Stranger in Town

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “I think whoever took Olivia and Savannah found out about the page that was mailed to Olivia’s parents and probably saw it as some kind of violation of their agreement.”

  Cade shook his head.

  “I know you believe the Kents paid someone to take Olivia and Savannah, but we still don’t know for sure.”

  “I think we do.” I opened my bag and pulled out the pages I copied. “I found a book hidden inside the fabric of a chair in Bradley Kent’s office. It contains the names of several girls along with their ages and prices.”

  “And what are those?” he said pointing to the papers in my hand.

  “Copies. I put the book back where I found it when I was done.”

  “Names and basic information—that all?”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s one more thing—a phone number. I found it on the last page. It’s written in pencil, and on the light side, but I can still make the numbers out.”

  Cade swerved off the road, jerking the truck to a stop.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  He held his hand out. “Let’s try it, see what happens.”

  “The number?”

  “Why not? Who knows how long those girls have before somethin’ happens to them—that’s if they’re even still alive.”

  I handed him the copied page. He glanced at it and then dialed. Once it started ringing, he put the call on speaker. The phone rang four times, then it clicked, and the line was quiet. A few seconds later, the call disconnected.

  “It sounded like someone answered the call and hung it up,” I said.

  “Then let’s try it again, so he’ll know we’re serious.”

  This time it rang twice, and the same thing happened. Cade dialed a third time. It rang once and the line was silent, but the phone stayed connected.

  “Hello” Cade said. “Is anyone there?”

  “Who’s this?”

  The voice on the other end was a man’s. It was raspy, like a life-long chain smoker who was now paying the price.

  “I’m calling to inquire about your services,” Cade said.

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. I have a proposition for you.”

  “Cut the shit—who are you and how’d you get my number?”

  “Who are you?” Cade said.

  There was no response.

  “I’m interested in two little girls,” Cade said. “Blond hair, ages four and eight. Can you accommodate me?”

  The man remained quiet.

  “Just tell me when, and where, and how much,” Cade said.

  I wanted to grab the phone and scream into it, let the guy on the other end know how I felt about how he made his living. Remaining quiet required an amount of patience I lacked, but I didn’t have a choice—I couldn’t compromise the children.

  “You still there?” Cade said. “Are you considering my offer?”

  The phone disconnected, and the next several times Cade called back, it just kept on ringing.

  “He’s shut his phone off,” I said. “Probably tossing it right now.”

  “Maybe.”

  Cade made a call to the department, asking someone to run the number for him. He was put on hold, and a few minutes later, the person returned to the line. They said something, and he asked them to look into it. Then he ended the call.”

  “Anything?” I said.

  “I got a name.”

  “What is it?”

  “Jack Sparrow.”

  “As in Captain Jack Sparrow?” I said.

  “I’m guessin’ so. And I’ll bet there’s no way to link it back to an actual person.”

  I looked at him. “Try the number one more time.”

  He called one last time. “Now I’m getting an out-of-service message.”

  “Thought so,” I said.

  CHAPTER 36

  If the man on the other end of the line did have Olivia and Savannah, and they were alive, I wasn’t sure they’d stay that way for long. He was in the business of pickup and delivery, not parenting. He’d already proven he had no problem killing old ladies and adults, and he may have spared the children for now, but for how long?

  Several hours had passed without me hearing from Cade. I thought about trying his number, but I wasn’t sure what happened after he’d dropped me off and went to the station. With the feds in town, I had no way of knowing how everything would play out.

  I remembered the business card Cade’s father had given me and decided I’d try him instead. I took it out of my wallet and made the call, but the phone was answered by a woman.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I believe I have the wrong number.”

  “Who are you trying to reach?”

  Her voice was low and quiet, making it difficult for me to understand what she was saying.

  “Detective McCoy,” I said.

  “This is his phone. Who’s calling?”

  “Sloane Monroe.”

  “You’re my son’s friend,” she said, “aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “It seems I’m always out running errands when you stop by.”

  “I was looking for Cade. I thought your husband might know if he is still at the station or not.”

  “He’s here,” she said. “Would you like to speak with him?”

  “Are you all at home?”

  There was a pause and then she said, “No, dear. We’re at the hospital.”

  Over the next several minutes I had an inner debate with myself, trying to decide whether it would be appropriate for me to show up at the hospital offering my support. I’d gotten to know Cade and his father to a degree, but it was a small one, and I wasn’t family. Maybe he hadn’t contacted me because, right now, he didn’t want me around.

  Still, we’d become friends over the past several days, and I never did very well sitting idly by while a friend was in need. I picked my jacket off the edge of the sofa and walked out the door.

  The first person I saw when I entered the hospital was Shelby, Cade’s daughter. She took one look at me and her face turned fifty shades of pissed-off teenager. I thought about avoiding her, but to my surprise, she got out of the chair and walked over to me.

