STOLEN (3 page)

A small cot was in one corner of the room, which was more like
a walk-in closet. A child-sized comforter was being examined by one of the
technicians. Jean did not like the expression on the woman’s face as she began
to meticulously stuff the blanket into a large evidence garbage bag.

“What is it, Vicki?” Jean asked, not quite sure she was
going to like the answer.

Vicki Ray, a veteran with the Fallsburg Police Department, began
her career approximately the same time as Jean, but was quite a few years older
and was seriously counting the days left to retirement. Jean was going to miss
her. There weren’t too many females in the department as it was, and Vicki was
one of the brightest. It seemed to Jean the whole face of the department was
getting a makeover. Out with the old, like Vicki and Joe, her old partner, and
in with the new, like Marty.

“Some blood spots and, I hope to God I am wrong, what looks
like semen stains on the blanket.” She stood there shaking her head as if she
would be able to chase away the bad thoughts she was having.

Both women looked at each other, both mothers of daughters,
and both reflecting on the image of the little girl the officer carried in his arms
just moments earlier.

Taking a last glance around the room, her eyes came upon a digital
video camera that was sitting atop a tripod, partially hidden in a corner. Jean
shook her head in disgust as she walked out, leaving the collecting of the
evidence to the technicians. She knew, eventually, she would have to watch whatever
was on the camera, but right now she couldn’t stomach the thought of what it
would reveal.

“How about the victim they transported to the hospital? Did
he talk at all?” She questioned Officer Thyme as she turned her thoughts and
attention back to the adult victims.

“No, he was unconscious when they found him and barely
alive, Detective. He has no identification on him, but there are two vehicles
out back. A Ford Focus registered to this clown on the floor; and the other one,
a late model Chevy truck with a beat up topper over the bed. Engine was still
kind of warm. It looks like someone was living in it. Maybe two. We also found some
child-sized clothes in the back. Oregon plates. We’re running them now.”

Shaking her head, Jean looked at her watch.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, there’s an old laptop and some maps and trash from
some fast food joints. It’s all been bagged and catalogued.”

She glanced at her watch.

“Shit, I have to be in court this afternoon. I’m going to
head over to the hospital first, maybe this guy will regain consciousness, or
maybe those kids will tell us what happened. We need to find that other weapon;
and the person, or persons, that took off with it.”

“Help these guys finish up here,” She instructed Justin. Then
under her breath, but loud enough for several bystanders to hear, “Damn it, what
the hell happened here?” she asked, as she left the warmth of the cabin and walked
outside into the chillier elements. Getting into her unmarked vehicle, she
glanced back at the cabin in the woods, with a gnawing ache in her stomach, and
headed to St. Katherine’s, where she hoped she would get some answers.

For
the third time in the past hour, Hope felt her
cellphone vibrate. She pulled it out with annoyance, assuming she knew who was
being so persistent in trying to get in touch with her.

She knew her mother was feeling guilty because she was
unable to be there for the Keal family. She had been calling for updates every
chance she got, as she made her way down to the Port of Miami. Angry, as she
was unable to cancel her cruise to the Bahamas, the woman was just as concerned
as everyone else how the Captain was doing; but her mother’s constant need for
medical updates on her daughter’s future father-in-law was driving Hope crazy. Hope
didn’t bother to look at the caller ID when she grabbed her phone out of her
purse and began to lecture her mother on her unrelenting insistence. She looked
up at Marty apologetically and walked over to the other side of the room.
Raising the phone to her ear, she looked out through the artwork the children
left in the condensation, which formed on the window facing the parking lot
below.

“Mom, I told you I would call you as soon as we knew
something!”

Her embarrassment was tenfold, when she heard her supervisor
interrupt the beginning of her rant.

“Hope, this is Judy. I know it’s your day off, and you are
involved in a personal matter, but Sophie Harris of Children’s Services called.
They are bringing two minors into St. Katherine’s for treatment and observation
and since you are already there . . . .”

Hope’s concentration was interrupted and she no longer heard
what Judy was saying, because her attention was now drawn to the commotion
outside the waiting room. Turning around, it suddenly dawned on her she was
alone. The room, that moments earlier was packed full of Keals, had emptied out.

“I’m sorry, Judy, what did you say?” she asked, as she moved
closer to the fracas, unsuccessfully trying to catch a glimpse of what was
happening on the other side of the wall of Keals that now blocked the doorway.

Judy then did something she rarely did, she repeated herself.
“Sophie Harris from Children Services called. She’s in the Emergency Room; they
have a situation down there. Can you just meet her down there? She’ll fill you
in.”

