The Stolen Girl

by Linsey Lanier

“I don’t have enough seats. I’ll get some chairs from here.” Olivia started toward the dining area.

  Parker stopped her. “We’ll take care of that. Why don’t you sit down and tell us exactly what happened.”

  Vacantly she nodded and sank onto the couch.

  Miranda took a seat next to her, and Wesson settled on her other side while Parker and Holloway grabbed chairs and set them across from the sofa.

  Olivia stared down at her cell phone.

  Parker gave Miranda a look that told her she should take over now.

  Okay then. She’d try to be gentle. “Wesson tells me you got a strange phone call this afternoon?”

  Olivia pulled her blond bangs away from her face. “It was so weird. I was so stunned I didn’t know what to think.”

  “I can imagine. We’re so sorry you’re having to go through this. Can you tell me exactly what the caller said?”

  “It sounded like a man. He said, ‘We have your daughter’.”

  We. “And then?” Miranda prompted.

  “He said, ‘Don’t call the police. Don’t call the authorities. If you do, you’ll never see her again’.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all. After that, he hung up. Oh.” She pressed the tissue to her face. “That voice was so ugly, so horrible.”

  And cowardly, Miranda thought. “Olivia, do you have any idea who it was on the phone?”

  “It was that creep she was engaged to,” Wesson blurted out.

  Miranda gave her colleague a sharp look. Wesson’s feelings about this guy were really strong. She didn’t blame her, but it wouldn’t help to put words in Olivia’s mouth.

  Wesson blinked and turned her head away.

  Olivia shrugged. “It might have been him.”

  “Why would he do that?” Miranda asked.

  “To torment her. That’s why,” Wesson muttered under her breath.

  Olivia exchanged a meaningful look with her sister. “I don’t know. Axel was the first person I thought of. But he never wanted anything to do with Imogen. She was one of the reasons we split up.”

  He let her go, Miranda surmised, got tired of her or something. “This guy’s name is Axel?”

  “Axel Cage.”

  “Do you have a photo of him?”

  She shook her head. “I deleted them all when I left. I burned the printed ones.”

  A lot of resentment there. Miranda glanced over at Holloway, saw the hard look on his face, and realized Wesson had shared details about this guy and her sister with him. Parker’s look was even more iron-like. On the flight, Miranda had told him what little she knew of the girlfriend-beating creep Olivia had been with.

  She turned back to Olivia. “Do you know where Axel lives?”

  Again she shook her head. “We lived in Culver City when we were together. There’s a studio there. Axel was always trying out for a part in the movies. He managed to get a few jobs as an extra, but they didn’t pay much. He sold the house when we broke up. I don’t know where he is now.”

  Miranda forced herself to be patient. “How about a picture of Imogen?”

  “Oh, I have lots of those.” She scrolled through her phone. “Here’s her school photo from this year.”

  Miranda studied the screen. Imogen Wesson had on a cobalt blue sweater and wore a pretty smile. She had bright blue eyes, the color of her mother’s. Her light brown hair was cut shoulder length with a wisp of bangs over the forehead. She seemed like a happy kid.

  “She’s such a sweet thing. We hardly ever argue. Though we did this morning before school.”

  “Oh? What about?”

  “She wants a puppy. But I can barely keep up with all I have to do now. She didn’t understand. She was upset when she—” Olivia put a hand to her mouth.

  Could she have run away? But what about the phone call? Maybe she ran into some bad folks on the street who saw an opportunity to get some money. That would only make it harder to find her.

  Olivia rose as if she needed to move around. “I have more pictures of Imogen on my laptop, if that would help.”

  “It would.”

  Miranda followed her into the bedroom where a laptop sat on a small white vanity table. Olivia scrolled through several dozen photos of the little girl at various ages from newborn to seven. Olivia and Imogen tossing a ball in a park when she must have been about four. Birthday parties. A school play photo that had been taken last year. Imogen stood on a stage dressed like a lemon.

