The Abducted Omnibus

by Roger Hayden

  LOOK FOR:

  2006 Blue GMC Van

  Keely looked at his phone as the police radio made the very announcement Miriam read on the laptop screen. She looked up as they stopped at another intersection. Every vehicle around them looked suspicious to Miriam. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see a pickup truck and two motorcycles idling behind her. Her eyes scanned each side of the intersection, the cars passing by, and any and all vehicles parked on the street.

  “Wow,” Keely said. “And we were just talking about this.”

  Miriam was too caught in the moment to respond. In the midst of her frantic search, she caught a glimpse of a blue van passing by.

  “That’s him!” she said, flipping on the lights. She maneuvered around the car in front of them and gunned it into the intersection, siren blaring.

  “Slow it down,” Keely said, gripping the armrest.

  His request went unanswered as their tires screeched against the hot pavement with her sudden acceleration. The line of cars crossing the intersection slammed on their brakes to make way for Miriam’s sudden intrusion into their path. She turned down the road and raced ahead as vehicles struggled to move out of the way. The blue van was about three car lengths ahead.

  They were gaining. A two-door Honda Civic panicked as Miriam approached—inches from their rear bumper. The Honda screeched to the center median and tore a street sign from the concrete upon impact. As the car smoked behind them, Keely whipped his head around to admonish Miriam for her dangerous pursuit.

  “Detective Sandoval, you’ve got to be careful around here. It’s a narrow street.” His tone was stern but slightly nervous.

  As they roared down East Boston Street, past the fire department and community center, Miriam could see the blue van ahead preparing to turn right. The remaining two cars behind it moved to the curb to make way for the flashing police cruiser descending on them like a hungry shark. Miriam zoomed past. Keely said nothing to further discourage her. Instead, he grabbed the hand microphone and called the station.

  “Currently in pursuit of a van matching description of AMBER Alert.” He lowered the mike and squinted, trying to make out the license plate. With its blinker flashing, the van nonchalantly turned right.

  “What’s the plate say?” another officer asked over the radio.

  “Trying to read it,” Keely said.

  Miriam took a sharp right, cutting off a clueless Volvo driver trying to cross. The tires screeched again, leaving skid marks etched across the pavement and a trail of exhaust and burnt rubber in the air. The blue van was back in sight with its right turn signal still blinking. On the right was a Safeway supermarket.

  “No you don’t,” Miriam said under her breath. She floored the gas pedal and shuttled forward, closing in just as the van turned into the parking lot. Without slowing, she nailed the median to their right and launched right into the parking lot. Sparks hit the ground. Keely flew up, nearly smacking his head on the ceiling.

  “Damn it! Slow down!”

  Miriam’s eyes didn’t leave the van ahead as it looked for a parking space. The closer she got to the van, the stranger it seemed that the driver was making no attempts to escape. But Miriam had been through this scenario before. Her motto: trust no one.

  She drove past the van and spun around, blocking it off. Their cruiser came to an abrupt stop as she slammed on the brakes. Keely held his head and shot her a surprised, angry look.

  “What the heck has gotten into you? There’s no excuse for that kind of reckless driving!”

  Miriam reached to her hip holster and pulled out her pistol.

  Keely looked at her, wide-eyed. “Now what are you doing?”

  The van was stopped at an angle in a parking spot, with the police cruiser blocking the driver’s side and angled across two formerly empty parking spots. She had just boxed the van in and they were already drawing notice from cart-pushing onlookers. All she could see through the driver’s window was a silhouette behind tinted glass.

  “Cover me,” she said to Keely, who looked frazzled and upset about the pursuit.

  “Wait!” he protested with a hand up. “Let’s look up the license plate before you go out guns blazing.”

  Miriam lowered her pistol while keeping an eye on the driver. She studied the Arizona license plate and read it back to him. “RJUC12K.”

  Keely typed in the plate number and ran a check.

  Keely huffed and shifted with a sigh. “Barbara Robinson. Sixty-two years old. No prior record.”

