The Abducted Book 0 (10 page)

O’Leary watched her, impressed, as Hayes
nodded, considering her theory.

Miriam, fully in detective mode now, seemed
to reconsider what she had said or how she had said it and
backpedaled to a more modest view. “It’s just a theory. I’m
thinking textbook criminal here.”

“
We should start dusting those carts,
don’t you think?” O’Leary asked Hayes.

“
Yes. Right away,” Hayes said. He
walked over to the group of officers and called out to them,
pointing at the cart return. “Fellas, let’s go ahead and dust these
for prints. Who’s got a print kit?”

The officers got in gear and approached the
cart return. One of them carried a small black bag with him. He
unzipped the bag and began brushing each cart carefully with a pair
of latex gloves on.

O’Leary turned to Miriam. “I was going to
mention the cart thing too.’

“
Oh, were you?” she said with a
laugh.

“
Seriously, though. Good work.” He
looked up into the sky, satisfied. “I think this time it’s going to
be different. I think we can catch him in time. They’re checking
Mrs. Beckett for any DNA left on her from the assault. That plus
fingerprints on the cart will help us narrow down the
list.”

“
But will we do it in time, Detective?
That’s the question.”

They looked around, observing the active
crime scene. It was strange to think that somewhere, not too far
away, the Snatcher might be holding his latest victim.

“
You think he wants to be caught?”
O’Leary asked.

“
I have my suspicions,” Miriam
said.

He turned away and walked off toward his
car, beckoning her. “Here, let’s go down to the station. There’s
some stuff I want to show you and get your take on.”

She followed behind him as a helicopter flew
directly overhead, lower than before. She had heard that the FBI
was on its way. Could they make any difference? Could she? They got
into O’Leary’s car and left the crime scene behind. Every minute
mattered. Every hour brought them closer to losing Emily. This time
would be different. If not, Miriam wasn’t sure she could forgive
herself.

Portrait of a Suspect

Across from the fire station, the Lee County
Police Department was in view—one long brick building of multiple
departments and sections. The front parking lot was full of police
cruisers and unmarked vehicles. The visitor and employee parking
lot to the side of the building was reaching full capacity as well.
It seemed as though every officer was on call, even from
neighboring counties.

O’Leary found a spot at the far end of the
employee lot, close to a chain-link fence. Near the side entrance
of the building, Miriam saw a group of five men in suits huddled
together at and smoking next to an outdoor ashtray. As with the
officers at the crime scene, none of them stood out. Their faces
were a blur. O’Leary turned off the ignition and again noticed
Miriam’s nervous hesitation, the same initial reluctance she had
shown at the first crime scene.

“
It’s going to be okay. The last thing
on anyone’s mind around here is giving you the stink eye. Besides,
everyone on the force respects you. They know what
happened.”

Miriam shook her head. “I walked away.
Police have a thing about that. They never forget.”

O
’Leary opened his door
and shrugged. “You had no choice. Everyone knows that.”

Miriam opened her door slowly.
Cigarette smoke drifted past from the group of white-shirt-and-tie
smokers. It looked as though they were planning to burn the
midnight oil. She still didn’t know exactly why
O
’Leary was so keen on having her around. She didn’t
understand his motivations any more than she understood her own for
agreeing to go along with it. She chalked it up to desperation on
both their parts.

“
Where to now?” she asked as they
headed toward the building.

“
We’re going to look at some case
files and find a link.”

Miriam reached out and tugged on his arm in
protest until he stopped walking. They both did. The group of
smokers stopped and looked over at them. “Detective O’Leary, do you
really think now is the time to be going over paperwork? We’ve got
a little girl out there scared out of her mind. We need to be out
there looking for her. Taking action.”

O’Leary placed his hand on her shoulder to
calm her down. “I understand that, but we already have the whole
damn force on it. They’re probably running around in circles. We
need to take the little time we have and get it right.”

“
So we go door to door, check every
house in town,” Miriam said. “How hard could it be?”

O’Leary cleared his throat. “Look, Miriam.
In my line of work, I have three main things to go on—knowledge,
experience, and instinct.” After counting on his fingers, he looked
at her as though the matter was settled. “And I’ve never been as
determined to get it right as I am now.”

“
Me too,” she added.

“
So are you with me?” he asked,
signaling to the building.

“
As long as you agree to one thing,”
she said.

“
What’s that?”

“
That when we catch this guy, you let
me put a bullet between his eyes.”

He said nothing as they walked down
the sidewalk, past the smokers, and toward the employees’ side
entrance to the building. O
’Leary swiped his key card
near a sensor. He pulled the door open as it unlocked and held it
open for Miriam. She rewarded him with a nod.

A slightly overweight clerk in full police
uniform looked up from his desk as they entered.

O’Leary showed him his ID badge hanging from
a lanyard around his neck. He then pointed to Miriam. “Need a
visitor badge for Ms. Castillo here, please.”

The clerk nodded, took
Miriam
’s license, and ran her information. As they
waited, Miriam looked down the carpeted hall, flanked with offices
on both sides. The building itself was old, and some of the wood
paneling on the walls looked straight out of the 1970s.

Nicotine stains were still noticeable in
areas near the ceiling, reminders of a time when smoking indoors
was permitted, ages ago. They had remodeled and added onto the
building, but its fifty-year-old character still showed in places.
The hall smelled of coffee. Plain-clothed and uniformed officers
crossed from room to room, lost in their own work. It was the
busiest she had ever seen the place. Only one other time came to
mind: last year, following the Dawson abduction.

The clerk processed a visitor’s badge and
handed it to Miriam. They continued down the hall to the Criminal
Investigation Department, where his desk sat in the corner, with
paperwork piled high behind his nameplate. There were people
everywhere, men and women in suits mostly, on their phones,
gathering in small groups talking, and some typing wildly on their
computers. O’Leary didn’t know who half of the people were.

