The Abducted: Odessa

by Roger Hayden

  Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Why had he taken her? What did he want? Her mind suddenly recalled April Johnson, the girl from her school who had gone missing a week prior. Was there a connection? How long had she been in that room, and how far was she from home? Questions swarmed in her mind as the man made his way to the door.“I know you’re hungry,” he said, stopping. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll bring you down a book or something.”

  He continued to the door, opening it halfway and slipping through, careful not to reveal anything that lay beyond. Natalie waited in silence as the door swung shut, followed by the sound of several deadbolts sliding into place.

  Feeling completely alone, Natalie shuddered at the thought of the man returning. She pulled at the handcuff again, reddening already visible mark around her wrist. Her breathing intensified as she lay on her side, sobbing into the pillow clenched to her chest.“Mom…” she said between breaths. “Mom. Help me.”

  ***

  The man locked the deadbolts along the side of the door and walked away satisfied. He turned down a narrow hall, leading into a cluttered kitchen, with dishes piled in the sink and a window above the faucet revealing a small backyard surrounded by a privacy fence. The house was dark inside, with all blinds drawn and only a few lights on. The man wished that he could bring Natalie into the kitchen and make her breakfast as if they were a family, but such a decision, for the time being, was out of the question.

  In time, he told himself.

  He dumped the remainder of her food from the night before into a trash can and then washed the plate off in the sink. He was looking forward to making breakfast that morning. Everything, so far, had been going according to plan. A little bacon, eggs, and toast would make everything even better. Perhaps Natalie would eventually warm up to him. It was a little after 7 a.m., and he didn’t have to be at work for another hour.

  The man went by the name Walter Browning, and he lived in a modest two-bedroom house tucked away among many other low-income housing developments on the outskirts of Odessa. Walter was twenty-nine and lived alone. He had a job stocking groceries at the Food Mart and attended night school every other weeknight at Midland Community College, two towns over.

  For some time, Walter had been trying to get his life back on track. He was close to earning his associate’s degree and was also seeing a therapist. He had always been a loner, but the older he got, the less likely it seemed that he’d ever find the right companionship. One day, tired of trying to become the kind of person he was always told he had to be, Walter made an impulsive decision to seek such a companion. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him like all the others.

  He had found that person in Natalie, and he wasn’t going to let her go anywhere. The past mattered little to Walter. Not the wife he had lost, nor his reputation after the pictures were found on his computer. Not the fact that everyone, after his disappearance, probably assumed him to be dead. None of it mattered anymore. He had a roof over his head and a new start.

  Walter stirred scrambled eggs in a sizzling pan, taking in the delicious aroma while admiring the radiant morning light beyond the windows. His navy-blue polo shirt over a chair behind him at the kitchen table, where his Food Mart hat rested. At work, Walter never said too much. He didn’t like to draw too much attention to himself. He was polite and engaging when he needed to be, but his mind generally moved in a million different directions during the day, and conversation with coworkers often led to revealing too much about himself, or so he feared.

  Walter stocked shelves morning and night, cleaned aisles, and sometimes bagged groceries. He had even been recently trained as a cashier. It was an easy job, and the hours were flexible. The Food Mart gave Walter a window into the town and its people. He had been looking for the right girl for a while. Having Natalie in his house gave him a sort of nervous thrill, and knowing that everyone was looking for her added to the excitement.

  He placed two pieces of wheat bread in the toaster and pushed down the lever, whistling to himself. His earlier fears had subsided once he got rid of the blue van. The short-lived purchase was in the past, and it was back to driving his beat-up red Datsun. There were detectives in town looking for him. He had seen the AMBER Alert on his phone describing his van and knew that he had to get rid of it. Such a hasty move didn’t come cheap, but Walter was lucky to have a friend or two in high places.

