by Roger Hayden
“The perpetrator broke into the bedroom of eleven-year-old Brittany Owens. He gained access into her second-story room through her unlocked bedroom window. It was a coordinated effort, pulled off without the girl’s family noticing. Each minute here is crucial. The family is counting on us to do our jobs.” Vazquez glanced up from his podium and noticed Knight in the doorway. “Did you have anything to add, Detective?”
Knight partly stepped inside, his shoes touching the green tile. “A Cadillac was seen circling the neighborhood late last night. One witness identified it as red, another said gray. We've no license plate, but we're looking for an older model, early to mid-1980s. Keep your eyes open.” Knight glanced to Agent Garrett nearby and introduced her to the room. “Agent Garrett is here to assist us in finding the missing girls.”
She stepped inside to address the room. “Keep the girls and their families in mind when you go out there today. Brittany's most recent picture will be disseminated throughout your department and the local news media.”
Knight recalled the framed picture he had taken from Brittany's room. It was in his coat pocket at his desk. His own daughter, Holly, was twenty-six and had just graduated from college. She had moved back home temporarily, following a break-up with her fiancé. He couldn't imagine the thought of anything bad happening to her.
One of the seated officers raised his hand, and Vazquez pointed to him. He was a young cop; a fresh face Knight wasn't familiar with. He thanked Vazquez as he stood and then addressed Vazquez. “What are we to do if we encounter this Cadillac? You had mentioned the perp as being armed and dangerous.”
Vazquez nodded and answered. “Contain the situation, and call for backup before moving in.”
“We want the person taken alive,” Agent Garrett said, gaining attention from the room as heads turned. “If anything happens to the perpetrator, we may never find out where the girls are.”
Sergeant Rick Hoffman, a no-nonsense go-getter, snorted and belted out in amusement, “Can we at least shoot his balls off?” Laughter erupted as Vazquez quieted the room.
“Is there anything else, Detective Knight? Agent Garrett?”
Knight shook his head as Agent Garrett took the lead.
“Every house, every person, and every car is suspect. The kidnapper could be your neighbor. It could be your local grocery store manager. It could even be a police officer. Open your eyes and stay alert. Sarah, Brittany, and their families are counting on you.”
* * *
The Owens house no longer looked like a police department parking lot. Most of the cruisers were now on patrol, leaving two vehicles at the end of the driveway. Knight parked on the side of the road in the same spot he had before. There was no sign of his partner, which was of no surprise. With an FBI agent tagging along, the scrutiny of their investigation was far greater than before. Knight had no doubt that she was with him to be Captain Marshall's eyes and ears. It was frustrating, to say the least, but he also knew that they had a job to do.
Agent Garrett exited the car on the passenger side and stepped into the street as a car passed them by. Knight got out on the sidewalk and stretched his arms. A few houses down from them, he saw the man in the jogging suit walking his dog again. Dale Schultz was his name, and Knight had given him his card. He pointed this out to Garrett as she approached him, explaining to her that he was their first outside witness. She turned and stared down the road as he waved to them.
“Keep an eye on him,” she said, narrowing her eyes. The thought that Schultz was their culprit had briefly entered his mind, but he didn't think so. As they approached the driveway, she continued talking. “Missing persons cases are particularly tragic. Some linger on for ten to twenty years. Some never get solved at all. Did you know that only twenty-five percent are solved in the first year?”
Knight nodded. “That's pretty bad.”
They walked up the driveway in between cars as a police helicopter hovered in the far distance. They reached the front door, and Knight rang the doorbell. Deputy Gibbs opened the door, relieved to see him. “Glad you're back, Detective. Any updates?” Her face went blank when she noticed Agent Garrett standing behind him.
“Deputy Gibbs, this is Agent Tanya Garrett with the FBI,” Knight said.
Gibbs extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Yes, thank you,” Garrett said in her friendly way, but Knight could tell that she was eager to get inside.