  “I’m not trying to cause any problems by being here,” I said.

  Shelby crossed her arms in front of her. “Yeah, whatever.” She half-pointed to a side room. “My dad’s in there.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Why? Are you going to do something for me if I’m not?”

  She was hurting. Now was the time to keep my mouth shut. I smiled and walked away.

  Cade was inside the hospital room with his mother. They were holding hands as she dabbed her nose and eyes with a tissue. At that point, I didn’t even know if Detective McCoy was still alive. But I didn’t feel right about being there. I backed out, hoping no one would notice I was ever there.

  I passed by Shelby on my way out and waved, trying to smile. She held the back of her hand out like she was going to flip me off, but instead made a gesture like she just wanted me to go away—fast. I walked out the door feeling like an idiot for meddling in someone else’s private business. The inner dialogue of self-criticism continued while I walked until I realized someone had been calling my name.

  I pivoted on my heeled shoe. Cade was standing in front of me, out of breath. He didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight. I wasn’t sure how long we stood there, neither of us speaking, just me supporting him with a friendly embrace. Maybe I was needed after all.

  When Cade released me, I resisted the temptation of asking the question, and instead waited for him to speak.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I was going to call you, but—”

  “You don’t need to concern yourself with me right now.”

  “My dad, he’s not making any sense. One minute he’s talking to me about things that happened when
he was a child, and he has a perfect recollection of past events. The next minute, he looks at me like he doesn’t know who I am. He called me Joey. I don’t even know a Joey. None of us does. I knew it was going to get bad and, they’d prepped us for it, but I never expected this.”

  He was still alive.

  I knew it would be hard for me to look Cade in the eye; it always was in a situation like this, but I had to. His eyes were pale and wet, but I knew he wouldn’t cry. He was strong—too strong to let his emotions show right now. They would come later, when the dam finally broke, allowing his pent-up feelings to come flowing out.

  “How long has it been since your father has eaten anything?” I said. “He looked so thin when I stopped by last.”

  “Two—three days. I’m not sure. He lost his appetite. My mom’s tried everything; he’s not interested.”

  “Maybe eating makes him feel sick,” I said.

  Cade’s mother stepped into the parking lot and looked at him. “He’s asking for you,” she said.

  “I’d better go,” I said, “but you can call me anytime you need to. I mean it.”

  Cade’s mom shook her head. “Please don’t go. He wants to speak to you both—together.”

  I didn’t think it was for the best, but there was no way I could turn her down, or him. We walked together to his room, my apprehension growing with every step. I’d never cared much for hospitals, but then, who did?

  Detective McCoy mustered a smile when we walked in. He looked pleased to see both of us. I hoped the conversation we were about to have was one of his more coherent ones.

  “Come in, come in,” he said, motioning both of us over to the bed.

  We did what he asked, standing next to the bed, and awaiting his next statement.

  “Chief Rollins tells me they found the people who took Savannah,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong.

  “And Olivia, the other missing girl from Sublette County. Neither one of the children were there when the feds searched the house, but they found photographic evidence that both girls had been living there, among other things.”

  Cade and I looked at each other. I tried to act surprised.

  “The chief said they lifted a lot of usable prints which he’s running now.”

  “I thought the feds didn’t want us involved?” Cade said.

  “We’re not. But they don’t mind sharing a few bread crumbs with Rollins.” Detective McCoy looked at me. “Cade shared some other things with me earlier today.”

  Cade and I exchanged looks.

  Detective McCoy took my hand in his, grabbing Cade’s with the other. He put them together, mine on the bottom, Cade’s on top. For a moment it didn’t feel like I was standing in front of a hospital bed. It felt like I was in a church awaiting the marriage ceremony to begin.

  “What’s this about, Dad?” Cade said.

  “It’s about the two of you seein’ this through,” Detective McCoy said. “I’m too weak to continue on, not that the feds would have let me anyway. But, if it wasn’t for my illness, I would have found a way. It’s up to the two of you now. Don’t let that man kill those girls. Once you figure out who he is, you find them.”

  “We’ll do everything we can,” I said.

  Detective McCoy looked at me and then at Cade. “Promise me. Both of you. No matter what happens to me, you’re first priority is Savannah and Olivia.”

  Cade squeezed my hand, looked at his father, and said, “We promise.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Although Detective McCoy wanted us to stay focused on the girls, I knew Cade wasn’t up to it, no matter what he said to the contrary. We finished talking to Detective McCoy, and Cade walked me to my car. He said he’d been sent over a list of names of inmates who had been released within the past five years, all with the same tattoo. He even had photos. Excellent. I convinced him to give me the list. He was reluctant, but he wasn’t ready to leave his father.

