by Robin Mahle
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” Nick appeared to be considering an idea as he placed his thumb and forefinger beneath his clean-shaven chin.
“What is it?”
“I’m just racking my brain trying to figure out how we can justify turning this into a federal investigation.”
“Well, he’s obviously violated parole, but it wasn’t a federal parole. And now he’s suspected of kidnapping and he’s presumably no longer at the residence where he was registered.” Kate looked on in search of an answer.
“It’s not a stretch to hand it over to us,” Nick continued. “I can run it by the prosecutor. Problem is, I don’t want to side step Detective Mason. She seems fairly protective of her territory, but maybe I can convince her she needs our help. We’re all after the same thing—finding Colton Talbot.”
“What about Campbell? What’s he got to say about all this?” Kate asked.
“He made it clear earlier that this wasn’t WFO material. Then again, he did say I could offer assistance if they asked.”
“He’s given you some leeway, then. Look, I’m finished with the Ackerman files. Maybe we can run it by Campbell first, but I think we need to make a trip to this dairy farm and talk to the owner. We need a sense of what this guy was doing or planning and what his behavior was like. It seems strange that he’s been on parole for a year and all of a sudden drives eighty miles to kidnap a kid, or worse.”
“I think that’s a good idea. We’ll get the okay and then talk to Detective Mason. She may want in on it while her team continues to vet other leads.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you.” She started to leave.
“Thanks, Kate.”
“For what?”
“For helping me see a path.”
» » »
Lyle Stroud pulled into the gas station. His ten-year-old Ford pickup truck was coasting in on fumes and with the kid in tow, he needed to avoid car trouble of any kind. He pulled alongside one of the pumps and peered over his shoulder. “I’m telling you now, you try anything at all and I’ll kill you, you understand?”
Colton still shuddered with fear and nodded his agreement.
“Put the hat and sunglasses on now.” Lyle stepped out and walked around to the other side, opening Colton’s door. “Let’s get this over with.”
The boy slowly pushed off the rear passenger seat of the extended cab, wearing the disguise, including a hoodie, which was unusual considering the heat.
Lyle walked beside Colton, squeezing his left arm enough so that he knew who was in charge.
The cashier behind the counter smiled. “Good evening.”
“Twenty on pump 5.” Lyle tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the counter.
The cashier opened the register. “Can I get anything else for you?”
He peered behind the counter to the cigarettes and mini liquor bottles. “Three of those Jim Beams and a pack of Marlboros.”
Colton stayed completely still and stared through the sunglasses at the cashier, but the man seemed unconcerned. He spotted the camera in the far back corner and raised his eyes to it.
Stroud noticed the gesture and glared at the boy, who immediately returned his gaze to the floor.
“That’ll be thirty-five sixty, please.” The cashier cast a brief glance to the boy. “How you doing, son?”
“Fine,” Colton replied with fear in his voice he hoped would be perceived.
“Come on, son. Let’s go.” Stroud grabbed him by the arm again before any more exchanges between him and the clerk.
“You two have a nice night.”
The clerk had been oblivious. The problem was that Colton looked like any other middle-schooler; sulky, indifferent, even wearing a hoodie in the middle of a heat spell. This was what Stroud had counted on.
They made it back out to the pumps and he opened the passenger door. “Get in.” He slammed the door behind Colton and he began pumping gas.
This man had taken him three days ago. Colton was walking home, texting his friends as he walked from baseball practice. It was a clear day, but he remembered how sweaty he was and that he’d poured some of his water bottle over his head to cool him down. He remembered smiling at his friend’s texted reply to some lame joke when it happened. And now Colton began to feel as though he might never make it back home. He wondered where his parents were; where the police were. Why hadn’t anyone found him yet?
Colton wasn’t a big kid. In fact, he would probably be considered a little on the small side for his age. Lyle Stroud wasn’t a big man either and Colton thought, on more than one occasion since this nightmare started, about trying to fight him. But he’d had a gun and kept him tied up most of the time. Sometimes Colton was forced to wear a gag. After the first two days of struggling, he realized wearing a gag was something he didn’t want to do and so he quieted down since then.
As he peered through the passenger side view mirror, watching Stroud pump gas into the truck, he imagined killing him. Maybe if he could pry himself free in the night, he would murder him with his own gun. Every time the man touched him, he wanted to kill him. He was angry for being here. He was angry his parents hadn’t found him. But in the end, Colton felt helpless to do anything but sit back and take it. He turned away from the mirror, looking now through the windshield at the empty, darkening road ahead. He blinked to clear his eyes of the tears that had welled. I want to go home.
» » »
“Hey.” Dwight stood outside Nick’s door. “Mind if I come in?”
Nick waved a welcoming hand.
“What’s the word from Campbell? Is he going to loosen the reins a little?” Dwight took a seat.
“He doesn’t want this to be an official BAU investigation, but he is willing to allow me to advise if I’m asked.”
“And did you mention this to Detective Mason?”
“It won’t change much. I’ve already been doing what I can for them. She wants to find Colton just as much as I do.”
“Don’t worry about things on our end. Kate and I can handle it. You should be turning your attentions to where you’re needed and right now, that’s in Fairfax.”
