Endangered (4 page)

Her eyes widened with astonishment at this unjustified criticism.

“That’s not what I mean. What I mean to say is that the more you handle on your own, out from under my shadow, the more Campbell will be willing to advance your position. Given our history, I can’t risk him making a decision based on what
I’ve
done for you. He needs to see that you can stand on your own two feet.”

Kate placed her hands on her hips, rejecting his logic. “I guess the Durham investigation meant nothing.” While she still felt there were reasons beyond what he was sharing at the moment, her argument had been made. “I’ll do what I can from here, then.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

Nick cast his gaze toward the ceiling. Troubled by the conversation, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. In the years he’d known Kate, he’d always stood by her; always. So it was no wonder why she was upset by this turn of events. Still, he had no choice but to consider her career, as he always had. And no matter what the voice in his head was whispering, he knew he was doing this for the right reasons and not for selfish ones. She would thank him for it in the end. Even if it meant they might grow apart as a result. It was probably better that way.

FOUR

T
he aroma of
the dairy farm wafted inside the air conditioning vents as the agents approached the massive facility. It was the fresh, runny odor of manure from cows fed on cheap corn silage and the only thing that could’ve made it worse was if it had been a humid day, which fortunately, it wasn’t. Rows of cow shelters, metal buildings, and a main office entrance were off to the left.

“Well, this is pleasant.” Dwight stepped out of the car and onto the gravel parking lot. He crinkled his nose as he tossed a glance to Nick, who had also just stepped outside. “This is why I don’t live in the country.” He brushed the sleeves of his suit jacket as though that might lessen the stink. It didn’t.

“Quit your belly-aching and let’s get inside.” Nick dusted up the gravel as he stepped toward the entrance. The sign on the glass door read “McMillan Dairy,” and below that was a picture of a smiling cow with large, sagging udders. Nick turned to Dwight and plastered a cheesy grin on his face, mimicking the cow. Dwight chuckled.

Inside, the walls of the office were covered in wood paneling and lined with plaques of various awards from the dairy industry. They walked inside atop a creaking false floor toward the front desk.

“Good afternoon. I’m Special Agent Nick Scarborough and this is Special Agent Dwight Jameson. I phoned earlier?”

“Jameson, like the whiskey?” The leathery woman with platinum blonde helmet hair looked as though she’d had a close personal relationship with the brand and probably Joe Camel too.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re here to see Mr. McMillan?” Nick replied.

“I’ll buzz him up.” She picked up the phone and announced their arrival. “He’ll be right up. Please take a seat. Can I get you some water?”

“Thank you, no. We’ll be fine.” Nick sat down on the vinyl sofa.

Dwight soon followed.

Several minutes passed and Nick was growing suspicious. He furrowed his brow and discreetly tossed his palms upward toward Dwight. His partner shrugged in return.

“Ma’am, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Nick began. “Would you mind finding out how much longer Mr. McMillan might be?”

“Of course. I do apologize.” She raised the phone again. “Sir, the FBI is still up front waiting for you. Okay. Thank you.”

“He’s sorry for the delay and will be up momentarily.”

“Thank you,” Nick replied.

Moments later, a large man, rotund in appearance, emerged from the back. “I’m so sorry.” He offered his hand as the agents rose to their feet. “I got caught up on a call with one of my vendors. I do sincerely apologize.”

“We understand.” Nick returned the greeting. “I’m Agent Scarborough and this Agent Jameson. We spoke on the phone earlier about a former employee?”

“Yes, of course. Please come back to my office.” McMillan glanced at the woman. “Thank you, Bridget. Please hold my calls.”

The agents followed him back to his office. The same decorator must have furnished his office as the lobby.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet.” Nick sat down on one of the guest chairs opposite McMillan’s desk. “I’d like to talk to you about Lyle Stroud.”

“Yes, of course.” He looked to Dwight and gestured toward the other chair. “Please, sir, have a seat.” McMillan returned his attention to Nick. “Well, as I mentioned on the phone, he hasn’t been to work in nearly a month. I asked around the first few days he didn’t show up, because you know I have to let his parole officer know if there’s a problem. And so anyways, I haven’t seen nor heard from him since. Is he all right?”

