Girl Missing, #1

by Kate Gable

  If they don't find out more details about that dead girl we found hanging from the tree, then I’ll have more time here. If they do, then I'll have to go back and then what? What happens to Violet and her case?

  I don't sit on the couch for too long. Two cups of coffee and that's it. Then I decide to take a drive out to see Captain Talarico and anyone else working this case.

  The Big Bear Sheriff’s Station is located right in the center of town and looks like your quintessential small town police department; low ceilings with a wide roof.

  There's somebody up front in a uniform, clearing the walkways of the snow. I nod hello and walk through the glass doors.

  "I'm here to see Captain Talarico," I say to the person at the front desk.

  "I think he’s in his office right now. Let me double check."

  I expect her to pick up the phone and call but instead, she just leans over her desk and peeks around the corner.

  "Yes, there he is. He doesn’t look busy. Why don't you go right ahead?”

  Captain Talarico sits in his office at a metal desk with a computer to one side eating a messy sandwich. There's relish and onion bits everywhere, on a big piece of spread out paper drenched in oil. He's holding the sandwich with both hands, more like wrestling with it, as he takes big chunks out with his teeth.

  "Excuse me, I'm here to see Captain Talarico,” I say, knocking on the door. “I’m Kaitlyn Carr, the detective from the LAPD."

  It's hard for me to decide whether I should introduce myself as Detective Carr or just Kaitlyn Carr because I don't want anyone thinking that I'm pulling rank or anything like that. It's hard to know how people will respond to you, one way or the other.

  "Come in," he says, pointing to one of two chairs in front of his desk.

  The desk is covered in papers along with notepads and folders strewn all around. There's a big ficus plant in the corner gathering dust and a bar of fluorescent light right above our heads casts long unflattering shadows across everything.

  "I just wanted to pop in and ask you about what's happening with Violet's case. Any news? Any updates?"

  He finishes his sandwich by licking each one of his fingers and then wiping them off with the napkin soaked in oil before washing it all down with a few generous gulps of his thirty-ounce soda.

  "You've been a bad girl," he says, cockily tilting his head.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I got a call from Mr. Goss, the prosecutor, and he told me that you showed up at seven o'clock this morning at his house and were bothering his son with questions about somebody he goes to school with."

  "I wasn't bothering his son. I just asked him a few questions. So what?” I shrug, adjusting my position in the chair.

  "Why did you do that?" he asks, sucking on the soda so intensely that it makes a loud gurgling sound.

  “When I talked to Kaylee Dillinger, she mentioned that Violet had a crush on this kid named Neil and he was mean to her and at one point they may have had a thing."

  "Well, thanks for putting them on alert,” Captain Talarico says, shaking his head with disapproval.

  "I didn't mean to do that."

  "No, of course you didn't and, of course, you didn't talk to me about any of this prior to getting involved.”

  I cower in my seat.

  “What police department do you work for again, Miss Carr?"

  I am very well aware of the fact that he calls me Miss when it’s really Detective and he knows it, but I don’t correct him.

  "I know what you're saying," I say, throwing my hands up.

  "No, you don't. Answer my damn question,” he says, staring straight into my eyes.

  "I work for the LAPD."

  "Yes, you do. What department is investigating this possible missing person’s case?"

  "Big Bear Sheriff’s Station."

  "Exactly. So therefore, you have no jurisdiction here whatsoever and I would appreciate it if you didn't go around, mucking up this case by alerting all of the possible suspects that they may be possible suspects."

  I feel like a fool. I had no idea Neil’s dad was a prosecutor. Kaylee just told me that he was an attorney, but I should have found out more before I just showed up there.

  "I didn't know that he’s a prosecutor,” I say quietly, admitting my mistake without coming right out with it.

  Suddenly, his tone seems to change. His face relaxes a bit. The tension dissipates from his forehead.

  "Listen," Captain Talarico says, leaning closer to me across the desk. "I know that you're very worried about your sister and I totally understand that, but you can't be doing this investigation on your own.”

  I nod.

  “Mr. Goss was an attorney, a very prominent defense attorney. That's how he paid for that big mansion on the lake. Then he decided to work for the District Attorney’s office. I guess he has his sights set on some sort of judgeship or something in the future. Who knows? Anyway, he's a major pain in the ass. He makes life very difficult for this department. I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you this but that’s not exactly conducive to solving and prosecuting crimes."

  “So… what are you saying exactly?" I ask.

  "I'm saying that you have to stay away from Neil Goss.”

  “I don’t even know if he's involved," I say.

  "Exactly. Let us do some more digging. Let us talk to some more of their friends before we approach him. He may have nothing to do with this at all and, if that’s the case, then it saves me a migraine from dealing with his father.”

  I nod. I want to admit that I didn’t know any of this was going on, but I keep my mouth shut. I already feel like a major fool.

  "So, what are you going to do now? What's the plan?”

  “We’ll be talking to her friends and family members,” Captain Talarico says, leaning back in his chair. He opens his mouth to burp but then relaxes when nothing comes out.