  I sat at the small table in my hotel room looking over the list of names in front of me. It was long. I had no idea the clock tattoo was so popular, but with two million inmates in prison across the United States, it was no wonder there were so many.

  I’d taken a class once on prison methods and had learned a few things about prison tattoos. For one, it was illegal, but that didn’t stop inmates from doing it anyway. Men who entered prison having prior tattoos were much more likely to get another one while incarcerated than their non-tattooed counterparts, even though there were risks involved. Non-sterile methods were used, such as using paper clips as applicators and soot mixed with shampoo for the ink. This often caused deadly diseases such as hepatitis and HIV/AIDS.

  I looked over my stacked sheets of hay, feeling less than confident that I’d be able to find the needle among them. People in the business of stealing children weren’t easily traced due to the fact they rarely owned anything. They lived like transients, driving from place to place, staying in hotel rooms under assumed names, paying cash for whatever they needed. And only one thing mattered to a person like that: his next payday.

  I stood up, leaving the list of names on the table. I wanted to grab the papers and hurl them across the room. I hated to admit it, but I actually hoped the feds would find something Cade and I had missed when they searched the house—anything to bring Olivia and Savannah home.

  Think, Sloane, think.

  I returned to the table, remembering I had a connection to the kidnapper. Now I just needed to use it.

  “Jenny, I need a favor,” I said.

  She yawned into the phone. “What, umm, time is it?”

  “It’s late. Please, I don’t have much time.”

  “Sure, yeah. What do you need?”

  “I need you to talk to Todd.”

  “What—why? I haven’t spoken to him in—”

  “I know,” I said, “but this is important.”

  “What is it?”

  “I am sending several photos to your phone. I need you to show them to Todd. Ask him if he recognizes any of the men from the night Olivia was abducted.”

  “Why don’t you just call him yourself?” she said. “I have his number.”

  “After what I put him through, I’m not sure he’ll agree to speak to me, but I’m willing to bet he’ll talk to you.”

  “Got it. I’m on my way.”

  I paced the floor for the next hour, going over all the photos I’d sent Jenny, cross-checking them with the photos I hadn’t sent. I wanted to be sure I hadn’t missed any possibilities. Narrowing the list by age and height alone left a couple dozen possibilities. I then cut it down even more by the crimes they’d committed to put them in prison in the first place. I just hoped one of them was our man.

  I was about to try Jenny’s phone when my own rang.

  “Jenny?” I said.

  “It’s Todd.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested in talking to me or I would have called you myself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Did you look at the pictures I sent?” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “Did you recognize anyone?”

  “Yep.”

  A wave of excitement rushed through me. I just hoped he was right.

  “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “Yep.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The guy was wearing glasses, so I covered the top half of their faces. His chin—there was something about it. I tried explaining it to the sketch artist, and I couldn’t get it right.”

  “But you saw it in one of the photos?” I said.

  “The third one—it’s him.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Cade came by the next morning.

  “I was going to call you a few hours ago,” I said. “But I figured you were asleep, so I decided to wait.”

  “You were awake—why?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute. How’s your dad?”

  “They won’t release him yet, but the nurse said he’s awa
ke and talking to everyone. I hope it’s a good sign.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “What did you make of the names I gave you?”

  I grabbed a paper from the table and handed it to him.

  He scanned it, muttering the contents of the rap sheet to himself. When he finished, he said, “Eddie Fletcher. How do you know this is the guy?”

  I told him about my conversation with Todd the previous night.

  “Anything new on your end?” I said.

  “Chief Rollins called me this morning. The coroner looked over both bodies. He concluded the time of death was between ten and midnight the night before we showed up. The coroner said the same thing I did—the Kents were sleeping at the time of death. So far no prints have been found that can’t be accounted for.”

  I was relieved for us, but not for the killer.

  Cade mentioned a few more details from the ME’s report, but nothing I considered alarming.

  “The question is: where do we go from—”

  I was interrupted by the sound of Cade’s phone. He grabbed it out of his pocket so fast, he almost dropped it. I imagined he was waiting for an update on his dad, but it wasn’t the hospital or his mother on the other end of the line. It was the sound of someone saying Cade’s name. He flipped over a piece of paper on the desk, and wrote one word on it: EDDIE.

  I assumed Cade recognized his voice from their previous conversation. I moved closer.

  “Cade McCoy?” Eddie said, again.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Find a pen and paper. You have five seconds.”

  Cade sat down at the desk and flipped the phone on its side so I could hear the conversation.

  “Do you have it yet?” Eddie said.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Don’t talk, just listen.”

  Neither of us moved.

  “Are you listening?” Eddie said.

  “You said no talking,” Cade said.

  “At seven o’clock tonight, you will bring two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash to a shack at the end of Swanee Bridge Road.”

  “How do you expect me to come up with the money in such a short—”