Gail opened her eyes. The blurred figure of a man stooped and exited the van. She looked around. Her eyes widened. There were four other girls trussed up in the same fashion as her and gagged with duct tape, all whimpering. The dog jumped in through the side door. Its saliva dripped on her legs. She retched at the foul odor drifting from the dog’s open mouth. Then darkness descended as the sliding door to the van closed on the world outside.
Chapter 2
Friday, 10:20 a.m. July 11th, 2008. LAPD headquarters.
LA homicide detective Brett Shaw sat at his desk, and typed out the final paragraph to his latest solved murder report. He read the draft and shook his head. There were more spelling mistakes than usual. He knew his mind wasn’t attuned to the report, not with his wife at home, suffering violent headaches. The remorse at leaving her in bed earlier in the morning twisted his mind inside out. Those sentiments were doing battle with practicalities. He had to work. It was his duty. There was a need to bring home the dough. Vacations had to be paid for. College fees had to be saved for his daughter’s future.
A security job, with regular hours on minimum wage wouldn’t do it all. Truth was; he was addicted to his work, and his wife’s illness was an unwelcome distraction. He loved his job. It felt like every day started with a junkie’s fix, giving him an intense buzz. His extension rang and he snatched the handset.
“Shaw speaking.”
“Logan wants you in his office.”
Shaw sighed with relief. He had half-expected the call would have been from his twelve-year-old daughter Amy, or his wife’s sister, telling him his wife had taken a turn for the worse.
“On my way.”
Shaw made his way past the empty workstations. An hour earlier it had been bedlam. He smiled, thankful for the silence, save for the hum of the computer fans. He disliked working on team efforts, preferring to run solo. He wondered what his boss had for him and quickened his stride along the corridor to Logan’s office. He tapped on the door and entered.
“Got a new case for me?” Shaw asked, hoping for something to take his mind off events at home.
“Sort of. Missing persons.”
Shaw’s shoulders sagged. Missing person cases to him were like being given the role of the ass end of a donkey, and being led blind up an alley. Most of those reported missing were usually runaways who didn’t want to be found. Only one in ten ever turned out interesting.
“Who is it?”
Logan handed Shaw a file.
“It’s not a question of who it is. There are five of them in our area, all from this morning.”
“Five?”
Shaw raised a brow. The odds had just swung in his favor of the cases being interesting. He opened the file and flicked through the uniformed officers’ reports, speed reading each one in turn.
“I say five. That’s all we have,” said Logan. “There are nineteen reports in all come through to the Missing and Unidentified Persons Unit, over at the Department of Justice. There are two similar clusters to ours up north.”
“What... nineteen? You’re kidding, right? Are you saying they’re all from this morning, and all eighteen, the same age as these here?”
“I wish I was joshing. But, yeah, that’s right. Probably they’ve all met up somewhere without telling their parents. Pity we don‘t have the twenty-four-hour rule here in California, what with the way our personnel are stretched. A dispatch operator noticed the trend on our missing girls, reported it to her supervisor, and she alerted MUPU. I’ve just come off of the phone with them, but I’ve not had time to read the reports.”
Shaw flipped through the reports again. His level of intrigue topped the scale.
“It seems none of these are answering their cell phones, but no mention in the reports of social media interaction between the five girls. I’ll give the parents a call and see if they can access their accounts.”
“You do that, and then head over to a briefing at MUPU at one o’clock. If we don‘t do anything, we’ll probably get our pants sued if something is untoward. Pity we can’t sue them if they’re all partying. I’m betting they’ll be at Venice beach.”
“Probably. With a bit of luck, one of them will have phoned home when I contact the parents,” said Shaw.
“Let’s hope so.”
Shaw hauled his six-foot-two frame out of the chair, and made his way back to his desk. He picked up the handset and dialed his home number. His daughter answered.
“Hi, Amy, how’s my little, birthday girl?”
“Fine, Daddy. But I’m not little now. I’m twelve today.”