  “We’re going to interview your mom again. We're going to talk to all the kids at school. Anyone that she had any relationship with. Someone has to know something. Who knows? Maybe she'll just come home today and this whole thing will be over. Then you can go back to LA.”

  "You'd like that," I say with a joke.

  He looks at me, tilts his head again, and admits, "Yes, I would like that very much, Detective Carr."

  I smile and silently thank him for using the right title.

  Before I leave, I share some of what I have found out with the captain. I tell him exactly what Neil told me, as well as Kaylee and Nancy, just in case there are any discrepancies.

  When I get back in the car, the sun is high in the sky, beating down, making me sweat in my coat. I pull it off and take the sweater off with it leaving just the t-shirt. I'm not sure where to go now. I want to go talk to Natalie but I know that she's in school and I did promise Captain Talarico that I'd hold off on any further investigation.

  On the drive back home, I get a call. It's my boss, Captain Medvil. As soon as I see the name on the screen, my breath gets caught in the back of my throat.

  I know that I have to take this call, but I don't want to. He doesn't call me often and this means that something major has happened, but what?

  I click accept and hold my breath. He doesn’t say hello or ask how I’m doing. There is no chitchat.

  "We have identified the girl," he says and my heart drops.

  8

  "She's thirteen years old,” Captain Medvil barks into my ear. “Her name is Courtney Reynard and she lives in Brentwood. We need to interview her parents, ASAP. The deputy is telling them about the news right now."

  "Okay," I say after a long pause.

  "Okay, what? Are you going to do it or not?"

  "Yes. When?" I ask, my mind going blank.

  I'm not sure how to deal with this.

  How do I get back to do my job and how do I to stay here to find my sister?

  "I don't know if you know, Captain Medvil, but I took a day off because my sister didn't c
ome home last night."

  “Oh…no…I didn't realize that."

  "I'm in Big Bear right now, my mom’s house. Violet was supposed to come home last night and she didn't. She got dropped off and she never came inside, so my mom was really freaking out. We're working with police up here and just trying to find her."

  "Okay," he says.

  "Any chance she just ran away?"

  "No, I highly doubt that. She has always been a really good kid."

  "Well, things change when they start to grow up. Their hormones make them go nuts."

  I nod trying to be polite and courteous.

  Captain Medvil has three kids of his own, one of whom has been arrested for a driving under the influence charge, just a few months ago. He doesn't have the best opinion of teenagers, if I were to put it lightly.

  "I'm sorry about your sister, but Courtney Reynard's parents need to be interviewed and you have a special touch with parents, as you know."

  He's referring to my old case, the one in which I got the parents to finally admit what their son had done.

  I hate to say that was the highlight of my career up to this point, but it sort of was. Without their testimony, we'd have nothing. No DNA, no trace evidence, no witnesses. But after a few long conversations with me, things changed.

  “They are the last ones who saw her alive and we need their help to figure out who she is,” the captain says.

  Of course, he isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know.

  I swallow hard and the lump in the back of my throat seems to grow in size.

  My mind is going a mile a minute.

  I don't know what to do.

  I know that I have to get back for work and these interviews have to be conducted as soon as possible.

  But what about Violet?

  "The sheriff’s department is on top of it, right?" Captain Medvil asks, reading my mind. "Why don't you drive down here, do these interviews, and then go back up?"

  "Okay, I guess I can do that.” I nod.

  "Carr," Captain Medvil says right before I hang up.

  "Yes?"

  "Everything's going to be okay. Teenage girls run away all the time."

  "Yeah, I guess," I mumble, not at all convinced.

  "Listen, I know that in our line of work, the worst thing always happens. It's always that terrible eventuality and it gives us a really pessimistic view of the world. But in reality, that is often not the case. Most of the time, it's not a murder. Most of the time, a kid goes missing and nothing bad happens. We just tend to see the negative in the world.”

  “Uh-huh," I mumble.

  “I just want you keep that in mind when you think about your sister. Of course, go through the proper channels and try to find her as soon as possible, but don't let your pessimism bring you down."

  I nod and hang up the phone. His words reverberate in my mind and I try to take what he has said to heart.

  He's right, of course. In this line of work, you tend to see the worst in everything and then expect to see that in your day-to-day life. But the world doesn’t run according to Murphy's Law.

  Someone doesn't call you back and you think, maybe something bad has happened. Maybe they got into a car accident. But most of the time, it’s something simple like, their phone just died.

  Maybe Violet just slept over at a friend's house and forgot to call. Maybe she didn't want Kaylee or Mom to know that she went out with someone she shouldn’t have. These are both definite possibilities.

  “Okay," I say to myself, pulling into Mom’s driveway. “It's going to be okay. I just have to go back to LA, do these interviews, and then get back here as soon as possible.”

  I get home and find my mom in the backyard getting something out of the shed. We don't have a garage. We never had one, even though my mom had planned to have one built for years. Without one, the house has basically no storage. A few years ago, Mom finally gave in and bought one of those sheds from Home Depot and had a local kid put it together.

  I find her all the way in the back, searching for something through all the piles of boxes and stuff stored in garbage bags. She has been threatening to take most of them to the thrift store, but I doubt that they’ll want it and it will probably end up in the dump.

