by N. M. Brown
Leighton frowned. ‘I don’t know much about her case, what happened to her?’
‘Vanished while out for a picnic with her parents. They had gone fishing at Chino Creek – it’s mostly wooded down there and pretty swampy too; looks more like Louisiana than California. Marianne who was eight at the time had her own fishing rod and was fairly capable according to her folks.’
‘Did she wander off?’
‘She needed to pee. Her mom told me that Marianne propped up her rod against a tree, and stepped back into the bushes. She and Marianne’s dad kept their attention on their own lines for five or ten minutes but when their daughter didn’t come back, they started shouting on her. You got any kids?’
‘Yeah.’ Leighton nodded, slowly. ‘I have a daughter – she’s seven.’
‘Then you know how her folks would’ve felt when they had been standing there in the creek shouting for a while without getting any answer. They told me that they abandoned their rods to get pulled away into the water while they began searching. Didn’t do any good of course; she was long gone by then.’
‘Where was she found?’
‘Up in Angelus Oaks – sixty miles from where she was last seen. Nothing up there but tall trees and telegraph poles. A long way away for a kid to walk. Sound familiar?’
‘Yeah,’ Leighton said in a dry whisper. ‘You said that cars were seen in the area when the girls went missing. Did anybody get a licence number?’
‘Nope, nobody knew it meant anything.’
‘If it was him, the suspect took a risk using the same car.’
‘Yeah, but my theory is that he only ever lifted a couple of kids from any given area. I think he took two kids in that patch then moved on. By the time anybody sees a pattern he’s already gone.’
‘You think there were others, before the Tulin and Hume girls?’
‘Yeah, of course there were others,’ Wells said. His tone suggested it would be crazy to suggest otherwise.
‘How many?’ Leighton asked.
Wells took a while to answer. He poured another shot of bourbon into his mug, took a slow sip of it and then looked at the floor. ‘Four that I’m certain of.’ He dragged a veined hand across his stubble-peppered face. ‘I know there could even be more, but those four were officially his.’
‘Why are you so sure there are more?’
‘Nobody wakes up one day and decides to start taking and killing kids in a way that means they get away with it every time. They would get caught. But not this guy. He knows what he’s doing. Victims are all kids yeah, but other than that there’s no real pattern. We have different ages, race, gender, social class, location and M.O.’
‘So, what makes you so sure they were all connected at all?’
‘Jeez – you sound like my old chief. He couldn’t see it – the dumb fuck. He had the power to stop the killer but he was too dumb to realise it. I kept at him, gave him all the stuff I had, but it’s like he was colour-blind and I was asking him to look at a rainbow. How long have you been a cop?’
‘Fourteen years.’
‘Well, I reckon after most guys have put in twelve on the streets, they’re pretty switched on in terms of how to do the job. In my final days at San Bernardino I had put in thirty-eight years.’
‘That’s a long shift,’ Leighton said with a smile.
‘The chief had done thirteen, and my captain only had six – but of course he had two degrees from UCLA. Anyway, those two bozos had half my experience between them.’
‘I guess that’s why they couldn’t see it.’
‘That’s the truth, son.’
‘Listen, there’s a seven-year-girl who’s missing from her home near Oceanside. Her friend said she was talking to a man who had a brown coloured car.’
‘Shit.’ Wells looked at the floor, his shoulders slumping. ‘I had somehow convinced myself that he had stopped – had died or maybe got locked up for something else.’
‘What should I do?’ Leighton asked.
‘Jeez, son, how the hell do I know? I’m a washed-up ex-cop with a bad hip and a drink problem.’
‘But you were on to him before, Len. Nobody else seems to even know that this guy exists, but you were onto him. I’m out of my depth here.’
‘I guess you are,’ Wells said with a deep sigh.
‘Look, I just need to know how to get closer to this psycho. I can try to dig up some evidence.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you something. God knows if it’ll help you find the kid, but it’s all I’ve got. Look for a guy with his own car, who lives out of the way. If any people were around him, they would have noticed his weirdness by now. I know society has changed since I was a kid. People don’t look out for each other the way they used to, but they still notice cars coming and going or people acting kind of weird. Where did your missing kid go missing from?’
‘Fallbrook. She had been playing in a creek outside the family home.’
‘If that’s where he snatched her, then your guy is likely to be living on the edge of the city or nearby. On a ranch maybe. Somewhere fairly isolated. That way he can avoid neighbours noticing things.’
Leighton nodded as he scratched at his notepad.
I reckon there’s something else you should consider, something important,’ Wells said, quietly.
‘What’s that?’
‘This guy will have seen the kid at home before, have watched them in some way. I guarantee it.’
‘You sure?’
‘I am.’ Wells nodded, and took a sip of his drink.
‘How do you know?’
‘He doesn’t fuck up. If anybody’s doing anything for the first time – even basic stuff like baking a cake or stripping a car engine – they’re going make a couple of mistakes at least. This guy doesn’t. That tells me that he has had practised. If he snatched the kid from near her home, like he did with the others, then he planned it.’
