Familiar Pieces: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery (A North and Martin Abduction Mystery Book 6)

by James Hunt

  “Don’t put this on me,” Daniel said, rising to meet her.

  “Why? Because I’m right?” Marcia asked. “I told you we should have hired that bodyguard.”

  “I didn’t want Ricky to freak out about having some stranger around him all the time!”

  “Well, that doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  The pair finally took a breath, both of them panting after the blowout.

  It was Daniel who finally sat down, and he rubbed his face until it was a pinkish hue. “Sorry about that,” Daniel said.

  Jim didn’t want to start another round of fighting, so he tread lightly. “This is a very stressful time. If you need a minute—”

  “No,” Daniel said, and then Marcia sat down, both of them remaining indifferent to one another. “No, we don’t need to do that. I guess it’s worth mentioning to you that Marcia and I are getting a divorce.”

  “Does Ricky know?” Jim asked.

  “No,” Marcia answered. “We’ve managed to keep that from him.”

  Jim knew kids had a way of uncovering secrets even when you didn’t want them to know. Children were always more perceptive than what parents gave them credit for.

  “Well,” Jim said, “we’ll need access to your son’s channel. I’m going to have one of our technicians come in and get that set up.”

  “Of course, whatever you need,” Daniel said, but Jim noted how Marcia didn’t look too pleased about it. “Could this be that predator we saw on the news? The cyber pedophile?”

  “We’ll know more as the investigation continues, but we’re looking at all possible angles,” Jim said. “We’ll let you know when we find something.”

  “Thank you,” Daniel said.

  Jim and Kerry stepped out of the room, leaving the parents to bicker amongst themselves, and then returned to their desks.

  “That was a lot to unpack,” Kerry said.

  “Yeah,” Jim replied, still processing the conversation. “Where are we with the AMBER Alert?”

  “It’s already on the lieutenant’s desk for approval,” Kerry said.

  Jim reached for his cellphone and stared at the blank screen. He knew the Broker was behind all of this, and now they just needed to prove it.

  6

  Once Jim and Kerry squared away the necessary paperwork for the AMBER Alert, they drove to the Teller’s house to take a look at Ricky’s room to see if they could find any evidence that the Broker was involved. They cleared it with the Tellers, who said they would meet Jim and Kerry back at their house.

  “You think we’ll find the phone?” Kerry asked.

  “I hope so,” Jim answered.

  “What’d you think of the parents?” Kerry asked.

  “Did I like them? No,” Jim answered. “Did I think they were involved? I’m not sure yet.”

  “I just don’t understand how a parent could view their child as a commodity,” Kerry said. “Brian and I do everything we can to guard our kids against social media. Neither of us thinks it’s healthy for them to be subjected to other peoples’ opinions all the time. The social pressures at school can be hard enough, but I can’t imagine bringing that home, you know? Home is where you’re supposed to have refuge.”

  “Supposed to,” Jim said. “But I imagine for a kid who doesn’t have a good home life, the internet is a means of escape. I know I would have been on it if I’d had access to it when I was in the foster system.”

  “You think that’s what Ricky was doing?” Kerry asked. “Looking for a friend?”

  “I think a friend might have found him,” Jim answered. “The Broker always goes after children who come from broken homes. Ricky Teller fits that description.”

  When they entered the Teller’s neighborhood, they noticed how the houses continued to grow larger and more expensive. And when Kerry slowed and pulled into the Tellers’ driveway, both of them were shocked by the size of the house.

  “All of this comes from making those videos?” Kerry asked.

  “Some of it, but from what I was reading about it, the bulk of the money comes from having paid sponsors,” Jim said. “Companies pay big money for someone like Ricky to give a review of their product in order to reach his audience. The Tellers make a cool twenty million a year from Ricky’s channel and corresponding sponsors.”

  “When the hell did you read about that?” Kerry asked, pulling into the gated driveway.

