Pamela Frost Dennis - Murder Blog 01 - Dead Girls Don't Blog

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  Mrs. Watkins knew what had happened to Lindsay and when she saw the panicked look on Belinda’s face, she was immediately concerned. “No, I haven’t. Did she know you were coming?”

  “Yes! I was supposed to pick her up at the flagpole, right after school.” Belinda’s shaky hand grasped at the secretary’s bony hands as she fought back tears. “She knows she has a doctor’s appointment.”

  “She probably got sidetracked and doesn’t realize the time,” she said in a convincing, lighthearted tone she didn’t feel. “I have worried parents in here all the time looking for their kids. Often they forget and start walking home, totally oblivious.”

  Belinda visibly calmed down. “You’re probably right. I’m overreacting.” Then she remembered the sweater she held clasped to her chest. “No, I’m not.” She held out the sweater for Mrs. Watkins to see. “I found this on the ground by the flagpole. It’s her favorite.” She pointed at the label. “See? It has her name on the label.”

  Mrs. Watkins put on her black-rimmed glasses attached to a chain hung around her neck and peered at the label. “Hold on.” She rushed around the reception counter and out the doors. She looked towards the flagpole, praying for Lindsay to be there now. She wasn’t. She ran back into the office. “I’m not taking any chances. I’m calling the police. You stand outside and watch in case she shows up.”

  Belinda went outside while Mrs. Watkins dialed 911. Penny Hobart was the dispatcher who took the call and she immediately sent out a squad car.

  Mrs. Watkins and the school principal, Darrell Upton, joined Belinda and together they waited for the police at the flagpole. A crowd of curious students gathered, some recognizing Mrs. Moore, and their chatter escalated as they speculated amongst themselves. Upton, a tall, barrel chested man, asked them to quiet down.

  He took Belinda’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had so much worry, Mrs. Moore.” His innate, protective nature soothed Belinda’s jangled nerves.

  Jenny Farrell approached Belinda, carrying Lindsay’s pink and purple backpack. “Mrs. Moore?”

  Belinda turned to her, seeing the backpack. “Jenny. Where did you get that?” Her voice edged on hysteria.

  At that moment, a squad car screamed into the parking lot, halting near the group. Two officers got out and Belinda ran to them, waving the sweater.

  “This is her sweater! I found it on the ground over there.” She pointed at the base of the pole. “I was supposed to pick her up here, right after school.”

  Officer Gabe Miller and his younger partner, Dan Martinez, were the officers who had found Lindsay sitting on a bench at the train station and had taken her to the hospital.

  “We’ll find her, Mrs. Moore,” said Miller in a quiet, compassionate tone.

  “I’ll start questioning the students,” Martinez said to Miller, as he turned towards the growing mob of kids pressing in on them. “Can I have everyone move back, please?”

  A tan sedan pulled in behind the squad car and Detective Angela Yaeger stepped out.

  “Angela!” cried Belinda. All at once, the police cars, the flashing lights, and the arrival of Angela overwhelmed her. It meant this was for real, that they believed Lindsay was in danger, that she truly was gone. Taken. “Oh God! My baby! Where’s my baby? How can this be happening?” She sank to the ground, pressing the sweater against her womb, sobbing.

  Angela knelt beside her and draped her arm over Belinda’s trembling back. She almost said the empty platitude everyone says when trying to comfort someone, it’ll be all right, but caught herself in time. Due to previous police visits to the school, Angela was on friendly terms with Mr. Upton and Mrs. Watkins, and she beckoned them to help Belinda to a nearby bench. Mrs. Watkins sat on the bench beside her and held Belinda’s hand.

  Angela approached Officer Miller, who was standing close by, and steered him out of Belinda’s earshot. “Call Tommy. Then tape off the area.”

  “I’ve already called and they’re on the way. I’ll get the area secured.”

  Angela returned to Belinda. Upton stood up from the bench and asked her what he could do to help.

  “I want to talk to her last teacher of the day, if they’re still here; otherwise, please try to get them here a.s.a.p.”

  “I’m on it.” He saw Jenny lingering on the sidelines, still clutching the backpack. “I think you should talk to her.” He signaled Jenny over.

