by Blake Pierce
“She didn’t seem surprised.”
“Deputy Rothbridge,” DeMarco said, “are there any security cameras set up in the station?”
“The only cameras we have are out in the parking lot and one in the little interrogation room we have. If this woman came in from the front, she’s not going to be on any of the cameras.”
“I’m sorry,” Smith said. “I took down the usual information for the request. Name, reason for the information. It was quick and just sort of…I don’t know. It didn’t seem important.”
“It’s fine, Smith,” Rothbridge said.
“What did she look like?” Kate asked.
“I’d say she was in her early twenties. A pretty young lady. Dark hair, sort of quiet. But she looked a little strung out. Like I said, I think she was upset about something.”
“And she said she was family?”
Smith nodded, his eyes distant. He was clearly still feeling guilty about not taking down more information on this Katherine lady.
“Deputy,” Kate said, “you said no one has lived out on that road for several years. If the Fullers lived there about fifteen or sixteen years ago, is there anyone who might live close enough to it that might have known the Fullers?”
“There’s just no way to know.”
Something then occurred to Kate. It was a long shot, but given the way the morning was going, she wasn’t about to ignore any potential threads.
She took out her phone and pulled up the pictures she had taken from Alvin Fuller’s file during their visit to Coleman Furniture and Cabinets. She found the insurance and emergency contact forms, zooming in and looking to the bottom. At the bottom of one of the personal information forms was a listing for emergency contacts, complete with addresses and phone numbers. One of those contacts was listed as Pam Crabtree of Waynesboro.
“How about this address?” Kate asked, showing the screen to Rothbridge. “Is this close?”
“It is. As a matter of fact, it’s only about a mile or so away from the Fullers’ old address out on Sparrow Road.”
“You know if this lady still lives there?”
“She does. Her and her husband. The name stands out because her husband tends to raise a lot of hell at town council meetings about the lack of jobs in the area.”
“Any idea if they’d be home this time of the day?”
“I can almost guarantee it. They’re both retired. If memory serves, I believe Pam does alterations to clothes as a little side gig.”
Kate plugged the address into her phone’s GPS app as she got to her feet and instantly started for the door. “Thank you for your help,” she told both of the men still standing in the records room.
“Need any assistance?” Rothbridge asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
Though, given the way the morning had gone so far, she wasn’t so sure what the remainder of the day had in store.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The Crabtree residence was located down a two-lane road that was bordered on both sides by towering oaks. The late morning sun pouring through, filtered through the branches and leaves, was quite beautiful. Their driveway was directly off of the road; several yards ahead, Kate could see a turn-off for the apparently now-defunct Sparrow Road.
When she pulled into the driveway, Kate parked behind one of the two vehicles already parked there: one older beat-up car and a pickup truck that, while reasonably new, had taken a beating. Kate and DeMarco walked across the yard, the quiet southern morning like some sweet music ushering them along.
Kate knocked on the door twice before it was answered. From the first knock to the moment the door was opened, roughly forty seconds had passed. The man who answered the door was tall, thin, and clearly annoyed to be receiving unexpected company.
“Yeah?” he said. “Can I help you?”
Their badges and IDs out, Kate and DeMarco introduced themselves. The man did a very poor job of hiding his alarm. And something about that alarmed expression also alarmed Kate. She again felt that sense of being pushed along, riding some track that had been built for her long ago, but unseen to her.
“We have some questions about a family that used to live in Waynesboro,” Kate said. “A Pam Crabtree was listed as an emergency contact for the husband’s place of employment.”
The man looked trapped, like he had no idea what he should do. He opened his mouth two different times, wanting to say something but not having the words.
“Does Pam Crabtree live here?” she asked.
“Pam!” the man yelled. “There are FBI agents here to talk to you.”
Kate jumped at the shouting. And she couldn’t help but feel as if he had taken this approach as a way to warn her—to let her know that they had company that might cause them trouble. It made Kate feel like they might be hiding something.
“Let ’em in,” a woman’s voice replied from inside.
The man stepped aside and let them in. He was easily six inches taller than Kate; when they passed by him, he looked down on them like a man might observe a passing insect that had the potential to bite or sting. The front door led directly into a living room, where the man sat down carefully in an old recliner.
“What family are you trying to learn about?” he asked.
“Wendy and Alvin Fuller,” Kate said. “They lived here for a while but moved about sixteen years ago. You remember them?”
The man looked confused, like he didn’t understand the question. Eventually, he only shook his head.
“Are you Mrs. Crabtree’s husband?” DeMarco asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is she busy?”
“I don’t…no, I don’t think so.”
“Mr. Crabtree, if you don’t mind me asking, are you all right?” Kate asked. “You look very troubled about something.”
“I’m fine,” he said. And before he could be questioned any further, a woman came into the room from an entrance in the back of the living room. A darkened hallway sat beyond her, leading farther into the house. This woman, presumably Pam Crabtree, was just as rail thin as her husband. She looked perpetually tired and her mouth was drawn down in a sneer that made it look as if it was an expression she wore quite often.