“I know, sweetheart, but to me you’ll always be my little girl. How’s Mom?”
“Sleeping, Aunt Mary’s here. Do you want her?” Her voice had radiated down the line, raising a smile.
“Put her on, sweetheart.”
Mary took the call.
“Hi, Mary, thanks again for coming at short notice. I’ll try to get away early for Amy’s party. Just don’t let Cath take any more headache pills. I forgot to tell you, she took the maximum this morning.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll see to her, and get everything ready for Amy’s party. Just make sure you get here in time, never mind ‘try.’”
“I will.”
Shaw closed the call. An image of his daughter crying at the door, with Cath standing behind her and displaying a sour face, passed through his mind. He’d missed Amy acting at her drama-school play the week before. Much as he didn’t want her to end up as one of the rest of the LA star wannabes, he’d not missed her moment of glory on purpose. It came with the job. Guilt struck him for the many times he’d missed special family occasions. All he hoped for was that he wouldn’t become embroiled in a race against time to catch a criminal. The hurt and sometimes frustration on the faces of his wife and daughter when he arrived home late was a high price to swallow for job satisfaction. He shook his head. Shaw opened the file and studied each report in detail, then he ran through each of the officer’s reports in turn.
The first girl, Rachael Hines, hadn’t returned home from her vacation job at an all-night gas station. She’d phoned her mom as usual to say she was leaving for home at six in the morning. Her mom was due to take her for a hospital checkup. She usually arrived home at six twenty. One hour later she had not returned. Her mother had scoured the route she always took, but there was no sign of her, and her cell phone was dead.
The second girl, Caitlin Blake, was due to arrive at her job flipping burgers, leaving home at five thirty in the morning. The moment her mom knew she hadn’t arrived at work was when Caitlin’s boss phoned her at seven thirty, and her daughter wasn’t answering her cell phone. Calls weren’t even transferring to voicemail.
The third girl’s mom said the dog had been barking and whining at six, waking the entire household. Her daughter, Lucy Turner, had taken him for a walk. Two hours later when Mrs. Turner had come down for breakfast, Lucy hadn’t returned. She had left her cell phone at home.
The fourth girl, Carol Buckshaw, she had taken her dad’s car to buy fresh baked bread for breakfast as she did every day, but didn’t return home. Officers found the car abandoned in a rest area with the driver’s door open, her cell phone on the passenger seat, and the key still in the ignition.
The fifth girl, Gail Harvey, hadn’t returned from jogging. After the family searched for her, they’d found her sneaker and earphones at an exit of the park where she went jogging every day.
The last two raised alarm bells. The circumstances raised serious concerns and needed to be investigated as a priority. All lived within a mile radius, so it was a possibility they knew each other. Gail had private tutoring, and lived in a mansion, so he doubted a school connection. The window of them going missing stretched from five thirty, through to around eight o’ clock that morning.
Shaw had long since given up on coincidences in cases. Unless the ones with phones switched them back on, tracking the signals would be a lost cause. He doubted five different
people would consider kidnapping the girls all of the same age within two and a half hours of each other. But the motivation as to why someone would possibly kidnap them on the same day scrambled his deliberations. The scale was anywhere from their friends carrying out a prank, to dealing with some sort of sick Charles Manson type cult.
Closing the file, he sighed. Pushing his back into his chair, he raised his arms and linked his fingers behind his head, then stared at the ceiling. He now knew that Logan’s theory that they were all partying together was way off the mark.
Shaw unclasped his fingers and reached out to dial the Harvey family. His extension rang. He pressed the speaker button.
“Shaw.”
“Highway patrol officer Blake on the line for you.”
“Thanks, Marge. Put him through.”
“Detective, Shaw, Officer Blake here. I understand that you’re coordinating the reports for the missing girls?”
“That’s me. What have you got?”
He pushed his keyboard to one side and slid his notebook in front of him.
