by Thomas Scott
Murton’s phone buzzed at him, and when he checked the screen, he turned and walked away from the neighbors. “Give me something good.”
“I wish I could,” Becky said. “The last known location of Jodie Carter’s phone pinged off a tower just west of French Lick…probably not more than two miles from where you are right now. Then it dropped off the grid. I’m guessing the battery got pulled. I couldn’t even get an exact location.”
“What about the Thompson phone?”
“Yeah, I’ve got the account pulled up right now. I’ve got both the parents’ numbers and their location. First names are Jake and Ellen. They’re both currently hooked into the Wifi system at the Fourwinds Lakeside Inn & Marina on Lake Monroe.” After Becky relayed the information to her husband, she said, “It’s on your way back. Are you guys going to make the notification?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Better us than someone with limited information.”
“Be gentle, Murton Wheeler. You’re about to tell two people something that will change their lives forever.”
And Murton thought, It wouldn’t be the first time.
Virgil and Murton dropped Emma at home, gathering as much information from her as they could along the way. Murton took notes as Virgil drove, and by the time they reached the Brady residence, they had a decent portrait of another young teenager who, like Lisa Tate from Kokomo, and Kelly Price from Shelbyville, had been kidnapped and in all likelihood was now dead.
Once Emma was safely inside, Murton took over driving, and they headed back north. Along the way, Virgil called the Orange County Sheriff, introduced himself, and told him they’d handle the parental notification regarding Bobby Thompson. “We know where his parents are, and we’ll be going right by there anyway.”
The sheriff, a man named Wes Harper, sounded both tired and relieved. “I appreciate your help, Detective. We’re doing everything we can to find the Carter girl, but with nothing to go on and no witnesses, it’s darn near impossible to even hold out hope. We’re driving around looking for her on the street, and you and I both know how much good that’s doing anyone.”
“Keep after it, Sheriff,” Virgil said. “At this point it’s all you can do.”
“I’ve been watching your bulletins on the task force. Never thought my county would be a part of it. Think you’ll get to the bottom of all this?”
“I know we will, Wes. It’s just a matter of time. Our entire unit is working this thing from top to bottom.”
“Let me know if there’s anything else we can do,” the sheriff said. Then, before Virgil could answer, the sheriff continued with something else. “It’s sort of odd that you and I are talking right now.”
“Why’s that?” Virgil said.
“I was going to get in touch with you anyway and ask for your help on another matter, mainly because our county investigator couldn’t find his own reflection in a house of mirrors.”
“That’s what our unit is for, Sheriff, but unless it’s urgent, the case we’re working on right now has to take priority.”
“I understand. It can wait. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I might be ringing your bell. Do you know Ed Henderson, up in Shelby County?”
“Of course,” Virgil said, suddenly interested. Kelly Price had gone missing from Henderson’s county. “Does Ed have something on Kelly Price?”
“No, no. I’m sorry. It doesn’t have anything to do with the missing girls. He called me about a family squabble a friend of his is involved with, right here in my county.”
“What sort of squabble?” Virgil said, his interest waning almost as quickly as it had peaked.
“Money, mostly. Anyway, we’ve got one dead, one missing, and two brothers—one is famous, by the way—fighting about everything under the sun. The famous one wants to dig up the dead one. Thinks his brother and his missing sister killed their own father.”
No matter the events of the night, or the case he was currently working, Virgil had to suppress a laugh, because he could tell the sheriff was serious. “Sounds more like a mystery novel than a matter for the state’s MCU.”
“Funny you should say that,” the sheriff said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because the famous one is a novelist. Guy named Sam Whittle.”
“Never heard of him,” Virgil said. Then, eager to wrap up the call, Virgil said, “Listen, Sheriff, when we’re finished with this case, if you haven’t figured it out, let me know. We might be able to help.”
“Will do. Catch this bastard taking these girls, will you?”
“Count on it,” Virgil said.
After Virgil ended the call, Murton glanced at his brother and said, “What was all that? Something about Kelly Price?”
Virgil shook his head. “No. Sounds like a family feud. You ever hear of a guy named Sam Whittle?”
“Yeah. Famous author. Lives in French Lick. I saw him when Rosie and I were in Ed’s office.”
Virgil nodded. “Sounds like the father died, and the family is fighting over the money.”
Murton, lost in his thoughts of what they were going to tell the Thompsons, didn’t put much thought into it. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what Ed told me. It’ll eventually blow over…probably in court.”
It was a little past two in the morning when Murton parked his squad car near the front entrance of the Fourwinds Lakeside Inn & Marina. He killed the engine, looked at Virgil, and said, “Sometimes I think I’d rather have Ross snipe me than do what we’re about to do.”
Virgil knew how Murton felt. He’d done his share of family notifications over the years when he’d been a trooper, and it was without question, one of the most difficult parts of the job. When they walked inside the lobby, they found a priest sitting near the reception desk, a bible resting on his lap. His hair was slightly askew and as white as his collar. He had sleep lines etched along the side of his face.