“I’d like us to do this as a team,” Nick said.
“Whatever you need us to do here, we’ll do.”
“Earlier, in speaking with the detective, I asked if she’d reached out to Stroud’s previous employer and his parole officer.” Nick leaned back in his chair. “She’d already spoken to the parole officer and yesterday sent a forensics team to his house. But with almost seventy-two hours having passed, she’s open to us talking to the dairy farmer, just to get it done sooner rather than later. So, how about we make a trip there this afternoon? Can you free up your schedule?”
“Absolutely. I’ll see what Kate’s got going on.”
“Actually, I think it’s best if you and I head over there by ourselves. I think she could be of more use here for the time being.”
Dwight studied Nick with some concern. “That won’t be a problem. Let me know when you’re ready to head out.” Dwight made his way back into the corridor and headed to Kate’s desk.
He tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey, Dwight. What’s up?”
“Nick and I are going to drive out to talk to Stroud’s employer this afternoon. I think he wants you to hang back and help out from here.”
A vague sense of bewilderment flashed in her eyes. “You want me to stay here?” She turned back to her desk. “Okay, great.”
“I’m sorry, Kate. Nick just thinks you’ll be of more use from here. That’s all.”
“Sure, no, I get it. It’s no problem at all.” Kate’s smile was forced and she knew Dwight would see through it, but he appeared to have nothing more to say on the matter.
“I’ll let you know what we find.” Dwight hesitated but soon continued. “See you soon.”
First it was the Ackerman case and now this? Kate was beginning to feel slighted by Nick and while she knew that special treatment
was out of the question, she thought that the three of them were still a team. Maybe she’d been wrong in that assumption. She was just a probie, after all.
Hadn’t Nick just offered her thanks for helping him toward a solution this morning? Her reward was to be shut out of yet another investigation? Kate rose from her chair and marched to Nick’s office. She’d already begun gathering information for him and now it felt like he was pulling the rug from beneath her. She needed to know why.
“Can I come in?” She walked inside his office without waiting for a reply.
He looked up from his computer. “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering why I’m not coming with you and Dwight to talk to the farmer? I thought you wanted me to work on this?”
“I do, but I need you here right now. There’s no point in all three of us going. I need you to keep Campbell happy and help with any research we’ll need.” He sat upright in his chair. “Are you pissed or something?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve been stuck in this office for the past few months. I’ve hardly been in the field at all and I just want to know why.”
“Kate, have a seat.”
“I’d prefer to stand, thanks.” She folded her arms and realized she sounded like an insolent child. Then again, he seemed to be treating her like one.
“Okay. Look, this is an off-the-book investigation for a start and I need someone here to manage anything else that might come up. Campbell’s allowing us to assist only and that’s what I intend to do and I thought that’s what you’d want to do as well.”
“It is. It’s just that I feel like I need to gain more field experience if I’m to be evaluated for full agent status. And besides that, I thought you would want me there, you know, to help out.” Her reasoning had been sound up until that last remark, which she now regretted.
“I’ve been trying to let you spread your wings a little. You and I both know that I can’t continue to hold your hand.”
Her eyes widened with astonishment at this unjustified criticism.
“That’s not what I mean. What I mean to say is that the more you handle on your own, out from under my shadow, the more Campbell will be willing to advance your position. Given our history, I can’t risk him making a decision based on what I’ve done for you. He needs to see that you can stand on your own two feet.”
Kate placed her hands on her hips, rejecting his logic. “I guess the Durham investigation meant nothing.” While she still felt there were reasons beyond what he was sharing at the moment, her argument had been made. “I’ll do what I can from here, then.” She turned on her heel and walked away.
Nick cast his gaze toward the ceiling. Troubled by the conversation, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. In the years he’d known Kate, he’d always stood by her; always. So it was no wonder why she was upset by this turn of events. Still, he had no choice but to consider her career, as he always had. And no matter what the voice in his head was whispering, he knew he was doing this for the right reasons and not for selfish ones. She would thank him for it in the end. Even if it meant they might grow apart as a result. It was probably better that way.
FOUR
The aroma of the dairy farm wafted inside the air conditioning vents as the agents approached the massive facility. It was the fresh, runny odor of manure from cows fed on cheap corn silage and the only thing that could’ve made it worse was if it had been a humid day, which fortunately, it wasn’t. Rows of cow shelters, metal buildings, and a main office entrance were off to the left.
“Well, this is pleasant.” Dwight stepped out of the car and onto the gravel parking lot. He crinkled his nose as he tossed a glance to Nick, who had also just stepped outside. “This is why I don’t live in the country.” He brushed the sleeves of his suit jacket as though that might lessen the stink. It didn’t.
“Quit your belly-aching and let’s get inside.” Nick dusted up the gravel as he stepped toward the entrance. The sign on the glass door read “McMillan Dairy,” and below that was a picture of a smiling cow with large, sagging udders. Nick turned to Dwight and plastered a cheesy grin on his face, mimicking the cow. Dwight chuckled.