  The entire scenario was too similar to the horrifying ordeal she had endured two and a half years ago with the loss of her partner in Palm Dale. Vivid memories flashed through her, and for a moment she felt like she was back there, only moments from when Deputy Lang was shot by the unidentified driver in a blue station wagon who fled the scene.

  Miriam opened her door. “I’m not taking any chances. Are you going to cover me or not?”

  Keely grabbed the mike. “Let me call for backup first.” He spoke while examining the van. “We’ve got a van blocked in the Safeway parking lot. Make and model match the AMBER Alert description. License plate…” He paused, turned to the laptop and began typing. “Barbara Robinson, 117 Antelope…” He looked over toward Miriam, expecting to see her, but the seat was empty. His head whipped to look out the windshield, where he saw Miriam inching toward the driver’s door with her back against the van and her pistol in the air.

  “Damn it!” Keely said. He opened his door and hopped out, grabbing his own pistol from the side. “How about you not dive into anything on your own? Think you can do that for me?”

  Miriam stopped and glared at him, putting a momentary halt to her take-no-prisoners plan. Keely nodded in mocking appreciation. He then walked around to the other side of the police cruiser as its lights flashed silently. He opened Miriam’s door, held his pistol out, and took cover, yelling: “Driver of the vehicle, open the door and step out with your hands up!”

  Both he and Miriam waited. The silhouette behind the tinted glass made no movement.

  “I repeat,” Keely continued. “Step out of your vehicle with your hands up or we will use force.”

  They waited again. Miriam looked at him—her face consumed with urgency and what looked like hidden anger. He had never seen this side of her before. She was almost another person.

  “I’m going in,” she mouthed, signaling to the driver’s door.

  Keely shook his head. “No…” he mouthed back.

  Before he could dissuade her, she leapt forward, swung the door open, and yanked the driver out, tossing her to the ground. When the elderly woman hit the ground, Miriam looked more shocked than either the woman or Keely.

  “Detective Sandoval, stop!” he said.

  Miriam froze as she could feel herself shaking as everything began to rush back to her. The elderly woman lay flat on her stomach, a tangled shawl around her neck, afraid to move. Her purse had flown from her arms and sat open ahead of her with its contents spilled on the asphalt.

  “What has gotten into you?” Keely said, stunned beyond words.

  Miriam snapped out of her daze, holstered her pistol, and knelt beside the woman, helping her up. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Keely holstered his weapon as well and lent a hand. They helped the frazzled woman to her feet as she brushed her shoulder-length gray hair out of her face.

  “Goodness. What did you do that for?” she asked, dusting off her red blouse.

  Still in detective mode, Miriam looked at Keely. “Search the van while I deal with her.”

  Keely stood back, hesitant. “Umm. I kind of think we need permission for that.”

  “Just look in the windows,” she replied in a frustrated tone. Keely walked away, not wanting to argue, as Miriam tended to the elderly woman. She introduced herself as Barbara. Miriam knelt down and put all the belongings back in her purse.

  “Again, I’m very sorry,” she said, handing the purse to Barbara. “Are yo
u okay?”

  Barbara took the purse and stood as if everything was fine. She didn’t have any noticeable marks and seemed to be coherent. “I’m fine, I guess.”

  Miriam looked around the parking lot for witnesses. If anyone had their phone out recording this, she was certain that it would be problematic. Miriam offered to take Barbara to the hospital to get checked out, but she refused.

  “Nonsense. I just need to go grocery shopping.” She turned to see Sergeant Keely looking through the windows of her van on the other side.

  “Excuse me, what is he doing?”

  Miriam gently touched the sleeve of Barbara’s jacket to put her at ease. “Your van matched the exact description of an AMBER Alert.”

  Barbara covered her mouth in surprise. “Oh no!”

  “Sarah Bynes is the girl’s name. She’s eleven years old.”

  “When did this happen?” Barbara asked.

  “Just now,” Miriam said.

