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

by James Hunt

  “I’m not protesting him; I’m protesting the parents!” Jamison shouted.

  “What was the tipping point for you, Jamison?” Jim asked. “Was it the fact that this kid was more popular than you are? Was it the fact that you couldn’t stand no one knowing who you were anymore? What was it? Tell me because I want to know where the kid is.”

  “You want to know where Ricky is?” Jamison asked, and Jim thought he was finally going to snap. “Then ask his parents.”

  “What do you mean?” Kerry asked.

  “I mean, it’s always about the parents,” Jamison answered. “Everything about that kid’s life is controlled by his parents, and if something happened to him, then it’s their fault. It’s always the parent’s fault!” Jamison wiped the tears in his eyes, and the anger ran out of him. “I’m just trying to help.”

  Jim collected the folder he was using and then cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He stood, and then he and Kerry stepped out of the room and walked back to the monitors to see how Jamison was reacting. “What do you think?”

  “I think you were a little hard on the guy,” Kerry answered. “We don’t even have enough to make charges stick to keep him around. Why did you accuse him?”

  “Because I don’t want to waste any time,” Jim answered.

  Kerry flinched, and Jim immediately realized the comment had been misplaced.

  “Kerry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine,” Kerry said. “I’m fine.”

  The last thing Jim wanted was to add more guilt to Kerry’s conscience. It wasn’t her fault about what happened.

  “You know, I didn’t look in that shed, either,” Jim said.

  Kerry nodded, but it was obvious she didn’t want to talk about it now. “We should start going through the names on the event list, make sure there aren’t any other persons of interest.”

  Jim hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but that’s how the comment had come across. It was just another step backward for Jim, and with the clock running he couldn’t afford to be going backwards.

  9

  Unable to obtain any concrete information or evidence to detain Jamison Kent, Jim and Kerry were forced to let him go. But as the former child star was escorted out the back door of the precinct, away from the cameras and the news teams waiting for updates, Jim couldn’t help but feel like the man was hiding something.

  “What?” Kerry asked, noticing Jim’s hawk-like stare at Kent as he left.

  “You don’t think it’s strange how involved he is with all of this?” Jim asked.

  “I mean, based off of what we saw, his time in the spotlight didn’t do him much good,” Kerry answered.

  Jim shook his head. “I don’t like how he generalized everything so much, you know? I mean, not every child actor has turned out terrible, right?”

  “What are you getting at?” Kerry asked.

  “I’m saying there has to be something more to him,” Jim said. “He was laying on his righteous-cause schtick a little too thick, in my opinion.”

  Kerry tilted her head from side to side. “I can see that. I mean, I guess he did have a bit of a ‘used car salesmen’ vibe. I take it we’ll be taking a closer look at him?”

  “Yeah,” Jim answered. “We will.”

  In the meantime, Jim knew they still had plenty follow up on from what the security team at the convention center gave them. Jim was about to suggest following up with the former employee when he heard a familiar voice shouting at the front of the building.

  “I don’t care what he’s doing. I need to see him, now!”

  Jim’s stomach backflipped, and he froze in place, with Kerry following suit. Both of them recognized the woman screaming at the desk sergeant.

  “He’s always in a meeting! Or on a call! But I’m sick and tired of hearing about that. Do you understand?”

  Kerry looked at Jim. “It doesn’t sound like she’s going to leave.”

  Jim’s mouth was dry. “No.” He didn’t know how, but he managed to take one step forward as he headed for the front desk.

  The woman was still giving the desk sergeant an earful as Jim and Kerry rounded the corner. She was in her mid-forties, but her hair was gray and frizzy. She wore glasses, and her attire was baggy on her thin frame. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, her clothes unfashionable. She was a woman without any frills.

  “Mrs. Fuller,” Jim said.