“Lucy Turner. We’ve found the dog, but no sign of Lucy. The Forensic guys are here now.”
“Forensics?”
Shaw reached for his Biro, removed the chewed top with his teeth, and scribbled the girl’s name on his notepad.
“Yeah, the dog’s had its throat ripped out. There’s blood everywhere. A passing cyclist phoned it in, but he didn’t witness what happened. He thought it could be a human body at a glance when he called 911, but he wasn’t sure, because it was some way off the road. It’s understandable when you consider the size of the dog. I phoned the number off of the dog’s tag and Mrs. Turner told us about reporting her daughter going missing. Incidentally, the lead was still attached to the collar.”
Shaw spat out the pen top, and paused at the turn of events, before continuing.
“Damn, okay. Ripped out! Do you mean cut?”
“No, ripped out from what I saw. But then what do I know?”
“Okay, just make sure forensics know I’m handling the case, and to send a report to me. Give me the location and I’ll take a look.”
Shaw wrote down the details and closed the call. Logan came up beside him.
“You’ve not contacted the parents yet, have you?”
“No.”’
“Good, don’t. I’ve just come off another call with missing persons. Preliminary reports indicate kidnapping as a strong possibility in at least eight of the cases. They’re going to have an FBI psychology counselor contact each family in turn, just to show we’re on the case and to collect photographs. They don’t want them to be distressed any more than they are, until MUPU decide what court orders they might need for phone tracking reports and DNA sample requests from family. I think it’s better for them to visit the families with a list of everything they require, rather than having to keep calling back.”
“I agree. They’ll probably need Forensics to go and lift fingerprints from their bedrooms. Then there’s the social media to check and e-mails. Incidentally,” Shaw said, “three of our girls are looking like possible kidnappings, especially Lucy Turner. I’ve just come off of a call with a highway patrol officer. They’ve found the dog she was walking with. Its throat’s been ripped to shreds, but no sign of her. Not sure if that one will add to their figures. I guess the FBI will take overall charge?”
“Jesus, poor dog.” Logan winced. “At least FBI ’ll lighten the load on our resources.”
“I could do with driving over to look at where they found the dog.”
Logan looked at his watch, and chewed on his lip. “Fill me in on what you find after the meeting over at MUPU. Best you get going if you’re to make it back for the meeting.”
Shaw picked up the file.
“Listen, I’m skipping lunch so I can get home for my daughter’s birthday party at four o’clock. Cath’s been having headaches this last week and today she has a migraine and...”
“No problem. I hope she gets better soon. You do what you have to do.”
Shaw rose to his feet, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. He breezed along the corridor, down the stairway and through the back exit into the parking lot. Arriving at his car, he opened the door. Tossing the file on the passenger seat, he then hung his jacket over his seat and climbed inside. He located his key in the ignition and fired up the engine. Pausing, he opened the glove compartment and checked that Amy’s present was there. The iPhone he’d bought her was as much for his benefit as hers. At least they would always be able to contact her. But then he thought that’s what the parents of the missing girls would have believed. He shuddered, closed the glove compartment, and drove out of the lot.
Picking up Santa Monica Boulevard, he drove on for a while and turned off toward the location of where they’d found Lucy’s dog. A highway patrol car was parked with the passenger side wheels mounted on the sidewalk. An officer rested his backside on the hood. In front of the patrol car, the forensic van was parked with the back doors open. He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. The officer slid off the hood and ambled over. Crime scene investigators were loading something in the back of their van in a body bag.
“You can’t park here, sir.”
Shaw pulled his ID from his pocket.
“Detective Shaw.”
“Sorry, sir. The forensic guys have just finished and loaded up the dog.”
Shaw opened the door, climbed out, leaving his door open, and walked over to the van.
He called out to one of the forensic team. “Hey, John. Any evidence of the girl’s presence at the scene?”