  Keely came back and reported nothing out of the ordinary. Miriam looked at Barbara and spoke as politely as she could. “Do you think we could have a look through your van?”

  Confused, Barbara looked around. “I-I don’t know. You don’t think I have anything to do with this, do you?”

  Keely nudged Miriam. “Let it go,” he said under his breath. “This department does not need a lawsuit.”

  Miriam could remember all the deception—the disguises that Phillip Anderson had worn. The wigs he donned to get young girls to come closer to his vehicle. Even on her best day, she couldn’t avoid thinking about him at least once. It was her own personal curse.

  Barbara shuffled off to do her shopping, leaving them behind. Miriam pushed her no further. Keely was right—mostly. The license plate didn’t match and a petite elderly woman hardly fit the bill for a child predator. And the more time they stood around questioning Barbara, the more time the real culprit had to get away.

  “All right,” Miriam said, tossing Keely the keys. “Let’s sweep the area, see what we can come up with.” Their backup still hadn’t arrived, and Keely thought it a good time to call them off.

  “Three Six, ixnay on the backup. False alarm. Still looking for that van.”

  “They have an APB out on it yet?” Miriam asked. Normally that was the protocol with AMBER Alerts, but Miriam wanted to be sure.

  An officer cut in over the radio. “Twenty-Two, that’s a copy. We have all units currently looking for blue van, Arizona license plate…”

  Keely pulled out of the parking lot, seemingly in better spirits now that he was behind the wheel. Strange looks from customers pushing shopping carts past met Miriam’s gaze. But all she cared about was finding the right van.

  Anything that slightly resembled a van caught her eye. They continued west toward Interstate 10. Their culprit may have already gotten on the highway headed toward California, Colorado, or New Mexico. If the culprit didn’t flee, that would make their job that much easier.

  Miriam grabbed the hand mike and called the station to request aerial support to widen their search. A few helicopters would do the trick, she thought. The dispatcher told her that such support was currently unable.

  “Will send request up the channels,” he said.

  “Negative. Time is critical here. We need that support now,” Miriam said, defiantly.

  Suddenly another voice cracked in. “Detective Keely. Need you both at the station ASAP.”

  They looked at each other, curious, but it was all too clear who it was: Investigations Officer Lieutenant Vargas. “Copy that,” Miriam said, hanging the mike on its dashboard hook. She noticed Keely turn on his right blinker at the approaching intersection, heading to the station.

  “No. Let’s search some more. Vargas can wait,” she said, placing her hand on the dashboard.

  Keely glanced at her and then back to the road, turning his blinker off. “You know, you’re going to get me in trouble one of these days.”

  He continued past the light, going straight. Miriam scanned the downtown area as they drove through. They passed vehicle after vehicle parallel parked in front of shops and businesses. They passed the county library—a large, dome-shaped building—which Miriam loved to frequent when she had the time. Still no blue van in sight.

  Or any van for that matter. Pedestrians were out in droves, walking along the sidewalks—the lunchtime rush was in full effect. Miriam’s mind was on overdrive. Every person, every movement was suspect. Suddenly, a white van passed them in the opposite lane.

  “Turn around,” she told Keely.

  His eyes glanced into the rearview mirror, watching the van pass. “It’s white.”

  “So what?” Miriam said. “These alerts aren’t always accurate, you know.”

  Keely held a hand up in protest. “I can’t turn around and chase every van on the road. Let’s stick with blue van and go from there.”

  Miriam said no more. As they continued heading east, she could feel momentum fading. For her partner, it might have been just another AMBER Alert, but for her, it was something entirely different. Thoughts of Anderson reemerged in her consciousness. Had he found her again? What kind of sick game was she involved in now? They never had recovered a body.

  Lee County investigators reported that the blast had decimated Phillip, but without leaving verifiable physical evidence behind. It was possible, but Miriam had her doubts. Now six months later, in a new state, a new city, she was facing another child kidnapping. Were they dealing with a child predator or something else altogether? Miriam was well aware of possible cartel activity, but an eleven-year-old girl? If that was the case, she was sure that a ransom demand was soon to follow.