“How much do you know about Stroud’s history?”

“Enough, I suppose. He was in jail for assault and served some time for it. Look, Agent Scarborough, I believe in second chances and this man paid his dues so far as I’m concerned. Now what he did was despicable, but as I said, the man’s done the time for his crime.”

“He kidnapped a twelve-year-old boy three days ago and we’re helping the local authorities track him down,” Dwight added.

“I’m sorry; what?” McMillan leaned in, his belly spilling over onto his desk.

“He kidnapped a child in Fairfax County. We know it was him. He left behind DNA.” Nick’s face was masked in gravity.

“Cheese and rice, I don’t believe it.” McMillan shook his head. “He came to work on time every day, there were no problems from what I know. He did his job and went home. Good Lord.” He rubbed his full cheeks.

“Yes, sir. It’s hard to believe,” Nick began. “Would you mind if we took a look around, particularly his workspace and maybe speak to a few of his co-workers?”

“I—I suppose that’d be all right. I want to cooperate, of course. I can call up his supervisor and have him take you back.”

“We’d appreciate that, sir. Thank you,” Nick replied.

The agents soon followed Stroud’s supervisor, Travis Albright, to the milking stations where Stroud usually worked.

“His schedule was seven a.m. to noon on the line, then lunch, then one p.m. to five rotating between cleanup, feeding, and working in the pasteurization facility.” Albright stopped at one of the milking stations.

“Did he have a locker? A desk?” Nick asked.

“A locker, yes. But there was no need for a desk.”

“What about his co-workers? Anyone have trouble with him?” Dwight added.

“Well, let’s find out.” Albright approached a man running one of the stations. “Marco, you got a minute? These feds want to talk to you.”

The man spun around, appearing nervous. He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Sure, I guess. What’s this about?”

“Lyle Stroud,” Albright said. “Guess he’s in some kind of trouble. These gentlemen want to ask you about him.”

“What do you want to know?” Marco looked at Nick.

“Did you notice anything suspicious about Stroud? Did he behave differently, particularly in the few days or weeks prior to him leaving?”

Marco’s lips turned into a frown and his brow creased, as though he was thinking hard on the question. “Well, he’d tease the animals sometimes. But you know, not like a lot.” He tossed a guilty look to his boss. “I suppose he kept to himself most of the time.”

“You talking about Stroud?” Another man approached from farther down the line.

“You know him?” Dwight asked.

“He was a strange one, I’ll tell you what.”

“And you are?” Nick added.

“Chuck Lawrence.” He extended his hand to Nick. “Pleasure. Stroud used to say some crazy shit—excuse me, stuff— about his time in prison. Oh, he made no secret of what he’d done in there. He didn’t talk much about what he’d done to get himself locked up, but I know what he did. All of us do.” Chuck looked at Albright and back to Nick. “Anyway, he wasn’t right—up here.” He tapped the side of his head with his index finger.

“Did he ever do or say anything to make you think he might—revert back to his old ways?”

“Well, that depends on what old ways you’re referring to. I think he had a few, uh, relationships in prison. He was careful not to say too much, though, ‘cause that sort of behavior don’t fly around here. But so far as I could tell, he didn’t seem rehabilitated at all. I never said nothing to nobody, though. He never did nothing to any of us here, ‘sept like Marco said, he’d get the cows riled up once in a while. Nothing worth losing his job over, I suppose.”

“Did he say anything to either of you the day before he took off?” Nick paused for a moment to recall the exact date. “That would’ve been around the week of the April 20
th
.”

The men exchanged glances, then Marco began, “Well, come to think of it, when I came in one morning around that time, I saw him stuffing his locker with, I guess, clothes, maybe? Like he was taking some kind of trip. I asked him what he had going on, but he never did answer and I just let it go.”

“I see.” Nick turned to Albright. “Can we have a look inside that locker?”

The agents followed the men to the changing area. Metal lockers lined the walls, stacked two high. There were a few benches in between and showers on the opposite end.

“That’s his locker over there.” Albright pointed to the locker in question.