  Jim lifted his phone. “What do you think I do when you drive?”

  Kerry rolled down her window and then pressed the talk button at the intercom outside of the gated entrance.

  “Hello?” a female voice asked.

  “This is Detective Kerry Martin and Detective Jim North,” Kerry said.

  There was a pause, and then the gates opened. Kerry pulled through, rolling up her window. “I guess that’s a good sign,” Kerry said.

  “Hopefully, it stays that way,” Jim replied.

  The mansion was even more impressive inside the gates. It didn’t look like the home of a family of three that boasted such down-to-earth videos on the internet, but then Jim remembered how obsessed the mother was with money.

  “I hope they’re saving for Ricky’s college education with all of this,” Kerry said.

  “Are you kidding?” Jim asked. “This is his nest egg for the rest of his life.”

  Kerry followed the driveway up to the front door, where she parked next to a four-car garage. The amount of excess and grandeur on display made Jim sick. The house had to be at least ten bedrooms, more room than any of them needed.

  “Let’s make sure we keep our cards close to our chest,” Jim said. “If the parents are involved, I don’t want to give them anything that will help them.”

  After Kerry parked in the circular driveway by the front door, a concerned Daniel Teller stepped out of the house to greet them. Jim thought the worry might just be a performance, but if it was, the father was putting on a hell of a show.

  “Have you heard anything yet?” Daniel asked.

  It had been less than thirty minutes since the interview with Daniel and Marcia Teller had ended, so Jim wasn’t sure what the father thought might have happened.

  “The AMBER Alert was sent out,” Jim answered.

  “How long does it take for it to start working?” Daniel asked.

  “The officers assigned to the hotline should be receiving calls as we speak,” Jim answered.

  “So you guys follow up on the leads, and then… what?” Daniel asked.

  “Any credible leads are forwarded to us,” Jim answered. “But right now, we need to examine your son’s room.”

  The answer didn’t satisfy Daniel Teller, but he turned around to lead them into the house without another word.

  The inside of the mansion was just as decadent and insane as the interior of the mansion. But it did have a bit of a homier feel than the outside. There were family pictures on the walls and toys scattered about the house, along with film equipment. But there were also paintings that looked like they had cost a fortune, designer furniture, and a marble statue of some ancient Greek bust that clashed with the few items of normalcy, as if they were simply bought because that’s what the Tellers believed rich people owned.

  Ricky’s bedroom was on the third floor and was almost as big as Jim’s entire house. Inside was everything a little kid could possibly want to do or have to play with—toys, a computer, television with surround sound and video games, a desk, and a huge race car bed that had to have been custom made, with matching racing sheets.

  “Did Ricky spend a lot of time in his room?” Kerry asked.

  “Yeah, we wanted him to have his own space, you know?” Daniel asked.

  “Nice of you, considering he helped pay for all of this,” Jim answered.

  Daniel soured. “I know what you’re thinking. That we’re the bad parents who take advantage of our kid. But we don’t do anything Ricky isn’t comfortable with doing, and we have always made it clear to him that anytime he
wants to stop, he can.”

  “Easier said than done,” Jim said. “You don’t think he knows that without him, all of this goes away?”

  “We’ve been smart with money,” Daniel said.

  Jim glanced around to the massive house, muttering to himself, “Clearly not that smart.”

  “Where do you make the videos?” Kerry quickly asked before Daniel could reply and then cast Jim a “drop it” look.

  “We have a studio out back where I edit the videos,” Daniel said. “But we mostly film in the living room, the kitchen, bathroom, or the backyard. Every once in a while, we’ll do a location shoot like at the beach, but most of the time, we film here.”

  “Where is Mrs. Teller?” Jim asked, walking over to Ricky’s desk where there were several drawings and sketches scattered messily over the top along with colored pencils.

  “She went to speak with our lawyer,” Daniel answered.

  Both Jim and Kerry perked up.