“Wow. The FBI,” Gibbs continued in awe. “What's it like working there?”
“Thank you, Deputy,” Knight said, politely nudging her out of their way.
They continued past the foyer and into the living room where Paul and Carol Owens sat. There were other officers in the room. The television was on, with the local news playing a segment unrelated to any kidnapping. All eyes went to Knight and Garrett as they entered.
“Detective Knight,” Paul said, rising from the couch. “What can you tell us now?” The questions were coming fast. Part of him wondered why he had come back to the house with so little progress made. Then he remembered. He wasn't done questioning the parents. He needed their help compiling a list of suspects.
“We just left the station,” Knight said, turning to Garrett. “This is Agent Garrett with the FBI. She's been brought on to assist with your daughter's disappearance and that of Sarah Riley.”
Both parents' faces lit up as though their prayers had been answered. Paul went immediately to Garrett and shook her hand, thanking her for coming. Carol remained on the couch, clutching a handkerchief and a steaming mug of coffee in her other hand. Her face was puffy and worn. She smiled with a nod as Garrett approached and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I'm very sorry about what you're going through, Mrs. Owens,” Garrett began. “Just know that the bureau does consider this a top priority.” Even if it was a stretch, the words seemed to provide Carol the comfort she needed. She smiled in response, eyes watering and touched Garrett's hand on her shoulder.
“What can you tell us?” Paul asked Knight, inches from his face.
Knight turned from the touching display on the couch to notice Paul's frantic expression. “We're working on it, Mr. Owens,” Knight said. “I'd like to ask you some more questions now that we're here.”
Paul looked up, confused but willing. “Yeah... questions.” He then ran both hands through his hair. “What do you want to know?”
Knight signaled to the sofa behind them where Carol was sitting. “Let's all have a seat, clear our minds, and get to the facts that we know.”
Paul seemed disoriented, nearing what looked like a complete breakdown. Knight's words eventually resonated with him as he stepped back and sat next to Carol.
Knight sat on a leather recliner across from them. Garrett was on her feet, watching outside the living room window.
Paul bit his lip, holding back tears. “They told me that Brittany's window was unlocked. Is that true?”
Garrett looked at Knight for a response. “It appears so,” he answered. “Someone knew which room to go to. We found ladder indentations in the yard.”
Garrett sat in another chair across from the couple, leaning forward to speak. “We can assume they were trying to break into your house, but I'd like to think they knew exactly who they were looking for and where she would be. Perhaps this person, given the opportunity, had unlocked the window beforehand.” She suddenly clasped her hands together, ready to move on. “Your daughter was abducted somewhere between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. by an unknown assailant. We believe they used nylon rope and duct tape to subdue her.”
Carol buried her head into her husband's shoulder, crying.
Knight leaned forward and tried to steer the conversation back in the right direction. “You had mentioned pest control, lawn service, electricians, roofers, and painters; all different contractors you had employed the past year. Is that correct?”
Paul nodded as Carol continued sobbing into his arm. Garrett suddenly stood up and walked wit
h a deliberate, leisurely pace to the staircase. “Detective Knight has a point in looking at tradesmen,” she said. “There was a case last year of a missing five-year-old and his mother. They'd simply vanished, and the case remained unsolved for two years. Turned out, the electrician had kidnapped them, hoping for a ransom.”
Carol covered her mouth, wailing, as Garrett turned to the grieving couple. “I apologize if that upsets you. Could I see your daughter's bedroom, please?” Paul nodded and gestured upstairs as Garrett left the room and ascended the steps, leaving Knight alone with the grieving couple. He pulled his audio recorder from his coat pocket, partly concealing it. “I have to ask; do you have any enemies?”
They both looked up at him, shocked. “I don't think so,” Paul said. “I work at a lab. Carol, she's a stay-at-home mom. We make a decent living, but we're far from wealthy. I can't think of anyone who would do this.”
