by Roger Hayden
Miriam stepped forward and set her purse down on the counter. “That’s correct.” She glanced at the man’s nametag. It simply said Rudy. He leaned down and emerged with two key cards, handing them to Miriam. “Your room is three eighteen. Welcome, and it’s a pleasure to have you here.”
She took her key cards as he then pointed down the hall. “Just take the elevator to your left. Anything else we can help you with, Ms. Sandoval?”“I’m fine, thank you.” Shelton followed along, pulling her small suitcase. They reached the elevator, and she pressed the button, turning to Shelton. “I’ll take it from here, thanks.”
He pulled the suitcase closer as she took the handle. “We’ll be outside,” he said.
With a ping, the elevator opened. Miriam moved aside to let out a couple that had several bags. By the time she stepped inside the elevator, Shelton had disappeared. The doors closed, and the silvery elevator brought her to the third floor, where spiral-patterned green carpet covered a long hall in both directions. A sign on the wall indicated that her room was to the right.
She walked down the empty, quiet hall, almost feeling as though she was the only person on the floor. She stopped at three eighteen, third door to her right, and slipped her key card into the slot above the handle.
A tiny light flickered green, and she walked inside. It was a simple enough room with a full-sized bed, pine desk, white-painted dresser, and small flat-screen television. There were pictures on the wall with painted canyons and desert. The heavy red drapes were closed, and she walked past the bathroom, pulling her suitcase along, then took a few steps back and closed the entry door, feeling a certain sense of relief. She was alone at last, if only for a couple of minutes. She sighed, then headed back downstairs again.
Miriam breezed through the lobby and went out the front doors to where Hayes’s idling Crown Victoria was waiting. Miriam got in and apologized for the wait.“Not a problem,” Hayes responded. “Sitting in cars is part of what we do.”
They drove out of the parking lot as the vast orange sky began to darken, shrouded in cloud. Miriam looked out the window as they passed old buildings and mom-and-pop corner stores. The sign for Maddy’s Diner blazed in the distance.
There was an old man sitting on the bench with a newspaper in his lap, staring straight ahead at nothing. Miriam could see his startling, wide eyes, unblinking and trance-like. It unsettled her. The kidnapper could be anyone, even him.
Their suspect was out there, that much she was sure of. Not several towns over, but there in Odessa, watching everything unfold with glee. That was her theory, and the only thing that made sense.
With the evening rush in full swing, Maddy’s Diner was crowded. Hayes found parking a spot in back, and they got out, stomachs growling with the aroma of fried beef in the air. Beyond the windows, Miriam could see the patrons at their tables and booths and girls in knee-high dresses taking orders and bringing out food.
Hayes held the door open, and Miriam entered the lobby. Each table inside had parlor lights with red-stained glass shades, giving the diner a uniquely vintage look. A few heads turned in their direction. The busy kitchen could be seen from a nearby counter, where fresh plates of food were set out under heat lights with the ring of a bell, just as in an old-fashioned diner, which this was.
Detective Shelton pointed to a booth in the corner, and they walked past a table of beer-drinking truck drivers in flannel shirts and net hats. Miriam preferred the anonymity of the corner, where she could do the watching as opposed to being watched. A ponytailed server named Samantha approached their table with bright red lipstick and a perky smile. They ordered coffee and three country-fried steaks after Hayes’s glowing recommendation.“I’ll have those orders right out,” Samantha said, walking away, notepad in hand.
For a moment, they were lost in their own thoughts. Hayes placed a thick file folder on the table and opened it. Shelton scrolled through his cell phone. And Miriam scanned the restaurant, ever mindful of being noticed. She noticed a few patrons reading local newspapers displaying the pictures of April and Natalie on the front page. There was an undeniable nervousness in the air, and Miriam took further note of the absence of children in the restaurant, or around town for that matter.
