Simon Says... Hide

by Dale Mayer

  She stepped back to the open window, knowing that she needed an official warrant, unless she had justifiable cause. As far as she was concerned, having one pedophile in another pedophile’s house, while several kids were missing, was a good enough reason for her.

  She pulled on a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. She always carried them. Then climbed through the window and stepped into the kitchen. The basement door was open; she made her way downstairs with the lights on and found just storage. It didn’t look to be anything other than that, until she came around the corner and saw another door. She walked over, and it was locked.

  Kate swore and pushed her ear against the door. She couldn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t good enough for her. She’d learned a long time ago how to pick locks; she just wasn’t allowed to use that method. But, right now, she didn’t have a whole lot of choice. She pulled her tools out of her back pocket and quickly popped the lock. She pushed open the door and turned on the light. There in front of her, curled up in the bed, was a child. She raced over and checked, and the child was alive. It was a little girl. She called Rodney. “I’m inside. I found a child in the basement. Behind a locked door. She’s alive but comatose.”

  “Jesus!” he said.

  “Get me an ambulance and get your ass out here. I think this is the girl from the chat room.”

  “Watch your back,” he said. “You only ran off one of the pedophiles. So where’s the second one?”

  “Good point,” she said. “Get your ass here and fast.” She didn’t want to leave the child, so she got up and walked over to the door and locked it again. She took several photographs of the little girl’s face and sent it to Aaron and the IT Division, and then to the guys following up on sex trafficking rings. Something had to be here that she could use to get this little girl out of here.

  As she turned, she stared at the closet; the small solemn room was all dolled up as a little child’s room, with a child’s bed, all kinds of toys, and a bookshelf off to the side. But in a corner of the room were cameras. She quickly grabbed pieces of clothing and put them over the cameras, in case somebody was watching her right now. Then she heard footsteps.

  Swearing under her breath, she raced behind the door and waited. She didn’t know who the hell it was, but no way she would let anybody take this little girl again. Not on her watch.

  *

  Monday Evening

  Simon couldn’t relax; he couldn’t seem to settle into doing anything. It was Monday evening, and all he could do was think about those kids. It was pissing him off. He hopped up, grabbed his wallet, and walked down the stairs this time, forgoing the elevators, hoping to burn through some of that ugly energy. He strolled out to the street. He needed to pick up something for dinner, simply too damn tired to do much. And he was frustrated, angry. A fish-and-chips shop was not too far from here, so he walked that way and ordered some, along with a beer, and sat down with it.

  As long as he was within the boundary of the shop, he could have his beer, but he longed to get a walk around the block. As he sat here, he knew something was going on. He saw it—just vague disjointed visions. He felt it. And, damn it, he tasted it, and that made the fish and chips taste like shit. He looked down at it in disgust, knowing he needed it for sustenance, but he sure as hell didn’t want to eat the rest of this.

  His fingers itched to contact the detective, just knowing that she’d found something. He could only hope that what she found was the right something. Finally he couldn’t help himself. He quickly sent her a text. Progress?

  When there was no answer, he got pissed again. Of course he got no answer because she wasn’t allowed to tell him anything. But there had to be some progress. He sent her a second text. Follow up when you can.

  Then he got up, tossed back the rest of his beer, dumped the last of the fish and chips he couldn’t eat, and headed home again. Instead of walking the normal route, he went via some old buildings he was rehabbing; then he walked back to where he had found the little girl’s body. Children were in every corner of this damn world, and it was distressing, bringing back so many ugly memories. Memories he had no intention of dealing with.

  As he went to cross the street, a pickup truck bolted in front of him; it didn’t even have its lights on. He stepped back quickly to avoid getting run over and swore at him. The guy had a fist out the window, with a finger straight up to the sky. Simon just glared at the small little truck as it tore off. Then he saw the license plate numbers, yet he shouldn’t have been able to read them. The truck was going by too fast, but the numbers were emblazoned in his head.

  He frowned and didn’t know what to make of it. But he had no instinctive urge to send those to her, so he carried on. Soon his footsteps took him in the same direction as the truck had gone. That didn’t seem logical either, since no way he would catch up with a speeding vehicle; the asshole would be miles away by now. Except, as he came around the corner, he saw the same truck, parked off to the side.

  He frowned at that, but he approached slowly, not sure what he was looking for. He walked past, and the driver was sitting in the truck with his head back, deep breathing, as if trying to calm down. Simon pounded on the window and heard a shriek from the inside, as the guy woke from whatever meditative nap he was trying to take. He rolled his window down and screamed, “Asshole, you fucking asshole!”

  But a tremble was in his voice, as if he were terrified. He had had a rough life too, proven by the little bit of his aging face Simon could see. He looked to be in his fifties easily. Whatever his age, he was scared. Catching that note, Simon looked at him and snapped, “You are the one who flipped me off, after nearly killing me on the road.”

  But the other guy just started up the truck, shaking his head. Wordlessly he pulled away at a much more sedate pace.

