streets in plain clothes, circling the same areas again and again with their hidden earpieces as the sting operation was put together piece by piece.
Detective James Shelton, the young, ambitious detective who had devised the plan, watched the scene unfold in the back of a moving truck parked one block away from the corner of West Ave and Main—the location where their decoy was patiently waiting for her cue.
Shelton watched the security monitors at the control station with his partner, Detective Brian Hayes, and local Police Sergeant Timothy Bennett and Corporal Robbie Taylor. But there was one person from their team who was currently missing. A person who was an intricate part of their operation. Lieutenant Miriam Sandoval had been MIA for the past hour.
She had borrowed Detective Hayes’s car to pick up coffee at the grocery store. What was supposed to be a ten to fifteen-minute trip turned into something more, and the detectives were worried. The operation, however, had to proceed. Too much was at stake to stall the plan. On and off-duty officers from all over the county had been called in to assist. But with Miriam’s prolonged absence, Detective Hayes was beside himself.
She had his car and had stopped responding to text messages. He knew she was up to something more than simply buying coffee. She had sent him an address during her last correspondence: 2051 Alamo Drive. She did not elaborate on her plans. Twenty minutes had passed and not a word. Detective Hayes wanted to send a patrol car, but everyone was tied up.
Damn it, Miriam, he thought. Why now?
The brass at Ector County wanted the missing persons case solved and the suspect captured post haste. On the surface, the plan was a simple sting operation involving a nineteen-year-old girl named Wendy Dawson posing much younger to lure the kidnapper, who had a penchant for preteen girls. Capturing him wasn’t the only part of the plan. They needed to find out where he was holding the two missing girls first. For that, they had an aerial drone prepared to follow the kidnapper to his place of residence.
Natalie Forester and April Johnson, both eleven, had disappeared the past week. The kidnapper in question had left a letter at the scene of Natalie’s disappearance outside a local Food Mart. A media storm followed and with it, urgency on behalf of the police department to find the kidnapper before another child went missing. The sting, recently coined “Operation Black Hawk,” was what officials believed to be their best chance of capturing their suspect.
Earlier security footage had showed a blue van repeatedly circling the corner where they placed their young decoy. The theory was that the kidnapper frequented certain areas of town—the Food Mart among them—and generally felt comfortable and perhaps emboldened to maintain the same route in searching for victims.
Regardless of any flaws in the hastily formed operation, surveillance teams were in position and everything was ready. There was little going back now. Operation Black Hawk was the brainchild of
Detective Shelton, a young black man new to the Ector County force. With all eyes on him, Shelton hoped more than anything that the plan would work.
He focused on the monitor with the Wendy stream on it. The black and white aerial shot from a street light camera showed her sitting on a bench near a water fountain while reading a comic book. Her hidden earpiece remained unseen, which filled Shelton with relief. He took a moment to do a sound check with her while talking into the microphone of his headset.
“Okay, Wendy. Go ahead and nod if you can hear me.”
She nodded in response, and he thanked her. The police sergeant and his deputy kept their attention on the other monitors displaying several other angles of the street corner and some adjacent streets where vehicles moved along at a steady pace. Odessa was a small town, a dust bowl as some would describe it.
The kidnapper himself, a mystery psychotic who went by the name “the Chancellor of Doom,” was all over the news. His fame, they hoped, was about to come to an end. Detective Hayes took a step back and dialed Miriam again on his cell phone. She didn’t answer, much to his frustration. “It’s been too long. We need to send someone to this address.”
Detective Shelton gave him a passing glance and then went back to monitoring the surveillance screens. “We need to concentrate on the operation at hand. I’m sorry, but Lieutenant Sandoval can wait. She should have never left the station.”
Hayes lowered his phone, visibly frustrated. “She has my car. She’s found something, I know it. We have to go to her.”
Shelton nodded with a sigh. “Maybe she just went somewhere to clear her head. I’m sure she’s okay.”
Hayes crossed his arms, unconvinced. “Easy for you to say. I’m signed for that vehicle.” Hayes, of course, was referring to their silver Ford Crown Victoria. It belonged to the department, and there would be repercussions for loaning it out, especially to an out-of-state “advisor,” which was Miriam’s official role in the investigation.