Giving no more explanation, and barely waiting for Hope to
agree, she heard her supervisor disconnect the call.

Hope broke through the human barricade just as she watched Marty
handing what looked like an unconscious child over to one of the male nurses.

“Marty?” she looked at him, concerned by the expression on
his face. Her first thought was something happened with the Captain while she
was distracted by the phone call, but that didn’t make any sense. She followed
his eyes and watched him as the child was taken away. It was then she became
aware of the presence of Jean Whitley, her friend and Marty’s partner, who was
standing there a few feet away.

“What’s going on?” Hope asked, turning her attention to
Jean.

“Hope! Good, I was hoping you were here. I have to get down
to the Emergency Room and we need you desperately,” Jean said, nervously
glancing at her wristwatch. “Can you meet me down there?” Jean managed to ask
as she ran back to catch the elevator. She disappeared behind the crowd of
bystanders and once again Hope was left bewildered before she could adequately give
an answer.

Just as Hope was trying to piece together what was
happening, her cellphone vibrated again. Glancing down at the display, she
grimaced when she recognized the familiar number on the screen. She had no time
to have a conversation with her mother now. She hastily handed the phone to
Marty.

“Here, you talk to her, tell her the Captain is fine, and I
will call her later.” She walked away, giving him an apologetic look as she
tried to catch up with Jean.

It was too late. The doors to the elevator Jean occupied a
moment earlier were closed and the transport system was already making its way
down to the lower level. Cussing under her breath, she punched the down button.
She was contemplating using the stairwell when the other elevator arrived and
the doors opened. Several people departed and Hope was relieved the car was now
empty. She got in and pushed the 1 button for the lobby, the Emergency Room was
on the same level as the lobby, but on the other side of the building. Hurrying
to her destination, Hope heard the voices of medical personnel become louder
and more frantic in nature. She found Jean standing off to the side talking to
a man in a fluorescent orange vest. She waited patiently until Jean finished
with the man before she approached her friend, the detective.

“Jean, what’s going on? My supervisor just called asking me
to meet Sophie Harris down here. Is this connected?”

Someone shouted to clear a path, and they both stepped back,
as men and women pushed a gurney through the crowd. Hope caught a glimpse of the
person who lay on the bed but quickly turned away when she saw how much blood
saturated the linen covering him or her.

“Come on, I’ll fill you in,” Jean said, as she grabbed Hope
by the crook of her arm. “We are still trying to sort everything out, but this
is why we need you,” the detective told her, as she pulled open the curtain to
one of the cubicles in the room. At first, the only person Hope recognized was
the dark-haired social worker, Sophie. She was whispering softly to someone,
but at the angle Hope was standing, she was unable to see who it was. When Sophie
became aware someone new entered the room, she turned around; and Hope saw the
relieved look on the young woman’s face when she realized it was her. The women
were familiar with each other, having worked together on previous cases
occasionally.

A small female child was sitting upright. The little girl
was dressed only in a bikini style panty. Her knobby knees were bent and thin
legs dangled from the examination table. Her long, dark hair was matted and
dirty. Black tears, the result of mascara painted on her eyelids, streaked down
both sides of her face. The little girl’s lips were painted bright red, and the
bottom one was trembling uncontrollably. She was holding onto a white stuffed
teddy bear, given to her by one of the officers at the scene, and she hugged it
tightly to her chest.

Hope pulled over a rolling stool and placed herself in front
of the little girl.

“Hi, honey, my name is Dr. Hope.” She was careful not to
reach out and touch the frightened child, but gave her a warm smile.

The girl didn’t respond verbally, but slowly let go of the
bear with one tiny hand and gently caressed Hope’s hair. Hope took it as a
signal the child would allow her to reciprocate; so, without hesitating, she
grabbed a tissue and gently dried the child’s tear running down her left cheek.

“What’s your name, honey?” Hope asked, her tone soft as
cotton.

The child’s mouth opened, and it appeared she was about to
speak, and then she immediately clamped her lips shut as she became aware of
some sort of commotion outside the examining room.

“Get me the rape kit and make it fast, I’ve got a ballgame
to go to.”

Hope recognized his voice immediately and was not pleased when
he abruptly pulled the curtain back and entered the room.

Hope knew Dr. Lewis was an arrogant son of a bitch and not
very well liked by most of the staff at the hospital. The man’s over-developed
physique often had the staff wondering if he was dabbling in the illegal use of
steroids. Dr. Lewis was not someone Hope had a very harmonious relationship
with. She had butted heads with the Emergency Room doctor on several occasions;
and she could visualize that this situation was likely to bring more of the
same.

