by Ballan, Greg
Shanda was staring at some photographs on his table in an open album. Erik placed his hand gently on her shoulder and she rubbed her cheek against his forearm.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Steve said he'd come by himself tomorrow after his shift. He's done this for me before, so he's familiar with the drill. This case isn't going to go away. The Reynolds family has money and influence. They could keep this ongoing for quite a long time if they wanted, at least until....”
Shanda had known Erik for many years. She knew he had seen things and done things that would cause most people to soil themselves. She knew that he didn't know the meaning of the word fear, but it was always difficult for him when he was dealing with a child. Children were innocent, completely undeserving of the terrible things often done to them in modern society. She knew that if this were an adult missing person there would be less intensity and less emotion. A question popped into her head.
“Erik, don't take this the wrong way, but why do you think they hired you for this investigation? If this family is as wealthy as you say, and has as much influence, why hire a small agency with one man? Why not hire a team of investigators with unlimited resources? Don't get me wrong; I mean, you're good, but you're only one man with limited assets and very limited resources.” Shanda regretted the question as soon as she said it. She could read the hurt and offense in his eyes. He turned away from her and walked toward the other sofa in his office and plopped down on it.
“I really don't know, Shanda, but I'll be sure and ask tomorrow,” he said with all the contempt he could muster.
She rose from the couch and walked over to where Erik sat. She put her hand over his and smiled. “You know that's not what I mean. You're probably the most dedicated professional I know. I'm simply saying there are a lot of big guns out there. What possessed them to hire a small independent operator? I mean, think about it. If Brianna were kidnapped, wouldn't Margaret and Richard hire dozens of investigators to look for her?”
“Yeah, I'm sure they would, but they wouldn't hire me.” Erik looked at her and knew she was confused. “My darling ex-wife and her husband are serving me papers to sign over paternal custody of Brianna to Richard so he can adopt her. They want to become a real family. Richard has already threatened me with high-powered attorneys and court costs I never could afford.” When he looked at her, there was a deep tortured agony in his eyes. “I'm going to lose my baby, Shanda. That bastard is going to see to it that I can never see her again. What kills me is that I brought this about. I caused this, my stupid need to be my own man.”
She tenderly embraced him, allowing him to pull her close. They held each other in silence for several minutes.
The telephone rang, breaking their moment. They both looked toward the machine. Shanda tried to get up to hand him the phone, but Erik was reluctant to give up his hold on her.
“Let it ring,” he whispered.
“I'd like to,” she said as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. “But that phone is killing the mood,” she added as she felt his arms unwrap.
Erik walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver. “Knight Investigations, how can I help you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Reynolds.” Erik's faced took on a very pained expression and his shoulders suddenly slumped. Shanda walked toward him, concerned. Her ability already told her what was occurring. Erik was off the case.
“I understand, Mrs. Reynolds, no need to apologize. They are an excellent agency and have a lot of good men. But, I really need to see you tomorrow afternoon. I've found something that may or may not belong to Lisa. I need you to identify it for the police.” Erik nodded and grunted a few times in answer to some questions.
“Yes, it would be a good idea to bring representatives from there to this meeting. I can brief both you and them as to where I am in the investigation. There's no need to be sorry, I understand. I'll see you tomorrow at noon,” Erik said politely as he hung up the phone. He looked at Shanda.
“Well, you really are psychic. It appears that Mr. Reynolds had the same idea you did. They've hired Halls Investigations from New York; they're probably the best private detective agency in the country. Three men are flying in on the shuttle tomorrow morning, plus two mobile crime labs are already en route. They'll be here to take over the investigation. It seems I'm out of a job.”
Erik sat back on the chair in front of his desk and sighed heavily. He started shaking his head.
“I don't know,” he began. “Maybe this was for the best.” He laughed as he looked at Shanda. “Maybe I can come work for you.”
“No, you're a private investigator; that's what you do. It's what you are supposed to do. The Reynolds are just concerned for their daughter. Look, you found a lead that no one else did, or ever could have. You're going to provide them with solid physical evidence tomorrow. They'll know that you're good, the best. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Erik,” she answered.
“Thanks.”
“You need to get out of here for a while, Erik.” Shanda took his hand and led him toward the hallway.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“There's nothing like a good movie and some fattening popcorn to take your mind off your troubles,” she answered.
“That's fine by me, but let's go eat our dinner first; it's probably getting cold,” he answered as they headed back to the dining area of Madame's.
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* * *
Chapter 3
Tuesday, Sept 20th, 9:00 a.m.
Erik had finished his workout at Dawkens’ Gym and was preparing to head back home when Neal Dawkens called him into his office. He gestured Erik toward a chair and sat himself behind his large desk. Erik noticed several awards, trophies, and photographs of the man with several well-known martial artists-turned-actors, movie stars, and politicians. Dawkens saw him staring at the photographs and other paraphernalia that decorated his office.
“I've been very fortunate,” Dawkens commented.
“Indeed,” Erik agreed.