Hayes pulled a map from his file and unfolded it over the table. “We have to start somewhere,” he began, pointing at the map, with had several points already marked with Xs or circles. “April Johnson was last seen approximately two blocks from her house, where we can assume that she was abducted.” He then moved his finger directly across the map, stopping at another red circle. “Here is where Natalie Forester was taken, right from the parking lot of this Food Mart.”
Miriam could see that even when adjusting for distance on the map, the two locations were fairly near one another. This didn’t prove anything just yet, but it did establish a preference for a particular part of town.“Any updates on the blue van?” Miriam asked.
Shelton shook his head. “No. Nothing yet.”
Hayes hovered a hand over the map, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. “This guy could be anywhere right now. All we can do, though, is start local and branch out from there.”
Shelton then offered his take. “He could easily have had the van seized or disposed of.”
Miriam leaned forward and pointed to a spot on the map. “There’s a used car lot right here. We passed it earlier. Maybe he purchased the van there.”
“Or traded it in the minute the AMBER alert was issued,” Shelton added.
“Exactly,” Miriam said. “We can look into that, for sure,” Hayes said.“What about surveillance?” Miriam asked. “There have to be a few cameras around town, right?”
Hayes shook his head dismissively. “I’ve checked with commercial and public surveillance authorities. Of the few installed on businesses or traffic stops, only about two or three work.” His index finger glided along the map to a few marks he had made. “There’s a camera at the intersection of Doyle Road, here, and Dixie Boulevard, here. But that’s it.“It’s better than nothing,” Shelton said. “If this guy’s cruising around town, I’m pretty sure he drove through those intersections.”
Detective Hayes crossed his arms and leaned back into the vinyl padding of their booth, thinking. Miriam took a deep breath, feeling pressured to come up with something.“Phillip Anderson had multiple personalities,” she began, “from a little boy to a middle-aged Southern belle to an embodiment of his worst tendencies. He would use these personalities to his benefit to deceive and manipulate others, especially children. Our suspect is smart enough to not get caught but not disciplined enough to stay out of the spotlight. He wants the attention.”
Miriam paused, taking a moment as emotions came rushing back to her. The past remained vivid and inescapable.
“There are clear similarities between Anderson and our current suspect. The age of the victims, for instance. The motives for the kidnappings may be a little different. Anderson was collecting children to hold as prisoners through some sick need to be accepted by girls who supposedly ‘rejected’ him as a child. We need to establish the motives of our suspect and hope that helps us figure out if he’s going to strike again.”“And why he asked for you,” Shelton added.
Miriam glanced out the window as Samantha returned to their table with coffee.“I’ll be back shortly with your food,” she said, walking off.
It was darker outside now, and the streetlights had come on, brightening certain areas of the parking lot, though Hayes’s car was parked in the shadows. Miriam watched as silhouetted figures walked past the diner on the sidewalk, cars passing them with their headlights on.
She could have sworn that one of the vehicles, a two-door red classic Datsun, slowed down directly in front of the diner and stared into their window, the driver a darkened shadow. Why did she take notice of the vehicle’s make and model? The other cars that slowed down had pulled in, but the Datsun didn’t.
Instead, its tires squealed, and its engine roared as it s
ped off down the street in a haze of exhaust and burnt rubber. The spectacle was enough to get the attention of Hayes and Shelton, who paused in their conversation to look.“What was what?” Hayes asked.
Shelton turned back to Miriam and leaned close with his hands conjoined. “Do you think we’re being followed?”
Miriam shook her head in a daze of thought. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly a whack came across the nearby glass, startling them. Miriam jumped and saw both detectives reach for the pistols at their sides, and concealed by their coats. Inches from the glass stood an old man, the same old man she had seen on the sidewalk bench, newspaper in his lap and head nodding.
His thin, ruined face seemed to contort upon eye contact. His glazed, silvery eyes leered at Miriam with apparent disdain. For a moment, he just stood there, layers of dirty clothes and all, while rocking slightly to the side and clutching a newspaper.