  As she approached, Belinda saw her daughter’s backpack again. “What are you doing with that?”

  Jenny’s eyes grew large with threatening tears. “She asked me to take it home with me and said she’d get it later.”

  “Where was this, Jenny?” asked Angela.

  “In study hall. She left early and didn’t come back.”

  Angela took the backpack. “What time?”

  “Maybe 2:30?”

  Angela looked at her watch: 3:35. “I want you to stay in case I need to talk to you again. You can call your parents in the office and tell them I’ll get you home. Then come back here.” Jenny jogged away and Angela turned to Belinda. “I’m going to empty Lindsay’s backpack. If you see anything unusual, tell me.” Angela unzipped the pack and spilled the contents on the ground in front of Belinda and Mrs. Watkins. A Trapper Keeper, a math book, gum wrappers, a hairbrush, cherry flavored lip gloss, two dollars, a Tiger Beat magazine, a Jolly Rancher candy stick, a half-eaten sandwich. Angela didn’t need Belinda to tell her there was nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m thankful you didn’t wait to call us. It’s probably nothing, just a little mix-up, but we don’t want to take any chances. May I have Lindsay’s sweater?”

  Belinda reluctantly released it to her. “Why?”

  “Because it tells us she was at the flagpole, and now we have to figure out where she went, so I’m going to have Tommy, our best tracker, sniff the sweater and then we’ll see what he comes up with.”

  “Oh my God. You think she’s dead!”

  “Absolutely not! But Tommy can give us a lot of information fast so we aren’t wasting valuable time.” Angela noted Belinda’s gray, clammy pallor and was concerned she might be going into shock. She spoke softly to Mrs. Watkins. “Can you take care of her?”

  “Of course. Please, don’t let us slow you down.”

  “Go! I’m all right! Just find my little girl,” Belinda pleaded.

  A K-9 SUV drove into the lot and moments after, an officer leading a sleek, black Labrador joined the other officers. Angela took the sweater to the K-9 Officer, who then had Tommy smell it.

  Tommy’s tail wagged enthusiastically as he quickly worked the area, ending at the curb, where he became agitated and pawed the ground. Everyone knew what that meant. Lindsay had gotten into a car. But had she been forced? Tommy couldn’t tell them that.

  Angela returned to Belinda. “Could she have gone off with a friend or a relative?” she asked.

  “No. She would never have done that knowing I was coming, and she would never have left her favorite sweater behind.” She put her hand over her mouth to muffle her shuddering sobs. “Oh God, Lindsay. Where are you?”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Friday, May 10

  1996

  Lindsay felt the tension escalating between her captors as they drove beyond Santa Sicomoro’s town limits and into the oak-studded countryside, passing ranch homes set back far from the road. Horses grazed on spring grass in the warm sun, oblivious to the frightened girl trapped in the car passing by.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, Erik?” Phil asked.

  “Just keep going.”

  Several miles out of town, they passed an old general store and gas station.

  “We could have got supplies there,” Jake said, reading a faded wood sign. “They even have ice cream and bait.”

  “I forgot about that old place. It’s where campers load up before going to Santa Sicomoro Lake,” said Erik. “How’s our gas, Phil?”

  “Still close to full, but it would be nice to know where the hell we’re goin
g. I’ve had enough of this.”

  A few miles later, they passed the historic “Rusty Spur” saloon, built in the 1850’s. Near the road a sign was posted advertising an upcoming Willie Nelson concert.

  The saloon was closed, but it made Lindsay feel safer thinking that even all the way out here, there might be people around to help her, especially if a big star like Willie Nelson would come here.

  Erik glanced back over his shoulder. “Shit. We missed the turn. Go back.”

  Phil slowed and when he reached a wider section of road, he made a u-turn.

  “See that little road just past the saloon?” Erik pointed up the road to the left. “Turn there.”

  After another few miles, the paved road turned to dirt, and when Phil slowed the car, Erik said to keep going.

  They’re going to kill me, Lindsay realized. Why else would they bring me out so far?

  “Now I know why you were checking the gas,” said Phil. “This is ridiculous.”