  “About what?” Jim asked.

  “Look, it’s not what you think,” Daniel answered. “We have several different holdings and a ton of events Ricky was scheduled to attend over the next week. Those obligations have contracts, and those contracts are very, very complicated. She’s just making sure that when Ricky comes back—because we have every expectation that he will—that he’ll have however much time he needs to recover.”

  “How thoughtful,” Jim said.

  Kerry stepped between Jim and Daniel, cutting Jim off before he could ruffle anymore feathers.

  It could have been the lack of sleep or the frustration that had been building in him over the past several months, but Jim felt his ability to hold his tongue slipping away. Those lone wolf days, where he would do whatever was necessary on a case, were coming back to the forefront of his conscious thoughts.

  “Well, if you need anything, just let me know,” Daniel said, and then he left the room.

  Once Daniel was gone, Kerry walked over to her partner. “I thought we were going to play the cards close to our chest?”

  “Sorry,” Jim answered. “Let’s start looking for the phone.”

  While Ricky’s father was certain they wouldn’t find anything, Jim knew that every kid had secrets. No matter the child, no matter the home, every kid always tried to hide things from their parents.

  They checked all of the usual places, under the mattress, pillowcases, desk, closet, but neither Jim nor Kerry found anything.

  “Maybe we’re not dealing with the Broker on this one,” Kerry said.

  “He wouldn’t have sent me the text unless he was targeting another kid,” Jim said. “Keep looking. We just haven’t found it yet.”

  Kerry sighed, but she continued to glance around the room, searching through drawers, checking for false bottoms.

  Jim walked to the center of the room and tried a different approach of looking at the space. Kids were creatures of habits, and if there was a place where Ricky spent most of his time, Jim was betting it was the desk.

  Jim walked over to the desk, tilting his head to the side as he examined the heavy dents in the carpet. The chair never moved, save for the times Ricky pushed it in and out. Jim sat down at the desk and saw that Ricky’s laptop was front and center.

  “You think he was contacting the Broker through the laptop?” Kerry asked, going through Ricky’s sock drawer.

  “No,” Jim answered, opening the lid to the laptop. “The Broker wouldn’t deviate from a method that’s worked to his advantage this far.” He spun the laptop around and then flipped it up so he could see the bottom, and it was here he saw the kind of repeated scratch marks at one of the corners that only could have occurred if Ricky had constantly been picking at it.

  Jim picked at the corner and felt the bottom piece of hard plastic give way. He flipped it over and found a small notebook inside, skinny enough to be wedged between the computer’s case and against another piece of plastic that protected the computer’s components.

  Kerry walked over to Jim. “How do you do that?”

  “It’s all about putting yourself in the kid’s shoes,” Jim answered.

  Jim opened the skinny notebook and then scanned the scribblings inside. The writing was disjointed and random, but it didn’t take long to see why Ricky wanted to keep this hidden.

  “It’s about his parents,” Jim said. “He knows about the divorce.”

  “Looks like Mr. and Mrs. Teller aren’t as clever as they thought they were,” Kerry said. “Anything about talking to a friend?”

  Jim hoped Ricky had scribbled something about the Broker, but as he neared the end of the journal, there was no note of a secret friend. “It’s just about how he doesn’t want to do the videos anymore.”

  Kerry arched an eyebrow. “Do you think his parents knew he didn’t want to do it anymore?”

  Jim set the journal down. “I’m not sure. If they did know, we found the motivation for the parents to be involved.”

  “But why would they kidnap their own kid?” Kerry asked. “They need him to keep making the videos; it’s how they built all of this.”

  Jim agreed, but that didn’t completely absolve the parents. They needed more information. “Let’s head over to the convention center and see what the forensic teams have found there.”

  7

  Jim flipped through Ricky’s journal as Kerry drove to the convention center. He didn’t find anything incredibly useful, but he did notice the tremor in his left hand every time he turned the page, and he wasn’t the only one.