Dawkens leaned over the desk and looked directly at him. “I know my sister took you off the case. I'm sorry. I feel somehow responsible, seeing that I sent her to you. Please understand, she was impressed with you. It's just that they feel the more people looking for my niece, the better.” Dawkens paused. “And, you are only one person,” he added, looking as though he wished that he could have taken the words he just spoke back when Erik flinched.
“I understand,” Erik answered. “I'm seeing her and her new-hires at noon. I've gathered some information that I'm hoping will be useful to them,” he responded in a neutral tone. Erik didn't blame Dawkens for anything, and he really understood the Reynolds’ reasoning for going with a bigger agency.
“Neal, I understand, really. Don't blame yourself. Your sister and her husband have nothing to apologize for. Actually, I really can't blame them. If my daughter were missing, I'd want lots of qualified people with lots of resources on her case along with the police,” he said as he stood, offering the older man his hand. “I need to get back and prepare for this meeting.”
Both men clasped hands, and then Erik headed back home. He needed to pick up the clutter in his office and make it look as presentable as possible.
* * * *
Steve arrived at Erik's now pristine office and seated himself on the couch against the far wall. Erik had ordered a pot of coffee for the two men as they prepared to discuss the items Erik found earlier.
“Okay, Erik, what have you got?” Steve asked.
Erik walked over to his desk and took the sealed plastic bag from its resting place and tossed it to his police counterpart. Steve caught the bag and carefully studied the objects sealed within the plastic. Erik could see Steve scrutinizing the evidence, examining each button and fiber.
After five silent minutes, he looked up. “They could be buttons from a child's shirt, or it could be anything. What makes you so sure that they're from the
Reynolds girl?”
“Call it a hunch, my friend. I have it on good authority that they are.” “That's not much of an answer, Erik,” Steve chided his friend.
“I know, but right now it's all I have.” Erik then remembered something: “Oh, by the way, the Reynolds’ have hired Halls Investigation Agency from New York yesterday. Some of their investigators will be joining the couple this morning. Before you bite my head off, I didn't find out ‘til just yesterday, so save the speech. I just figured that you guys should know that it's no longer just an investigation within our own community. The Reynolds’ have brought in the big guns now.”
“Oh, bloody marvelous.” Steve sighed heavily. “You realize what's going to happen next, don't you?”
“Yeah,” Erik answered. “Publicity and exposure, just what this investigation doesn't need.”
Steve hesitated momentarily, weighing something in his mind. “Erik, I'm breaking procedure by saying this, but I know you'll probably find out eventually. I took a missing persons report last night; this will be the second one in a week. A woman in her thirties never came home from her afternoon jog.”
Erik's extra senses suddenly triggered. Intuitively he knew. “Let me guess.” He took the bag of evidence from Steve. “She was jogging in the town forest.”
Dumbfounded, Steve stared at his friend. “Yes, that's what her boyfriend claimed when he and her parents filed the report. How the hell did you know that, Erik?”
Erik looked at him, his eyes alight with fire. “I found these buttons and fabric outside the gateway into the town forest,” he answered in a low and deadly tone. “Steve, I think we may have a problem, and I have a feeling that it's just beginning.”
“Now, hold on; let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Let's investigate all avenues before we cry wolf,” Steve countered.
“That's why you're here, Steve. That's why you're here.”
Erik's heightened senses were buzzing in his head like an angry wasp. It told him that there was a connection, as remote and unlikely, the two events were connected. Unfortunately, he was off this case, unemployed.
* * * *
Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds arrived promptly at noon, escorted by three men dressed in business suits and tan overcoats. Two of the three men were in their early fifties, the other in his mid-twenties, Erik guessed. All three had short-cut hair and wore identical sunglasses. He could tell by the barely noticeable bulges on the sides of their overcoats that each man was armed. There was another man with them; he wore a blue suit that didn't fit him well.
Alissa escorted the party into Erik's back office. She stared at him with something akin to awe as he introduced them to Steve. Alissa continued to stare as everyone seated themselves around his overcrowded office. Erik walked over to Alissa and gestured for her to follow him out to the hall.
“Quite a crowd,” he began.
“Really!” the young girl agreed, nodding her head and looking up at him.
“Can you take an order for me?” he asked.
Alissa nodded and smiled. Erik ordered three pots of coffee, an assorted cold-cut platter, some sliced pickles, and an assortment of dessert pastries. He gave the young girl a hundred-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. Her big smile was appreciated, as was all of her service when Erik had guests.
When Erik returned to his office, he noticed that there was a flurry of activity. The three detectives were busily talking with Steve, while the Reynolds talked to their attorney, the man in the poorly fitted suit. He walked back over to his seat and everyone ceased their activity.
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Erik began. “I spent several hours combing the park area, but like my colleagues in the police force, was unable to uncover anything. So, I played a hunch, if you will, and I found these.” Erik produced his findings and slid them on the table toward the Reynolds. “Do you recognize the contents of this bag, Mrs. Reynolds?”
Both Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds stared at the buttons and tattered cloth. The woman intently focused on the objects and then began to weep.