  The woman stopped screaming mid-sentence as she looked to Jim. She lowered her finger, which had been shoved into the desk sergeant’s face. She looked both satisfied and angry that Jim and Kerry had chosen to show themselves, and Jim braced for the verbal beating that came next.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve called?” Emma Fuller asked. “How many voicemails I’ve left? How many emails I’ve sent? And no one has gotten back to me?”

  “Mrs. Fuller—”

  “Don’t you Mrs. Fuller me!” She yanked her arm out of Jim’s hand, directing all of the rage that had been building up for the past three months, rage because Jim and Kerry couldn’t bring her little girl home alive.

  “I’m sorry,” Jim said. “Why don’t you come back with us so we can answer your questions?”

  Jim hoped the olive branch would calm the mother down, and it did to some extent. She stopped screaming and followed Kerry back into one of the conference rooms they used to speak with people who weren’t being interrogated.

  The rooms were a little bigger and not as intimidating as the other interrogation rooms. The last thing Jim wanted was to make any aggressive moves toward the mother, who was already on a hair-trigger.

  Once they were in the conference room and the door was shut, Jim tried to explain the situation, but he never got the chance.

  “It’s been three months,” Mrs. Fuller said. “Three months since my daughter was killed.”

  Kerry cleared her throat. “Ma’am, we understand—”

  “No!” Mrs. Fuller shouted, slamming her fist onto the table. “Both of you have ignored me since the day you came and told me my daughter was dead. Dead!”

  Jim didn’t need Mrs. Fuller to remind him or Kerry of that day. It had been the reason why he had been working so diligently to find the Broker, but because he had no new updates, Mrs. Fuller received no new calls.

  And if Jim were completely honest, he had been afraid to speak to her again. He had seen the blame in her eyes when they had told her and her husband Amy had been killed. Jim remembered the noise Mrs. Fuller had made, something that wasn’t quite human, not quite animal. It was a scream of grief and pain and anger all rolled into one blood-curdling howl.

  “I want to know why you haven’t caught him yet,” Mrs. Fuller said. “I want to know why my daughter’s killer is still walking free!”

  “Mrs. Fuller, Amy’s abductor has already been sentenced,” Kerry said. “He’s spending the next twenty-five years in a federal penitentiary.”

  “I’m not talking about Gary Kavas,” Mrs. Fuller said, referencing the man who had abducted and then suffocated Amy Fuller to death. “I’m talking about the man who spoke to her! The one who gave her the phone!”

  Kerry looked to Jim for help, but he wasn’t sure how much use he would be to her, and she tried to find a way to appease the woman. “We’re doing everything we can—”

  “It’s not enough!” Mrs. Fuller said. “It’s not enough, just like it wasn’t enough when you failed to bring my little girl home. You should have stopped him. You should have saved her!”

  “We know,” Jim said, the pain thick in his voice.

  “Well?” Mrs. Fuller asked, without sympathy. “Then why didn’t you?”

  Jim didn’t have a good answer, but he knew how much Kerry had blamed herself for their late arrival. If it hadn’t been so close, she might not have put herself through the wringer so much, but the fact that it was only three minutes…

  “Because I made the wrong call,” Jim said. “I’m sorry.”

  Kerry kep
t quiet. She had already beat herself up enough; there was no need for her to hang herself out to dry just to appease the anger of a woman who refused to acknowledge the closure of her daughter’s death.

  But Jim didn’t blame Emma Fuller, either. The woman had lost a piece of herself, a life she had created, and Jim couldn’t fathom that kind of pain or loss. It was beyond his understanding.

  “I need closure,” Mrs. Fuller said. “I need you to catch the man responsible, so I can finally lay my little girl to rest.”

  Jim frowned. “You haven’t had a funeral yet?”

  “I will not bury her until you’ve caught the man responsible!” Mrs. Fuller said.

  “I’m sure you and your husband—”

  “Teddy’s gone,” Mrs. Fuller said. “He left six weeks ago. But I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand me? I’m not going to give up on my girl like he did. I will come here every day, screaming and hollering. I will bring news crews, I will post online, I will do whatever it takes for you to find the monster who killed my little girl.”