Carol sat up, wiping the tears from her face. Her voice was strained as she spoke. “Have we completely ruled out that she went to school on her own? I know she isn't in class, but maybe she's somewhere with friends.”
Paul rubbed her back. “We've contacted her friends, honey. We've spoken to their parents. No one has seen her.”
Carol shook her head, wincing as though the truth pained her. “She has to come home. She has to!”
Paul then looked at Knight and apologized. “This is hard, even though I know you're only trying to help.” He gave his wife a reassuring look before turning back to Knight. “Now, what were you saying about enemies?”
“Is there anyone you know who would want to extort you for any reason? Friend, family member, or acquaintance?”
Paul leaned back into the couch, balling his fists. “I don't know. My sister asks us for money all the time, but I don't think she would be capable of something like this.”
Knight glanced at a family photo on a nearby shelf. Brittany and Kyle stood between their parents, smiling with the Grand Canyon behind them. “Is there anyone who has been in or around your house that you could describe as unusual? Perhaps you received a weird look or vibe from them. Anyone that comes to mind.”
Paul thought to himself for a moment. “Fixing up this house, we've seen plenty of weirdos come in and out,” he said. “Where should I start?”
Carol leaned forward, hand over her chest, as though the answer had come to her. “There was that painting company. I remember now. They did some drywall work, remember?”
Paul thought for a moment and nodded. “Yeah. What about them?”
Carol massaged her temples with both hands. “There was one man. Average height with this blond, bushy beard. He always seemed out of it. Smelled of alcohol. He worked with Evans Brothers Painting. I can remember, he was out back smoking a cigarette.” She paused to compose herself as her voice wavered. “I... I didn't think much of it at the time, but he watched Brittany play outside. The way he was staring at her… I should have said something.” She bowed her head, unable to go on as Paul rubbed her back.
“What was his name?” Agent Garrett asked.
Knight looked over, surprised to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs. They hadn't even heard her come down.
“I don't know,” Carol said. “This was at least three months ago.”
“Chet Daniels,” Paul said loudly. “Guy with a blond beard. I remember him. We talked about Arizona, because we were both from there, but he did seem aloof. I know he was drinking on the job too.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Garrett asked, entering the living room.
“Only talked with him twice,” Paul answered. “About three months ago.”
Garrett paced the room. “We'll bring a sketch artist in.”
Knight nodded in agreement. He felt a certain satisfaction that his line of questioning had brought them to that point. His instincts had so rarely failed him. It wasn't everything they needed, but it was a start.
* * *
Detective Knight arrived home just after eight. The sun had already gone down, leaving a night sky with its array of stars. Before getting home, he had dropped Agent Garrett off at her hotel. He wasn't sure exactly how long she was staying but was told that it would be at least a week. They had called a sketch artist in to compose an image of the mysterious “Chet,” mentioned by both Paul and Carol. By the end of the day, they had a lot of theories but no real answers.
He shut off the ignition and sat at the wheel for a moment in silence. Bonnie's blue Volvo was parked beside him in the driveway. The lights were off inside the house. Bonnie must have gotten sick of waiting. He had forgotten to pick up the beef too. They lived in a three-bedroom house in the quaint development of Weatherford Park. Their daughter Holly was there, indicated by her red Honda Civic parked in the street. She'd been staying with them for the past couple of weeks after being hired as a teacher at a nearby elementary school.
Knight loosened his collar and tie, hesitating to go inside. There were still so many unanswered questions. Agent Garrett. Brittany Owens. Sarah Riley. Chet. Evans Brothers. Their names swirled in his head. He thought of the police sketch of Chet Daniels, with his short blonde hair, sideburns, and beard. He had high cheekbones, a long, skinny neck, and a square chin. Both Paul and Carol gave virtually the same description. They had described his dirty work T-shirt and paint-stained blue jeans that they both saw him wearing.