Hayes hit the glass with the end of his fist. “Take a hike, buddy. Okay?”
The man slowly turned away with a grunt and walked off, swaying along the way. He disappeared into the shadows, but not before releasing the newspaper into the air, breeze carrying it past the windows.
Miriam couldn’t understand why he chose to stare at her, but something inside urged her to get up and chase after him, demanding to know who he was. Before she could put the plan into action, Samantha appeared with three plates of country-fried steak.
Probably nothing, Miriam said to herself. Just a crazy old man. Warm plate in front of her, she lifted her fork and took a bite.
Prisoner
“Wake up, little one,” a man’s voice said in a kind tone.
Natalie opened her eyes in a small, darkened room, illuminated by a single bulb in a ceiling fan that flickered intermittently above. She attempted to sit up in her disoriented state and found that her right arm was handcuffed to a side railing on the elevated bed she had been placed in. Her memory was hazy. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten into the stuffy room with its old-fashioned wallpaper, faded and peeling in some areas, and thick draperies covering the windows.
As he watched her, she couldn’t see the strange man’s features, nothing beyond his looming silhouette. His mere presence frightened her, and she didn’t know what to say. There was a tray of food and glass of water next to the bed on a wheeled stand. Natalie couldn’t remember eating, but she noticed some half-eaten mashed potatoes and what looked like hamburger. She was lying above the covers, wearing a large, ill-fitting shirt that went down to her knees, covering her underwear.
Though she felt like a patient, she was certain that she wasn’t in a hospital. Her gut told her she was in danger, and judging by the handcuff on her wrist, she was, in fact, a prisoner. She recoiled and quickly pulled the covers over herself, backing against the wall at the head of the bed.“It’s okay,” the man reassured her. “Don’t be afraid.”
Natalie had no idea where she was or with whom. She was certain, however, that the man before her was a stranger. A quick glance around revealed a barren space with some boxes stacked in the corner near a closet door. A nearby dusty bookcase stood against the wall, filled with books and magazines.
The fan whirled above, squeaking as it rotated. The room was foreign and ominous, like some bad dream, but even within her daze, she understood the reality of her situation.
Natalie tried to speak, but her voice came out in a strained whimper. “Where… am I?”
The man stopped inches from the foot of her bed and stared down at her. He was tall, with hair parted to one side, just above his right eye, and wearing a short-sleeved uniform—a collared shirt with a name tag and slacks. He raised a gloved hand, urging calm.“Don’t worry about anything right now. I want you rested and nourished.” He paused and walked to her food tray, taking the glass of water. He then held his other hand out, which held two small white tablets. “Here, take these. You’ll feel better.”
Natalie backed against the wall, pushing the matted hair hanging down sides of her face and reaching to her shoulders, Her mouth remained a straight line, further tucked in and refusing whatever the strange man was offering.“Come on, silly,” he said, further extending his hand. “I know your head hurts. It’s a natural reaction to the sedatives you took.”“I don’t want to,” she said softly, though he was right about the pain in her head. There was a faint throbbing that made it hurt to move. Her throat was sandpaper dry, and the glass of water in his hand was tempting. She moved her cuffed arm, causing the handcuff to clink against the railing. “What is this?” she asked. “Why…?”“Why are you handcuffed?” he answered.
She took the water from him with her free hand. He then took her cuffed hand and placed the two tablets inside, squeezing her palm shut. “You’re handcuffed because you need to rest.”
The man paused, taking a step back and reaching under the bed, from where he retrieved a stainless-steel bedpan. “You’re going to need this sooner or later,” he said, setting it down near a small nightstand next to her.
She gulped down half the glass of water and gasped for air as he paced beside the bed, remaining in the shadows. “It’s just aspirin, Natalie. You’ll feel better, trust me.”
Natalie. He knew her by name. She set her glass of water on the tray, followed by the pills, refusing them.