  The road dipped down and they drove through a shallow creek bed swiftly flowing with spring run-off.

  “And now you know why we took your car,” said Erik. “You’re the only one who has four-wheel drive.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Phil.

  “But it’s an SUV,” said Jake.

  “So? It’s just a glorified station wagon, that’s all. You guys are brilliant, you know that?”

  “Well, that’s great,” said Jake. “What if we get stuck?”

  “Relax. We’re not gonna get stuck,” said Erik.

  Phil yanked off his mask, tossing it onto the empty front passenger’s seat.

  “Hey. Put that back on,” said Erik. “Do you want her to see your face?”

  “It’s too hard to drive, let alone breathe, with that damn thing on.”

  Lindsay couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “You said you just wanted to talk to me,” she spoke barely above a whisper. “Please don’t hurt me. Just tell me what you want.”

  “She’s right. Here’s as good as anywhere,” said Jake. “Let’s tell her what we want, and then get out of here.”

  The car was climbing a steep rise and the tires were spinning and spitting loose dirt in its wake. There was a steep drop-off on the right side of the narrow road, and the SUV’s rear-end fishtailed dangerously near it.

  “Slow down!” screamed Jake. “Do you want to get us killed?”

  “The road’s in bad shape. It’s a washboard, and it’s really hard to drive on,” said Phil. “I’m only going fifteen miles per hour. I’m afraid if I go any slower we might slide backwards and I’ll lose control.”

  Lindsay’s fear level escalated. What if we go over the side?

  “Then gun it and let’s get up this hill.” Erik pulled out the flask again and tipped back several swallows.

  Jake leaned across Lindsay and swatted the flask away from Erik’s mouth. “Stop drinking. You’re going to screw everything up.”

  “Worry about yourself, dickhead.” Erik drank some more before putting it back in his pocket. “Come on, Phil. Let’s go.”

  Phil thought, the hell with it, and stomped on the gas. The tires spun wildly, then gained purchase, causing the SUV to leap forward. It swerved crazily until he got it under control and reached the top of the rise, where he stopped the car.

  “That’s it. Enough.” Phil put the car in park, and turned to face the backseat. Lindsay saw his troubled, angry brown eyes and recognized him as the nice boy who’d first given her a soda at the party. “This road is dangerous and we’re all going to wind up dead.”

  Erik yanked off his mask and glared at him contemptuously. “We made it to the top without crashing, right?”

  Phil didn’t answer. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and he wiped it away with a shaky hand. He was furious for allowing himself to get entangled in this ludicrous plan, and now he could see no way out of it. He focused on Lindsay. “I’m so sorry about this. About everything. We were all really drunk and never meant you any harm.”

  This confused Lindsay. Maybe they weren’t as bad as she thought. Except for Erik. He was horrible. Why wouldn’t the other two stand up to him and let her go?

  “Look, we’ve gone this far and we’re almost there,” said Erik, switching to a patient tone, as if speaking to a toddler. “It’s not like you can turn around here anyway.” He pointed over the seat through the windshield. “It should be right around the next bend up ahead. It’s a church camp. It’s not in use this time of the year, but I’ve been out here a couple of times, camping with friends. It’s a good place to talk where we won’t be disturbed.”

  When Erik said they wouldn’t be disturbed, Lindsay’s fear spiked. Okay, Lindsay, focus and breathe. She took a deep, shuddering inhalation, exhaling slowly. It didn’t help.

  Phil put the car in gear and descended the hill, picking up speed. The bend in the road turned out to be a hairpin turn and the SUV was traveling too fast to safely negotiate it. He pumped the brakes, but the vehicle was already sliding in the loose dirt as if on black ice.

  A gray squirrel darted across the road. Without thinking, Phil slammed hard on the brakes. The backend spun to the right and the rear wheels slid off the road, causing the car to tip up, heave backwards, and roll out of control, crushing through the brush down the steep hill where it rear-ended with a metallic, shrieking thud into an outcropping of granite boulders.

  Lindsay was not belted. On impact her head snapped back, then forward, smashing her nose against the front seat, but adrenaline shielded her from immediate pain. Stunned, she slowly straightened, gingerly touching her nose and glancing at her captors.

