The Abducted Book 0 (9 page)

“
I will.”

“
I know you’ll do great on the
spelling bee.” She then kissed Ana on the forehead. “I love
you.”

“
I love you too,” Ana said, eyes
down.

Miriam straightened up, patted Ana on
the head, and then turned her attention to Freddy.
Static chatter played out on O’Leary’s police radio. Miriam
gave Freddy a trusting and appreciative look. “Thank you for doing
this. Especially on short notice.”

Freddy shrugged.
“Hey,
what are ex-husbands for?” They both smiled.

Miriam pointed at him.
“Don’t let her out of your sight. You hear me?”

Freddy put his hand over his
chest.
“I won’t. I promise.”

Miriam gave him a quick hug and
thanked him again. She said goodbye one last time to Ana and then
went around to the other side of O
’Leary’s car, with
Freddy following behind her. He opened the car door and closed it
gently after she was inside. Ana stood next to him, and he put his
arm around her shoulder as they walked back toward the
house.

“
You ready to do this?” O’Leary asked
as Miriam put her seat belt on.

“
As ready as I’ll ever be,” Miriam
said.

O
’Leary shifted into
reverse. Miriam waved to Ana and Freddy, who had turned to watch as
O’Leary backed out of the driveway.

“
See you in a week!” she
said.

“
Bye, Mom!”

The Crown Victoria roared off down the
street, leaving Miriam’s house, daughter, and ex-husband in the
distance. She still wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, but
whatever it was, it felt like the right thing. If there was any
hope of finding the Snatcher before the next girl was taken, she
wanted to be a part of it.

Crime Scene

O
’Leary merged onto the
highway, headed south toward Palm Dale. Miriam hadn’t gone anywhere
near the town since moving away. There were many unanswered
questions to discuss between them. Oddly enough, however, the
conversation didn’t begin with the case.

“
So you and Freddy?” O’Leary
began.

Miriam turned to him. It was a
harmless question, but she still felt imposed upon.
“Me and Freddy what?”

O
’Leary shifted in his
seat. “Didn’t mean to get personal. I was just curious.”

“
That’s okay,” Miriam said. “He’s
going to watch Ana while I’m gone.”

“
That’s good,” O’Leary said, ending it
there. “So where do you want to start?” he asked.

“
We need to get an idea of who we’re
looking for,” Miriam said. “Any witnesses or descriptions they
could put an APB out on?”

“
Nothing yet,” O’Leary
said.

Miriam looked at him cockeyed and in
disbelief. “What do you mean,
nothing
yet
? This man punched a mother in the
face—”

O’Leary cut her off. “In broad daylight, I
know. I went over this with Lou. And the mother says she was hit by
a woman, not a man.”

“
A woman?” Miriam repeated, shocked.
Though it would make sense. She, herself, could remember the long
blond hair of the driver who’d shot her partner in cold blood. The
image was seared into her brain and would never fade. But a woman
kidnapping children was nearly unheard of. Certainly in Palm
Dale.

“
I’m not buying it either. Doesn’t fit
the profile,” O’Leary said.

“
He’s wearing a disguise,” Miriam
ventured. “A wig, probably.”

O’Leary’s eyes went back to the road
as Miriam thought to herself. She
tugged at the sleeve
of her jean jacket and adjusted her ponytail. The white-striped
road raced by as they continued on rural I-75, thirty-five miles
from Palm Dale and closing in.

O
’Leary pulled on his
tie, trying to loosen the collar of his button-down shirt. It felt
as though he had been wearing the same standard shirt and suit for
the past decade. The thought came to him that he should have been
promoted by now. But that was the least of his concerns. They had a
girl to find. One to two days max. Any longer than that, and he was
certain that she’d become the next cold case in a long line of
them.

He had placed a briefcase containing some of
the case files on the passenger-side floor, and Miriam began
flipping through them. She pulled out the one marked “criminal
profile.” She had her own ideas but looked through the faded manila
folder with interest nonetheless.

The suspect was presumed to be living in the
area, or at least within South Florida. He had staked his claim,
and he would keep plundering it again and again until he was
stopped.

For their suspect, abducting young girls was
an obsession, something he did to appease a sick urge he was unable
to suppress. But without recovering a single body, investigators
could only presume that sexual assault was central in all the
abductions. Whether he killed his victims or locked them in a
basement remained to be seen.

She
closed the first file
and opened another one, filled with police reports of abductions
from Cape Coral, Harlem Heights, Cypress Lake, and McGregor—all
cities within the same county. Now Palm Dale had two abductions on
its plate.

“
We have to consider that these girls
mean everything to him,” O’Leary said. “He shot your partner to
keep from getting caught. So he has something to lose. A family
maybe, or a job. Those are the lengths he’ll go to. And anyone who
can pull the trigger like he did has probably killed
before.”

“
A complete psychopath,” Miriam added.
“But he’s smart enough to know how to hide it. He’s not
greedy.”

O
’Leary nodded. “That’s
what I was thinking. He’s got impeccable restraint. But he’s never
going to stop.” He paused and looked at Miriam. “What do you
think?”

“
I don’t know,” she answered with a
sigh. “I’ve spent so long blocking him from my mind, it’s hard to
get back into this.” She turned to look out the window, thinking,
as miles of darkened cow fields passed by. “Maybe I jumped into
this too early.”

“
Nonsense,” O’Leary said. “It’ll all
come back to you soon. I know you have it in you.”

“
I appreciate the confidence, but we
don’t have the time for things to start coming back to
me
.
I need to get it together
fast.
” She went to the files on her lap as the police
radio crackled with updates on the child abduction case.