Knight stepped outside of the car, checking his pockets for his wallet and cell phone. His pistol remained holstered to his side with his badge clipped to his belt. He stared up at the night sky for a moment, taking a deep breath. It had been a hell of a day. Oddly enough, he hadn't heard from Slater since their confrontation in the police parking lot.
He moved around the front of his car and walked along the concrete walkway to his house. He unlocked and opened the front door, hearing the TV from the living room. Once inside, he slipped out of his dress shoes, leaving them on the checkered tile. A small chandelier lit up the foyer. He walked into the living room, surprised to see no one there. The TV flashed its colors across the room. A single lamp was on, resting on a side table. To his left, he heard conversation coming from the dining room. He placed his coat over the back of the recliner and followed the voices.
Bonnie was seated at one end of their small square table, with Holly seated next to her. In the middle of the table was a bowl of pasta and tomato sauce. Their plates were empty, with only the traces of food remaining. On the opposite side of the table rested Knight's waiting plate, ready for a helping. There was also a small bread basket, a wedge of cheese and a grater, a wilted salad, and a bottle of wine, probably near empty. Bonnie and Holly laughed, glasses in hand, oblivious to his presence.
“Hello there,” said Holly. “Bout time you got home.”
Bonnie glanced over at him, smile dropping. “Good evening, Detective. How may I help you?”
Knight approached the table, placing his hands atop the empty chair next to Bonnie, letting her bit of sarcasm pass. “Mind if I join you before the night is over?”
Bonnie studied him with suspicion. “I don't know. You're an hour late, and I was forced to make pasta without meat.”
“I thought we were having tacos,” Knight said.
Holly smacked the table, laughing as Bonnie joined in. Knight stood and watched them, unamused. “Here I come home after a long day to find you both deep into a bottle of pinot.”
“Relax, Dad,” Holly said, waving him off. “We've all had a long day.”
Knight took his plate and dished out cold pasta. “Sure.”
“How was your day, dear?” Bonnie asked in a jokey manner while setting her empty glass down.
“Never a dull moment,” he said, sitting down.
“Why don't you heat that up?” Bonnie asked, staring at his plate. She then extended her arms. “Hand it to me, I'll toss it in the microwave.”
Knight grabbed his fork and scooped some pasta up. “I'm fine. Thanks.” He had no sooner taken his first bit
e when Holly asked him about the missing girl case.
“I heard it on the news today,” she said. “You found the guy yet?”
He shook his head but remained hesitant, offering no details, but then Bonnie pushed him. “What's going on, Charles?” she began. “Why can't you stop this?”
He chewed his food slowly and then held out his empty wine glass to be filled. “It's not a matter of stopping it. We have to find these girls.”
Holly leaned closer. “What's the holdup then?”
He set his fork down and then leaned back in his chair, staring at them, annoyed. He pulled his badge from his belt clip and placed it on the table for Holly. “Congratulations. You've been promoted to honorary detective. Lend us a hand.”
“Very funny,” Holly said, pushing the badge back to him with a laugh.
Knight sipped from his wine glass and took another bite. “They brought in an FBI agent to assist with the case. She's kind of a pain in the ass.”
“Anything should be better than your current partner,” Bonnie said, standing up.
Holly looked from Bonnie to Knight, confused. “What's wrong with him?”
Bonnie chuckled in response. “Oh, nothing a complete detox wouldn't fix.”
“Now, Bonnie,” Knight said, “you know there’s more to it. Simon is just going through some things right now. Divorce is a difficult thing, you know.”
Bonnie took her and Holly 's plates, turning toward the sink. “Well, good thing our marital binds are too strong to break.” She paused in the entryway, glancing back at him with a teasing yet suspicious eye. “Right?”
“Yes, dear,” he said, teasing back.
Satisfied, she retreated to the kitchen to start the dishes. Knight had filled his empty stomach and leaned back, watching as Holly nursed her wine. “Your mother and I are very happy to have you back home,” he said her. “I hope you know that you're welcome here any time.”
