by Tim Kizer
“Someone abducted her from this parking lot,” Jane said. “Her and my husband.”
“Oh my God! I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anything.”
Blood roaring in her ears, her heart thumping hard against her ribs, Jane ran around the building that housed the grocery store, scanning both sides of the streets for Angie and Michael and calling their names. Her daughter and husband were nowhere to be seen.
Where could they have gone?
They might have gone to the ice cream parlor or the toy store in the main mall building.
Jane started toward the main mall building but stopped when she reached the edge of the parking lot.
What if Michael and Angie came back to the car while she was scouring the main mall building?
She should just stay here and wait.
How long should she wait?
She would call the police if they didn’t come back in half an hour.
Jane returned to the Lexus and began pacing. A middle-aged man passing by gave her a strange look. He probably thought she was insane or on drugs.
Brian. Maybe he knows where Michael is.
Jane pulled out her phone and called Brian, Michael’s brother. Her hands were shaking, her head throbbing.
“Hi, Jane,” Brian said.
“Hi. Have you talked to Mike in the last hour?”
“No. Is everything okay?”
“I can’t find him. I can’t find him and Angie.” Jane’s voice quivered.
“Did you try his cellphone?”
“He left it in the car. I went into a grocery store and when I came out, Mike and Angie were gone.”
They’ve been kidnapped.
The thought towered in her mind like a colossal monolith, unmovable and indestructible.
They’ve been kidnapped and I may never see them again.
“Where are you?” Brian asked.
“Northwood Mall. And he left his key in the ignition.”
“How long have they been gone?”
“About fifty minutes. I think they’ve been kidnapped.”
“Jane, I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe they went home.”
“I’m going to call the police.”
“Do you need any help?”
“Can you go over to our house and see if Angie and Mike are there?”
“Sure.”
They’re not home. Why would they go home?
Jane called her home phone and hung up when the answering machine picked up.
Angie’s tablet. She remembered seeing it on the backseat when she’d put the groceries there.
Jane opened the rear door of the Lexus and saw her daughter’s tablet lying facedown on the backseat, right where her little girl had sat less than an hour ago. Angie had left her tablet in the car, which was another sign that something bad had happened, because she carried that thing everywhere.
Twenty minutes later Jane called Brian, and he said he was only a couple of miles from her house. She decided not to wait and dialed 911.
“Hello. My name is Jane Shepard. My husband and daughter have just been kidnapped,” she said when the operator asked what her emergency was.
“Where are you calling from?”
“Arbor and Cherry Roads in North Dallas. I’m in the parking lot of the Gordon Brothers grocery store.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No. I need you to send someone here immediately.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are the people who kidnapped your husband and daughter still there?”
“No, they’re not.”
“What’s your husband’s name?”
“Michael Harmon.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Angela Shepard.”
“How old is she?”
“Eight. Please send someone here as soon as possible. The parking lot of the Gordon Brothers grocery store.”
“I’m sending the police right now, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
3
It had been such a wonderful day. They had been in a great mood after spending three days at their hunting ranch in Upshur County in East Texas (Michael and his brother had inherited it from their parents), many miles away from the nearest big city. And just like that the beautiful day had turned into a nightmare.
They wouldn’t have been kidnapped if we’d stayed at the ranch one more hour.
Jane’s phone rang. It was Brian.
“No one’s answering the door,” he said. “Have you heard from Mike?”
“No. I called the police.”
A few minutes after Brian’s call two police cruisers pulled into the parking lot, emergency beacons flashing, sirens wailing. Four cops got out of the cars, and Jane waved to them.
“I called the police,” she shouted.
One of the police officers, a lean man in his thirties with brown hair, came up to her and said, “I’m Officer Philip Burns with the Dallas Police Department.”
“I’m Jane Shepard. My daughter and husband have been kidnapped.”
“What time were they kidnapped?”
“Around three-thirty. They were taken from our car.”
“Were you in the car when it happened?”
“No. I was in the grocery store.”
“Did you see the kidnappers?”
“No. I was inside the store when the kidnapping took place.”
Burns looked at the Gordon Brothers store. “How long were you there?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Is your car still here?”
“Yes.” She pointed out Michael’s Lexus. “There it is.”
They went to the Lexus, and Burns began to examine the car.
“Was the car parked here when your daughter and husband were kidnapped?” he asked as he looked inside the Lexus through the front passenger window.
“Yes. You need to get the surveillance tapes right now. All of them.”
Jesus! He’s wasting time!
“What were your husband and daughter wearing?”
“My husband was wearing a green T-shirt and gray shorts and my daughter a pink T-shirt and blue shorts.”
“Do you suspect anyone?”
“No.”
She needed to print out Angie’s and Michael’s photos for the police. She could do it at the FedEx Office store a block from here.
