Deadly Holidays (4 page)

"And photos!  I want photographs!"  She interrupted.

"Surveillance and photos are part of the package.  Shall we discuss the costs?"

"No, discussing the costs is not necessary.  I'll pay whatever you want.  If my idiot husband is stupid enough to cheat on me, I'll have my attorney take him to the cleaners.  Money is no object.  Just do your job and don't let him catch you."

<><><> 

Large pieces of lacy snowflakes filled the air as Frankie headed toward her car.  She buttoned her coat and wound her red woolen scarf around her neck, then slipped on her gloves.  Frankie couldn't remember the last time she was this excited.  If there was one thing she needed right now, it was a lucrative project.  Mr. Arthur Holden owned
the Holden Gasket Factory, as did his father and his father before him.  The factory employed fifty percent of the county, and provided one hundred percent of the pollution.  Yes, she thought with a smile, this could be a very lucrative project.

Frankie and her husband, Lane, had been living from paycheck-to-paycheck all year, thanks to the lousy economy and its impact on her small business.  Everyone was cutting back, including the insurance companies that had fed a fair amount of money into her business in their search for disability cheaters.  Lane had taken a second job doing security for a local warehouse, and she felt guilty every time he came home late.  If her business hadn't been so slow, he would have been home at night with her and Ashley, their three-year-old.  Frankie missed Lane.  He often came home so late, and so exhausted; he dropped into bed and was asleep within seconds.

Frankie turned left at the end of the Holden's long driveway and headed back to her office in town to do some Internet research on Mr. Arthur Holden.  She planned to start surveillance as soon as she could.  She'd driven about fifteen miles when she noticed an older black Dodge Ram and a blue Toyota Corolla blocking the entrance to the Wabash River Bridge.  Parking behind the Toyota, she got out of her car and walked toward two men, who were having a heated conversation in the middle of the bridge.  Engrossed in their debate, they ignored the snow falling around them, dusting their hair and jackets.  As she drew closer, she noticed a huge section of the bridge's guardrail was no longer there.

"Hey, what's going on?" she called out.  The man wearing a camouflage hoodie dismissed her with a glance, and then turned around to continue his debate with an older man, who was adamantly waving his arms as he talked.

"Damn it," he said with a voice filled with frustration.  "I drive this bridge every day, and I'm telling you that piece of guardrail was there yesterday."

"Oh, come on.  This bridge must be twenty years old, it probably dropped off long ago," argued camouflage man.

Frankie walked past them to examine the area where the guardrail used to be.  The metal of the guardrail was ripped away, leaving behind a sharp, jagged edge.  There were patches of red paint on the remaining metal.  She moved to the edge of the bridge and peered down at the swirling dark water below. 

"I'm no expert," she called out to the men, who seemed to notice her for the first time.  "But I'm guessing by the width of this gap in the railing and by the red paint on the metal's edge that there's been a car accident here."

She headed back to her car for her cell phone to call Lane and report the incident.  As she passed the man in the camouflage hoodie, she said, "Oh, and it happened recently. 
Very
recently."

<><><> 

Shawn Isaac leaned against the Elm Street signpost and sighed.  He'd been either running or walking for a long time.  He'd never walked this far, and he was cold.  His legs and feet hurt, and his toes felt frozen.  The snow was falling harder, and dusted the shoulders of his navy winter coat.  He wished he had remembered his gloves.  But as tired as he was, he was proud of himself for remembering the way to Billy's house.  This was Billy's street and his house was not far from this sign. Shawn knew Billy's house well.  He'd been coming to Billy's house since both boys were two-years-old.  That was back when his mommy was still working.   She'd dropped him off before work and picked him up after.  Billy's mommy, Cheryl, was a nice babysitter and made the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ever.  Shawn secretly wished Cheryl were his mommy, too.  She didn't get drunk like his mommy, and she didn't give Billy beatings for no reason.

He'd started walking again when he heard a car motor.  He turned to see a police car coming toward him from the end of the street.  If the policeman saw him, he'd make him go home, then his mommy would beat him when she got there.  He ran behind a house, peeking around the side until the police car passed.

By the time he climbed onto Billy's front porch, Shawn was exhausted and hungry.  He gazed in the front window and could see Billy sitting in front of the television.  Shawn tapped on the glass and motioned for Billy to let him in. 

"Hi, Shawn.  Come in.  We can play with my Army men," said Billy excitedly.

"Where's your mom?" asked Shawn.

"She's cleaning the basement.  She's been down there all morning and I'm lonely."

"Do you have anything to eat?  I'm hungry."

After a lunch of peanut butter sandwiches, a glass of milk, and a chocolate pudding cup, the boys went to Billy's room to play Army. 

"I can't go home," said Shawn after a while, blinking back tears.

"Why not?" ask Billy.

"My mommy will hit me, and my bruises haven't gone away from last time."  The little boy lifted his shirt to reveal a thick band of purple and blue bruises on his back.  "I'm really scared, Billy, and I wish I had a place to hide."