The man stopped and shook his head with a sigh. “You want to be in pain, fine. I’ll give you your choice, but if you keep pushing me, next time I’ll force them down your throat.”
No one had ever spoken to her that way, not even her parents at their angriest. She felt too tired to run and didn’t think she’d get very far anyway, not with her hand attached to the railing like a prisoner in a hospital ward.
Real fear began to grow from within, though she was hesitant to show her panic. His gloved hands gripped the railing as he leaned closer to her, revealing a glimpse of his acne-scarred face and brownish bangs hanging to one side. The bed creaked as he placed pressure on its side.
Natalie clenched her eyes, wanting to scream but lacking the ability to do so.“There, there,” he said. “We’re going to do some great things together as soon as you get better.”“How do you know my name?” she asked.
He stood over her with his hands out as though the answer was obvious. “Well, it’s kind of hard not to. Your face has been all over the news.”
His response befuddled and frightened Natalie. She felt as if she were in a dream, but no dream of hers had ever felt so vivid and real. She pulled at her handcuff again, harder than before, but there was no getting free. She dragged the handcuff along the railing until it stopped.“I want to leave,” she said, panic settling in. “I need to go home.”
She then jerked at the handcuff with all her might, thrashing around and shaking the bed with several useless air kicks.
The man gazed down at her with sympathetic eyes, visible even through the light reflecting off his glasses. “Please, Natalie. Calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
An unsettling realization crept in that she was in real danger, and for a moment, she stopped moving. “Please let me go,” she said softly as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The man backed away with a nod and rubbed his chin in consideration, turning to face the barren wall to their side. “It seems that you don’t remember what happened.” He then paused and spun around, facing her. “I’d be happy to clear things up. That way, you’ll understand that there is little chance of you going anywhere.”
He approached the bed with his squeaky black loafers. “For the last forty-eight hours, your face has been all over TV. Your parents have been on TV. Everyone is talking about you. Isn’t it remarkable? Thousands of people die each day, but one eleven-year-old girl goes missing, and it’s ‘round the clock coverage.”
Natalie breathed in and shouted as loudly as she could, “Let me go!”“Hey!” the man said sternly, finger in the air. “Don’t push your luck. You will regret it if you do.”
She froze and went quie
t.“That’s better,” he said, satisfied. “Now let me jog your memory. Yesterday you were waiting for your mother to leave the Food Mart. I approached you and offered you some candy, which you gladly accepted. The candy, however, contained a sedative, meaning that it was drugged with stuff that made you sleepy. You were out like that.” He clapped his hands together, startling her.
Natalie lay in horror, faintly recalling the scene. She could remember the man now. He had approached her in the parking lot, knocked on her window even. She couldn’t understand how he had gotten into the car or what he had done, but she could remember the candy. “What-what do you want from me?” she asked. The situation was too unreal to make sense of, and all she wanted to do was go home.“Patience,” he said, touching the bed railing again. “I’ll explain everything in time. I just wanted to let you know what happened. Everything should wear off in the next hour, but in the meantime, you should really take your Aspirin.”
He backed away from the bed and took the plate from her tray. “It’s morning now. I’ll make you some breakfast.” He smiled as though he was expecting a thank you in return, but Natalie said nothing.
The man turned and walked toward the rickety closed door at the end of the room as she sat up fully in the bed, prepared to lash out. “Wait!” she shouted.
The man halted halfway to the door, tilted his head, and then turned around. “Yes?”
She couldn’t think of what to say beyond pleading with him to release her. Suddenly, she had an idea. “My parents…” she began. “They have money. They’ll pay you whatever you want.”
The man shrugged in response. “That’s okay. I’m not after their money.”
She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. “Then what do you want? Please, just let me go.”
The man closed his eyes and lowered his head with a sigh. He then looked at her again, studying her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want you to be comfortable, and while I know this is all very hard, things will get better, I promise.”
