Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset (6 page)

The age of the victims—between ten and twelve years old—put the case within federal jurisdiction. Out of six missing local girls, only two had been discovered. The other four, missing for years, were feared dead, though no remains had been discovered. As a result, authorities planned for a mass excavation of the Anderson salvage yard.

The investigation would take hundreds of man-hours at a cost well beyond the town’s resources. The Anderson family was needed to give information to fill in the gaps. But so far, they weren’t talking. Formal charges hadn’t been filed. Every moment was critical. The district attorney had already contacted the sheriff’s office. Like everyone else, he wanted answers. The county was overwhelmed with all the attention and demands. The local news media were ready and waiting, eager to take the latest developments in the Snatcher case and sensationalize them.

Miriam pushed through to the front desk to get her visitor’s badge with Lou at her elbow escorting her. She knew she had her hands full. The feds were taking over now, which would make her involvement twice as difficult. She’d not only have to convince them to play ball, she’d also have to take on the very same department she’d resigned from a year prior. The deluged desk clerk looked up, adjusting his glasses, and studied Miriam. His round, reddish face had a surprised look. He wasn’t expecting to see her again so soon.

“Ms. Castillo. What are you doing back here?” he asked.

“Some things never change, Officer Sherman. Could I get a visitor badge, please?”

People filed by past her, waving their key cards into a scanner and then passing through a set of double doors leading inside where all the action was. The building was high security, but no one would know it from the number of people coming and going. Miriam looked up at a wall clock above Officer Sherman’s desk.

It had been an hour and a half since she last heard from Phillip Anderson. If she secured the release of his parents, would he keep his word? Was the word of a child murderer worth anything? Miriam didn’t think so, but she felt as though she had no other choice. He had Ana, which meant that he had everything.

Once she was badged, Lou escorted Miriam into the precinct only to have themselves called out from across the way by Captain Richard Porter—a stern but reasonable officer who had supervised the unit for the last five years. He was Miriam’s old boss—a constant thorn in her side, as she remembered it. Now he was at it again. However, the look of concern on his face said differently.

“In my office now, please,” he said, signaling to them from three rooms down the hall. They forewent the busy homicide division to their right and moved past the hordes of plainclothes and uniformed officers. They all seemed intent on pushing to the holding rooms across the way—where the Andersons no doubt had found residence.

Miriam sighed. Porter was meddling again, just like old times. She wanted Anderson’s parents freed, even if she had to smuggle them out of the precinct herself.

“I don’t have the patience for this,” she said quietly to Lou.

“Let’s just see what he wants,” he replied. “You can’t do this on your own. The sooner you get him on board, the better.”

As they got closer to his office, Captain Porter backed into his room and cleared it out. “That’s enough, ladies and gentlemen. Start preparing that excavation team.” Ten or so uniformed officers exited the room carrying notebooks, their faces worn and tired. Porter’s thin, lightly stubbled face looked just as weary.

Miriam hadn’t seen him in over a year. His short hair had gone from dark brown to gray. He closed the door behind them, pulled down its blinds, and pointed to a pair of green vinyl chairs in front of his desk.

The office was quiet and the muffled commotion outside seemed to come from a different world. With their main suspect still at large, there was no room for celebration. Papers were scattered all over Captain Porter’s desk. Both his office phone and cell phone rang without interruption.

He walked over, placed his cell phone on silent, and took his landline off the hook. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and adjusted his square-framed glasses. He pulled out his swivel chair but didn’t speak. Instead, he placed both hands flat on the surface of his mahogany desk and leaned forward.

“First of all, I am sorry to hear about your husband and daughter.”

Miriam had managed to hide all signs of anguish before entering the police station.

“Word travels fast,” he continued. “The Snatcher is on the loose and he has your daughter.”

She rocked back in her seat, burying her face in her hands. It took every last fiber of her being to not have a nervous breakdown in front of her former-colleagues and superiors.

Porter studied her sympathetically and cleared his throat. “I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. That’s why you need to leave it to the professionals.”

