The Abducted Book 0 (5 page)

But then something hit him—a sudden rush of
hope and optimism that he hadn’t felt in some time, as though she
was still out there, waiting for him to finally bring her home. The
sudden rush of hope that flowed through him didn’t feel misguided.
It felt completely genuine.

Patricia leaned against the door frame and
spoke. “What’s your verdict, Detective?”

“
I’m staying on,” he answered. “Can’t
guarantee anything, but I’ll try.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she
smiled.
“Thank you.”

She stepped aside as he left the room.
He thanked her for the orange juice and walked out the front door,
unsure of what had just transpired. He was aware of a newfound
vigor, but he couldn
’t do it alone. He needed the
assistance of the only person, to his knowledge, who had
encountered the Snatcher; a person who had long disappeared from
the public eye.

It had been some time, but he was determined
to find her and talk to her. He got into his green Taurus and
exited the Dawson estate through the squeaky automated gate. It was
time to go to the office and check with Records. He needed an
address and was certain that they still had her on file, and he
would find her, wherever she was.

***

Miriam was trying to cut down on her energy
drinks, but it was afternoon, and like clockwork, she needed one to
make it through the rest of the day. She cracked open a Monster and
took a sip while rocking back in her office chair. Things got
especially busy later in the afternoon at the moving company in
Sarasota, Florida, where she worked as an assistant operations
manager.

Her job mainly involved dispatching, where
her bilingualism and experience using a radio proved to be an
asset. From her single office, she could see the shop floor, where
a line of trucks was parked—some with trailers as long as forty
feet.

She checked her email, expecting the usual
slew of spam, truck requests, and customer complaints. Some of
everything awaited her. A mustached associate named Ed passed by
and knocked on her window.

“
Got that dispatch ready
yet?”

“
Which one?” she asked through the
window.

“
The twenty footer. Moving a
two-bedroom in one hour.”

She grabbed a clipboard on her desk, the
paperwork already complete, and pushed it through a slot for the
man to take.

“
You’re on it, as always,” he said
with a grin.

She nodded back and resumed dealing
with her email. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail. She
wore a dark-red short-sleeved polo shirt with the company logo on
it and blue jeans—a distinct change from her old police uniform.
Still slim and attractive, Miriam often found herself on the
receiving end of date requests from her largely male staff. She had
given it a shot from time to time, but something in her told her
she wasn
’t ready, even though the ink on her divorce
papers was two years old.

Maybe it was her. She couldn’t figure
it out. All that mattered at the end of the day was her daughter.
But at twelve, Ana was getting older.
“Mommy”
had long morphed into “Mom.” Ana was also starting to talk about
boys. She was the spitting image of her mom—with a little of her
father’s wild streak in her personality. Miriam had an idea of what
she was in for. It was inevitable.

She took another sip of her energy drink
just when her office phone rang, a single red button flashing on
the line, indicating an outside call.

“
East Coast Trucking,” she said,
taking the call.

A man
’s voice greeted
her. “Is this Miriam Castillo?”

“
Yes…” she answered, holding the phone
against her ear with her shoulder while opening some
mail.

“
Miriam Castillo?”

She paused.
“Who is
this?”

“
Oh. I’m sorry, Ms. Castillo. This is
Detective Dwight O’Leary.”

She dropped the envelopes and then
grabbed the phone.
“Detective O’Leary?” She could feel
her heart beating faster. The past raced back to her at the mention
of his name.

“
Yes. Lee County Crime Investigation
Division.”

“
Yes, what can I help you with?” Part
of her was ready to hang up the phone then and there, but curiosity
kept her on the line. “And how did you get this number?”

She heard the sound of mild laughter
on the other end.
“Well, I am a detective after
all.”

“
That’s funny, but I’m very busy, so
please…”

“
Yes, yes. Of course. I apologize. I
heard you’re living in Sarasota now?”

Miriam hesitated but answered out of
respect for O’Leary. She recalled him as being a good, honest
detective.
“That’s correct.”

She could sense his own hesitation on
the other end. He wasn
’t about to offer her a million
bucks. He had a motive, and she was curious as to what it was. “Do
you think you could give me an hour? Two hours tops?”

“
For what?” she asked
warily.

“
I’m about two hours away now. I could
be in your area a little after five. I’d love to catch up, maybe go
out for a drink.”

“
Detective O’Leary, I don’t know what
to say. This is very short notice, and I have plans. Maybe some
other time?” She didn’t have plans beyond making dinner for Ana,
but she wasn’t up for it nonetheless.

“
Listen, Sergeant. I need your help.
I’m back in the game, and you’re the only one who can bring the
Dawson case across the finish line.”

She felt infuriated by his
tone.
“I’m no longer a police officer, understand?
That’s all behind me now. Good day, Detective…”

“
No, no, wait!”

She paused, holding the phone.

“
I understand how you feel,” he said.
I know what the department did to you. They burned you, and it
wasn’t right. But this isn’t about them. Hell, it’s certainly not
about me. This is about Jenny Dawson and her family.”

“
What are you talking about?” she
snapped.

“
I’m talking about meeting up. A brief
chat and nothing more.”

She looked at her wall clock and then to the
computer screen. Employees passed by her window. One of the trucks
in the distance roared to life. Another knock at her window, a
driver standing there waiting for a dispatch. His name was Brent, a
quiet man with a slight paunch and bored composure.

“
Think you could help me out?” O’Leary
asked.