  “What’s with the shakes?” Kerry asked.

  Jim flexed his hand and put down the journal. “Nothing. How much farther?”

  “We’re almost there,” Kerry said.

  Jim bounced his knee, growing agitated. “This is taking too long.” He checked the time and saw that Ricky had already been gone for over two hours. The first twelve hours in a case were critical. After the first twelve hours, the rate for a successful recovery dropped in half.

  “I’m driving as fast as I can, Jim,” Kerry said.

  Jim rubbed his eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kerry asked. “Have you been sleeping?”

  “Have you?” Jim asked, looking at her accusingly.

  “Forget I asked,” Kerry replied.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Jim said. “I’m just a little on edge.”

  Jim’s pocket buzzed, and he checked his phone. Jen was calling him. It was the sixth time she’d called him this morning, but he hadn’t answered. He’d sent her a text that said he was still working, but it apparently wasn’t enough of an answer.

  Lately, their relationship had been rocky. Jim knew it was because he had closed himself off and their lack of communication was beginning to take its toll.

  It wasn’t like Jen didn’t understand the high stakes of Jim’s job, but he couldn’t expect her to spend the rest of her life in their house alone.

  The twelve cases had sucked the life out of Jim. He was short-tempered, grumpy, and just not very much fun to be around these days. If the subject didn’t involve work, then Jim wasn’t interested. There was only so much brain power Jim had, and he needed all of it to find the Broker.

  “It’s okay to talk about it,” Kerry said. “And you know I’m always here to listen.”

  “I know,” Jim said.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Kerry said.

  In Jim’s world, “okay” was too broad. He had always been okay, or at least he thought he was. It wasn’t until he was partnered with Kerry and starting his relationship with Jen that he realized his version of “okay” wasn’t normal.

  But as much as Jim had grown, the years in foster care where he was forced to fend for himself had set deep roots. And he brushed off Kerry’s concern, keeping himself in denial of the truth.

  “It’s just the case,” Jim said.

  “You’ve been going non-stop since Amy Fuller,” Kerry said. “You need to slow it down before you burn yourself o
ut.”

  “You sound like the lieutenant,” Jim said.

  “She knows what’s she’s talking about,” Kerry replied. “And so do I.” She studied him for a minute as they approached a stoplight. “I noticed that was Jen calling.”

  “Screening my calls now?” Jim asked.

  “Just an observation,” Kerry answered.

  Jim fidgeted in his seat, feeling like he was being grilled. “We’re fine.”

  Kerry grunted something that made Jim believe that she didn’t believe him, and he became defensive.

  “All we need to worry about is focusing on finding Ricky Teller,” Jim said. “That’s the only thing that matters right now.”

  Kerry dropped the subject after that, but there was a clear shift in the mood between them. A distance was developing, a distance Jim had experienced in every previous partnership at the department.

  Perhaps history was destined to repeat itself. Maybe Jim’s partnership with Kerry had been an anomaly. All Jim knew for sure was the days when he was alone, when he didn’t care about his partner, those were the days when he was sharpest. He was always one step ahead of the criminal he was chasing. And his work resulted in the best recovery rate for missing persons cases in the state. And that Jim North would have never allowed a suspect to pull a fast one on him.

  But what Jim forgot about those early days was the loneliness. He was singular in his purpose, and because of that, he wasn’t relatable. And what Jim failed to realize was that kind of mindset lacked the sophistication to understand all facets of the human condition. And in the field of law enforcement, the human condition was integral to the work.

  Because regardless of the statistics and the numbers, at the end of the day, Jim and Kerry were dealing with people. And if he couldn’t understand or relate to the varying minds and personalities, he wouldn’t be an effective detective.

  And if Jim kept all of those feeling buried for too long, it was only a matter of time before they would erupt, and there was no telling how difficult it was going to be to put that genie back into the bottle once it was out.