“We’ll need to get inside there.” Nick turned to Albright. “You have a key?”

“It’s a combination lock. Only the employee has access and we just haven’t been bothered to try to get into it, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll need some bolt cutters, then.”

Albright turned to Marco and nodded, seemingly instructing him to retrieve the requested item. Moments later, he returned.

“Thank you.” Nick grabbed the tool, placed it on the five-dollar combination lock, and squeezed. The lock snapped with ease and he pulled off the remnants. The locker swung open. Nick looked inside and quickly turned to Dwight, shaking his head. “Son of a bitch.”

» » »

A text came in on Kate’s phone as she sat at her desk. A picture of a young girl, not more than ten, appeared and it came from Nick. Her phone rang immediately after.

“You get my text?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“That’s what I need you to find out. We found the picture inside Stroud’s locker at the dairy farm. I need to know who she is and if she’s been reported missing.”

“I’ll look into it right now and call you as soon as I find something.”

“Thanks.” Nick ended the call.

She pulled up the NCIC database, which housed twenty-one different files and over 13 million records. One such file was Missing Persons. Kate furthered narrowed her search by entering “EMJ,” which lists missing juveniles, in the search parameters. This was where she would start. Once inside, she could continue to whittle down the field by entering “EME.” That would classify a juvenile as endangered. Still, it would take some time to review the files, as they had no idea of where or if this girl was abducted. There were additional ways to narrow down the fields, including certain identifying markers. If she got a hit, the file would indicate the entering authority, thereby revealing where this girl was last seen. This was the most critical information.

Depending upon her findings, this case might no longer merely be a sideline, but she couldn’t look too far ahead right now. Nick was waiting on her and she had to work fast.

“Vasquez?” Kate peeked over her cubical wall. “Can you help me run a search? Scarborough’s run into something new on the Stroud investigation and I could use the help.”

“Yeah, of course. What do you have?”

Kate sent her a copy of the picture and they both went to work.

“Who’s this girl?” Vasquez asked.

“Scarborough and Jameson need to ID her fast. They think she may be a victim of the same man who took Colton Talbot, his friend’s son.”

Vasquez began typing on her computer. The short partition between their desks allowed for easy conversation. “He find anything else of use?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but he didn’t hang around on the line long enough for me to ask.” Kate kept her eyes glued to the screen as the search parameters were entered. “Damn. There’s a lot of files here.”

“Same here,” Vasquez replied. “What if we narrow it down to include the eastern region first? That’ll cut down on a lot of this. If we don’t get any hits, we can widen the search criteria.”

“Good idea.” Kate modified her search area. “How old do you think she is? Ten, eleven?”

“Probably. Let’s enter nine, to be safe, up to thirteen. She can’t be older than that.”

“Unless she’s been missing for a long time. But that would rule out Stroud, most likely.” Kate considered another option. “We know he was still going to work every day prior to the 20th of April. What if we pair the dates down to January to the beginning of May?”

“It’s hard to say,” Vasquez began. “If she’s one of his victims, she could have been taken long ago.”

Kate understood Vasquez’s point but had little time to sift through the thousands of records based on the image. She decided to use the dates and her instincts proved to be right. It took almost an hour, but the girl’s face now stared back at her on the screen. Emily Aldrich, eleven years old, missing since April 23rd from her home near the community of Stephens City, not far from Winchester. “I found her.”

Vasquez pushed her chair away from her desk and rolled over to Kate. “Who is she?”

“Emily Aldrich.” Kate pointed to the screen. “No question; that’s her.”

“Definitely. Better get on the horn to Scarborough.”

Before reaching for her cell, Kate emailed the file to him. That familiar zeal rose in her again. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in the past few months; as though she’d been caged, her wings clipped. Exuberance at the idea that once again, she was a part of the team; that her involvement meant something and she could indeed make a contribution. Wasn’t that the reason she was here after all?

“It’s me.” Her voice couldn’t conceal her feelings. “Did you get the email?”

“I got it. Great work, Kate. We’ll contact Fredrick County,” Nick replied.

“What can I do from here?”