Anna stood from her seat and slung on her jacket. “As for me, I’m going to consider two leads of my own.”
“You’re leaving so soon?” Richard asked as Anna walked toward him.
She kissed her father on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. We can talk more later, Pops.” She turned to her brother, who picked up the leftovers from her plate and moved it to his own. “Evan, keep me updated on what you learn. Thorough notes are the key.”
“You got it, boss.” Evan saluted her with two fingers as she slipped out the front door.
Anna’s moment of peace vanished when the cool August wind chilled her skin. Thinking of the missing girls, the weight of the world returned to her shoulders. She chewed her inner cheek and left the porch. Overhead, the starry sky blinked endlessly as dewy grass squished beneath her feet.
Without warning, her intuition spiked. An inexplicable feeling that she was being watched stuck to her like slime. She continued toward her truck, her gaze subtly moving across the neighboring homes. Flashing television screens and room lights. She stopped at her driver side door and glanced at the small cluster of oaks across the road. Something moved.
Anna’s blood spiked. You’re seeing things. Anna slid her hand to her pistol holster, and she proceeded across the cracked asphalt road, looking both ways on the silent street. There’s no one there. Her walk evolved into a jog as she neared the woods. Her pistol slid out of its holster and she passed into the shallow woods.
Trees, shadows, and her racing heart were all she knew.
“Hello?” she called out, keeping the pistol low.
Autumn wind rustled nearby leaves. Twigs snapped underfoot. On high alert, Anna twisted about. No one. The woods appeared much larger and ominous than in the daylight. Waving branches and dancing shadows took a life of their own. Anna steadied her breathing. She stood sentry in the dark night. Waiting. Listening.
Nothing. See? A voice said inside.
Shaken, she started for the truck but stopped at the base of three trees. Their thick roots sprawled across the dirt, weaving in and out of the earth like a sea serpent. Nearby, cracked twigs scattered on the ground. A snapped branch clung to the tree’s neck by a broken tongue of bark. Its insides had a lively green hue. The branch itself teetered from a recent disturbance. Quiet stillness ruled the woods and street. A little red speck--almost invisible to the naked eye--glowed in the distance. Anna squinted, adrenaline coursing through her being. Her palm tightened around the coarse handle of her handgun.
Ring-ring-ring! Anna’s phone buzzed wildly in her pocket and caused her to shudder. Keeping her eyes on the red dot, she found cover behind a tree and fished out the screaming cell phone. Grace’s number. Anna hesitated for a moment. Her thumb moved from the green button to End and she pocketed her quieted phone. Peeking her head around the stem of the tree, she tracked the stationary red light.
Staying hunched, she scurried to a nearby tree and then to another. The tiny red light moved but failed to follow her. Only twenty more yards and she’d be upon it.
Ring-ring-ring! Anna’s heart jumped. Grace again. Anna swiftly hung up and made the effort to silence the device. She looked back into the woods. Trees, leaves, but no red speck. Keeping her gun up, she moved tactically in that direction, but found no trace of the light or anyone causing it.
A vibration in her pocket. For the love of Pete. Anna holstered her pistol and answered the phone. “Yes?”
“Finally!” Grace shouted on the other side, not angry but desperate by her fractured tone.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asked as she kept a lookout in the woods.
“Someone--someone broke into my flat.” Grace sniffled. “I-I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what day it is. My head’s killing me. I can’t think straight.”
“Calm down,” Anna said, catching the symptoms of the woman’s anxiety. “Have you called the police?”
“No. They’ll think I’m using again. They’ll take away Lily,” Grace moaned dreadfully.
“I tried to get ahold of Evan, but his phone is dead.”
Anna landed where she last saw the light and knelt to the earth. Shuffled dirt, but no visible footprint. “What do you see around you?”
“Um… trees… A stream. Train tracks!”
“Follow those. Tell me when you reach a road. Oh, and stay on the line.” The tall trees enclosed Anna. She frowned heavily and backtracked to the truck. Family comes first. She twisted the key and stomped the accelerator, leaving the woods and her father’s house in the rear view. Her mind raced to what she saw in the woods. It could’ve been a wild animal. You could be imagining things. She wasn’t convinced, but whatever was out there had vanished.
