THE HUNTED GIRL
by
Lawrence J. Epstein
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Hunted Girl (The Danny Ryle Mysteries)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright © 2019 by Lawrence J. Epstein. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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CHAPTER ONE
Suffolk County, New York
Spring 1983
I found the missing girl hiding behind the rose bushes on the side of my house. The police had been around the neighborhood telling people to look in their yards and nearby streets for her.
I knew the girl because she lived down the street and used to play with my neighbor’s child before the neighbor moved.
I crouched down, took a deep breath, and began.
“Jennifer, you must be tired. Why don’t you come on out?”
She was crying. “I can’t, Mr. Ryle. I have no place to go. You were always so nice to me, so I came here. Remember when I fell down and hurt myself and you got me a magic band aid?”
I remembered a crying, polite, sweet girl who thanked me.
“You’ll get hungry in there, Jennifer. Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Can I have some cookies with it?”
“Ah, a gourmet. Sure you can.”
We went inside.
Betsy Revere, an ex-cop with whom I worked, was sitting and reading.
Jennifer said to her, “Mr. Ryle said I could have a grilled cheese sandwich.”
Betsy shook her head. “I wouldn’t trust him to make it. Mr. Ryle could ruin toast. Mr. Ryle has ruined toast. I’ll make it for you.”
“Thanks. Can I eat next to Mr. Ryle?”
Betsy looked at me.
I nodded.
I brought over a small chair and put it next to my favorite chair. I thought we all needed to be more comfortable than the kitchen table allowed.
I had to do this carefully.
“You know, Jennifer, we have to call the police.”
“Oh. You can’t, Mr. Ryle. You just can’t. You weren’t there. There were police all over the house. They said they were going to call a lady, and she was going to take me away to live in some house. I like it here. All my friends are here. I want to go back to school after Spring Break. I have a really nice teacher. This is her first year, and she really cares about all of us. And I know the stores and the people in the stores. I can’t go away, especially after what happened.”
I didn’t want to add to the damage done to her. I wasn’t sure what to say.
“The police will take care of you.”
She cried. It was a dignified cry.
Betsy brought the grilled cheese over with some cookies.
“Can I please have a glass of water?”
“You’re way more polite than Mr. Ryle.”
Betsy walked to the refrigerator to get the pitcher of water.
“The police couldn’t take care of my mommy and daddy, Mr. Ryle. Didn’t you know? Somebody shot them both. I asked one of the police when they would wake up, but he said there’s no waking up from being dead. I’ll never see them again.”
I was silent for a few seconds. I had no idea how to talk to her about death, so I avoided it. Brave Danny Ryle.
“I’m really sorry, Jennifer. Do you have an uncle or aunt around here? Maybe you could stay with them.”
“I have an aunt someplace far away. But the police lady said it wasn’t possible for me to go there. I don’t think she wanted me.”
I imagined her aunt telling the cops she didn’t need a kid in her life.
“I saw who shot my mommy,” Jennifer said. “I was walking downstairs when I stopped. My daddy was already on the floor. The man with the gun was a mean-looking man, Mr. Ryle. At least his mouth was. I couldn’t really see his face because he was wearing a mask. The gun exploded and my mommy fell against the sofa. I looked and then the man looked back at me. I thought he was going to run upstairs after me, but we both heard noise outside, so he ran.”
I wanted to ask a lot of questions, but I was afraid of scaring her even more.
Betsy came back with the water.
“How old are you now, Jennifer?”
“I’m six and three-quarters.”
“That’s a good age,” Betsy said. “You’re the most grown-up girl I’ve ever seen.”
“I can take care of myself. My mommy taught me so much.”
Jennifer looked at me.
“Can I sit in the same chair as you, Mr. Ryle?”
I nodded. “Only until I’m a hundred and four. After that, you’re on your own.”
Jennifer hesitated and then she laughed.
“You’re hilarious, Mr. Ryle.”
“He has his moments,” Betsy said. “The last one was in 1968.”
“I’ll be right back, Jennifer,” I said. “I need to call my office.”
“Where do you work, Mr. Ryle?”
“I have two jobs. One is working for Congressman Lucey.”
“What’s a Congressman?”
“They make the rules for the country.”
Jennifer thought about that.
“And what do you do?”