  Keely turned down a couple of back roads and alleyways, driving through the shadier parts of town—their go-to spots following any APB. There were questionable types of all sizes, men mostly, who squatted under building canopies or loitering behind store dumpsters, not showing the slightest interest as the cruiser passed them.

  Miriam told Keely to slow down when they entered one particularly crowded alleyway. Most of the men dispersed, but a few remained behind. Miriam swung her door open and stepped out, just as Keely parked. She approached two Hispanic men who leaned against the wall with blank, indifferent expressions on their face.

  “Habla usted Inglés?” she asked.

  “Si,” the man on the right said. He was short, with a black goatee, dark eyes, and a scar across one cheek. He wore a beige ball cap and baggy, mismatched clothes. His counterpart, a taller, heavier-set man, had run off the minute Miriam mentioned a blue van.

  The other man shrugged in response, not implying whether he had seen the van or not. She pulled a twenty from her wallet. His eyes widened as though he was staring at the Lady Madonna. “Listen, Pedro,” she said in a serious tone. “I don’t hand out money for cheap talk. We have a little girl missing. Eleven years old. Now, have you seen a blue van around here or not?”

  “No, but I know who may have,” he said with a Spanish accent—Mexican, Miriam believed.

  “Good,” she said, taking him by the arm. Miriam had little patience for stalling—as everyone she had encountered her so far that day had found out. She opened the back passenger door and beckoned the man to get in. As he hesitated, she slapped the cash into his hand, pushed him inside the car, and closed the door. Once she sat down in her seat, she noticed Keely staring at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  Keely looked into the back seat then at her. “Right now, I don’t even want to know. Let’s go to the station.”

  Miriam nodded in agreement as he gunned the car forward, leaving a trail of exhaust in their wake.

  The Informant

  They arrived at the station with their passenger in the back seat humming to himself. Though Miriam had called him Pedro, his name was actually Guillermo—a drifter and who had been living on the streets for some time. He claimed to be a man who knew and saw things—the kind of man who had info for a price. But he was also a caref
ul and cautious man who insisted on sitting low in the car, out of sight.

  “It’s best that I keep our time together to a minimum,” he said as they parked. “I hope you understand.”

  “You give us what we need and you can leave at any time,” Miriam said, making her intentions clear.

  Detective Keely shut off the ignition and turned, placing his arm over his seat. “You know, if you want, we can put you in handcuffs and make this thing look authentic.”

  Guillermo looked around confused. “What’s he talking about?” he asked Miriam.

  She told him that the Keely was just joking… sort of.

  “Ah,” Guillermo said. “Very funny.”

  Miriam leaned against the passenger window and studied their reluctant guest. She was out of patience and wanted to learn something of substance—every minute counted while Sarah Bynes was still out there. “What exactly do you know, Guillermo?” she asked.

  He smiled, exposing a chipped front tooth. “Call me G.”

  “G…” she said, slowly. “What can you tell us?”

  He scratched his chin, seeming amused with all the attention. It was best to get something out of him ahead of time, before parading him into the lieutenant’s office, and risking the chance he would bottle up and play around with them.

  “You looking for a blue van, si?”

  “Si,” Miriam said.

  G thought to himself again. “Let me see who I know who has a blue van.” He looked to Miriam as though he’d just remembered but then shook his head. “Not personally. I know I seen one though.”

  Miriam continued to probe him, feeling as though they were slowly getting somewhere. “Can you think of a face? A name? Anything?”

  G nodded. “He’s a big man. Grande hombre. Bald.”

  Miriam stopped. “Bald?”

  “Si. I remember. He come down the street. Ask about action.”

  “Action?”

  “Yeah. Real pervertido. Wanted young niña. He don’t talk to me. I just hear him talk to Ricky.”

  Miriam pulled a pen and pocket-notebook out, flipping it open. “Who’s Ricky?”