Her journey began at Old Frisco train station, and she paralleled the tracks until it curved off into the woods. “What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked Grace.
“It goes on forever,” her future sister-in-law said dreadfully.
Anna switched the phone to her other ear. “Can you hear me?”
“Wait. I see something. It’s--”
Her voice cut out.
“Grace?” Anna asked. “Grace!”
No reply.
Anna looked at the train tracks and then thought about her Silverado and the substantial wear and tear it had accumulated over the last few days. Groaning, she spun the steering wheel and bumped up to the track. The cabby rattled and bounced as it rolled over the first rail and then down the wooden slats. She needed an alignment, anyway.
One wheel on the slats and one on the grass, Anna’s big Chevy drove down the train tracks and farther from Van Buren. The town lights vanished and soon only her high beams guided her through the inky blackness. The radio stuttered until it died. Anna kept her phone on standby, waiting for Grace’s return call. Her signal showed one bar. When she turned her eyes up from the phone, her foot slammed on the brake pedal. The truck skidded to a stop at the foot of a rail-less rusted metal bridge. She looked down at the tops of trees and flowing wide stream below. Catching her breath, she put the shifter into reverse and got ready to back up when a ghastly woman entered the rays of her high beams.
Wearing a tattered white shirt and cyan boy shorts, Grace Kendale limped down the center of the track. Her disheveled brown hair fell out of its lazy bun and was strung down her dirtied and bruised face. She held her palm out over her eyes as if to push back the light and staggered, catching her toe between wooden rails.
Anna hopped out of the truck. She gingerly stepped from slat to slat, careful not to fall through. A few close calls but still successful.
“Hold on.” Anna wrapped her arm around Grace, supporting her by the shoulder. “We’re almost there.”
The sound of rushing water echoed from below.
“What day is it?” Grace asked whimsically. She had sharp features, but stress-wrecked nerves had sucked away her beauty.
“Saturday,” Anna replied as they made it back to the truck.
“Oh lord.” Grace covered her hand with her mouth. “Lily.”
“Tell me what happened,” Anna said as she reversed down the tracks and pursued civilization.
“I heard knocking on my door. I thought it was Evan but…” She clenched the side of her head and closed her eyes, grimacing. “I can’t think straight.”
“When was this?” Anna asked, steadying the steering wheel.
“Friday. The same day you visited me. Everything feels like one big blur.”
That’s because you were drugged. “We’ll check on Lily, okay?” Anna said.
Grace nodded and hugged her bruised knee. Her eyes stayed on the dark road as the bumpy ride went on and on.
Anna made some phone calls and then basked in the silence. In the front passenger seat, Grace chewed her nails. Dirt smeared her cheek. A fat purple bruise swelled over her brow. The work of a baton of sorts, judging by the cylindrical profile. However, her blackout was the work of chloroform or something stronger, judging by the almost twenty-four-h
our mind wipe. Scrapes, cuts, and bruises spotted her legs and up her body, most likely caused by twigs and thorns on her travel to Anna. Rope burns created raw red circlets around her skinny wrists and ankles. The smooth pattern alluded to dock line instead of the coarser hemp rope. With Van Buren being a river town, that didn’t add much to the investigation but if the perpetrator had a boat, a paper trail would follow.
Flashing blue and red lights bounced around the heart of Van Buren’s slums. Created during a time when Van Buren attempted to copy its sister city Fort Smith, Grace’s three-story apartment had far more urban design than the surrounding buildings. Its concrete infrastructure and blocky architecture seemed to attract seedy characters, of which there were many gathered at the borders of the parking lot.
Police officers congregated around the front double doors, bustling in and out and speaking to reluctant witnesses. Parked cruisers kept their siren lights spinning. An ambulance had been parked on standby. Anna pulled into the lot, feeling the eyes of various shady onlookers watching her every move. They whispered to one another, forming niche gaggles away from the street lights. FBI Agent Rennard stood beside Sheriff Greenbell at the front door. The sheriff dragged a cigarette while Rennard waved to the truck.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go directly to the hospital?” Anna asked.
