by Roger Hayden
Holly smiled. “Thanks, Dad. And thanks for leaving my room the same.”
Knight pushed his empty plate away and retrieved his badge. “You think your mother would let me touch that room? I wanted to make a man cave.”
“Of course you would,” Holly said with a laugh.
Knight knew there was pain hidden beneath her friendly veneer.
“It's been tough, Dad,” she eventually said, the sound of running water in the background from the kitchen. “I miss Rick all the time, but I have to remember what he did. Seven years down the drain. It hurts sometimes. It really does.” He noticed the sadness in her face and placed his hand over hers.
“You're going to get through this, and your mother and I are here to help.”
She glanced up at him with an attempted smile. “What about these missing girls? Is it the same person?”
Knight leaned back in his creaking chair. “Could be. We just don't know yet. I have a couple leads, and we're going to start fresh tomorrow.”
“It's terrible. I can only imagine what their families are going through.”
Knight finished his glass of wine when a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Both families...” he uttered.
Holly turned her head. “What was that?”
“The Rileys. I haven't asked them about their contractors. At the time, we didn't have a connection, a second abduction.”
“Contractors?” Holly said.
Knight stared forward. “Yes. Evans Brothers Painting & Drywall. Heard of them?”
Holly shook her head. “Can't say that I have.”
Bonnie entered the dining room, shaking her hands dry. “Have you had your fill?” she asked, glancing at his empty plate.
Knight rose from his chair, stretching. “Yes, thank you.” He’d almost told Holly that they were looking for connections between the two abductions. Maybe later. Maybe not.
Bonnie took his plate and returned to the kitchen with the bowl of pasta in her other hand.
“I'm going to jump in the shower,” Knight announced.
Holly began clearing off the rest of the table as the water ran again in the kitchen.
“I'll probably see you in the morning,” he said to her. “Need to lie down.”
“Okay, Dad,” she said, walking away. “Good night.”
He stood at his chair and watched her and Bonnie in the kitchen, talking as they cleaned up. Holly had her mother's long dark hair and thin frame. The only trait she seemed to take from him was his blue-green eyes. Bonnie had an astute, sophisticated air in the way she dressed and conducted herself. As a librarian, she was as close to retirement as him. They had met at the library where Knight had been assigned security from time to time in his policing days. Time had passed so quickly, it was hard to believe they had been married for just under thirty years.
Knight awoke with his wife gently shaking him. Morning had come too fast. In the darkness of their room, she stood over him, dressed and made up for work. He could smell her perfume. She told him that she was leaving soon, and if he wanted breakfast, he needed to get up. Knight opened his eyes a slit and tried to see the alarm clock on his nightstand, but it was a blur. He was shirtless and only wearing boxers. He could barely remember when and how he got to sleep.
“...Time is it?” he muttered.
“Eight,” she said, adjusting one earring. “And you have to be at the office at nine. Same as me.”
He lifted his head up slightly and then plopped it back down. “Yes, dear.”
She clapped before walking away to open the blinds, bringing in daylight inside the room. As she left the room, Knight slowly sat up and ran a hand down his stubble-ridden face. He reached for his cell phone, as he was accustomed to doing first thing in the morning, and scrolled through his messages and emails. There was nothing from Slater or Agent Garrett, and thankfully nothing from the captain.
He stood on the plush carpet and stretched. His bare belly appeared hump-like as he looked down. He grabbed a nearby T-shirt hanging on a chair and put it on. Walking to the door, he peeked his head out and saw that Holly 's bedroom door was closed. He could faintly smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Bacon and eggs were Bonnie's specialty. He knew he'd have to hurry if he wanted to get some before Holly ate it all. They were both fans of Bonnie's cooking.
After a hot shower and shave, Knight grabbed his gray suit from the closet, which he usually wore once or twice during the week, and a blue tie. He took his gun and badge from the drawer of his nightstand and left the room. He continued down the hall, whistling. He soon passed the foyer and living room, where daylight glowed from the open blinds. Entering the kitchen, he found Bonnie at the stove, turning around, spatula in hand.
“I went to get the paper this morning and found a note on our door.”
Knight scratched his head and glanced to the side. Tuesday's newspaper sat on the counter with an envelope on top of it. On closer inspection, Knight could see his name typed on the front in what looked like old-fashioned typewriter font. His address wasn't listed on the long, white envelope, nor was there a return address or stamp.
He looked up at Bonnie. “This was on our door?”
“Taped right there in the middle. I almost missed it.”
Knight snatched the thin envelope up, finding only his name on the outside. “You didn't see who left it there?”
She scooped eggs onto two plates as toast popped up from a nearby toaster. “Not a soul. I just figured it was one of your detective buddies.” She paused and noticed his frozen stance. “Well, open it up and find out.” She took a step toward the bedrooms and called Holly to breakfast.
He peeled open the letter. The adhesive was dry, which indicated that the letter had been sealed well in advance. Bonnie walked past him and set both plates down at the counter in front of two stools—their usual eating spot. He pulled out the folded letter and opened it. It made no sense. The message was brief and nearly incoherent.