  Miranda chose four of the most recent photos and transferred them to her phone.

  When she stood, she saw Wesson standing in the doorway. “That creep is going to call back, you know.”

  “Stop calling him that. You don’t know it’s him.” Olivia brushed past her and back into the living room.

  Miranda shook her head at Wesson, then followed her out to where Parker and Holloway waited. She couldn’t deal with a sibling rivalry now. Even if she agreed with Wesson’s assessment of the ex.

  Parker was wearing a grim look. “Does the school have an emergency after hours contact?” he said to Olivia.

  Holloway looked at the time on his phone. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

  “Not when a child is missing,” Parker said.

  Miranda glanced at her own phone. It was almost eleven-thirty. Two-thirty a.m. Atlanta time. She felt weary and jetlagged, but she had to press on.

  Olivia’s face turned to alarm. “I can’t contact the school. They’ll notify the police. The man on the phone said not to call the police.”

  “We may have to,” Wesson said sternly.

  “No.” Olivia sounded hysterical.

  “I believe we can convince them not to contact the authorities, Olivia,” Parker said. “The school may have some clue about where your daughter is.”

  Or who took her. “He’s right. What’s the number?”

  Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Most of the time Parker could convince anyone to do anything.

  “All right.” She consulted her phone again. “Here’s the number.”

  Miranda handed the phone to Parker. He dialed it on his own phone, handed Olivia’s back to her, then stepped into the hall for privacy. No need to broadcast his persuasion techniques to their client.

  Miranda looked down at the phone in Olivia’s hands. “Do you have your list of calls from today?”

  She nodded and scrolled to it.

  Miranda looked it over, saw a few calls from Olivia’s customers. Then the call from the kidnapper at three-thirty-four that afternoon. It was identified only by a string of zeros and the word “Unavailable.” Miranda wondered if Becker could trace the call, but it was probably made from a burner phone.

  She had to tell the distraught mother her thoughts. “The kidnapper’s going to call back at some point. He’ll probably demand money.”

  “I don’t have much.” At the idea, Olivia put the phone on the table and pressed her hands to her face. “I don’t want to hear that awful voice again.”

  Holloway cleared his throat.

  Miranda turned to him. “You have an idea about that, Holloway?”

  “I do. Becker’s been playing around with some voice pattern software lately.”

  “Has he?”

  Holloway nodded. “If we could get a recording of the distorted voice, he might be able to turn it back into the real one.”

  And then Olivia might recognize it. “That’s a good idea.”

  The woman seemed confused. “A recording? How would we get that?”

  Holloway sat forward. “I can set up an app on your phone to do that.”

  “Really? Is that legal?”

  “For our purposes,” Miranda said quickly before anyone else could answer. It probably wasn’t in this state, but if it did the job, no one would have to know that.

  Holloway picked up the phone from the coffee table. “May I?”

  Olivia raised her hands in an ex
pression of helplessness. “Sure.”

  Miranda watched the tension in Wesson’s face as Holloway fiddled with the phone.

  After a minute he handed it back. “Here you go. When the call comes in, just tap that icon, then answer.”

  “Okay.”

  At that moment, Parker returned from the hall with a satisfied look. “Mrs. Halifax, the principal, was most cooperative.”

  That was a relief.

  Olivia stared at him wide-eyed. “She won’t go to the police?”

  Parker slipped his phone into his pocket. “She’s agreed not to. She’s very concerned about this incident and is calling Imogen’s teacher and bus driver. She’d like us to meet at her home as soon as we can get there.”

  Parker could work miracles. Maybe one of those people would be able to give them a clue about who took Imogen or where she was.

  Miranda got to her feet. “Are you up for that?” she said to Olivia.

  “Of course. I just need to change.”

  Miranda nodded. “We can all go in our rental. There’s plenty of room.”

  Chapter Six

  Mrs. Halifax lived in a small house a few blocks away from the school.