  He had heard the APB for the van on his police scanner shortly after abducting Natalie. Investigators would be searching the vehicle database for registered vans as well as anything reported stolen. What they didn’t know was that Walter had purchased the van out of state and it was now long gone. He had seen to that the minute he received the AMBER Alert.

  Walter placed four strips of bacon in the pan. His stomach growled as they crackled and fizzed. A concerning thought suddenly entered his mind regarding Natalie. Her affection wasn’t going to come quickly or easily. It would take time, if it came at all. Walter had to accept that fact. There were no guarantees. He had a young, traumatized girl in his spare bedroom being held against her will. He was back at square one.

  Once the food was finished, he made two plates of eggs, bacon, and toast. He then filled two glasses with orange juice and placed his plate on the table. Natalie’s plate in hand, he whistled his way down the hall and began unlocking her door with his free hand.“Heads up. I’m coming in,” he said, opening the door with a creak.

  Walter looked across the room, only to see an empty bed with an open handcuff hanging from the railing. He blinked and rubbed his eyes at the impossible sight, but there was no denying what he saw. The girl was gone. For a moment, he lost self-control and dropped the plate onto the hardwood floor, spilling food everywhere as the plate broke into shards.“Natalie?” he said, rushing to the bed. “Natalie, where are you?”

  Relax, he told himself. She’s still in here.

  There were only so many places she could hide. Her sheets hung over the edge of the bed, concealing the space beneath it. She had to be there, hiding underneath the bed like a frightened child. Walter smiled, despite his anger at wasting food, and crept toward the bed, prepared to charge and subdue her.“Come on out now,” he said. “Now’s not the time to get on my bad side.”

  Once she was caught, it would be time for a little dose of punishment. These girls had to learn somehow. He reviled the thought, but one thing was for certain; she’d never try to escape again.

  ***

  Day 3

  Miriam opened the blinds that overlooked the Sand Spur Inn parking lot. The sun was out, and there was plenty of activity below, traffic moving along at a busy intersection near the inn. She could see buildings across the street, canopies out front and signs for a coffee shop, a deli, and even a frame store.

  Odessa seemed to have a little of everything. The town moved at its own pace. There was even a quaint fire station at the corner with two fire trucks parked in the open garage bay. She scanned the street ahead for a blue van, which was always on her mind. Her gut told her that their suspect was still in town. Two girls were missing, and within a couple more days, it could very well be three.

  Steam flowed from the bathroom, where she had just taken a shower. Standing in her bathrobe, Miriam walked to the nightstand where her phone was charging. There was a good morning text from Lou and another text from Detective Hayes, telling her that they’d be at the hotel in fifteen minutes. The time on the clock radio indicated 7:15 a.m. The detectives weren’t wasting any time.

  She sent Lou a message back, wishing him a good day, and glanced at the television that sat atop the small dresser at the foot of her bed. High on the wall above the television was an eight-point deer-head bust. Its sprawling antlers shadowed the wall. She had never stayed in a hotel room quite like this.

  The news played on mute, displaying the weather forecast for the day. The high was eighty-one, with the low seventy-nine and mostly cloudy. There was no forecast for rain for the week, but judging by swards of dry brown
grass surrounding the inn parking lot, the town needed all the rain it could get.

  She walked toward a small desk in the corner, her bare feet against the plush carpet, and examined her notes from the evening prior. Notebook in hand, she sat at the foot of the bed and flipped through to her breakdown of each day. Her schedule could very well differ from what the detectives had planned, but she wanted to write it out nonetheless.

  There was a lot of ground to cover, and their resources were limited. A pair of jeans and a dark-blue short-sleeved shirt lay across the recently made bed. Miriam couldn’t help herself. She had a compulsive need to make her bed no matter where she had slept.

  Her suitcase sat in the corner of the room, nearly emptied. Her wristwatch, sunglasses, and pocketbook rested on the nightstand next to her phone. Her black hair was wrapped in a towel, and she knew she had to get ready, but just then a news report came on detailing a traffic accident not far from the hotel.