“
Amber Alert issued
approximately one hour ago. Suspect is described by the victim’s
mother as a large female, at least two hundred and thirty pounds,
with a beehive hairdo and bright polka-dot dress.”

Miriam and O’Leary looked at each other with
skepticism.

“
Seriously?” Miriam said.

“
Stranger things have happened,”
O’Leary said.

They passed flatlands of never-ending rivers
and marshes—and a sign reading twenty-four miles to Palm Dale—a
town Miriam had vowed never to return to. Now they were looking for
an obese woman from the 1950s. It didn’t make any sense, but then
again it made perfect sense—in line with Miriam’s belief that their
suspect wore disguises.

“
What better way to gain the trust of
young girls if you’re dressed up as a woman?” she said.

O’Leary nodded. “What, like a
cross-dresser?”

“
Whatever you want to call it. Our
suspect is a man. That’s what you need to tell your guys. He’s good
at what he does and feels empowered with each new
victim.”

O
’Leary cleared his
throat. “Off topic, I wanted to let you know that you will be
compensated for this as an outside adviser, in case you were
wondering.”

“
With or without pay, my intentions
are the same,” Miriam said.

“
But you’ll take the money, though,
right?”

“
I’m not stupid,” Miriam
said.

O
’Leary laughed. “Of
course you’re not.”

They passed fields of orange groves
leading into the town. Miriam took a deep breath as the speed limit
fell, the buildings were set closer together, and they came into
town. It looked the same as Miriam remembered it. The historic
downtown area had its shops, bars, and restaurants—quaint
and
old fashioned with brick buildings, old signs, and
narrow roads with cars parked on the side of the street.

O’Leary pushed a button, rolled down both
passenger and driver windows, and leaned his arm out as the cool
air flowed inside the car. Beyond the business district,
residential neighborhoods had grown by the dozens over the years.
Initially a retirement community, Palm Dale had grown into suburban
sprawl with modestly priced housing for families that had come from
all over. There were schools, a library, lakes, parks, and hiking
trails. That was the Palm Dale most people in the area knew. But to
venture beyond the suburbs was a different world all together among
the wilderness and wide-ranging marshes.

It was late in the evening when they pulled
into the Safeway lot. An entire row of spaces had been cordoned
off. There were police cars everywhere, their lights still
flashing. A news van was parked off to the side. A female reporter
stood in front of the Safeway with the bright lights of the camera
on her face as she spoke into her microphone.

O’Leary parked near a line of police tape
and turned off the ignition. Miriam looked at the police officers
standing around—twenty or so of them—trying to see if she
recognized anyone. She felt immediately out of place.

“
Let’s do this,” O’Leary said, opening
his door.

She turned to face him. “What do you want me
to do?”

“
Just observe. See if you can put some
fresh eyes on this scene. Where was he parked? How did he get Emily
into his vehicle without notice?”

“
What could I possibly find that the
twenty officers on site haven’t already?” she asked.

O’Leary offered a smile of confidence.
“Plenty. Just stick with me.”

He got out of the car, giving Miriam an
encouraging smile, and watched as she pushed open her door,
hesitating for a moment before stepping out. They approached the
scene unnoticed by the other investigators and officers, who were
deep within their own work. The area cordoned off had been cleared,
with the exception of Karen Beckett’s blue Nissan Sentra. O’Leary
approached one of the investigators there, an older man named Hayes
who wore a suit almost identical to O’Leary’s.

He introduced Miriam as his consultant.
Hayes didn’t seem to bat an eye or even recognize her, for which
she was relieved. Detective Hayes led them to the car, where
another investigator was taking pictures, his camera flashing in
bursts that came in quick succession.

“
Knocked her out right here,” Hayes
said, pointing at the pavement next to the car. A helicopter flew
by in the distance with its spotlight on. Miriam scanned the area.
There were at least a dozen other media vans parked along the front
of the Safeway store with their antennas raised high in the air.
She could feel it in her bones. They were going to have a field day
with this one. The Lee County Police Department had not only failed
to catch the Snatcher the first time. He had struck again, and they
were no closer to figuring anything out than they had been a year
ago.

“
I don’t get it,” O’Leary said to
Hayes, frustrated. “Not a single witness? How is that
possible?

“
So far nothing. But we’re still
interviewing a slew of people who were around here when it
happened,” Hayes said.

Recognizing her own words in O’Leary’s
bafflement, Miriam split from the group, making her way around the
scene. Apparently, search teams had already been deployed
throughout the surrounding area, intending to search up to a
ten-mile radius. Mandatory checkpoints had been put into place. It
seemed impossible that anyone could get away so easily without
drawing notice—especially given the suspect’s appearance.

Dressed down and looking out of place in her
jean jacket and pants, Miriam approached the cart-return slot
across from the Nissan and examined the line of carts haphazardly
pushed into it. A thought occurred to her as she walked back to
where O’Leary was asking question after question of another
investigator.

“
Excuse me,” she said. “Has anyone
looked at those carts yet?”

O’Leary stopped as he and Hayes switched
their focus to the cart return.

“
I mean, if Mrs. Beckett was just
leaving the grocery store, I doubt she had time to return her cart
before being assaulted.”

“
Well?” O’Leary said, looking at
Hayes.

Hayes stuttered. “Yes, that makes perfect
sense.”

“
So why not dust all the carts for
prints?” she continued. “It looks like our suspect took the time to
return it for her.”

“
But why would she take the risk?”
Hayes asked. He seemed to be in the camp that believed the suspect
was female.

Miriam took the question. “Because by now
whoever we’re dealing with is getting bored, playing games with us.
Whenever an offender gets away with his crimes, a part of him
yearns to get caught. A part of him desires the closure in it.”