Grace gawked at her like Anna was off her rocker.
“Then go to the EMT,” Anna commanded. “I’ll get Lily.”
“I’m not a porcelain doll, sweetheart,” Grace said defiantly. “I’m going in.”
“Get yourself looked at, then we’ll see,” Anna said, leaving no room for negotiation but feeling guilty that she denied a mother’s chance to find her daughter personally. Anna figured Grace could compromise the crime scene and, in turn, do more harm than good. Cold but true. She pocketed the keys and exited the truck. Anticipating the worst-case scenario, she approached Rennard and Greenbell. Grace followed but was interrupted by an EMT.
“I’m going in!” Anna heard Grace shout. The EMT gestured to one of the nearby officers. Another green officer pushed open the apartment building’s double doors with a sullen expression.
Anna sighed and joined Rennard and the sheriff, tucking in her shirt.
“There's been an attack.” Greenbell blew a stream of smoke into the night sky. “See for yourself, but I don’t know why it’s your concern. Keisha Rines is your case, not some other kid.”
“This is family we’re talking about,” Anna replied. “That matters where I come from.”
“Sergeant Mathis has granted you access to the crime scene. He trusts your expertise.” Greenbell glared at her. “Don’t screw it up. This isn’t Miami. We’re more careful here.”
“Sheriff!” A police officer interviewing a witness called him over.
Greenbell snuffed the cigarette at the bottom of his boot, pocketed it, and headed over.
“What’s with him?” Rennard whispered. “He’s always on your case.”
Anna relaxed her balled fist. “He’s not used to this. No one here is used to this. ”
“Huh.” Agent Rennard watched the white-haired sheriff talk to a witness, who pointed to a second-story window. “I don’t know. It seems personal.”
Anna shrugged. “Could be. I haven’t lived here since I was in my twenties. Him and my father must’ve had some sort of falling out.”
“Maybe he’s jealous.” Rennard smiled softly. “It’s not every day you work alongside someone with your renown. Be proud of it. Very few achieve stardom in this business, and even fewer in a positive light.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me,” Anna replied.
“Come on. I’ll show you upstairs,” Agent Rennard offered.
They passed by the dented, wall-mounted intercom box and through the double door threshold and headed for the stairs that folded in on itself. Muffled bass from a rap song echoed through the building, akin to a rage-induced heartbeat. They jogged up the steps, boots and shoes clacking on the concrete, nearing the source of the music. Anna’s heart matched the rapid beat that bounced through the familiar hall as she thought what might await her in room 216.
In room 214, a frizzy-haired woman with big buggy eyes peeked through the crack of her door as the cops exited Grace’s flat. Anna and Rennard swerved around the officers and trekked to the open door midway through the hall.
“Does it have a connection to the investigation?” Anna asked.
“See for yourself,” Rennard moved aside, allowing Anna first passage into the two-room apartment.
The couch had been rolled on to its backboard, leaving behind natty scrapes on the stained, carpeted floor. The sixty-inch TV--arguably the nicest thing in the flat--lay face down and broken, spewing glass in all directions. Toys and other items littered the night stands and DVD shelf. Framed photos scattered the floor. More signs of struggle were notable throughout the room.
“We’ve searched the place up and down for the girl but have had no luck locating her,” Rennard explained. “We’re hoping the witnesses saw something.”
“Maybe she got away,” Anna said.
Kneeling, a forensic analyst bagged a tuft of blonde hair with blood caked on the roots.
Rennard shook his head.
4
Witnesses
Conclusions are dangerous territory. Accusations without worthy evidence kill cases. Anna understood these truths. But an unknown little girl’s finger was discovered and Anna stood in a nine-year-old’s room, the sight of an attack not twenty-four hours old. Hardly coincidence, and that punched Anna in the stomach with sickening anger.