“Alvin and Wendy Fuller?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” Kate said. “When he was in town and working at Coleman Furniture and Cabinets, he had you listed as an emergency contact.”
“Yeah, we used to be pretty close with them when they lived here. I’ve always had something of a problem with my right knee…have ever since I was a child. It made it damn near impossible to work, so I was living on government assistance. The Fullers came into town and when they were all moved in they came over to introduce themselves. Alvin was a nice enough fellow. Young and in love with his wife. Told me to call him whenever my knee was flaring up if I needed any help.”
“And did you ever call on him?” DeMarco asked.
“Oh yeah, several times.”
“Too many times,” her husband replied from his place in his recliner. “He was always over here, doing things I should have been doing. He treated us like we were old and broken.”
“He was a sweetie,” Pam argued. “But then…he stopped coming around. He got…”
“What?” Kate asked.
“He just got mean. Like out of nowhere. And after that, I stopped calling on him for help.”
“Do you recall them having a daughter?” Kate asked.
“No. No kids. Actually, I’m pretty sure they were having problems having kids. If I remember correctly, Wendy was having some tests done. But…hell, I guess that was right before they left town.”
“Was there anything about them that struck you as odd?” DeMarco asked. “You said he got mean. What, exactly, do you mean?”
Before Pam could answer, another person came walking down the hallway and into the room. She was a younger woman, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three.
“It means he became an uncaring a
sshole,” she said.
“And who are you?” Kate asked.
“I’m Katherine Sanders.”
Kate and DeMarco shared an uneasy look. Just like that, a lead had literally fallen in their lap.
“The same Katherine Sanders that went by the Waynesboro police station eight days ago to ask for contact information on the Fuller family?” Kate asked.
The girl stepped into the room and sat down on the dingy couch against the back wall. She looked at both of the Crabtrees before she spoke. Kate studied the girl and within five seconds could determine that she was either high or jonesing for her next one. From the looks of the girl’s lips, her frail state, and the overall tired look about her, Kate assumed meth was her drug of choice.
“Yeah. I’ve been trying to find them for a year or so now.”
“Why is that?”
Katherine looked to Pam Crabtree, apparently expecting for some backup. Pam, though, didn’t seem very comfortable with the way things were going.
“At the risk of seeming pushy,” Kate said, “I’m going to need to know what in the hell is going on.”
“Well,” Pam said, “like the Fullers, we once knew Katherine pretty well, too. But her parents also ended up leaving town.”
“Why?” DeMarco said.
“Because my father couldn’t keep his stupid ass out of jail,” Katherine said.
“And what’s the link to the Fullers?”
“My parents and the Fullers got to know each other, I think,” Katherine said. “I was young when everything happened. Like maybe five or six years old.”
“What do you mean by everything?” Kate asked.
Katherine took a breath. She was visibly shaking—from emotion or drug withdrawal, Kate wasn’t sure—and looking around the room like she was expecting someone to attack her at any moment. She finally answered, and when she did, it came out in a grumbling sort of whine, like a woman desperate to tell a secret but afraid of what it could mean.
“My dad was a criminal and my mom was a druggie,” Katherine said. “But somehow, they had another baby after me. A little girl. My sister. And even though I have absolutely no proof...”
“What is it?” Kate asked, taking a step toward Katherine.
“The Fullers took her. They took my sister away and my parents never did a fucking thing about it!”
***
The atmosphere in the Crabtree living room was absolutely chilled after the comment came out of Katherine’s mouth. Again, Kate and DeMarco looked uneasily at one another, shocked by the accusation.
“I’m sure you understand,” Kate said, “that such an accusation is very serious. Especially when you yourself said you don’t have proof.”
“I know. But I remember it. Not clearly, exactly, but I do remember the Fullers being there on the day Kim was taken.”
“Kim? That’s your sister?”
“Yes. Kim Sanders. She couldn’t have been any older than three months or so when they took her.”
“How do you know they took her?” Kate asked. “Did you actually see it?”
“No. But they were there, hanging out with my parents. They were friends, I guess. I just…I remember them being there and I thought they left. I went back to my room and heard them come back. I can remember hearing some screaming later on, and then coming out. Dad was knocked out and Kim was gone.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, Mom was at work when it happened. I think she had just left for her shift. So I called the Crabtrees and they came over.”
Pam nodded, sitting by Katherine and taking her hand. “Katherine’s parents were miserable people,” she explained. “When her dad got in trouble with the police and her mother needed help caring for Katherine, she’d call us. Same with the mom. When she was too strung out to be a functioning mother and Katherine’s dad couldn’t handle things, he’d bring her here. We brought her here that day. It was a hard decision. But I knew if we called the authorities, Katherine would end up in the foster system. And she deserved so much better than that.”