One look at his desk, and he turned away,
turning to Miriam. “Let’s find someplace else where we can do this.
Somewhere quiet.”

She nodded, and they walked along desks and
stopped at a corner cubicle where a tall, mustached detective was
at his computer typing with one hand and holding a turkey club
sandwich in the other. His sleeves were rolled up. His eyes darted
across the screen as he typed.

O’Leary leaned in and slapped the man on the
shoulder. “Looks like the circus is in town. All these people
coming to see your mustache?” O’Leary said, smiling.

Lou looked up, startled but then
amused.
“Very funny, Dwight. They’re here to see the
Incredible Dateless Wonder, which is perfect now that you’re in
town.”

O’Leary tried to get him in a headlock, but
Lou backed away in his old-fashioned rolling chair. Miriam stood
quietly to the side, amused. O’Leary looked back and signaled to
her. “You remember Sergeant Castillo.”

Lou gave her a friendly nod and extended his
hand. “Yes, of course. Welcome back, Sergeant.”

Miriam shook his hand. “Just Miriam’s
fine.”

“
Very well,” Lou said. His attention
went to O’Leary as his tone and expression turned serious. “It’s a
madhouse here. They brought in two departments from two different
counties. This latest kidnapping doesn’t reflect well on us, for
sure.”

“
I don’t understand,” O’Leary said.
“This guy has never struck in the same town twice. Why
now?”

Lou shrugged and took a bite of his
turkey sandwich.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe
he has nowhere else to go.”

“
Or maybe he’s getting lazy,” Miriam
said.

O
’Leary leaned close to
Lou. “We’re trying to keep a low profile here with her. Think you
can help us?”

Lou seemed confused.
“What do you mean?”

“
I need some place where me and her
can talk in private and go over some files together. Specifically
the Gowdy files.”

Lou raised both brows.
“Careful, Dwight. You don’t want to go barking up the wrong
tree. Guy tried to sue us before, and he’ll do it
again.”

“
I just need somewhere away from all
this commotion,” O’Leary said.

Lou stood up from his squeaking swivel
chair and stretched. He looked around.
“You can take
the B room. I think it should be open.”

“
Great,” O’Leary said. “Thanks.” He
looked at Miriam and signaled toward the exit. “This way.” They
left without drawing too much attention to themselves. O’Leary led
her down another hall to a small interview room. There was a table
in the middle and a chair on each side—the walls barren except for
a clock with a big face and Roman numerals hanging in the
middle.

“
No one should bother us in here,” he
said, holding the door open for her. Miriam eyed the room
suspiciously.

“
If you’re so sure that this Gowdy you
mention is your man, why haven’t you arrested him?” she
asked.

“
Because I could be wrong. And if I
am, that means we’ll never find Emily in time.”

Miriam pulled a chair out from the table and
sat. O’Leary promised to be back quickly with the files and left
the room, locking the door behind him. She looked around the small,
lifeless room, trying not to feel like a prisoner herself. She
pulled out her cell phone and sent Freddy a text message asking how
Ana was doing. He sent a message back saying that she had gone to
bed. She replied, asking him what he was doing.

“
Just watching
TV,
” the message said.

She thanked him again and said
goodbye. When he replied with “
good
night
,” she said, “
Yeah
right
.” She scrolled through the news on her phone,
looking for any mentions of the kidnapping, when the door
unlocked
and O
’Leary walked in. He was
balancing a box filled to the brim with files and pushed the door
shut. Miriam couldn’t believe it.
This was
what they were going to be doing?

He dropped the box on the table with a thud
and rolled his sleeves up. He began pulling files out of the box
and setting them on the table—and appearing out of breath.

“
Don’t let that box beat you up,”
Miriam said.

O
’Leary looked up.
“You’ll be saying the same about both of us here soon.” He pointed
to the first file, which he had placed on the desk in front of
Miriam. “This is Jenny Dawson’s cold case file. We need to look
through it piece by piece.”

Overwhelmed, Miriam placed her head in
her hands. She still wasn’t entirely convinced that going through
files was going to help them find Emily.
“How much are
you paying me again?”

O
’Leary offered a nervous
laugh. “We can do this. Just focus.”

“
We could be here for days. Why don’t
you start by telling me about this suspect of yours? This Gowdy
fellow,” she said.

He searched inside the box and pulled out
another file, equally thick and secured within a large mailing
envelope. He tossed the file on the table in front of Miriam,
covering up Jenny’s file.

“
His name is Ray Gowdy, and he’s the
closest thing to a suspect that I have.”

She looked down. “Gowdy File”
was written in black permanent marker on the envelope. Miriam
untied the thin string over the seal and pulled the file out. It
was packed with reports, statements, photos, and other documents,
all providing a glimpse into one of Palm Dale’s most notorious
residents.

He was a man with a record that began with
small, petty crimes he committed as a young adult. By thirty-seven,
he had been to prison multiple times for battery and assault—among
other offenses. His mug shots showed a progression from his
earliest years to his latest—from a shaggy-haired, smooth-faced
youth to a man with a beard, graying hair, and some noticeable
scars on his face.

Things began to come back to Miriam. She
remembered Gowdy. He was always thought of around the station as
the go-to suspect for any crime in the area. But she never saw him
do anything. For the past five years, his record had been
clean.

O
’Leary provided her
further insight as she flipped through his arrest record. Gowdy had
come to Palm Dale from Birmingham, Alabama, in his teens with his
mother. He befriended the Anderson boys in high school, especially
the second eldest, Phillip. The Andersons belonged to a family that
owned the lucrative auto salvage and recycling plant located off
the last interstate exit out of town.