“I pretend that I write the speeches he makes. But really I fix problems.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, say, somebody has a problem and they don’t know how to make it better.”
“You fix that?”
“I do.”
“I have a problem, Mr. Ryle. Can you fix my problem?”
<
br /> “I’m going to try, Jennifer.”
“What else do you do?”
“Betsy here and another man who’s away and I work together. We help people who are in trouble and can’t help themselves.”
“Where’s the man?”
“His name is Ari and he’s shopping. He used to live in Israel, so he talks with an accent.”
“I won’t laugh at him. Everyone’s a little different, don’t you think?”
I stared at her.
“Yes, I do, Jennifer.”
“You said you wrote the Congressman’s speeches, Mr. Ryle.”
“Not really. I...why do you ask?”
“I don’t understand. Why can’t he write his own speeches?”
“Some people are good at writing the speech and some good at giving them.”
“Shouldn’t the person who writes them be the Congressman?”
“We all have different skills.”
Betsy saw that I needed rescue. “You have to call.”
I stood up.
“I know.”
I called the Congressional office and got Janet D’Amaro. She was in charge of constituent services and would know what to do.
“Why Danny Ryle. It’s been a couple of weeks. We’re not quarantined, you know.”
“Janet, are you following what’s happening near me?”
“Of course.”
“I found Jennifer Meadows.”
“Great. We were all scared for her. I can’t imagine what it must have been like seeing her parents on the floor. How is she?”
“She’s okay, I think. She’s a terrific kid. She’s eating a sandwich now.”
“Bring her in, Danny. Like five minutes ago.”
“The thing of it is, Janet, she’s afraid she’s going to be taken away.”
“I heard she was very smart. She will be taken away, Danny. She has to be. A social worker will get her.”
“And where does she go?”
“I’m not sure. I guess some orphanage until she’s adopted. If she’s ever adopted. Listen, you sound flustered. I’ll call the cops for you so you don’t have to. They’ll round up the social worker and be there in an hour.”
“Thanks, Janet.”
I sat back in my chair. Jennifer had finished eating. She snuggled next to me and put her head on my shoulder. We watched some television.
After a while, Jennifer sat up.
“Mr. Ryle, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Jennifer. But don’t make it too hard. I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”
She laughed again.
“What’s your question?”
“Mr. Ryle, would it be all right if I called you ‘daddy’?”
I couldn’t talk.
The doorbell rang.
“We’ll discuss it, Jennifer” was what I could finally get out.
I walked across to the other side of the house and opened the door. There were two cops there. They both looked young and smart. A woman was with them. I assumed she was the social worker. She had thin lips that looked as though they would stubbornly refuse to part so as to form a smile.
“We’re here for the girl,” the social worker said.
I stared at them.
“I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I turned around for one second and she was gone.”
“That was very irresponsible of you,” the social worker said. “But I suppose she couldn’t have gotten far.”
I shrugged. “Her best friend lived next door to me. The friend moved last month and her parents promised her a new bike. I guess she didn’t want to move. Anyway, she left her old bike in my back yard. I told her she could ride it when she came to visit. I checked, and the bike is gone. I assume Jennifer took it, which means she could be very far by now.”
“I’ll put out an APB,” one of the cops said. “What does she look like?”
“A very scared little girl,” I said.
They soon left, very displeased with me.
Betsy had been standing there.
“Is Jennifer okay?” I asked.
“Ari came back. He’s sitting with her. I think he’s teaching her about Israeli commando units.”
“That should help her in first grade.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Danny.”
“Of course I shouldn’t.”
“I’m still proud of you.”
“Let’s see how proud you are when I’m arrested.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know beyond the obvious.”
“And what is the obvious?”
I sighed and looked at Betsy.
“We’re going to find out who killed Jennifer’s parents. She’s a witness. The killer saw her. He’s coming back to get her. She’s a hunted girl. He’s going to try to kill her. We’re going to stop him.”
CHAPTER TWO
Al Flanagan had once been a homicide detective. He was now working for the D.A.’s Major Offense Bureau. You wouldn’t hire Al to be the Social Director on a cruise ship. Under his tough exterior, he was made of solid steel. We had worked together, not always harmoniously, but we trusted each other with caution. Al knew everyone, and they knew his power. That power had proved very helpful.
Al said he had to be in Riverhead because of the courts, so we agreed to meet in the restaurant next to the theater on Main Street which was a quick walk from the Court where he was headed.