Her niece, Lily Kendall, had blonde hair, hazel brown eyes, and pale skin. She lived in a lower class tenement. By the grade card hastily shoved inside her nightstand drawer, she was a C and D-average student and not proud of her academic prowess. She kept to herself, evident not just by the way she hesitantly spoke to Anna when they met but by the abundance of toys on which she relied on for entertainment. Lily was the opposite of Keisha Rines in nearly every way, and yet both suffered the same fate.
Anna scanned the small bedroom, all the while thinking how to approach Grace and Evan. Focus on the evidence, she reminded herself. Anything could’ve happened. A wall shelf had collapsed to the floor, spilling elementary school crafts across the carpet. She peered into the hall, tracing the path of destruction with her eyes. The last abduction site was spotless. The chaos, though horrifying for Grace, gave Anna “hope” that it may have just been a robbery.
Panning around the room, she conjured a mental image of the attack. Anna imagined Grace sitting on the couch, her wet hair wrapped in a towel as she watched TV, like she had been when they first met. A knock on the door. It couldn’t be loud, that would scare Grace. The man would’ve knocked softly enough to make it personal but strong enough to be heard over the neighbor’s obnoxious music. Grace expected it to be Evan, she’d told Anna on the ride over. After all, her boyfriend would be walking free soon. Grace undid the three bolt locks and opened her home to the unexpected stranger. The man acted swiftly and unexpectedly, whacking Grace with a metal club up the side of the head before she could get a good look. By the rivets on the bruise, it was an extendable baton. Grace staggered back and collapsed. The towel fell from her head and lay in a pile on the floor where it still resided now.
The stranger entered, closing the door behind him. He fished out his chloroform rag and shoved it in Grace’s mouth to be sure she was unconscious. The stranger then turned into the hall, his finger coiled tightly around the baton. Lily must’ve seen him because she hid.
Anna knelt at the ajar closet door. She studied the small heap of shirts and hangers knocked on the floor. She envisaged the nine-year-old girl peering through the shutters in the claustrophobic, dark closet. From how the wood was slanted, Lily could’ve seen the stranger’s boots but not his face. At some point, she made a break for it. He flung his hand back, readying a baton strike, but accidently k
nocking over the wall shelf. Lily darted into the hall. The stranger pursued.
Lily ducked the wind-cutting swipes. Missing, the ball-tipped club smacked into framed pictures and punctured drywall. The chase continued into the living room. Lily headed for the couch-side stand and Grace’s charging cellphone. Whether she fell or was pushed, Anna couldn’t ascertain, but Lily definitely smacked into the stand, toppling it to the ground and spilling its contents. Unable to reach the phone, the next logical step was the door. Her escape failed. The stranger got her hair--evident by the blonde tufts of hair on the carpet--and flung her into the couch. The impact pivoted the piece on its hind legs before falling to its backboard. Winded, the little girl rolled away from the couch and scrambled to her feet. Looping around the toppled furniture, she bumped into the TV in a last-ditch effort to flee. It fell over, maybe buying Lily enough time to escape into the apartment’s hall. Anna rubbed her chin. Only the witness would know.
“I talked to the landlord,” a nearby officer said. “Cameras have been dead for weeks along with the intercom.”
“This place is a dump,” a fellow officer replied with distaste. “The faster we finish here, the better.”
By the looks of the other officers, they agreed.
Anna swept the apartment, careful not to disrupt anything for the incoming forensic crew. She discovered minor blood spatter on the side-stand. The lab would confirm its origin in the coming days, but Anna questioned how much time they had left.
She scoured the bathroom, master bedroom, and kitchen for anything out of the ordinary, but mostly just to cover her bases. She peered out the window, getting a view of surrounding buildings and the parking lot. If a passerby was looking in the right place, they may have witnessed something. Anna took note of it. When she finished searching the area for any tells, notes, or demands the abductor may have left, Anna canvassed the second-story hall for possible escape routes. Three in total. The elevator, the main stairs, and the fire escape. The last seemed the most enticing. Anna walked down the hall, past the apartment where the loud music was playing. It was quiet now and a white thuggish man around twenty-four lingered on the other side of the emergency exit. He took a drag on the cigarette.
Secrets Boxset: A Riveting Kidnapping Mystery Collection Page 47