  Jake was unfastening his seatbelt and appeared to be uninjured. He removed his Terminator mask and turned to her. Without his disguise, his young blonde, blue-eyed looks weren’t so scary to Lindsay. “Are you all right?”

  “My back really hurts.” It didn’t hurt that much, but she said so anyway. She felt a trickle of blood leak out her nose and she swiped it away.

  “Erik, what about you? You okay?”

  “I’m okay, but I don’t think Phil is.”

  Phil wasn’t moving. Blood was smeared on the cracked window next to him, where his head rested. Jake clambered out of the car and slowly opened Phil’s door. Still held in by the seatbelt, his body slumped towards him.

  “Shit. He’s bleeding bad.” Jake pushed Phil’s body to a sitting position as Erik got out and came around the car. “I think he’s dead.”

  “No way.” Erik felt Phil’s neck for a pulse. “He’s not dead, he’s unconscious.”

  “We need to get him out of the car, before it explodes.”

  “The car’s not going to explode, idiot. That’s only in the movies.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I smell gas.”

  Erik stepped to the demolished rear of the car to investigate. “Yeah, you’re right. I smell it, too.” He crouched to peer under the car. “I can see a drip. Probably nothing, but we better get him out.”

  Phil was mumbling incoherently as Jake held him erect while Erik unfastened his seatbelt. While doing this, Jake asked Lindsay how her back was.

  “Really hurts. Maybe I broke it.”

  “We’ll help you in a minute. Just stay still.”

  “Okay,” she whimpered, with a pained expression.

  Jake said to Erik. “We need to move him carefully, in case he’s broken his neck or something.”

  They gently shifted Phil’s legs towards the open door and leaned in to lift him out.

  “I don’t know if we can do this. He’s a dead weight,” said Erik. “Phil. You need to wake up.”

  Phil lifted his head. “Whaaass…”

  “I guess his neck’s okay,” said Jake. “Phil, do you think you can walk?”

  Phil’s eyes rolled up and his mouth dropped open.

  “Fuck it, he’s out again. We need to carry him,” said Erik. “Hold on.” He pulled his flask from his pants pocket and drank, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Okay,
I’m ready.”

  They eased Phil’s arms around their shoulders and lifted him to his limp feet. Phil’s head flopped forward and blood trickled from his wounds, splattering in the dirt. They laid Phil on the ground, then Jake scooped him up under his armpits while Erik held his legs.

  “Let’s take him to those rocks over there,” said Jake, jutting his chin towards a cluster of boulders about thirty yards from the vehicle.

  While Erik and Jake struggled to move Phil, Lindsay groaned to cover any noise she might make as she inched her way across the seat to the side where Erik had left the door open. She slid out and crouched on the ground.

  Lindsay peered back through the SUV to check the boys’ progress. They still had a long way to go before they’d reach the boulders and neither was looking back at her. This was her chance.

  She sprinted in the opposite direction to a grove of giant eucalyptus trees about twenty yards from the SUV and hid behind the first tree she reached. She checked the boys. They were still staggering towards the rocks with Phil, but it wouldn’t be long before they returned. She moved deeper into the forest.

  Lindsay wore flimsy sandals and her feet and ankles were already scratched and bleeding as she forced her way through the nearly knee-deep, tangled carpet of peeling bark for which eucalyptus are notorious. Each step crackled and snapped as her feet sank through the coarse, woody debris. Running for cover in the trees had been a mistake. Once they came looking for her, it would be impossible to move without giving away her location.

  Two minutes later, she heard the boys shouting. She squatted low and watched them, trying to think what to do.

  “Lindsay!” called Jake. “Come on. We said we weren’t going to hurt you.”

  They searched the perimeters of the SUV. Then Erik pointed to the grove of trees and they started walking toward it.

  The only thing Lindsay could think to do was to bury herself under the tree litter and pray they wouldn’t find her. As quietly as possible, she cleared the leaves, broken branches, and bark away, then lay on the damp, cool earth and covered herself. It was the hardest thing she had ever done.