  The wooden shingle roof was a steeply pitched A-frame over a rough stone exterior, giving the residence the flavor of an English cottage. Just the type of house a teacher would live in.

  As they got out of the car and made their way up the sidewalk, Miranda noticed a row of high hedges bordering the yard.

  For privacy or protection? she wondered as Parker opened the chain link gate that didn’t match the country style of the rest of the place. Maybe both.

  An outside light was on, and the front door opened as soon as they reached the step.

  “I take it you’re the gentleman I spoke to on the phone?”

  The woman on the low narrow porch wore a lemon yellow business suit. She had a stocky, broad-shouldered frame and wore her short auburn hair cropped close around her square-shaped face.

  As they approached, she eyed them with an authoritative air.

  “I am.” Parker extended a hand as he reached her. “We’re sorry to disturb you at this hour.”

  She gave his hand a quick shake. “Not at all for a serious matter such as this. Please come in.”

  She led them into a cozy little living room. A dark cyan sofa covered with colorful pillows stood before the front window. A pair of matching overstuffed chairs sat in the corners and a red oriental rug covered half the hardwood floor. Aztec art objects decorated one of the walls. Across from it stood a bookshelf jammed with volumes of every size. Leadership. Motivation. Accounting. Astrology.

  “My husband’s out stargazing on the back porch with his telescope,” Mrs. Halifax said, by way of explanation. “Unlike so many in LA, his interest is real stars.”

  The chair in the far corner was occupied by a thin dark-skinned woman with black hair cut in choppy layers. She was dressed in a pale green pantsuit outfit, and she couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five.

  Mrs. Halifax gestured toward her. “This is Ms. Bishop. She’s Imogen’s teacher.” She waved a hand toward the sofa. “And this is Kimberly Carmichael, the driver of Imogen’s bus.”

  A tan muscular looking woman of maybe thirty or so sat in the corner of the couch, thumbing through a book. She put it down as soon as she realized Halifax was speaking to her. With a head full of short dark curls, she wore jeans, a pretty pink blouse, and long fingernails painted to match.

  Parker nodded, acknowledging the women. “These are my associates Miranda Steele, Curt Holloway, and Janelle Wesson. And of course you know her sister, Olivia Wesson.”

  There were the obligatory handshakes all around.

  The first grade teacher squeezed Olivia’s hand. “I didn’t know you had a sister. Or that she was a private investigator. Oh, Ms. Wesson, I’m so sorry to hear what happened to Imogen. I’m just beside myself.”

  Halifax cleared her throat before Olivia could reply. “I was very alarmed when this gentleman called and said one of our students was missing. We take great pride in our school. Our procedures, our staff, everything is geared for the education and well-being of our students.”

  She sounded like a public service announcement.

  “I don’t know what to say. I feel responsible for what happened.” Finally Ms. Bishop let go of Olivia’s hand.

  “We understand,” Miranda said, taking over. “Our purpose isn’t to place blame. We’re simply trying to gather evidence.”

  She took a seat in the corner while Wesson and Olivia settled onto the couch and Parker and Holloway stood along the wall next to the principal.

  Miranda turned to the teacher. “When was the last time you saw Imogen, Ms. Bishop?”

  “Please call me Vondra.”

  “Vondra, then.”

  “The last time? It was at the end of the day, I suppose. We end class at two. I’d given the students an assignment to write. It was about what they wanted to be when they grow up. I always try to encourage ambition in them.”

  Halifax let out a huff, as if she thought that frivolous.

  “Now I remember. I usually walk the children out to the buses. But Makayla Zimmerman had some questions about the assignment. She wanted to know if she could write about being an artist.”

  “And so you weren’t outside when your class got on the bus?” Miranda asked.

  “Dana watches the children when I’m not there.”

  “Dana?”

  “Dana Duncan. She’s the second grade teacher. But I came outside to the parking lot before the buses left. I didn’t see Imogen. I thought she’d already gotten aboard her bus.”