Dear Charley,
You Are Looking For Me. I Know This. And Now I'm Watching You. Don't Worry, I'm Just Getting Started. - X
He stared down at the typed message, a shiver running down along his arm. “Is this a joke?”
Bonnie hurried back over to get a look. “What is it? What's wrong?” She stood beside him with her eyes scanning the page. Neither one said anything, but a small chill filled the silent space.
Someone had left it on their door with the intention that it be found. Whether it was a practical joke, he wasn't sure. His instincts, however, told him it was serious. He thought of the open investigations on his plate. He thought of convicted murderers he had sent to prison, or anyone who might have had a motive to send such a threatening warning. The questions he had asked Paul and Carol Owens about having enemies came back to him. Knight had accumulated more than his fair share of enemies over his career.
“I'm just getting started,” Bonnie read. “Doing what?”
Knight moved past her, opening a cupboard above the microwave. He grabbed a Ziploc bag and slipped the letter inside with the envelope as though they were evidence of a crime. “It's nothing, dear. Don't worry about it.” He turned to her, placing both hands on her shoulder and looking into her eyes. “Just keep the windows and doors locked when you're here and tell Holly to do the same.”
Bonnie gazed at him, acknowledged what he’d said, then softly sighed. “Don't tell me that some crazy person is after you again.”
“It'll be okay,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. He kissed her forehead and then backed away. “Don't worry about it.” He opened the refrigerator and took out some orange juice.
“Oh!” said Bonnie, back in the everyday world again. “Holly wanted to see if we'd like to go bowling tonight after work.”
Knight turned to her and snorted. “Bowling?”
Bonnie jokingly smacked his arm. “She's back home and feeling nostalgic! You should feel lucky that the old bowling alley is even still there, and that our daughter wants t
o spend time with us.”
“We're extremely fortunate,” he dryly stated while sipping his orange juice.
6
The Connection
Knight arrived at the station with a newfound sense of paranoia. He couldn't make sense of the letter. It didn't feel like a joke. He had already called Slater's cell twice that morning, unable to get through. He read the letter with each first letter capitalized. From the parking lot, he watched from afar as people shuffled inside the two-story brick building. Big brass letters on one side said Melville County Police Department. His second home, but not for much longer.
He slipped the letter back into his coat and opened his door, searching the parking lot. He approached the station, tucking his white button-down shirt in and brushing his slicked-back hair with one slide of his hand. He entered the lobby of the station through the double doors and found Deputy Gibbs at the front desk. She greeted him with a welcoming, rosy-cheeked smile. “Good morning, Detective Knight.”
Knight slowed at her desk and then stopped. “Weren't you assigned to the Owens's residence last night?”
Gibbs shrugged and held up a mug of steaming coffee. “Pulling a double.”
“That's always fun,” Knight said as they both laughed.
He wished her a good day and continued inside the station. Farther down a long, narrow hall, he turned and entered a familiar row of cubicles. Not far from his own desk sat Slater with his back turned toward him, typing. Knight slowed his steps, sneaking closer, trying not to be seen yet.
“Excuse me,” Knight began as he entered their area, putting on his cop voice. “Do I know you?”
Slater turned around, revealing a fresh shave and rested demeanor. “That depends on who's asking.”
Knight looked around to see Silvia and Branham, two younger detectives, seated in their cubicles across from them. The captain's door was closed, and the lights were on. He assumed that Agent Garrett was inside, reporting on everything she had seen and heard from the day before.
Knight sat at his desk, facing Slater. “When did you get here?”
“About twenty minutes ago,” Slater said, continuing to type.
Knight rolled forward in his chair. “I called you yesterday. What's with the avoidance?”
Slater stopped typing and then turned around. “I turned my phone off, okay? I needed a break from this shit. And look at me now. I'm better. Hell, I can even work with that FBI broad, no problem.”
Knight looked around. “Give her a break. She's on the level.”
Slater scoffed and shook his head in apparent amusement. “Oh yeah? Both girls are still missing. She can't be that good.”
Having heard enough, Knight produced the letter from his pocket and slammed it onto Slater's desk. “You see this? You know what this is?”
Slater looked at the envelope inside the Ziploc bag. “A letter from the president?”
“Very funny,” Knight said, holding it up. “This was taped to my front door this morning. I have no idea who did it, or when or why. I just know that someone is toying with me.”
Slater scratched his chin and then observed the envelope and the careful way Knight's name was typed in the center. “Strange. What's it say?”
Knight slipped it back inside his pocket, knowing he was acting dumb.
“What the hell? Can I see it, or what?”
“Hold on,” Knight said, rising. “I need to get it analyzed for prints.”
“Can you tell me its contents, your majesty?” Slater asked.
Knight glanced toward the captain's office. The door was still closed. “It's a letter, brief and to the point. It says, ‘you're looking for me and now I'm looking for you.’”
Slater sipped from his coffee mug and chuckled. “That's it?”
“They addressed me as Charley,” said Knight with a shake of his head. “Whoever it is, I don't like them knowing where I live.”
Slater set his coffee down. “Who are we looking for then?”