Virgil looked at Murton, and said, “Becky.” It wasn’t a question.
Murton nodded. “She knows how to do her job, doesn’t she?”
Virgil and Murton walked over to the priest and introduced themselves. The priest shook hands with them both, and said, “I’m Father Charles Box, from St. Agnes Catholic Church. I got here as quick as I could. I’m afraid I don’t know the Thompsons, or even if they are of the catholic faith, but we are all God’s children, are we not?”
“I suppose so,” Virgil said. “Have you informed the desk clerk why you’re here?”
“No, I have not,” Box said. “The young woman who contacted me…Miss Wheeler, told me the nature of the situation and asked that I wait for you gentlemen.” Then he turned to Murton, and said, “Wheeler. Any relation?”
“My wife,” Murton said.
“She sounds like quite the young lady,” Box said.
Murton gave the priest a sad grin. “That she is, Padre.” Then, “Have you ever done this before?”
“Sadly, yes,” Box said. “It’s never easy, especially in the middle of the night. The last thing any parent wants to do is answer the door at three in the morning and see two police officers and a member of the clergy. Words aren’t often necessary.”
Virgil walked over to the reception desk and spoke quietly with the night manager, explained their presence, then told him what he wanted. The manager gave him the suite number, along with directions to where the room was located, and said he’d be ready for Virgil’s call.
Virgil thanked him, turned to Murton and Box, and said, “Let’s go.”
When they got to the room, Virgil took out his phone and called the front desk of the hotel. When the manager answered, he simply said, “Make the call.”
A few seconds later, as they stood in the hallway, Virgil and Murton and Box could hear the phone ringing inside the Thompson’s room. It rang six times before it stopped.
The sound of the phone woke Ellen Thompson first, who nudged her husband awake, and said, “Phone.”
Jake had a bit of trouble clearing his
head, trying to figure out why their room phone was ringing in the middle of the night. He grabbed the receiver, said, “Hello,” then listened.
“Mr. Thompson, this is the front desk calling. I’m terribly sorry to wake you sir, but there are some gentlemen waiting outside your room. They need to speak with you right away. I wasn’t informed why. I’m so sorry.” Then he hung up.
Jake, still half asleep, looked at his wife, and said, “Prank call, I think.”
“What kind of prank call?”
“Someone who said they were calling from the front desk. Says there are some gentlemen here to see us.”
“Then why aren’t they knocking?” Ellen said. “What time is it, anyway?”
When the phone stopped ringing, Virgil put his ear to the door and heard the muffled conversation between the Thompsons, though he couldn’t hear exactly what was being said. That’s when he leaned back and knocked quietly on the door.
Thirty seconds went by, and Virgil was just about to knock again when the door opened. Jake and Ellen Thompson stood there, both wrapped in robes, their faces sleepy and masked with confusion. They looked at Virgil and Murton, who had their badges clearly visible. When they saw Father Box, he took a half step forward. He opened his mouth to speak, but as he’d told Murton only moments ago in the lobby of the hotel, in that exact moment, words simply weren’t necessary.
Ellen Thompson said exactly three words, each the same, save their intensity. Her first reaction was a question, one so basic she didn’t realize her voice was calm and without concern, as if she might be daydreaming. “Bobby?”
The second time she said his name, she looked up and down the hall, her voice now loud and panicked, “Bobby?”
The third time she said his name, she screamed it in horror, a final realization that the men standing in the doorway weren’t part of a daydream, but a mother’s worst nightmare. When she collapsed into her husband’s arms, he looked at Virgil and Murton and Box. His eyes were watering and his jaw quivered with such intensity his teeth were clacking together like a jackhammer.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Virgil and Murton were back home by five in the morning. They each managed to get about three hours of sleep before showing up at the MCU headquarters just before nine. They gave all the information they’d gathered on Jodie Carter’s abduction to Becky, who entered the fresh data into the system.
An hour later, the entire investigative team, along with Nicky and Wu was gathered in the conference room.“I still have to go through the old case files I dug out of the archives,” Virgil said. “If there is anything valuable in those reports, we should have enough information to connect Lisa Tate, Kelly Price, and Jodie Carter together somehow. That has to be our sole focus right now. Whoever is taking these girls is accelerating. There must be a connection we’re not seeing. I want every single scrap of information on this table, and we’re going to sit here until we figure it out.”
Becky pointed at the binders in the center of the table. “It’s all right there, Jonesy. I added Carter’s information this morning. None of the girls knew each other, none of the people who have been interviewed knew the other girls—which is logical because Tate was from Kokomo, Price was from Shelbyville, and Carter was from French Lick.”
“I know where everyone was from,” Virgil said. He snapped it at her. When he saw the look on Becky’s face, he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Becks. I didn’t mean to bite at you. I’m just exhausted.”
Becky waved him off. “I understand. Don’t worry about it. I’m simply saying these are three of the most typical teenage girls you’d ever see, and there isn’t anything that connects them.”
“Except there is,” Murton said. “We just aren’t seeing it.”