“Does your husband have a cellphone?”
“Yes. But he left it in the car.”
“Does your daughter have a cellphone?”
“No.”
Burns stared at her for a moment. “So you didn’t actually see them get kidnapped?”
“No.”
“Is it possible that they went somewhere without telling you?”
He didn’t believe Angie and Michael had been abducted. Her blood began to boil.
“No, it’s not. Mike left his phone and car keys in the car. I’m absolutely sure they were kidnapped.”
“Call your husband’s friends and relatives. Maybe they know where he and your daughter are.”
“I’ve already called them. They don’t know anything. Michael and Angela were kidnapped.”
Burns turned to one of the cops and said, “Javier, take Mrs. Shepard to the station.” To Jane, he said, “Go to the station with Officer Gallardo and file missing persons reports for your husband and daughter.”
“Okay.”
“Here’s my card.” Burns gave Jane his card. “Can I have the car keys?”
“Sure.” Jane fished out the car keys and handed them to Burns.
4
On the way to the police station Jane and Officer Gallardo stopped at the FedEx Office store on Cherry Road, where she printed out Angela’s and Michael’s photos, which she had on her phone.
After Jane filed missing persons reports for Angela and Michael, a police officer took her statement.
“What are you going to do?” she asked the officer when they were finished.
&nb
sp; “We’ll issue an Amber Alert for your husband and daughter.”
“What else?”
“That’s all we can do at the moment. If the kidnappers contact you, call us immediately.”
There would be a hundred things they could do if it were the mayor’s family, Jane thought angrily.
“The parking lot security cameras might have caught the license plate of the kidnappers’ car,” she said. “Please get the surveillance tapes.”
“We will.”
When she walked out of the police station, Jane called Burns and asked if she could pick up the Lexus.
“You can pick it up tomorrow, after forensics is done with it,” Burns replied.
“Did you get the surveillance tapes?”
“Yes, we did, but I haven’t watched them yet.”
Before Jane could ask another question, Burns said, “We’ll keep you posted, Mrs. Shepard. Goodbye.”
5
“Have you heard from Mike?” Brian said.
“No.”
“Jesus,” Brian muttered under his breath. Then he asked, “What did the police say?”
“They’ll issue an Amber Alert.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.”
“I hope so.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.” Brian hung up.
Jane looked out the window of the cab that was taking her home.
Why had Michael and Angie been kidnapped? Ransom couldn’t be the motive: they were far from rich.
Maybe the abductors intended to cut out Michael’s and Angie’s organs and sell them on the black market?
Or maybe they were pedophiles and Angie was their target? Jane’s skin broke out in gooseflesh. She began to imagine what pedophiles could do to Angie and made herself stop moments later.
Maybe the abductors had been sent by a mob boss? He might have ordered the kidnapping because he wanted Michael to do something for him, or because Michael was going to testify against his organization, or because Michael owed him money, or because Michael had insulted him—there were a lot of possible reasons.
Could Michael rescue Angie and himself? Jane didn’t think so. Michael was a smart and strong man, but he didn’t have the particular set of skills Liam Neeson possessed in the Taken movies.
6
Jane burst into tears when she got home. She was frantic with fear and worry, and the thought that she might never see Angie and Michael again made her soul writhe in agony. She paced around the house for a while and then called her closest friends: Karen Moore, Gina Pascal, and Sergio Zapata. She had known these three for a long time and loved them very much. She and Karen had met fifteen years ago when Karen was looking for a roommate to share a two-bedroom apartment. At the time they both were students at the University of Texas at Austin. They’d been roommates for four years until Jane moved to Dallas; Karen relocated to the Dallas area six months later. Sergio (who currently lived in Fort Worth) was Karen’s cousin, and Jane’s first encounter with him took place shortly after she moved in with Karen; he frequently came to their apartment and had a crush on Jane at one time. As for Gina, Jane had first met her at a gym in North Dallas seven years ago; they had discovered that they shared similar tastes in books, movies, and TV shows, and had quickly become friends. A year and a half ago Jane and Gina had bought a beauty salon in northeast Dallas. The salon was moderately successful, and they enjoyed running it.
Jane told Karen, Gina, and Sergio about the kidnapping, and they offered sympathy and help.
She thought of calling her mother to tell her about the kidnapping, then decided against it. Helen Shepard was an old woman; she might have a heart attack when she heard the news.
Jane’s father, Daniel Shepard, had died of a heart attack while grilling burgers in his backyard four years ago. Since then, every time Helen didn’t answer the phone, Jane had worried that her ticker had quit.
Later that night Karen and Gina came to Jane’s house and stayed with her until two in the morning. They kept telling her everything would be all right, but she was unable to make herself believe that, no matter how hard she tried.