‘Did you discover any other cases that might’ve been his?’
‘I thought that I did, but once they got me out of service I was just like every other civilian. I only heard the same news stories as everybody else. There were a couple that got my attention. But you’re still a lawman. That means you can go digging without anyone getting suspicious.’
‘Well except for my colleagues in missing persons.’
‘Hell, let them worry about that. You’re doing their job for them, the bastards should thank you for it. You just need to get busy hunting this prick down, before he takes another one and moves on again.’
‘Where would you start?’
Len Wells picked up his glass and took a slow sip. He then glanced at Leighton. ‘Are you serious about this; not just as a little side interest – but serious enough to get bloody?’
‘I guess I am,’ Leighton said, quietly.
‘I’d start with the last known location. This guy doesn’t just lift kids at random, he knows where they live, and grabs them close to it. That’s what makes me think he either lives nearby or is able to stake out their home for a while before the actual attack. If you confirm the location then look for anybody with priors or warrants who lives in the area. Somebody who has moved there in the last year or so.’
‘You’ve really helped me,’ Leighton said with a smile. He got up and moved to the door. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
Wells grunted as he stood up too, then shuffled after Leighton. ‘Don’t say anything, just save the kid.’
‘I’ll try, I promise,’ Leighton said. He then opened the door and squinted against the light.
‘You sure you don’t want a shot of bourbon before you go?’ Wells asked.
‘No thanks, I don’t drink spirits.’
‘You will,’ Wells said as he closed the door.
Chapter Forty-Eight
As he walked up the cracked path leading to the door of the property on the opposite side of the street from the Blanchette home, Leighton stared down the building. A disembowelled car sat in the drive, p
ropped up on cinder blocks like some dead beast. Following his meeting with Len Wells, Leighton had stopped off at the station and ran a prior conviction and warrants check on the small cluster of houses. He had struck gold with one of them.
Leighton pressed the doorbell, heard an angry buzz from somewhere further back in the house.
Eventually, a short scruffy-looking man appeared on the other side of the screen door. He made no attempt to open it.
‘You Ronald Draper?’ Leighton asked.
‘What d’you want?’
‘I’d like to speak to you.’ Leighton said.
‘Fuck off!’
‘Officially,’ Leighton said and held up his badge.
The guy showed no change in expression, but he immediately folded his arms. This informed Leighton that this was someone accustomed to confrontation with cops.
‘What d’you want to know?’ he asked.
‘About a missing person.’
‘That kid from across the street?’
‘That’s right.’ Leighton nodded. ‘You know about that?’
‘Sure, your cop buddy came knocking on doors yesterday. Jeez, don’t you ever speak to each other. Well, I’ve got nothing to say. That shit’s got nothing to do with me.’
‘I didn’t say it had,’ Leighton said and waited, patiently, deliberately.
‘You were charged with rape in Lewisham.’
‘Hey, those charges were dropped. She was my girlfriend and she got pissed at me for doing it with her cousin. It’s all in the police report. Check it out if you want.’
‘Where were you on Monday afternoon?’ Leighton asked.
‘Work.’
‘Can anybody else verify that?’
‘Sure, my asshole boss and forty other guys who work in the Street Maintenance crew. I worked an eight hour shift. My boss is Chuck Wheeler. Feel free to speak to him.’
‘I will,’ Leighton said and walked away.
When Leighton approached his car he glanced around. He was trying to get a sense of what had happened on the day Tina vanished. The problem was that with the exception of Ronald Draper’s place and an elderly neighbour’s bungalow, there only were three other houses – Tina’s and those of her two other neighbours. All of the residents checked out, and there were no other buildings nearby. Leighton couldn’t see how Len Wells’ notion of somebody else being involved could apply. There wasn’t even a bus stop or grocery store that might give people reason to hang around. The case felt more hopeless than ever, and he knew he would end up letting Angela Blanchette and her daughter down too. He opened the car door and was about to get in when he paused.
It was at that moment in the heat of the afternoon that Leighton’s eye caught a momentary glint of metal at the top of a telegraph pole on the opposite side of the road.
Leaving the car door half open, Leighton hurried across the hot road and stood beneath the wooden pole. Holding up his hand to shield his eyes, he peered directly at the box. It was square and made of polished metal. Leighton estimated that it had only been there for a couple of weeks at most. Stepping back, he peered at the surrounding houses, then back at the pole.
Judging by the position of it, anybody who was up a ladder leaning against the pole or sitting in a cherry picker would be able to see for miles around. But more disturbingly they would be looking down directly into the gardens of the three houses, they would be looking directly down on Tina and her friends and they would be able to see into the windows of these houses too.
After crouching down, Leighton took a notepad from his pocket and then carefully copied the identity number of the post, then hurried back to his car.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Captain Steven Pierce, who having just secured a promotion to a different city, was no longer as emotionally invested in Oceanside. He had already begun the painful task of organising his paperwork in preparation for the inevitable handover to his replacement. Having spent most of the day up to his eyes in bench warrants and lapsed parking fines, he had just grabbed a coffee and was returning to his office when he was confronted by Captain Levvy in the administration corridor.