She handed Brent a clipboard. He
turned and walked away, saying nothing. It was the same thing day
in and day out. She had pushed all thoughts of her time on the
police force so far back into her mind that she had just begun to
realize how boring her new life truly was. Maybe
O
’Leary could use her help.

“
Okay,” she said. “One hour. I live at
2047 Weatherford Lane—”

“
Oh, I have your address. Thanks,” he
said.

Miriam said nothing. She wasn’t surprised
that he had already looked it up.

“
How’s your place, five thirty? Or we
could just meet up somewhere else.”

“
My place is fine,” she said. “I have
to be there when Ana gets home.”

“
Sounds great. Thanks, and I’ll see
you then.”

She hung up the phone and stared at
her computer screen. She felt overcome with mixed emotions,
simmering just below the surface.
All she could do in
response was sigh.

The Meetup

Miriam left work feeling a strange mix
of dread and anticipation. She had spent the past year getting her
life back together, while O
’Leary was dredging
everything back up. After losing the Snatcher and failing to
protect her partner, her face had been all over the news, and her
newfound celebrity was not something she’d wanted.

With no viable suspect in the Jenny Dawson
case, the blame for the missing girl and the death of Deputy Lang
fell squarely on her. The local media were out for blood. They
blamed internal incompetence and poor police work. In turn, the
department threw her under the bus. She was investigated, demoted,
and taken off patrol. The damage to her career was irreversible. So
one day, she’d walked away from it all. She left the force and
moved away where no one knew her—or so she’d hoped.

But O
’Leary had found
her. That was no surprise. She was still in the public record. She
hadn’t changed her name. She had left to find a fresh start and was
content, so far, with her decision. As she drove home, she began
having second thoughts about his unwelcome visit.

Her memory of that day came roaring back to
her. Her hands shook on the wheel. Her face felt flushed as sweat
formed on her forehead. She was ready to turn around and call the
entire meeting off. But as she reached the back road of her
neighborhood, she could already see a green Ford Taurus at the end
of the driveway. As she got closer, O’Leary came into view, rougher
looking than she remembered him, leaning against the hood of the
car.

“
You’re persistent,” she said under
her breath.

She pulled into the driveway next to him as
he waved and stepped back a bit. Her curiosity was piqued. For him
to make the drive, there had to be something worthwhile at hand.
She turned off the ignition, grabbed her purse, and got out of the
car.

The sky was overcast following a week
of showers—which usually started around the time she got off work.
She had been spared that today. O
’Leary waited
patiently at the hood of his car, eyes hidden behind dark
sunglasses.

“
Hope you don’t mind,” he said as
Miriam walked around her Tahoe. “I thought I’d just wait here for
you.”

“
That’s fine,” she said. But it really
wasn’t. She had wanted
some
time to unwind—a few minutes to take off her shoes, sit down,
and relax.

“
Sure you don’t want to meet up
somewhere else? I passed a coffee shop on my way here about two
miles away.”

She considered the proposal but
didn
’t want to drag things out any longer. It was best
to get it all out of the way. The sooner the better. “You’re here.
Let’s just talk inside.”

“
Sounds great,” he said with a
smile.

“
This won’t take long, will it? I need
to start dinner soon for Ana.”

“
How is she doing?”

“
Fine. She’s starting eighth grade
next school year.”

“
You look nice.” He said it out of the
blue with a sheepish grin.

“
Thank you,” she said, blushing
slightly. She looked him up and down, taking notice of the scruffy
chin and his disheveled hair. “Wish I could say the same for you,
but… well.”

O
’Leary’s smile dropped.
“Thanks a lot! You know, I had a very long night.”

Miriam laughed as she walked ahead
along the cobblestone path leading to the front door. She lived in
a modest two-bedroom house, surrounded by similar-looking homes
that had been around for decades.
“Come on in,
Detective Sensitive.”

O
’Leary shook his head
and waited as Miriam tried the doorknob. It was locked even though
Ana was supposed to be home. She pulled the keys from her purse
just as thunder faintly boomed in the distant sky.

“
Storm’s been following me all the way
from Palm Dale,” O’Leary said.

She turned back, opening the
door.
“Well, if it’s anything like what we had
yesterday, you don’t want to stay here too long.”

“
I think I get the hint,” he said,
following her inside.

Past the foyer, the house was stuffy
and old looking but clean. Miriam hung her purse and keys on some
nearby hooks and led O
’Leary to the kitchen, where she
opened a window and turned on some lights.

“
Have a seat,” she said, motioning to
the kitchen table. She noticed a note from Ana sitting on the red
tablecloth.

Mom, @
Jessica
’s house working on our geography
project. Will be home by 8. XOXO - Ana

“
Cute,” she said to herself, note in
hand.

“
What’s that?” O’Leary said,
indicating the note and walking over.

She turned around, startled.
“Oh… nothing.” She held up the note with a smile. “Kids… The
only time Ana doesn’t text me is when she’s afraid I’ll say
no.”

“
So she left a note?” O’Leary
said.

“
You know it.”

“
Very clever,” he said, pulling out
one of the three chairs at the small, circular table.

“
How’s your son? Nathan, right?” she
asked, walking to the sink.

“
He’s fine,” O’Leary answered. “Living
with his mother now.”

Miriam turned and leaned against the
counter.
“I’m sorry. I forgot…”

O
’Leary waved a hand to
reassure her that everything was OK. “No, no. It’s for the best,
really.”