Mr. Reynolds held his wife, whispering small words of comfort. He looked over at the other men. “Those buttons came from my daughter's shirt,” he answered, barely suppressing his sob.
“Are you sure?” Erik gently pushed.
“Yes. I bought her that shirt only a week ago. She loved the shiny silver buttons because of the red hearts embedded in each one. Where did you find them?”
“I found them outside the town forest,” Erik answered as he took the bag from Mr. Reynolds and handed it over to the detectives to examine. Each investigator examined the evidence, and then the last of them handed it over to Steve.
“Officer Forrest will catalogue this evidence and submit it for analysis,” Erik muttered as he tried to filter out the poor woman's cries of despair.
“We'd like to get a copy of the report as soon as possible,” one of the investigators said.
“And a copy of any other documentation pertaining to this case,” another added.
“We'll provide you with all the information that we have up to this point. May I remind you, any other physical evidence or leads must, by law, be channeled through Hopedale's department,” Steve replied firmly as he pocketed the evidence.
“I assure you, officer,” the third investigator spoke, “that we'll abide by the law; just make sure your people don't interfere with our work, and we'll wrap this up for you in a couple of days,” he responded, prompting laughter from the other two.
Steve was about to respond, when there was a light tapping on the door. Erik stood up and opened the door. Alissa walked in carrying a large platter with cold cuts, pastries and coffee. Erik cleared a space on the table for the young girl to set the tray down. The detectives dug into the food hungrily while Alissa poured coffee for everyone.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Knight?” she whispered shyly.
Erik stood and placed an arm on her shoulder. “This is my receptionist, Alissa,” he introduced the young girl to the others. “If it wasn't for her, I'd probably die from starvation. She's probably the best receptionist anybody could ask for.".
Alissa smiled at his guests and gave Erik a smile of appreciation and quickly left the office.
Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds were quiet for the rest of the meeting. Erik spent another twenty minutes over lunch discussing possible leads and theories with the investigators, and the possible tie-in to the latest missing person. He was surprised at how easy it was to discuss theory and analysis with these men. Erik was secretly proud of himself to be able to hold his own with men of such high caliber.
“Of course, we're going to have to conduct a complete search of the parklands, possibly the entire forest,” one of the investigators commented as he studied the map of Hopedale Park and the town forest that Erik had provided.
“That's a lot of ground to cover, dozens and dozens of square miles, and a good deal of it has no trails or markers. You're talking about thousands of acres of virgin woodlands. It would be very easy to get lost in there,” Steve commented. “You city slickers don't seem the type best suited to a rustic environment. You may wrinkle those expensive clothes,” he added, returning the slight that he took earlier.
“We'll do just fine, officer. Just go back to your doughnuts, coffee, and traffic tickets, and leave the real work to the professionals,” the youngest of the investigators countered.
Steve was about to retaliate, but Erik cut him off. “Gentlemen, let's leave our personal prejudices about our trades aside. We all serve justice, only in a different way. Steve is a uniformed professional. You three are expert corporate investigators; as for me.... “He paused and laughed. “I'm just trying to pay the rent.” All four men laughed at his self-depreciating remark and the tension seemed to evaporate slightly.
“Mr. Knight makes a valid point; however, I think he underplays his own capabilities,” one of the investigators commented. “I suggest we use Mr. Knight as our mediator between authorities
. Mr. Knight, I want you on our payroll for this—working for us, of course. Do you have knowledge of the area in question?”
“Yes,” Erik replied, struggling to keep down the excitement in his voice. “I know the area very well.”
“That's an understatement,” Steve replied. “Nobody around here knows those woods, or more about the woods, than Mr. Knight.”
“Excellent, we'll let you scout the deeper, unmarked woodlands. We'll start off where you found the buttons and cloth and stick to the trails and water area here.” He pointed to a particular section of land on the map. “Your friend is right about one thing. We're not familiar with deep wooded environments, but you are. We'll let you handle the rougher terrain. We'll start bright and early, say 7:00 a.m. tomorrow. That gives us time to appropriate the proper woodland attire and set up our mobile units. We'll meet at the point where the evidence was found and proceed to explore each path in sequence. We can't cover all this terrain in one day, but we'll do as much as we can. The longer we wait, the less likely it is we'll find anything, and the trail is far from being hot. We can only hope that one of us gets lucky.” The detective stared at the Hopedale cop. “Can we get any additional support from your people?”
“I'll see what I can do,” Steve answered coolly.
“Fair enough,” the detective replied. “Let's get things moving then.”
The other two investigators nodded, and then stood, signaling the conclusion of the meeting. Two of the investigators led the Reynolds out to their car, while the third, which had done the majority of the speaking, stayed behind.
“Mr. Knight,” he began.
“Mr. Nelson,” Erik answered.
“I have an envelope for you from the Reynolds covering your services rendered up to this point in time. I'm sure the thousand dollars in here should more-than-cover your time spent. Your rate of compensation working for our organization will be three hundred dollars per day, as long as we require you,” Nelson stated bluntly.
“Fair enough,” Erik answered.