We sat down. Al kept adding pounds every time I saw him, but this had not made him adjust his eating habits.
He liked malted milk shakes and ordered one with a cheeseburger. I knew the apple pie would come later.
“So what’s so urgent, Ryle? You catch a shoplifter taking a yo-yo?”
“Can I tell you a story that I’m not saying is true and I’m not saying is not true?”
“What are you? Ten years old? Just tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“All right. Tell me your story. But there better not be any unicorns in it or, malted milk shake or not, I’m getting up and walking out of here.”
“I’m serious, Flanagan. Let’s say, for the purposes of my story, that I found someone who’s supposed to be in the custody of a social worker.”
“The little girl? Jennifer something. Seriously?”
“In the story it’s serious.”
“You’re going to get in a lot of trouble.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I can’t figure out what you know. All right. For the purposes of this story, let’s say you found some random girl. Go on.”
“I’ve been listening to the radio and reading Newsday. Obviously, I don’t want to call anyone among your colleagues in law enforcement.”
“Thanks for picking on me.”
“You’re the smartest one.”
“You mean the patsy. What do you want?”
“I want to know how the police are doing in finding the killer?”
“What are you talking about, Ryle?”
I was going to respond when the food came. It’s dangerous to get between Al and his food so I waited a few minutes until he had a good beginning to the cheeseburger and paused to look up.
I held up my hands. “I’m talking about the guy who killed Mr. and Mrs. Meadows.”
He stared at me and moved his head to one side. This is a bit of body language Al uses when he thinks someone’s an idiot. I had seen him use it on me before.
“There’s no killer, Ryle. Didn’t you read the paper?”
“I thought the cops were lying on purpose so the public wouldn’t get scared.”
“What in heaven’s name are you talking about, Ryle?”
“The killer.”
“Listen, Ryle. Have a sip of water. I wouldn’t know that it’s water, which is a despicable drink when it’s not in scotch, but you should.”
“Do you know who the killer even is?”
“Okay, Ryle. I’ll assume you’re just ignoran
t. That’s really a very easy assumption to make. Everybody who knows you makes it. So, since I understand your vast limitations, I’m going to speak very slowly.”
He paused to sip the malted.
“Let me repeat myself. There is no killer. Mr. Meadows shot Mrs. Meadows and Mrs. Meadows shot Mr. Meadows. I don’t know which came first, but that’s what happened. There’s no mysterious killer out there. He’s just in your fevered head.”
“Suppose there is a real killer.”
“And suppose people confused me with Robert Redford.”
“I think there’s a killer. The little girl saw him.”
“Isn’t that nice? You’ve got a great witness there. She sees her parents dead and her mind makes up this killer idea.”
“So the police aren’t looking for the killer?”
“No. And they’re not looking for the tooth fairy either.”
“The husband and wife just shot each other?”
“I suppose they’ll try to figure out motives for the loving couple. But that’s about it.”
“The forensics have been done?”
“No, Ryle. This is Mayberry. We just take a look and figure out what happened because one of them owned a still and the other liked Barney.”
“Tell me about the forensics.”
A big sigh.
“Wait.”
He went back to eating. When he was finished he ordered his piece of apple pie and settled back.
“There were two weapons. Each of the parents had a revolver in their hand. Each revolver had been shot. The bullet in Meadows’ revolver was the bullet that killed his wife, and the bullet in her revolver killed him. We can’t trace either weapon, so Meadows must have gotten them for protection.”
“What does he do?”
“Works for the Bank of Waterbend. See? He figures he might need some way to stop a thief on his way home. Maybe he got two illegal weapons and gave one to her. That didn’t turn out to be so smart.”
“And gun shot residue?”
“On both hands. And fingerprints. It’s all tied up very neatly, Ryle. No masked man. No stranger. Just a sad couple who had anger that built up and finally came out.”
“Is there anybody looking at all this since the cops have figured it all out?”
“One lady. She reminds me of my third grade teacher. It was as though God decided to make the nastiest possible person on Earth and turn her into someone who taught at my school. This was in the City. Anyway, this one lady. She’s an insurance investigator. I say good luck to her. I guess the kid gets the money. There’s some substantial amount as I understand it. Maybe you’ll get a reward if you turn the girl in, Ryle.”
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