“We’d keep her for days at a time sometimes,” Mr. Crabtree said from his recliner. “We were happy to do it because we wanted what was best for her, but we also felt sort of stupid. We’d basically just keep her so her messed up parents could get their acts together. And really, it never happened.”
“We did our best to help,” Pam said. “Social Services in this part of the state is a joke. We wanted to badly to keep her out of the foster system. But I think her school caught wind of what was happening at some point…”
“Third grade,” Katherine said. “My teacher somehow found out that Mom was high out of her mind when she brought me to school one morning because I missed the bus. Someone did some digging, and that was that. I bounced around the foster system for the rest of my childhood. Five different homes.”
“And you never, in the course of all of that, bothered to mention that you had a sister that had been abducted?” DeMarco asked.
“No. Not too long after Kim went missing, my parents told me not to mention it. Never to mention it again. I think they were relieved. I hate to say it, I really do, but they didn’t want her. Hell, half the time, I don’t think they wanted me.”
Kate could not get a proper read on whether Katherine’s story was true or not. It didn’t help that she was clearly strung out at the present moment.
“Katherine, where are your parents now?”
“Mom died ten years ago. She overdosed on heroin. Dad…” She chuckled here and gave a shrug. “I have no idea. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he reached out to me after Mom died.”
“What’s his name?”
“Nick. Nick Sanders.”
“Are you currently using, Katherine?” Kate asked.
Katherine was apparently not expecting such a direct question. She looked nervously around the room and nodded. “Not like today. But meth. Yeah…the apple doesn’t fall too far from the rotten tree, does it?”
“She came to us when she got into town,” Pam explained. “We told her she could stay here for a while, but there were to be no drugs in this house.”
“So why were you looking for an address for the Fullers?” Kate asked.
“Because I want to confront them. I don’t care about jail time or anyone getting in trouble. I just want them to know that I know what they did. I want to meet my sister. I mean…I’m not mad at them. Hell, she probably had a better life with them than she would have if she’d stayed with my asshole parents.”
Kate nearly told her about the Fullers and the missing girl that she was claiming to be her sister. But until she knew the story was factual, she wasn’t going to reveal such information. But then again, she had to reveal some of it. Especially if they wanted Katherine’s assistance in getting deeper into the case
“Katherine…we’ve been visiting Deton, Virginia, for the last few days. It’s where the Fullers were living.”
“Were? Did they move again?”
“No,” DeMarco said. “They were murdered. Which is why we find it very interesting that you were asking about them eight days ago.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Pam said. “Katherine has been here with us for nearly two weeks. Ten days, I think it’s been now.”
Kate felt a tension headache building behind her eyes as she tried to make sense of the situation. “Katherine…would you be willing to come with us to Deton? If what you’re telling us is true, you could be essential to solving the case.”
“You mean figuring out who killed them?”
“That,” Kate said, “and who kidnapped your sister.”
Katherine seemed to fall into a slight trance at this comment. Slowly, she started to shake her head. “No. I don’t want to spend any time in a police station. I can tell you everything I know and I can help over the phone or whatever, but no…I don’t want to go to some other town.”
Kate supposed she understood this. And really, in the grand scheme of things, it
wasn’t like Katherine being there in Deton would help the case move any faster.
“Katherine, what can you tell me about the Fullers? Do you remember them at all?”
“Barely. They would come over to the house every now and then, trying to be friends with my folks, I think. Over time, I started to realize that one of the reasons they never stuck around for very long was probably because of my folks’ lifestyle. That and, of course, they stole my sister. She just…”
She trailed off here and looked to the ceiling. The moment a shimmer of tears started to trace the outlines of her eyes, she wiped them away. She then looked directly at Kate and despite the vague detachment in her eyes, Kate felt for her.
“Is she alive?”
“We don’t know. We’re trying to find her. Until this morning, we assumed she was the biological daughter of Alvin and Wendy Fuller.”
For a moment, Kate thought Katherine was going to change her mind. Maybe she’d come along to Deton to help, driven by the hope of finding her long-lost sister. But again, Katherine Sanders only shook her head. She looked sad as she did so, as if she wished she were just a little braver.
If she’s telling the truth, Kate thought, this case is much bigger than we thought—and goes back much further. And perhaps even more notable…if this is a fifteen-year-old abduction case, we’re soon going to run out of suspects.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
While Kate made the drive from Waynesboro back to Deton, DeMarco made numerous phone calls. The result of those calls was a packed police station back in Deton. More state Police had come to assist and, almost like moths to a growing fire, there were more news vans parked outside the station.
Sheriff Barnes had apparently been waiting at the door for them because as soon as they started walking across the parking lot, swarmed by reporters and camera people, Barnes was there He stood in front of Kate and DeMarco like a moving wall, barking orders and mild threats to the reporters. Kate couldn’t help but feel a little charm from the gesture.
When they were inside and away from turmoil of the press, Barnes practically collapsed in one of the chairs in the small waiting area just in front of the bullpen.