He manipulated his way past Sophie and Jean, but stopped
short at pushing Hope out of his way.

“Excuse me, Dr. Rubin; I have an exam to do.” He told her,
taking care to avert her eyes. Careful to avoid touching her as he walked past,
he pulled his stethoscope from around his thick neck.

Hope laid her hand on his left forearm.

“Paul, may I see you outside, please?” She turned back to
the child. “Sweetheart, I will be right back.” Reading absolute fear in the
little girl’s eyes, she smiled warmly. Hope laid the palm of her hand on the
child’s wet cheek. Still stiff with fear, the little girl kept her eyes focused
on Hope and clutched the stuffed animal tighter.

In an effort to convince the child that she would be safe
and okay, she sat back down and continued to speak in the soft tone. “Sophie is
going to stay with you, honey. You will be fine. I promise.” Hope told her, as
she stood up and relinquished her stool to Sophie. It broke her heart to walk
out, but she knew that she had to make sure this child was not going to deal
with any more trauma than she had already been subjected to, even if it was
from one of her colleagues.

Realizing that Dr. Lewis wasn’t taking her cue, and made no
attempt to move, she tugged at his arm. “Now! Paul.”

As soon as they were outside of the cubicle, she let go of
his arm. “That child is not ready for a physical exam, much less a
gynecological one.” She was thinking to herself there was no way she was going
to let any man come near the child in such an intimate way, even if it was
another physician, but she didn’t verbalize that thought.

“She needs to be emotionally stabilized and prepared for
what is going to happen.”

Hope was determined to relax and sound diplomatic; she made
a conscious effort not to allow her personal attitude toward the man to seep
into her argument.

He started to verbalize his protest. “Look, I don’t have all
day. She may never be ready, so you can do your job and take care of her after
I finish doing what I have to do.”

She was no longer paying attention to what her colleague was
saying. There was some sort of commotion going on several feet away and she
lost her focus.

Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Jean animatedly
talking to another uniformed officer. They were looking down at what appeared
to be some sort of flyer. Hope watched as Jean grabbed the paper from the
officer’s hands and briskly walked back in Hope’s direction.

Turning back to her associate, Hope took two steps closer to
the muscularly-constructed Dr. Lewis and decided she didn’t have time for this.
She was now deep in his personal space and was not about to back off or let him
think that his size intimidated her. The big man just shook his head, and
didn’t move.

“Look, Dr. Rubin, I need to be somewhere in . . .”
he glanced down at the gold Rolex that accented his thick wrist. Hope
immediately knew there was no way she was going to let this particular man,
physician or not, with his large, unfriendly hands and his cartoon-like Popeye
muscles, come within one inch of that child’s body. She wasn’t going to admit
it or show it, but even she was intimidated by the size of him. She couldn’t
imagine how the fragile little girl would feel. He continued, “. . . in
forty five minutes. I promised my kid I wouldn’t miss his soccer game.”

She knew he was trying to sound sympathetic and was making a
feeble attempt to put her on a guilt trip, playing the ‘good daddy’ card, but
she wasn’t going to bend.

“Paul, go to your game. I will get Doctor Lercher to come in
and examine her. I need more time to prepare this child for such an invasive
exam and we’re wasting time, so excuse me.” She pushed past him intentionally,
allowing her arm to brush against his arm, in a display of aggression. She let
out a sigh of relief when she didn’t hear his footsteps following behind her,
which meant he wasn’t going to argue with her. She reached the child’s cubicle at
precisely the same time as Detective Whitley.

Lifting the flyer, and waving it in the air, Jean handed it
to Hope. Taking a good look at the paper, Hope nodded her head and then both
women walked into the cubicle where the little girl waited.

Sophie was holding the little girl’s hand, and another nurse
was wiping the child’s face with a sterile gauze pad. She carefully maneuvered
around the little girl, who was now feverishly sucking on her thumb. The black
makeup that had previously made its way down her cheeks was practically gone.
The red lipstick was now a pale shade of pink. The nurse, under the watchful
eye of a police officer, took the pad and placed it in an evidence bag.

Jean turned to Sophie. “Has she said anything?”

The social worker shook her head no.

Hope pulled over the rolling stool and sat down in front of
the tiny child. She took another cloth from the nurse and continued to gently
wipe the child’s face.

“Can you tell me your name, honey?” The little girl sat
there staring, sucking softly on her thumb.

Hope glanced over at the flyer she held in her hand from THE
CENTER OF MISSING AND EXPLOITED CHILDREN.

Missing from Astoria, Queens, New York.

Age 5, Michaelah Sandberg.