  “What was that all about?” Simon wondered aloud. Was the jerk just out here, trying to recover from some shock of his own? And recover from what? But, in this location, it could be anything. It was a pretty ugly side of town. As Simon watched the blue truck head up the street, it took a right, heading toward the area where Simon had found the little dead girl. Suspicious, Simon quickly took several shortcuts through the back alleyways and came out on the same corner, about a block or two down from where the little girl had been.

  As he stood here and watched, the same blue truck came around the corner, slowed, and then picked up speed again. Simon pulled out his phone and texted the license plate to the detective. She didn’t answer, but then what did he expect? He pocketed his phone and, this time, headed home for good.

  Chapter 21

  Monday, Later that Evening

  The footsteps stopped. Kate held her breath and waited because that last stair had a bit of a creak to it. It was almost as if he understood that somebody was down here. A man called out, “Hello, anybody here?”

  She tilted her head, not sure who was there.

  “I’m the neighbor. I saw the door open. Is everybody okay?”

  She groaned silently and rolled her eyes. But she didn’t dare say anything. Because what if it was him, the Nico perv? And the neighbor bit was just a ruse? She waited and finally heard the footsteps turn back around and go upstairs. He called out several more times on the main floor; then she heard him go out the kitchen door and close it. She was grateful for that. She raced to the window to see if she saw where he went. And, indeed, he headed to the house on her side of the basement and went back inside.

  She checked her phone. It hadn’t been twenty minutes since her original text about the little girl. The little thing was still curled up, her skin waxy cold. But she was alive, and that’s how Kate was trying to keep her—alive. This little girl had been through way too much already.

  With great relief Kate heard sirens approaching. She didn’t want to leave the little girl even then, but her phone buzzed, and she saw it was Rodney. She gave him instructions about coming down to the basement. He arrived within minutes, paramedics at his side. Ri
chmond RCMP officers following behind. As soon as she opened the door, he saw the little girl and, shaking his head, whispered, “Dear God in heaven.”

  “I know,” Kate said, her tone low.

  The paramedic went straight to the little girl’s side, checked her out, and frowned. “We need to get her to the hospital immediately,” he said. “Her vitals are really low. I suspect she’s been drugged.”

  “It’s probably to keep her calm and quiet, while she’s alone,” Rodney said.

  “Yeah, I agree,” Kate said. She watched, that same burning fury building inside her as the little girl was quickly bundled up, loaded onto a gurney, and, sirens blazing, taken away. Kate stood here for a long moment and said, “Forensics needs to go over this room with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “Richmond RCMP will handle it,” Rodney said quietly. “What are you expecting them to find?”

  “You mean, outside of evidence of the pedophile?” She saw him acknowledge her words with a nod and looked at him directly, angst in her eyes. “DNA from other children.” With that, she turned abruptly and headed upstairs. Outside, on the back porch, off the kitchen, she took several deep, calming breaths. Forensics would be here soon, but it would take them a little bit.

  Rodney joined her. “Do we need to check the rest of the house?”

  “Yeah, we do,” she said, “plus that neighbor.” She pointed to the right. “He came over and was all over up here and even came downstairs, calling out to see if anybody was there because the door had been left open. We also need to track down the driver of that truck who got away.”

  “Sounds like the neighbor is somebody we can talk to then,” he said. “Did you let him know you were here?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t take the chance, in case it was actually this Nico guy who lives here.”

  “Good point,” he said. “I guess other children could be here somewhere?”

  Her shoulders hunched in. “Oh, God, I haven’t looked,” she said, turning to stare at him in horror. “I didn’t want to leave the little girl alone.”

  “The police are searching right now, but we can join in. Let’s go together,” he said. “We’ll search the downstairs and tear it apart, make sure nobody else is here.”

  “We must search every corner,” she said. “He had one child hidden and God only knows for how long.”

  “That girl was the one for sale in the chat room, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded slowly. “And what I’m wondering is,” she said, “if that rat’s ass I’d missed escaping the kitchen was trying to steal her out from under the other one, instead of buying her.”

  “Well, we have an address for him too,” he said. “Let’s finish this job, hand the scene off to Forensics, and then we can go find him.”

  “I already sent out a request to have him picked up,” she said. “And I want to talk to him no matter what.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  She shook her head. “No, not the facial details. Just the general frame. Sure glad I took that photo of the license plate when I got here.”

  “Have you heard if they’ve got him yet?”

  “Nope,” she said, “but, as long as they are doing that, we can do this.” And, with that, they headed back downstairs to the basement, systematically measuring off the space, and checked that no other hiding spots were in that basement. Then they moved upstairs and searched the main floor. By the time they had done that, a Forensics Division team was on the scene, and Kate and Rodney turned over the basement to them. Then she and Rodney headed back up to search the rest of the house. In the master bedroom, now that they were fully allowed to do a thorough search, she said, “I think we should also look for a safe.”

  “Good point,” he said. “A house like this would have one.”

  “Where the hell is the owner?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “He hasn’t left the country, at least not by any means that requires his passport.”