  She received a text from Detective Hayes telling her that they were just pulling into the parking lot. Surprised, she walked to the window and looked out just as his silver Crown Victoria drove past the Sand Spur Inn sign, stopping near and the front lobby. Miriam turned around and rushed to the bathroom, already hurried and behind. It was going to be that kind of day.

  Ten minutes later, Miriam made it to the car with her satchel of notes and files. From the front seat, Detective Shelton turned around and handed her a fresh cup of coffee in a warm Styrofoam cup. Hayes circled around the parking lot and pulled into the traffic as sunlight beamed into the car. Miriam shielded her face and sipped coffee as they hit the intersection with an exchange of pleasantries, Hayes asking her if she slept well and how she was doing.“Fine, thank you,” Miriam said. “It’s a very unique hotel.”“I know the spots,” Hayes replied, smiling.

  Miriam looked around, glancing out the window as they drove past shops along Main Street that were just opening their doors for business.“So where first?” she asked. “I have some suggestions.” No one said anything, so she continued. “We should start at the Food Mart. I’m not satisfied with these witness statements. More people had to have seen this blue van. I want to talk to every employee and see what we can find.”

  She paused, waiting for a response, but neither detective was biting at the moment. “Hello?” she said.

  Detective Shelton turned his head slightly as though he was distracted. “I’m sorry, we’re listening. Please go on.” She could see that he was texting on his phone, while Hayes’s eyes were on the road.“I’ve been observing this town, its low buildings and flat terrain,” she said. “Everything is close and bunched in. There’s not a lot of space between anything—houses, businesses, or anything else. This leads me to believe that nothing happens around here without a witness or two.”“Sounds like a plan,” Hayes said. “We’ve got a plan of our own.”“What do you mean?” Miriam asked.“It’s not perfect,” Shelton added, “but it’s pretty damn good.”“I’d love to hear it,” she said, turning to her window as they passed an elegant town hall, arguably the nicest building in town. There were Greek columns at the front atop several cement steps, and water gushing from a glistening fountain in the front. Neatly trimmed bushes, statues of historical figures, and benches lined a smooth cement sidewalk that circled the area.

  A few blocks down, the car slowed at a small police station, staffed by a limited police force she had yet to meet. She noticed Hayes turn his left blinker on, prepared to turn in. “The suspense is killing me,” Miriam said, leaning back in her seat with her hands out. They were acting strangely reserved, which had her suspicious.

  Hayes pulled into the small, cracked concrete parking lot, where there were two police cars and six empty spaces. The police station looked old and certainly less glamorous than the town hall they had passed. There was faded wood paneling outside the rectangular building and tinted windows that gave no indication of what was inside. The flat roof looked weathered, much like the wood-carved white lettering displayed near the entrance that read “Odessa Police Station.”“Don’t mean to keep you in the dark,” Hayes said as he pulled into one of the empty spaces. “We’re still working out the details and don’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”

  Miriam held the open notebook in her lap, looking down at the schedule she had made. A schedule, it seemed, they were already deviating from. “It’s okay,” she said, closing the notebook. “Let’s hear it.”

  Shelton turned around to face her with enthusiasm in his eyes. He was clean-shaven as always and wearing a navy-blue tie over his light-blue dress shirt. She wondered what had been discussed during her slumber. Shelton spoke with a careful, methodical tone, explaining himself as though he was giving a deposition.“We know that this guy enjoys playing games. He likes to taunt law enforcement. He likes to taunt the parents. He’s obviously getting a kick out of this, but with each move, he doesn’t realize how much he’s giving away each time. The letter placed directly in the Foresters’ mailbox, for instance. I think there’s a good chance that he lives somewhere in town.”