  My mom isn't exactly a clean freak. I wouldn't say that her house is particularly dirty or anything like that, but she tends to hoard and keep things until they stop serving their purpose. Of course, she can't keep everything in the house, so she moves things to the shed until they become so decrepit that she has to throw them away.

  Of course, most of the boxes and bags out back are meant for the Salvation Army or one of the other thrift stores, but she always thinks that there will be a use for things that she no longer needs.

  I'm the one that likes to give stuff away.

  Ever since I was a little kid, having grown up in this house where everything was always kept, including all of the plastic bags and all of the utensils from takeout, I feel overwhelmed by stuff. It actually gives me anxiety just to be surrounded by crap.

  I'd rather have nearly nothing than all of this, while she seems to be the complete opposite. I guess that explains a lot about my apartment back in LA.

  My furniture is anything but sparse. I guess I would call it a minimalist look to try to make it seem like I'm sophisticated, but in reality, I just don't like owning things.

  "What are you doing back here?" I ask, leaning against the doorway. The shed is just barely tall enough for me to stand up straight and I am 5’5”.

  "Just looking for this box of books that Violet had me put out here a few days ago,” Mom says, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “She was so insistent. She just didn't want to have them in her room anymore."

  I eye the concave ceiling and wonder how many snowfalls it will last before totally succumbing to the elements. You have to clear the roof all the time to make sure that it doesn't cave in from all of the snow in the winter, and, of course, that wasn't something we considered when we saw it in July sitting in front of Home Depot in all of its glory.

  "You know, none of this would be happening if your dad was still around. We'd have the garage and we would've gotten the right shed," Mom says, exasperated.

  That's always her go-to line. If only Dad were still around then everything would be great. As if things were always great when he was around.

  I don't say anything even though I really want to. To say something would be cruel.

  She has lost her husband and now her daughter is missing. We shouldn't be arguing about who's at fault for this terrible, terrible shed.

  "How about this, Mom? How about I get you a new one for your birthday next year?" I offer, looking around at the paper-thin, peeling walls.

  She glares at me. Dressed in a suede jacket, weathered waterproof boots, and a pair of faded jeans, Mom stands hunched over so as to not hit her head on the ceiling. Her hair is pulled up to the top of her head and her face actually looks like it has a little bit of color to it after all of this physical exertion.

  "Are you serious?" she asks, putting her hand on her hip.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Are you seriously asking me whether you can get me a shed for my birthday?" She accentuates the words shed and birthday and gives me so much attitude that I almost laugh.

  "Well, it's something you need."

  "Birthdays aren't about need. You, of all people, should know that. Birthdays are about indulgences and fun. Honestly, you're just like your father. Do you know that he actually got me a floor for my birthday once?"

  “A floor?”

  "Yeah. We had this really old linoleum tile floor in the kitchen, right around the time that you were born, and so for my birthday, he decided that he would replace it and lay it all down himself. It's not that I didn't appreciate the effort, but you know what? He walks on the floor as well. He enjoys the floor. Why the hell does it have to be my birthday present?"

  I laugh and she laughs as
well. For a moment there, we forget about everything that has gone wrong in our family and just enjoy each other's company.

  "I have to go back to LA,” I say, walking over to the bin with my old toys.

  I run my fingers along the ear of one of my stuffed rabbits. Ralph is cold to the touch with worn fur and tired glass eyes, but still very much loved. His ears are round rather than elongated and he has an inexplicably large, orange tail. Actually, it’s quite generous of me to call Ralph a rabbit since looking at him now he looks more like a rabbit/fox hybrid or maybe even an animal unknown to science. But I’ve always thought of him as a rabbit and that’s what he will always be.

  "I can't believe that you kept Ralph,” I say, pulling him into a tight hug. I cradle him in my arms like a baby, overwhelmed by all of the love that comes pouring out of him.

  "I keep a lot of things. You never know when someone might want something back.”

  Mom nods at Ralph and gives me a wink. I force myself to drop him to my side, pretending that I’m not overjoyed by the fact that she had kept him.

  "What are you looking for in that box of books?” I ask, changing the subject.

  "I don't know,” she says with a shrug. “They're all of your old Sweet Valley High books. You remember them?"

  I smile at the corner of my lips. How could I forget? I whizzed through them at age eleven or twelve. I read three books a day until I’d read them all and then read them again and again. There was no such thing as binging Netflix back then, but I was definitely on a binge.

  "Did Violet like them?” I ask.

  "She loved them. I didn't really think they were her style, since she prefers fantasy, but I think she enjoyed them because she knew that they were your favorite."

  I nod. It's weird to think back to the little girl that I used to be; the little, bright, friendly girl who loved Sweet Valley High and the Babysitter’s Club books and dressed exclusively in pink and fuchsia.

  The whole right side of the shed contains boxes of my stuff, my old books, my old clothes, my old toys, going back to toddlerhood. Some of these things Mom reused and gave to Violet to play with, but most of them, she just kept for the sake of it. It's weird to see your whole life presented like this; one box piled on top of the other, each one holding bundles of memories.