  Miranda turned to the woman on the couch. “And what about you?”

  The woman named Kimberly Carmichael sat up and looked around the room as if she were about to take the witness stand. “Me? I was in my place on the bus. I didn’t see Imogen get on. I assumed Ms. Wesson had picked her up.”

  “I do sometimes,” Olivia admitted. “When it’s slow at the shop. But I usually tell someone.”

  “I thought you’d told Ms. Bishop,” Carmichael said defensively.

  Vondra Bishop straightened her already straight back. “I think I would have said something.”

  “I’m not to blame here.”

  Miranda held up a hand. “Like I said. We’re not here to blame anyone. I’m sure you were all just trying to do your jobs. What we need to know is if you saw anything unusual this afternoon.”

  The two women fell silent.

  “Anyone hanging around the schoolyard who didn’t belong there? A strange car?”

  Vondra Bishop shook her head. “I didn’t notice anything like that.”

  “I was busy watching the kids and making sure the bus was in working order.”

  Miranda doubted she’d gone to those lengths, but she would say if she’d seen anything. Might not have been paying much attention to her surroundings.

  “What time did you leave the school?”

  “Two-thirty. Like always.”

  “And you’re absolutely certain Imogen wasn’t on the bus?”

  She nodded. “Positive. Like I said. I thought her mother had picked her up.”

  Feeling dejected Miranda took out a couple of business cards and handed them to the women. “If you do think of anything, give me a call.”

  Vondra Bishop stared down at her card. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell you more.”

  From where she stood next to Parker, Halifax shook her head. “I’m afraid we might have to notify the authorities, after all.”

  Olivia shot to her feet. “Please don’t call the police, Mrs. Halifax. Whoever has Imogen said—”

  Halifax held up her hand like a crossing guard. “Yes, yes. Mr. Parker explained that to me when he called earlier. I’ll give you a few days, but I’m afraid I’ll have to if you can’t find her by then. The school will be held responsible for the child’s disappearance.”

  Parker turned
to her with all his irresistible charm. “I understand your position, Cynthia. But if you’ll give us a chance to do our jobs, we may find the girl and this incident won’t be a black mark on the school’s reputation.”

  Man, he was smooth. And how did he get her first name?

  Halifax straightened her shoulders. “Very well. But I can’t wait forever, Mr. Parker.”

  “We’ll work as quickly as we can.”

  “And you’ll keep me informed of your progress?”

  Parker gave her his winning six-million-dollar grin. “Every step of the way.”

  Chapter Seven

  “She’s going to call the police,” Olivia whined from the backseat.

  “No, she won’t, Livvy.” Wesson was trying to sound comforting, but it didn’t seem to help.

  “She said she’d give us a only few days. How long do you think it will take?”

  Miranda wanted to groan out loud. They were back in the Navigator winding their way around the roads near the elementary school.

  The streets were dark and crowded with apartment buildings. Long rows of cars were parked along the curbs. No one seemed to be out.

  Miranda studied the fence around the school. Had Imogen slipped through it and wandered around on these streets? They should canvass the area, she thought. There were three stories of balconies across from the school. Someone might have seen something.

  But as Parker came to a halt at the stop sign at the end of the lane, her head drooped onto her chest.

  Gently he touched her hand. “It’s almost three-thirty Atlanta time. We should get some rest and start fresh in the morning.”

  Miranda sucked in air to wake herself up. “Good idea.” She wanted to keep going, but there wasn’t anything more they could do tonight.

  “I’m so sorry to be so much trouble,” Olivia said.

  “You’re not any trouble, Livvy,” Wesson said.

  Miranda turned around. “She’s right, Olivia. We’re invested in this case. We’re going to find your daughter.”

  Olivia nodded.

  “Is it okay if I stay with Olivia tonight?” Wesson asked.

  Her sister gave her a frown. “You don’t have to.”

  “I can’t leave you alone.”