“Hi. The officer said you were handling the case. No, sorry. Not unless the samples of blood we’ve taken come up with a match. The ground is dry as a bone in the surrounding area, so there are no tracks. We’ve searched the area, but there’s not even a gum wrapper worth bagging.”
“What killed the dog?”
“Could be another dog, or maybe a wild cat. If this was Florida, I’d be thinking it could be an alligator. Whatever it was, it ripped its throat to shreds.”
Shaw leaned into the van, and unzipped the body bag. He sucked air through his teeth.
“Jesus, are you sure it wasn’t a brown bear?”
“Can’t say. I know I wouldn’t like to meet whatever did the damage. It must have been powerful to overcome a Bullmastiff.”
Shaw re-zipped the bag.
“What are you going to do with the body?”
“Not sure. The coroner’s office suggested a veterinary surgeon over at Wildlife and Game carry out an autopsy. But for now were putting it on ice after we’ve taken more samples for DNA around the wound area, and combed the dog’s coat in the lab. With a bit of luck, the DNA analysis will identify exactly what attacked the dog. If it is another dog, we’ll know the breed from its DNA. Find the dog and the owner might just know what happened to the girl.”
“I doubt it’ll be that simple. I hope we find her alive before you get the results. Anyway, let me know what you find.”
“We will.”
Shaw looked around. There was nothing to see. It was just a patch of waste ground; stained where they had found the body. With no houses nearby, there were no doors to pound for any witnesses. He walked back to his car, settled on his seat and set off along the highway back to the city. His mind wandered in all directions. Maybe, the dog had run off and Lucy was still searching for him. But then why not phone home? He pulled into the headquarters parking lot, when it struck him that the journey had been a blur, and that maybe the long hours working were getting to him. Parking in his usual spot, he climbed out of his car and set off walking to South Spring Street and the Justice Department.
Shaw was used to seeing death masks, but the vision of the Bullmastiff’s head, hanging by a chunk of its coat attaching it to its body, churned his stomach. He shook his head, but it failed to dispel the gruesome vision.
“What the hell could do that?”
C
hapter 3
Friday, 12:55 p.m. 11th, July 2008. Missing and Unidentified Persons Unit.
ARRIVING at the MUPU reception desk, Shaw showed the young woman his ID and was given a nametag. The receptionist pointed him in the direction of the meeting room. There was just one guy in the room. He walked up to Shaw and they exchanged glances at their nametags. The guy held out his hand.
“Detective Shaw, pleased to meet you,” said FBI agent Summers, and shook his hand.
“Please, call me Brett.”
Agent Summers nodded, but failed to exchange the same civility.
More people arrived, exchanging introductions, when a small in stature, but well-rounded guy, walked into the room. His nametag simply had ‘Homeland Security’ typed on the paper badge. He hardly looked the part, wearing a crumpled shirt, and the knot of his tie skewed to one side. His pants looked like they had never seen an iron, and his hair had never seen a comb.
“Homeland security?” Shaw said. “Surprised they would have an interest in the cases.” The guy offered no response. Shaw held out his hand. “Detective Shaw, LAPD homicide. And your name is?”
The guy took his hand in a firm grip and answered.
“My name is on the tag, Homeland Security, but you can call me whatever you want. I’m only here as an observer. As for our interest...” He released his grip and tapped his finger on his nose. “That’s for us to know.”
Shaw turned away, took a seat at the polished oak table and dropped his missing persons’ file on the surface. Homeland Security pulled a chair away from the table, and sat in the corner next to the door. Shaw thought the HS guy was a self-righteous son of a gun, full of his own importance. He could think of many names he would like to call him, but none of them to his face in front of witnesses. He knew that he had to have shown his ID at reception, so he would be legit. But why he didn’t want his name known was beyond him, apart from it was the height of ignorance. Shaw shrugged his shoulders. With all present, Rachael Gomez, the head of MUPU, took the chair at the head of the table. Shaw took his cell phone from his pocket and switched it off.
The Killers Amongst Us: Chimera Dawn Chronicles Page 2