  Miriam thought that was obvious enough but kept her thoughts to herself. She respected Shelton, even if he was a little strange at times.“He’s confident,” he continued. “Confident enough to leave letters at the crime scene and elsewhere, and there will be more. The point is, Lieutenant Sandoval, our suspect is trying to lure you in. I say, if we’re ever going to have a chance at finding those girls in time, we need to lure him out.”

  Miriam nodded as though she understood, but she still had questions. “Lure him out how?”

  Shelton exchanged another satisfied glance with Hayes and then looked back to Miriam. “We’ll simply dangle a carrot at him and get him out of hiding.”

  Miriam knew what he meant. It had been her immediate suspicion upon being recruited. The only question was, who were they planning to use as bait, another child or her?

  The Bait

  Walter stormed to the bed and ripped the sheets off, dropping to his knees and reaching under the bed, only to grab at air. It was as if she had disappeared. Stunned, he knelt and examined the single handcuff dangling on the rail. The two aspirin tablets lay on her tray, minus the glass of water. Walter turned quickly around and looked into the darkness ahead. Her hiding spots were quickly running out.“Natalie,” he called out, standing up. “You made me drop your breakfast. That was very bad. Now you’re going to make me late for work.” He continued his slow pass toward the closet, where he was certain she was hiding.

  Never in a million years did he think that a child could escape from a pair of handcuffs. Maybe they were a defective pair, but he couldn’t recall where he had purchased them. He stopped in his tracks a few feet from the boxes stacked up in front of the closet. He noticed they had been pushed out slightly, providing the girl just enough space to open the thin wooden doors and slip inside.“What did you think?” he continued. “That you were going to run out of here when my back was turned?” He paused for a moment and attempted to talk in a lighter tone. “Come on, Natalie. I’m not angry.” He turned to look at the empty bed and then back to the boxes. “I’m actually pretty impressed. You’re a regular Houdini.”

  There was no response, but he could feel her fear. He took another few steps toward the boxes, ready to swing open the doors. His smile dropped as his patience neared an end.“I’m going to count to three, and I want you out here now,” he said, pointing at the ground.

  He found the mere thought of her escape ludicrous. The thought made him laugh despite his growing anger.“All right, Natalie. Last chance!” he said.

  Before he could follow through on his demands, a stack of boxes came crashing down, revealing Natalie, pale and panic stricken, holding an empty water glass in one hand and a broken shard from the plate Walter had dropped in the other.

  For a moment, they just stared at each other, Walter still stunned that she had escaped. Without a word, Natalie hurled the water glass at his face, scoring a direct hit and sending him
stumbling backward. The pop against his cheek and the pain that followed sent him into a rage.

  He swung his arms in the air, regaining his balance, just as she rushed toward him, screaming at the top of her lungs. She jabbed the glass plate shard into his side, puncturing deep into his flesh. Walter screamed in pain, his voice cracking, horrified to see a little girl shoving the glass deeper into his side.

  Walter then swung his arm back and smacked her across the face with the impact of a man three times her size. Natalie flew back like a rag doll and hit the floor in a daze as she rolled to her side. Walter tripped and fell, flat on his back, and joined her on the dusty hardwood floor with the shard still protruding from his side.

  Walter moaned as he struggled to push himself up. “You’re going to pay, you little bitch,” he cried out, drool puddling on the floor from his mouth.

  His hands hovered carefully around the glass shard. It was going to have to come out; there was no other way around it. To his surprise, Natalie rose with her head down and a hand over her cheek. In response, he cocked his leg back as far as he could and launched it forward, pelting her in the gut with his foot.

  She gasped and flew back farther than before, smacking into the wall. For a moment, his rage subsided as he looked at her motionless body on the floor, wondering if he had gone too far. A sharp pain clutched his side and brought him back to reality.After a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and yanked the glass out in a single movement so swift and agonizing that he cried out in pain. And now his hand was also bleeding. He tossed the broken glass aside and quickly covered the throbbing wound with one hand, applying strong pressure, and pushed himself up, rising with pained relief in his eyes.