Becky separated the Tate, Price, and Carter binders from the rest of the stack. Ross and Rosencrantz set the others aside, while Nicky and Wu worked at the computers. “Wu make visual for big screen.”
While Nicky and Wu worked the computer, putting everything together to view on the large-screen monitor, Virgil turned to Becky and said, “That was a beautiful thing you did last night…having the priest at the hotel.”
“I thought it might make things go a little easier,” Becky said.
“It did,” Murton said. “It wasn’t easy, but as it turns out, the Thompsons are Catholic, and Father Box was a huge help. If he hadn’t shown up, we might still be there.”
They talked it back and forth for a while…the difficulties of the job and the notification process. “It’s something they don’t teach you at the academy, that’s for sure,” Virgil said.
“Maybe they should,” Murton said.
“Here’s everything we have on these three girls,” Nicky said. He hit a series of keystrokes and the large monitor at the end of the room lit up. Everyone turned their chairs, and Nicky and Wu began by putting up three separate pictures of each girl.
“First is Miss Tate, of Kokomo,” Wu said. “Missing over three weeks now. Age seventeen. She is an only child who lived at home with her parents, her grades were very good, she volunteered, was involved in athletics, and held a part-time job.”
“Next is Price,” Nicky said. “Almost identical in every way, the exception being where she lived. She was an only child, a senior at Shelbyville high school with good grades, she was also involved in athletics, and she volunteered at the cultural center.”
“And finally, the latest, Jodie Carter,” Becky said. “Resident of French Lick, an only child, a senior in high school, also involved in sports, and had a job with her best friend working at the local Dollar General.”
Everyone looked at the screen for a few minutes, and the three beautiful young faces staring back at them. Finally, Virgil turned and faced Becky. “Did you ever get a definitive color on that van?”
“Yes. And believe it or not, it’s gray.”
“Okay, at least that’s something. And we are one hundred percent positive that none of the people we interviewed about each young woman knew or had any connection with the interviewees of the other girls?”
Nicky, Wu, and Becky all nodded. “We are certain, Jonesy,” Nicky said. “We have been through the data every possible way. There is no connection at all. The information on Miss Carter is a little thin because the only people interviewed were the ones you spoke with last night. But no matter, even if you were to conduct more interviews, I believe the results would be the same.”
Virgil stood from his chair and walked closer to the screen. He stared at the girls, the list of names of everyone who’d been questioned and cleared, the locations of where the girls went missing, and all the other relevant facts regarding each case. When he turned around, he looked at no one in particular, and said, “You know what? Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way.”
“What do you mean?” Murton said.
“We’ve been looking for something that connects the girls together, but almost everything about them is practically identical. We may as well be looking at their yearbook pictures and lists of accomplishments. That isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
“What are you suggesting?” Nicky said.
“I’m suggesting we need to do what Ross and Rosencrantz did with Lisa Tate, and what Murton and Rosie did with Kelly Price. We need to reconstruct their lives.”
“That didn’t seem to get us very far,” Rosencrantz said.
“That’s because you didn’t do what I’m talking about,” Virgil said. “I know you took a thorough look initially, but we’ve got to go back further. We need to find a way to look at their individual lives over the past twelve months, not just around the time they went missing.”
“That’s going to take a lot of leg work,” Rosencrantz said.
“Maybe not,” Virgil said. “In fact, I think it could be done from this room. What do all these girls have in common?”
Becky shrugged. “Everything, Jonesy. It’s all right there on the screen.”
“Except I’m betting t
here’s something else, and it’s the one thing we’ve all overlooked.”
“What’s that?” Rosencrantz said.
“Social media. When was the last time you ever knew a teenager who wasn’t on Facebook, or Twitter, or whatever?” He turned to Nicky and Wu, and said, “I’m going to ask you to do something, and if it ever comes up, I’ll deny it until the day I die.”
Nicky gave Virgil a wicked little grin. “You don’t have to ask, because I know what you want. We’ve already looked at each girl’s profile. To go deeper and extract the type of data you’re looking for will take at least a week, but we can do it.”
“I don’t want to sound like the idiot in the room,” Ross said, but—”
“Too late,” Rosencrantz said.
Virgil gave them both a look and said, “Guys, please.”
Wu looked at Ross and said, “Virgil would like us to hack into the social media sites, examine the girls’ profiles, and find out who, if anyone has been stalking them prior to their abduction.”
“And if we can figure that out,” Nicky said, “we should be able to pin down an IP address of the perpetrator.”
“Exactly,” Virgil said. “And if you can figure out who, I’m positive that you’ll find he stopped stalking them after they were taken.”
“Wu hate to say it, but Nicky is right. It will be at least a full week…maybe more before we could have any meaningful data.”
“Then get started right away.” He turned to Becky and said, “Can you help with this?”
Becky was mildly offended. She was about to say so, but Wu beat her to the punch. “She opened a secure socket layer and bounced a packet through Ukraine one time. Nicky and I watch her do it. The more people we have working on this the quicker it will go.”