"Come with me," said Billy as he pulled at Shawn's arm.  In the hallway, Billy opened a door to reveal a staircase that led to an attic on the third floor.  Shawn had been in the house many times, but had never noticed that door.  "See, Shawn.  You can hide in the secret room upstairs.  No one will find you."

"But what about your mom and dad?"

"If you're very quiet, they won't know you're up there.  I can bring you food, and when Mommy is cleaning, you can come down to go to the bathroom.  It will be fun."  Billy said as a grin spread from ear-to-ear.

To a frightened five-year-old boy, it seemed the perfect solution, and an adventure, at that.

<><><> 

It was 2:00 p.m. by the time Blake reached the sheriff's office conference room, where Tim and Lane sat at an oval oak conference table, planning the search for Shawn Isaac.

"Listen, the kid has only been missing for two and a half hours," said Tim.

"True," responded Lane, "But there are two strange elements to this situation that have me worried."

"What's that?" asked Blake as he removed his coat, draping it across the back of a chair as he sat down.

"First of all, we can't find his mother.  There are a limited number of bars she could have gone to in this county, and she's not at any of them.  Her friends said she called them on her cell phone right after the hearing.  She was on her way to meet them.  Why isn't she there?"

Tim chimed in, "Have our deputies checked the house she's renting, or the farm house where she used to live?"

"Yes," answered Lane. "She's not there, either.  It's like she disappeared into thin air.  I've got Sam Brown doing a cell phone history and tower search now.  I'll follow up with a warrant."

"I was thinking," Blake began.  "Could John Isaac have abducted his son either to get back at Eve, or to punish Shawn for testifying?"

“That's my second concern,” said Lane.  “John Isaac is missing, too.".

Blake's eyebrows raised in amazement. "What?"

"John Issac was on probation for an unrelated assault charge last year. He had an appointment with his probation officer, Lana Baldwin, right after the hearing.  He was a no-show, so she called it in.  We sent deputies to his apartment, and he's not there.  No one's seen him.  I've got Sam tracking his cell phone, too."

Tim scratched his chin and asked, "Could the three of them be together?"

"Not likely," said Blake.  "Shawn left the courthouse after Eve, and he was walking in the opposite direction from the lot where she would have parked her car."

"I'll feel like we have a better handle on this when the parents are located," said Tim, walking toward the door. "Keep me updated," he said, closing the door behind him.

Lane got up, walked over to the coffee pot, and filled two mugs to the top with the dark, steamy brew.

He sat back down and handed one of the mugs to Blake.  "Let's talk about what's been done so far to find Shawn, then you can think about your plan of action."

"Sounds good.  He's been missing two and a half hours.  You know as well as I do how critical the first twenty-four hours are when a child is missing."

"Right," said Lane.  "That's why I went ahead and did an Amber Alert notification.  Television and radio stations are now broadcasting that Shawn is missing.  They have a good description of him, as well as a photo I got from the grade school he attends.  In addition, I had our computer techs put the notification on the sheriff's website.  That's a whole lot of viewers, listeners and Internet surfers who will see the alert, and maybe have information on his whereabouts."

"Good.  What about the deputies?  Are they helping?" asked Blake.  His concern grew with every minute that passed.

"I put a BOLO on Shawn, and deputies will keep their eye out for him as they do their regular jobs."

Sam Brown rushed in the room, nearly knocking the conference room door off its hinges. "I've got it!  I've got cell tower history on both Eve and John Isaac's cell phones.  Get this.  We lost signal for both phones at the same time.  But I have the latitude and longitude of where they were when we lost signal.  They were near the cell tower over on Covered Bridge Road, by the bridge that goes over the Wabash River.

Lane's cell phone vibrated in his jacket.  When he pulled it out, he noticed it was Frankie calling.  "I need to take this," he said as he moved into the hallway.

"Hey, babe, what's going on?"

"Lane, I'm at the Wabash River Bridge on Covered Bridge Road.  A big section of the bridge's guardrail is missing, and there's red paint on the metal guardrail that's left.  It looks like there may have been a car accident here recently."

<><><> 

It took an hour for Blake to get his diving team organized and down to the Wabash River Bridge with its boat.  Lance Brody was the only member of the team to own a dry scuba suit that would keep him warm in the icy waters, so he was elected to go into the water, while Blake and the remaining three divers stayed on the boat.  Blake propelled the boat from the shore to the section of the bridge where the guardrail was missing.  Once the anchor was in place, Lance entered the water.  In the murky water of the Wabash, he found it difficult to see.  Using the anchor as his fixed central point, Lance swam the radius of a circle, expanding the circular pattern each time around.  Finding nothing, he surfaced and asked Blake to move the boat so he could try again.  This time when he entered the water, he found the submerged red Pontiac Firebird almost immediately.  The dark, murky water prevented him from determining if there were any occupants still in the vehicle.  He swam up to the boat to alert the others.