  No one wanted to find Amy Fuller’s killer more than Jim, but he knew Mrs. Fuller could give him a run for his money. Jim considered telling Mrs. Fuller the truth, but he knew that would only make her angrier. And he didn’t want to lie, so he tried to deflect.

  “Mrs. Fuller, the department has offered you and your family grief counseling to help deal with the loss of your daughter,” Jim said.

  “I don’t need counseling,” Mrs. Fuller replied, distorting her face in disgust. “I need you to do your job.”

  “We are trying, Mrs. Fuller,” Kerry said, jumping to aid Jim. “Believe me when I tell you that no one is more dedicated to finding this killer than we are. And if you could just give us more time, I’m sure—”

  “More time?” Mrs. Fuller asked. “You’ve had three months! You remember what you told me when Amy was first taken? Twelve hours. The first twelve hours that pass are the most crucial in a missing person’s case. And you’ve had three months!” She stomped her foot, her heavy heel smacking loudly against the tile.

  Jim was running out of ways to apologize. “We are doing everything we can to find him, Mrs. Fuller.”

  “Everything?” Mrs. Fuller asked mockingly. “I doubt that.”

  “Ma’am,” Kerry said. “Please—"

  “What do you need?” Mrs. Fuller asked. “Huh? What kind of motivation do you need to bring the sick bastard who manipulated my daughter, made her believe that she didn’t need her parents anymore, the one who convinced her to run away with that monster, Gary Kavas, who wrapped a plastic bag around her head and suffocated her to death?”

  Jim and Kerry remained stoic and motionless. Neither of them had a rebuke, and even if they did, they wouldn’t use it. What good would it do to scream at a mother who’d lost her child? It wasn’t as though the mother’s anger was misplaced. It had been Jim and Kerry’s job to find Amy Fuller and bring her home, and they had failed.

  Mrs. Fuller reached into her purse and then removed a stack of photographs which she spread over the table. “Here you go!” She pointed at the pictures, all of them of Amy. “Take your pick! Nail her picture to the wall, your computer screen, your desk, the mirror at your house, but you will not forget her face! I won’t let you! Do you understand? I won’t let you forget her—”

  Mrs. Fuller finally cracked, her anger giving way to grief as she collapsed into the chair and bowed her head over the pictures on the table.

  Neither Jim nor Kerry interrupted her while she sobbed. They stood there and waited, listening to her grief, another form of penance for both of them to endure. But as bad as it was to be screamed at and blamed by the mother of a child who couldn’t be saved, it was even harder to live with the knowledge that they had failed.

  Mrs. Fuller eventually lifted her head and then wiped her tears. She slowly gathered the photographs on the table and then returned them to her purse, except for the last one, which she held in her hands and stared at it for a long time.

  “I keep these pictures out in the house,” Mrs. Fuller said. “Just so I can see her everywhere I look.” She tried to smile, but it only made her return to the verge of tears again. “I watch videos of her so I can hear her laugh. I sit in her room so I can still try to smell her. But I will never be able to hold my little girl in my arms again. Do you know why?” She finally looked up from the photograph and into Jim’s eyes. “Because you failed to bring her home.”

  It was a horrible dagger to his heart, and Jim wasn’t sure how much worse he could feel until Mrs. Fuller shoved the picture into Jim’s chest.

  “Keep it,” Mrs. Fuller said. “I don’t want you to forget about your failure.”

  Mrs. Fuller left Jim and Kerry in the conference room and then found her own way out. Jim and Kerry lingered quietly for a moment until Kerry finally walked up to him and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “It wasn’t all on you,” Kerry said.

  “And it wasn’t all on you, either,” Jim replied.