Miriam looked up and leaned forward, inquisitively. “What are you talking about?”

Lou decided to cut in. “Let me explain—”

Captain Porter raised a cautionary hand, waving it toward Lou. “No, let
me
explain. This five-year investigation goes well beyond kidnapping. The Anderson family faces at least twenty other state and federal violations. This is a great win for our department. Phillip Anderson is on the run, yes, but he won’t get far. We’ve got every lawman from Miami to Pensacola looking for him.”

Miriam shot up from her seat, anger rising. “I am not going to rely on the same people who failed to catch a man directly under their nose for five years. Do you think I would gamble the life of my daughter in such a way?”

Detective Lou looked at her nervously. Miriam’s face was flushed. Her heart was racing.

Captain Porter had gotten the message, though it seemed to have little effect. After a sigh, he continued. “I understand your skepticism, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. However, the feds are calling the shots, and your citizen vigilantism, I’m sorry, will only interfere with the investigation.”

Miriam pointed at her old boss with a shaky finger. “No one is going to stop me from trying to get Ana back. I don’t care if it’s the feds or the National Guard!”

“Can I say something?” Lou asked, raising his hand for quiet. Two pairs of eyes locked on him. “Sir. Miriam
did
find those girls. She’s gotten us to this point, and it’s cost her greatly. This department owes her. We owe her everything.”

Porter scratched his chin and interlocked his hands behind his back. He paced behind his desk in the silence that followed. Miriam wasn’t sure what else to say. She knew what she had to do, and was on a mission—with or without the help of her former colleagues and superiors.

“No one doubts the sacrifices she’s made,” Porter said, speaking almost as though she weren’t in the room. “And no one questions her skills as a police sergeant.” He paused. “But, Miriam, you’re a civilian now, and you need to leave the police work to the police.”

Miriam opened her mouth to speak, but Porter cut her off. “We know all about Phillip’s demands, how he sent you here to ensure the release of his parents. We know that he’s holding the life of your daughter over your head like a bartering tool. That is why it’s important that we do everything right to get your daughter back. To capture this monster, once and for all. And we can’t do that with you running around in the background with your own priorities.”

He paused again to let his words resonate with her—or so he hoped. It was a tough sell. Miriam wasn’t one to wait for others to do the work for her. She wasn’t going to stand on the sidelines while the cabal of local, state, and federal authorities tried to figure things out. It wasn’t their daughter, it was hers. That was what they didn’t understand.

“My advice,” he continued. “Spend time with your family. You parents and other relatives. Allow yourself some time to grieve for Freddy. Give us a couple of days and we’ll get Ana back. We promise.”

She pondered his words. They wanted her to step back and walk away, but why? Whatever the reason, she had no plans of recusing herself. Not for all the lectures in the world. “Reinstate me,” she said.

The captain turned to her, curious. “Excuse me?”

“Put me back on the force, and let’s work together on this.”

He appeared incredulous at the idea. “Miriam, I-I hardly think this is the time. You need to—”

“I need to what?” she asked.

Lou looked on, examining the certificates on the wall and not wanting to get involved in another potential battle of words and wills. Before Porter could respond, someone knocked loudly at his door.

“Who is it?” he responded.

“Agent Nettles, FBI,” a booming voice said. He didn’t wait to be invited in. Instead the knob turned, and he stuck his head inside. He was a clean-cut, square-jawed man with an intense blue-eyed glare and dark hair slicked back. He took one quick look around the room and zeroed in on Miriam.

“Is that her?” he asked, looking at Captain Porter.

“Her? As in…”

“The police sergeant who cracked the case?” he asked.

Porter stalled, not wanting to concede such an assessment. The FBI, it seemed, had plans different from his. “Well, Agent Nettles. There was no
one
person responsible. It was a joint effort. Detective O’Leary is recovering from wounds in the hospital as we speak.”