Inside, the walls of the office were covered in wood paneling and lined with plaques of various awards from the dairy industry. They walked inside atop a creaking false floor toward the front desk.
“Good afternoon. I’m Special Agent Nick Scarborough and this is Special Agent Dwight Jameson. I phoned earlier?”
“Jameson, like the whiskey?” The leathery woman with platinum blonde helmet hair looked as though she’d had a close personal relationship with the brand and probably Joe Camel too.
“Yes, ma’am. We’re here to see Mr. McMillan?” Nick replied.
“I’ll buzz him up.” She picked up the phone and announced their arrival. “He’ll be right up. Please take a seat. Can I get you some water?”
“Thank you, no. We’ll be fine.” Nick sat down on the vinyl sofa.
Dwight soon followed.
Several minutes passed and Nick was growing suspicious. He furrowed his brow and discreetly tossed his palms upward toward Dwight. His partner shrugged in return.
“Ma’am, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Nick began. “Would you mind finding out how much longer Mr. McMillan might be?”
“Of course. I do apologize.” She raised the phone again. “Sir, the FBI is still up front waiting for you. Okay. Thank you.”
“He’s sorry for the delay and will be up momentarily.”
“Thank you,” Nick replied.
Moments later, a large man, rotund in appearance, emerged from the back. “I’m so sorry.” He offered his hand as the agents rose to their feet. “I got caught up on a call with one of my vendors. I do sincerely apologize.”
“We understand.” Nick returned the greeting. “I’m Agent Scarborough and this Agent Jameson. We spoke on the phone earlier about a former employee?”
“Yes, of course. Please come back to my office.” McMillan glanced at the woman. “Thank you, Bridget. Please hold my calls.”
The agents followed him back to his office. The same decorator must have furnished his office as the lobby.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet.” Nick sat down on one of the guest chairs opposite McMillan’s desk. “I’d like to talk to you about Lyle Stroud.”
“Yes, of course.” He looked to Dwight and gestured toward the other chair. “Please, sir, have a seat.” McMillan returned his attention to Nick. “Well, as I mentioned on the phone, he hasn’t been to work in nearly a month. I asked around the first few days he didn’t show up, because you know I have to let his parole officer know if there’s a problem. And so anyways, I haven’t seen nor heard from him since. Is he all right?”
“How much do you know about Stroud’s history?”
“Enough, I suppose. He was in jail for assault and served some time for it. Look, Agent Scarborough, I believe in second chances and this man paid his dues so far as I’m concerned. Now what he did was despicable, but as I said, the man’s done the time for his crime.”
“He kidnapped a twelve-year-old boy three days ago and we’re helping the local authorities track him down,” Dwight added.
“I’m sorry; what?” McMillan leaned in, his belly spilling over onto his desk.
“He kidnapped a child in Fairfax County. We know it was him. He left behind DNA.” Nick’s face was masked in gravity.
“Cheese and rice, I don’t believe it.” McMillan shook his head. “He came to work on time every day, there were no problems from what I know. He did his job and went home. Good Lord.” He rubbed his full cheeks.
“Yes, sir. It’s hard to believe,” Nick began. “Would you mind if we took a look around, particularly his workspace and maybe speak to a few of his co-workers?”
“I—I suppose that’d be all right. I want to cooperate, of course. I can call up his supervisor and have him take you back.”
“We’d appreciate that, sir. Thank you,” Nick repli
ed.
The agents soon followed Stroud’s supervisor, Travis Albright, to the milking stations where Stroud usually worked.
“His schedule was seven a.m. to noon on the line, then lunch, then one p.m. to five rotating between cleanup, feeding, and working in the pasteurization facility.” Albright stopped at one of the milking stations.
“Did he have a locker? A desk?” Nick asked.
“A locker, yes. But there was no need for a desk.”
“What about his co-workers? Anyone have trouble with him?” Dwight added.
“Well, let’s find out.” Albright approached a man running one of the stations. “Marco, you got a minute? These feds want to talk to you.”
The man spun around, appearing nervous. He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Sure, I guess. What’s this about?”
“Lyle Stroud,” Albright said. “Guess he’s in some kind of trouble. These gentlemen want to ask you about him.”
“What do you want to know?” Marco looked at Nick.
“Did you notice anything suspicious about Stroud? Did he behave differently, particularly in the few days or weeks prior to him leaving?”
Marco’s lips turned into a frown and his brow creased, as though he was thinking hard on the question. “Well, he’d tease the animals sometimes. But you know, not like a lot.” He tossed a guilty look to his boss. “I suppose he kept to himself most of the time.”
“You talking about Stroud?” Another man approached from farther down the line.
“You know him?” Dwight asked.
“He was a strange one, I’ll tell you what.”
“And you are?” Nick added.
“Chuck Lawrence.” He extended his hand to Nick. “Pleasure. Stroud used to say some crazy shit—excuse me, stuff— about his time in prison. Oh, he made no secret of what he’d done in there. He didn’t talk much about what he’d done to get himself locked up, but I know what he did. All of us do.” Chuck looked at Albright and back to Nick. “Anyway, he wasn’t right—up here.” He tapped the side of his head with his index finger.