Gina said that she had some Xanax at home and that she could give it to Jane. Jane declined her offer: it would be nice to numb herself with antidepressants—or drink herself into oblivion—but Angie and Michael needed her to be fully alert, focused, and energetic. Her job now was to find her daughter and husband, and she had to give it everything she had.
Chapter 2
1
The next morning two Dallas Police Department detectives came to Jane’s house to interview her. One of them was named Paul Buckley and the other Sean Bates. Detective Buckley looked to be in his late thirties, was tall, good-looking, with short dark hair and a dimpled chin. Detective Bates was in his early thirties, with red hair and freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.
“We’re very sorry about your husband and daughter, Mrs. Shepard,” Bates said.
There was sincerity in his voice, and Jane thought: He really cares about this case. He won’t just go through the motions.
Perhaps it was only wishful thinking on her part.
Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She had barely slept, but she didn’t feel tired. Her heart felt as if it were in a meat grinder, and Jane knew the pain wouldn’t stop until she got Angie and Michael back.
“Have the kidnappers contacted you?” Paul Buckley asked.
“No.”
“If they contact you, please let us know. Even if they tell you not to talk to the police.”
“Okay, I will. Have you watched the surveillance tapes?”
“Yes,” Buckley said.
“Did the cameras catch the license plate of the kidnappers’ car?”
“No, they didn’t.”
Dammit!
Jane sighed in disappointment.
“Do you have any idea who might have kidnapped your husband and daughter?”
“No.”
“Why do you think they were kidnapped?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has anyone threatened your husband or you?”
“No.”
“Does your husband have any enemies?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have any enemies?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
Maybe they were kidnapped by mistake? Maybe the abductors thought Michael was someone else?
They might have mistaken him for some rich guy’s son.
“Have you asked Michael’s friends and relatives about his whereabouts?” Bates asked.
“I talked to his brother. He doesn’t know where Michael is.”
“Can I have Michael’s brother’s phone number?”
Jane told the detective Brian’s number and said, “His name’s Brian.”
“Where does he live?”
“Plano.”
“What does your husband do for a living?” Buckley asked.
“He’s a freelance business consultant.”
“Is he wealthy?”
“No.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not wealthy, either.”
“Does Michael owe anyone money?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he involved in any criminal activity?”
“No.”
“Is it possible that Michael left you for another woman?” Bates asked.
Jane gazed at him incredulously. “No. He didn’t leave me for another woman. He was abducted. You think he left me for another woman and took my daughter with him? Why would he take my daughter with him?”
“Is Michael Angela’s biological father?” Buckley asked.
“No.”
“How long have you been married to him?”
“Nine months.”
“Who’s Angela’s biological father?”
“Matt Barford.”
“Do you have his ph
one number?”
“Yes. You think he might be behind the kidnapping?”
“It’s possible.”
She and Matt Barford had believed that marriage was just a piece of paper, so they hadn’t tied the knot. They had been seeing each other for three years when Jane got pregnant with Angie. They had broken up two years after Angie was born; the split had been amicable. Matt hadn’t asked for joint custody and visited their daughter only a few times a year.
Jane was about to tell the detective that Matt had shown little interest in Angie since the breakup, but decided not to: she wanted the police to leave no stone unturned.
She found Matt’s number in her contacts and gave it to Paul Buckley.
“Does Matt know that you got married?” Buckley asked.
“Yes.”
“Has he met your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Is Matt jealous of your husband?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he paying child support?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Has he ever missed a payment?”
“No.”
Did Buckley think that Matt might have kidnapped—and murdered—Angie to avoid paying child support?
There must have been a number of children who had been killed for that reason. Poor kids.
“What’s Michael’s email address?”
Jane told Buckley Michael’s email address, and the detective asked, “Do you know the password?”
“No. Do you have any leads?”
Buckley glanced at his partner. “No, we don’t.”
“Are you finished with our car?”
“Yes. You can pick it up today.”
“Did you find anything useful?”
“Hopefully, some of the fingerprints we collected from your car belong to the kidnappers.”
“We’re doing everything we can to find your family, Mrs. Shepard,” Bates said.
Buckley took out a pair of latex gloves. “We need samples of Michael’s and Angela’s DNA and their fingerprints.” He slipped on the gloves. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Jane and Buckley went into the master bedroom’s bathroom, where the detective said, “Do you mind if I take Michael’s and Angela’s toothbrushes? They are a good source of DNA.”
“Yes, you can take them.”
“You don’t share toothbrushes, do you?”
“No.”
Buckley pulled two brown envelopes from his pocket, labeled them with Angela’s and Michael’s names, and then asked, “Which toothbrush belongs to your husband?”