Nettles listened, half-interested. He opened the door fully and stepped inside as clamor from the hall entered the office with him. “Yeah, but she’s the one who found the bunker, correct?” He pointed directly at her as Porter conceded the fact.

Porter then looked up and introduced her to Agent Nettles. Miriam turned to him and shook his hand. His tight grip and direct eye contact immediately made her feel better. Perhaps they could work together. Nettles looked outside into the hallway, then slowly closed the door. As he turned around to address them once more, Porter interjected.

“Ms. Castillo was providing service purely in the role of adviser to Detective O’Leary. She, in fact, no longer serves in the capacity of a peace officer.”

“Okay. So we deputize her,” Nettles said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I don’t think she’s in any state to be assisting an investigation,” Porter said.

“We need her.” Nettles paused, noticing the skepticism on the captain’s face. “The Andersons are lawyering up. If we don’t charge them with something soon—within the next twenty-four hours—they walk.”

“And what does that have to do with her?” Porter asked.

“That’s who they want to speak to,” Nettles said. “Asked for her by name.”

Porter shook his head in utter confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Nettles said, but he made his point perfectly clear: The FBI wanted Miriam. She had just been given a voice, the chance she wanted. And she wasn’t going to waste a moment.

The captain reluctantly conceded, but decided to add a few facts he wasn’t sure Nettle was aware of. “Her daughter has been kidnapped.”

Nettles looked at her, surprised, as Porter continued. “Kidnapped by a man who claims to be Phillip Anderson.”

“It
was
Phillip Anderson,” Miriam said.

“Her husband was also murdered,” the captain added.

Nettles gave another surprised look, eyes even wider.

“My husband and I were separated,” she said, looking down. Very little of what had happened had truly sunk in yet. She didn’t want to think about it now. Couldn’t, in fact. To linger on Freddy’s too-recent death would destroy her. She had to keep moving.

The captain waved his hand as if to brush aside the whole idea of deputizing Miriam. “My concern is that Ms. Castillo isn’t in the right state of mind.” He made direct eye contact. “No one should be expected to operate in any capacity after what she’s been through.”

Nettles placed his hands on his hips. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. His ID badge hung in front of his red tie. “I didn’t know that.” He looked at Miriam with what seemed like real sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t want you to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I need to do this,” Miriam said. “Please.”

“Does that mean that you want to be a cop again?” Lou asked.

She looked at all three men as they waited for her answer. “Whatever it takes.”

All four holding rooms were occupied. Each room had a window that could not be seen through from the other side. The Anderson brothers were separated and placed in three different rooms. Their parents shared the last room and were seated at the table together. Miriam watched them from behind the glass. They were speaking with a slim, wavy-haired man dressed in a suit. His back was turned toward the window and his briefcase rested on the table.

“The Anderson family lawyer,” Nettles said, pointing.

Captain Porter and Lou squeezed into the tight-fitting viewing room, trying to look over Miriam’s shoulder. Nettles pressed a small button on the wall next to them. An intercom above them sounded, allowing them to hear the conversation.

The lawyer was saying:
“No one knows where Philip is. He’s on the run. But what we want to do is get you out of here. Secondly, you don’t say anything. I’ll have you out of here before sundown.”

Captain Porter looked at Lou. “That’s all contingent on what we find after the search of their salvage yard.”

“How many properties does the family own?” Miriam asked.

“None,” Lou said. “Phillip owns them all. And there’s twenty of them we know of throughout South Florida.”

“And what efforts have been made to search those properties?” she asked.

No one answered. She turned around. “A helicopter? Something?”

“We’re working on it,” Porter said, not wanting to elaborate any further.

Agent Nettles crossed his arms, watching the couple through the glass. Boone was a large man, over six feet tall, with short white hair and a thin matching beard. His eyes were magnified behind thick glasses, and he looked perpetually upset. He wore a pair of old-fashioned overalls on his large frame. His wife, Judith, was about half his size, with curly gray hair and an equally perturbed expression. The lawyer continued his promise that they would be released soon.