‘Hey, Ellen,’ he said. ‘How’s your day?’
‘Good,’ she replied, ‘I heard you got the San Diego job. Congratulations. What did that interview involve – four parts?’
‘Thanks. It was five actually.’
‘Ouch,’ she said with a wincing smile. ‘So, when you starting?’
‘A couple of weeks, unless the chief can pull some strings and speed things up.’
‘I’m sure it’ll just fly by. Hey listen, before you go, can you do something for me?’
‘Sure, what?’ Pierce took a sip, to conceal his dismay at something else to add to his list.
‘Can you keep Leighton Jones on a tighter leash?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s still messing with our investigation of the Blanchette kid’s disappearance. He’s been all over it like a rash. The guy obviously doesn’t know when to back the fuck off.’
‘Shit! Sorry, Ellen. He thinks he’s Colombo. I’ll get on his back.’
‘Thanks, Steve, I appreciate it.’
Chapter Fifty
Leighton pulled into the parking lot of the Oceanside Gas and Electric Company. It was a cube-shaped brick building surrounded by a variety of pickup trucks and cherry pickers. All of them were white and featured the yellow OGEC badge on every side. A high security fence running around the edge of the parking lot gave the place a sense of being zoo-like, as if the vehicles might plan a rebellion and try to escape.
After locking up his car, Leighton entered the building and approached reception area where a tall man in a blue boiler suit was pouring over an oil stained truck parts catalogue.
‘If you want to report a fault, you need to go through the switchboard,’ he said without looking up.
‘I’m from Oceanside P.D.,’ Leighton said whilst holding his badge.
The tall man looked up in alarm and flipped the catalogue closed. ‘Sorry, we get so used to members of the public coming in here to report a blown hairdryer socket. I’m Ned Murphy – shift manager here. What can I do for you today?’
Leighton pushed his open notepad across the counter. ‘I want to speak to whoever carried out the replacement of this transformer within the last few weeks.’
The man reached out one finger and quietly read the numbers to himself. Eventually he looked back up at Leighton.
‘Sure, I know who was out there doing the repair. It was Eddie Craven, but I’m afraid you can’t speak to him.’
‘I can get a warrant,’ Leighton said, hoping that his bluff was convincing. It was seriously unlikely that he could get any judge to approve a warrant based on the little evidence he had.
‘Makes no difference if you have a warrant or not,’ Ned Murphy said, indifferently, ‘Eddie hasn’t been in all this week – called in sick on Monday morning. To be honest, if he stays off into next week he won’t be working here at all.’
‘How long has he been employed here?’ Leighton asked.
‘Little less than a year,’ the man replied with a shrug.
‘You know where he was based before that?’
‘Hard to be sure.’ Murphy scratched his head. ‘According to what he’s told us, the guy’s been all over. Likes moving around, I guess. Mentioned a bunch of different places.’
‘Was San Bernardino among those places?’
‘Yeah.’ Ned nodded. ‘He said he stayed there. A while back.’
Leighton felt a sense of growing unease.
‘You got a current address for him?’ Leighton asked. His voice sounded steady but he felt like he had just stepped into a snake pit.
The guy nodded and took out a distressed black A4 notebook from under the counter. He laid it flat then copied out the address on to an orange Post-it Note and handed it to Leighton.
‘Can you do one other thing for me, Ned?’ Leighton said as he headed to the door
.
‘Sure.’
‘If Craven gets back in touch, don’t mention I was here.’
‘Sure, I won’t say a word.’
‘You’re a good man,’ Leighton said and left.
When he got outside, Leighton glanced around until he found what he was looking for. After hurrying out of the depot parking lot, he approached a battered phone booth and pulled out his notepad. Flipping through the pages he found the number he needed. He picked up the handset and punched the number into the keypad.
It rang for only a moment before it was picked up.
‘Hello?’ Angela Blanchette sounded like a woman who was gradually sinking out of existence.
‘Mrs Blanchette, its Leighton Jones. I haven’t found Tina, but I need to ask you something.’
‘What?’ her voice sounded hopeless as if she was calling from a raft drifting out to sea. Leighton wondered if someone had possibly medicated her for her own good.
‘Do you remember somebody working on the electrical wires outside your house in recent weeks?’
There was a long pause. Then eventually a memory surfaced in the woman’s foggy mind.
‘Yeah, actually there was a van with one of those little crane things on the back. I think the guy was repairing something.’
‘When was this?’
‘About two weeks ago, maybe.’
‘Did Tina speak to the guy?’
‘Oh, Jesus – is that him? Is that who’s got my baby?’
‘Angela, did Tina speak to him?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said between sobs, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Angela, I want you to listen to me, I know where he lives and I’m going there right now so you’ve just got to trust me. Can you do that?’
‘Yes,’ she sobbed.
‘Good, I’ll be in touch.’