  “Of course, now that we’ve found the child, even if he planned on coming home, chances are he’s not anymore.”

  “Well, it’s not like you or I would anyway,” he said. “And I hardly doubt that he can pass this off as being anything other than his house.”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” she said, “but we’ve seen guys act like they had absolutely nothing to do with anything before. It always amazes me.”

  “I know,” he said. “Come on. Let’s finish up.”

  They went room by room on the second story and ended up back in the master bedroom once again. They checked under the bed and the night tables, also for hidden pockets in the walls, inspecting everything they could think of. And found nothing.

  She shook her head. “You know a safe is here somewhere.” She walked over to the huge closet again and moved all the clothes back, pulling them out this time. “Here it is.” And she pointed to the safe. She stared at the combination lock and said, “This one looks even older than the last one.”

  “Maybe your friend will send you the combination.”

  She pulled out her phone, checked it, and said, “He’s been asking for updates.”

  “Well, tell him you need the number.” She looked at him, startled, as he shrugged. “Hey, he sent it to you last time. Maybe he would send you another one.”

  “Oh my God, he already did send some numbers,” she said, scrolling through her messages. She held it up and said, “Look at the license plate.”

  “That’s the same one as the guy who escaped from the kitchen?”

  “Yes,” she said. On a whim, she sent him a message. Need a number.

  Instead of texting her back, her phone rang.

  “What kind of a number?” he said briskly.

  “It’s a safe again,” she said. “I have no clue.”

  “Did you get anywhere tonight?”

  She turned to Rodney and smiled. “Yes. We found a little girl. Alive.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Twelve, nine, forty-two.” Then he hung up.

  She stared down at her phone, then looked at Rodney and shrugged. “He said, twelve, nine, and forty-two.” She quickly ran the tumblers back and forth, dialing to the numbers he gave her, and, when it clicked, she just stared. She turned to look back at Rodney and said, “This guy is dangerous.”

  “Or a huge asset,” he said.

  “I don’t think I like the asset part.” She pulled open the safe and stared. “Holy shit.” It was full of albums and binders. Still gloved up, she pulled out the top binder, and it was full of children. Grim-faced, she handed it off to Rodney and pulled out more. “Jesus Christ,” she said. “These are all photos of children.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they are photos he had anything to do with,” he said. “It could be just a picture album.”

  “I guess our online forensic techs could tell us that. They can do a facial recognition on these kids. We’ll need to send those to ICE at bare minimum.” With all the albums collected, she found an envelope in the back of the safe. She pulled it forward, a paper clip holding it shut. She popped that open, took a look, and whistled.

  “What is it?” Rodney asked.

  “Dates and codes,” she said, “maybe for names?”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m not sure, but maybe children,” she said. She turned to Rodney. “Crap. I didn’t check the little girl’s wrist,” she said. “I should have.”

  “We still can,” he said. “She’s at the hospital.”

  Kate nodded. “That’s where I’m going first,” she said, “and we need to take this in, see if we can get confirmation of what the hell is going on here.”

  “I don’t think these albums are trophies,” he said. “I suspect they are more like wish books. I hate to say it but think ordering catalogs.”

  Just the suggestion made her stomach churn. “Please don’t use that term,” she said hoarsely.

  “I’m not sure we have a choice. It’s almost like this is an
online catalogue,” he said. “Each one of these photos has a number.”

  She stared down at the photo album, looked up at him, back at the photo album. “So what is this then?” she asked, holding up the envelope. “Some of the numbers are here.”

  “I’m thinking it’s a sales record on these products.”

  They stared at each other in horror because that was a truth nobody wanted to believe.

  *

  Tuesday, 1:00 a.m.

  Simon didn’t know why he assumed Kate would come to him because there was absolutely no reason for it. Except that she’d come at other times. When he still had no sign of her at one o’clock in the morning, he threw in the towel, got dressed in jeans, grabbed a leather jacket, and walked out. He hopped into his car and drove in the direction of her address. She probably didn’t even know that he knew where she lived. But it was something he had learned almost immediately.

  He stared from the sidewalk up at the old apartment building. She lived at the top right corner, and her light was on. Did she leave the light on, or was she there? Maybe she slept with it on. More than likely she was still working. Speaking of which, he turned, looked around, and saw a Chinese restaurant still open at the corner. He walked in and found the place was empty. He asked if they were still taking orders, and the old man told him they were closed.

  “I just want to get enough for tonight, right now. Do you have anything left over?” They haggled back and forth, and Simon finally convinced the man to sell him the leftovers. Equipped with two large bags, he walked over to her apartment, let himself in the main door, and entered the elevator. When he got to her hallway, he headed toward her number and knocked. He almost felt her jump at the sound. When he heard her call out, he answered quietly, “It’s Simon.”

  She opened the door, and he stared at her calmly. She was shocked, dumbfounded even. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He held out the Chinese food, the aroma wafting through the place. “I figured you probably hadn’t eaten.”

  She frowned instantly, stared at the food, then looked back at him and said, “No, I haven’t. But what has that got to do with you?”