  Jim held out the picture for both of them to see. It was a photograph of Amy on horseback. It was one of Amy’s many hobbies. She was a smart girl, good at school, loved by friends and family. Jim remembered everything about Amy Fuller.

  “I wish we could have told her we didn’t need that,” Kerry said. “I see that girl every time I close my eyes.”

  Jim continued to stare at the picture. Amy was grinning from ear to ear, happy as a clam. She looked so full of life, a far cry from what Jim and Kerry had found when they had stormed into Gary’s shed.

  “Do you remember when we found them?” Jim asked. “How he was standing over her body? The plastic was still on her head, and it was clear so we could still see her face.” Jim pocketed the picture. “At least her mother never had to see her like that.”

  10

  Once Emma Fuller was gone, Jim couldn’t get her out of his mind. The grief-stricken mother’s voice continued to ring loudly in his head, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to make it stop.

  Well, he did know, but he didn’t have the slightest clue how he was supposed to catch the Broker, a man who had eluded him for the past three months.

  But if Mrs. Fuller had intended to light a fire under him again, the heat was burning even hotter than before.

  “Jim,” Kerry said, watching him hurry back toward his desk. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to look at those files again,” Jim said.

  “What files?” Kerry asked.

  “The twelve abductions the Broker was involved in,” Jim said, and he heaved all of them out of his briefcase and they landed heavily onto the desk.

  “Jim, have you been taking these home with you?” Kerry asked, stunned.

  “It’s fine; they’re all officially closed,” Jim answered.

  “I’m not worried about your breaking protocol, but I am worried about you not getting any sleep. What is it that you think you’re accomplishing here?”

  Jim remained hunched over the files, spreading them out until they covered every square inch of space of his desk. “I’m trying to find the Broker.”

  “Jim, we’ve already scoured these dozens of times,” Kerry said. “There was nothing.”

  “Then we missed something!” Jim shouted, his patience snapped. His raised voice drew attention from the rest of the bullpen, and he immediately regretted his outburst. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “It’s fine,” Kerry said defensively.

  “No, it’s not,” Jim said, and he rubbed his eyes. His head was buzzing from the caffeine and lack of sleep. He was so exhausted he could have passed out right there on the floor, but he knew that if he were to close his eyes, then he’d only see Amy Fuller’s lifeless body on the concrete floor of the shed with a plastic bag over her head.

  “Jim,” Kerry said. “You need to take it easy. Maybe we should hand the Ricky Teller case over to someone else?”

  “No,” Jim answered quickly. “No, I’m okay. Really
. I’ve had more sleepless nights like this than you could imagine. I can power through.”

  Kerry didn’t believe the lie, but she also knew there was no convincing him to take a break. The little she could do was buy him time to collect his thoughts.

  “Listen, I’m going to review the files we received from the security team at the convention center,” Kerry said. “Make sure we have a good understanding about Ben Turner before we go and question him about his tenure working security.”

  Jim nodded. “Okay.”

  “I want you to take some time and just… take a break,” Kerry said.

  “Sure, yeah,” Jim said, doing his best to sound appeasing. “Thanks.”

  Once Kerry was gone, Jim collapsed in his chair and then swiveled around to face the documents on his desk. Deep down, Jim knew Kerry was right. Both of them had already combed through all of this stuff so many times that Jim practically knew the files from memory. Hell, he had even gone through it this morning in a last-ditch effort to find a needle in a haystack.

  It was maddening. Not being able to find any piece of evidence was like trying to remember someone’s name that was on the tip of his tongue, and just when he was about to speak it aloud, it was blown away like fallen leaves in the breeze.

  Jim reached for the first file, flipping through it. He had studied Amy’s file the most. The phone they had determined was used as the form of communication had been their best hope for a lead, but Missy—and everyone else at cyber—was unable to salvage the device.

  The phone had been encrypted to self-destruct should anyone try to jailbreak it, which meant they couldn’t get into the phone without destroying any potential evidence on the device. But they had tried anyway.