“The kidnapper,” said Knight. “Last line says that he's just getting started.”
“You think he sent this?” Slater asked with both hands up.
Knight paced back and forth, pushing his chair in. “It could be anyone I've dealt with the past twenty-five years.”
Slater rested his chin on his hand. “Too bad they didn't offer more specifics.” They couldn’t hold back their smiles.
Knight motioned to leave and was almost to the door when his office phone rang. He walked back, looking at the ID screen and not recognizing the number. Though it was local. “Detective Knight,” he said, answering with the receiver against his ear.
A distant, echo-sounding voice came on the line. “Morning, Detective. This is Paul Owens.”
Knight turned and signaled his partner. “Yes, Mr. Owens. How can we help you?” He heard construction, from beeping dump trucks to drills and hammers. The line then got quieter and clearer as Paul spoke again. “Sorry, I had you on speaker there for a moment. I'm on the back porch now.”
“How's Carol?” Knight asked. “And your son?”
“Well, you know...” Paul said after a moment’s hesitation. “I wanted to see if you had any updates for us. It's just torture sitting here like this. I want to be out there looking for this guy.”
“Mr. Owens, I understand where you're coming from,” Knight interjected. “We're about to follow up on some leads right now. It should only be a matter of time before we find something.”
“That's also what I wanted to talk about,” Paul said. “The guy we told you about yesterday. We had a leak in one of our rooms.”
Knight gripped the phone, listening. “Which room?”
Paul's sudden silence seemed to indicate that he had made a connection as well. “Brittany's...”
Knight spun around, ready to spring into action. “Mr. Owens, we'll follow up with the company and the employee you mentioned first thing this morning. I promise to keep you updated.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” His friendly tone then shifted to one far more ominous. “I hope you catch this guy before I do, because it won't be pretty.”
Knight responded with tact. “Again, I respect your position, but I'd strongly advise against that or any kind of vigilantism. All that matters now is finding your daughter.”
“Damn right,” Paul responded. “Thank you, Detective.” And then he hung up.
Knight turned to face his partner. “Chet Daniels...”
“Who's he?” Slater asked with a blank expression.
Knight crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. “Oh, that's right. You abandoned us yesterday, and now I need to bring you up to speed.”
Slater smirked. “Kindly go pound sand.”
“Chet Daniels was identified by both Paul and Carol Owens as exhibiting strange behavior during his employment as a drywall repairman,” Knight began.
Slater stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. “What are we waiting for then? Let's go talk to this scumbag.”
As they assembled to leave, the captain's door opened. Agent Garrett walked out with Marshall behind her. She headed toward them, dressed in a dark gray blazer, a white T-shirt, and black slacks. Her FBI badge dangled from a lanyard around her neck.
She entered their cubicle before Knight could respond. The captain soon followed, observing both detectives with annoyance. “I hope you two slept well, because it's going to be a long day.”
Slater swiveled around to his computer screen, ignoring them as Garrett offered a friendly greeting. She stood beside Knight as the captain waited nearby, gripping the side wall of the cubicle with his glasses in hand. He cleared his throat and began with a direct tone. “It seems that we're making some progress. A little slow, but progress nonetheless.” He paused and then pointed from Slater to Knight in a scolding manner. “Do your jobs and find these girls.”
“We have a name,” Knight said, almost too eagerly. “He's a random find.”
The captain narrowed
his eyes and bit the end of his glasses. “Do tell, Detective.”
Knight pointed to Slater. “Do a search for Chet Daniels, please.”
Slater spun around in his chair, ready to type.
“Who is he?” the captain demanded, growing more impatient by the moment.
“Paul and Carol Owens gave us the name of a contractor who had been to their house,” Knight began, excitement in his tone. “He helped fix a leak in their daughter's room.”
“Well, I'll be damned,” Slater said from his computer. “Chester Alan Daniels. Born 1976. Resident of Melville County, Florida. Priors: drunk and disorderly and possession of marijuana, less than five ounces.” He paused, reading the screen. “That's all he's got. Not exactly a hardened criminal.”
Knight walked to Slater's desk and leaned toward the monitor to get a better look. His picture was a near match to the sketch, except in the picture he had trimmed hair and a thinner beard. The glazed eyes, however, were a perfect match. “That's him,” he said. “I can't believe it.”
“Are you two sure about this?” Captain Marshall asked, approaching them. “I don't want you on some wild goose chase over a name.”
Agent Garrett stepped forward. “Call Sarah Riley's parents and ask them if the name sounds familiar. That could be our connection.”
Knight dialed Steve and Annette Riley on speaker phone. He had the number memorized by now because of their frequent calls to the station. He stepped back and waited as the line rang several times with no answer. He hoped more than anything that they'd answer. Just when he thought the call was going to switch to voice mail, a woman's voice answered in an exhausted tone. “Hello?”
Knight leaned closer to the phone. “Hi, this is Detective Knight with the Melville County Police Department. Is this Annette Riley?”
A pause followed as she took a deep breath and then spoke. “Yes. I'm sorry. I heard the phone ringing from outside and ran in. What can you tell me, Detective? Do you have news?”
