The Fort (12 page)

“How close, Tim?” Van Endel asked. “Do your best to estimate, but if you’re not sure, just say you’re not sure, OK?”

“All right. I guess we were about…fifty feet away from them when they stopped, then turned and started walking away from us—”

“What direction?”

“West, they went west, and then they were just gone.”

“What was Molly wearing?”

“Huh?”

“When you saw Molly, how was she dressed? Were her clothes clean or dirty? Did she look as though she were dressed to go out with friends, or was she wearing everyday clothes?”

“I don’t know. She was just dressed regular, I guess. Neither of them was wearing anything that really stuck out, just clothing.”

Van Endel and Dr. Martinez shared a glance. Either Tim wasn’t supposed to notice or maybe it was meant to unsettle him.
They don’t trust me, but I’m telling the truth.

“Tim,” said Dr. Martinez, “I want you to close your eyes and picture Molly exactly as she was a few hours ago. Try to make a picture of her in your mind, and describe the picture to us.”

“OK,” said Tim, his voice cracking slightly. He took a deep breath, then really tried to picture her. All that was coming was the rifle sights, and a stark image of the man screaming after being shot by Luke. Molly’s clothes weren’t there, she could have been wearing a ball gown for all Tim remembered.

Sensing his frustration, or perhaps further probing him for information, Dr. Martinez said, “We know that this is going to be tough, Tim. But the thing is, we need you and your friends to help. Every little detail you can tell us, even a silly thing like what she was wearing, that stuff can help make a difference. I need you to concentrate and really think, OK?”

“I am,” said Tim. He felt sick, and wondered if they could tell. It wasn’t like he’d felt in Scott’s house right after it had happened, but it was almost as bad.
If I puke, will they let me go?
He knew they wouldn’t, though; that might just lead to more questions. Finally, trying to get them off his back, and with his eyes squarely on the tape recorder, Tim said, “She wasn’t wearing anything that stuck out to me. Maybe it was just a shirt and shorts. I really don’t know.”

Van Endel made a notepad appear in his hand from his pocket, then started flipping through it. Finally he stopped, tapping a finger on a page of the notebook. He smiled at Tim, an “aha” look in his eyes. “I’ve got it right here, from my conversation with Mrs.
Peterson, Molly’s mom. She said that when she left the house at around six o’clock p.m. two nights ago, Molly was heavily made up in the face and was wearing a neon-pink pencil skirt, along with a shirt that hung off of one shoulder and said
RATT
. Does that sound like the regular clothes she was wearing this morning to you?”

“No,” said Tim. “It doesn’t sound like what she was wearing at all.”

“My notes with Mrs. Peterson also tell us a little bit about Molly’s hair,” said Van Endel. “I know that it was poufed up like some of the girls do these days. Did it look like that, or maybe like a hairdo like that might look after a couple days with no attention paid to it? Matted, maybe, or wild?”

“I know it was Molly,” said Tim. “But not because of her hair or her clothes—I knew it was her because of her face.”

“Can you describe the face of the man she was with?”

“Detective,” said Tammy. “My son is clearly terrified. He saw a kidnapped girl this morning, and now he’s being made to feel as though he’s done something wrong. I would really appreciate if you’d back off on the tone a little bit. This is a twelve-year-old boy you’re talking to.”

“Ma’am, I apologize if my tone seems harsh,” said Van Endel. “But there is a missing girl out there, and your son and his friends were the last people to see her. Any bit of information I can get from them could wind up being the piece of this puzzle that sees Molly go home to her family. Your daughter, I know I have her name in my notes—”

“Rebecca,” said Stan.

“Yes, Rebecca. If she was the one missing and some boys claimed to have seen her being forcibly transported with a gun in her back, would you feel badly if my tone offended one of those boys? We’re going to take a break, and the doc and I are going to talk to one of the other boys. If you could, please impress on your son how important it is that he recall, in great detail if possible, the events of this morning.”

Van Endel stood with Dr. Martinez, and he paused the tape recorder. He ejected the tape and tucked it in his pocket, and they opened the door and left.

“They’re acting like he’s some criminal,” hissed Tammy. “Tim didn’t do anything wrong, nothing, and they’re acting like he’s the one breaking the law. We need to get him out of here and then call a lawyer. They can’t treat us like this!”

“Tammy, you need to calm down,” said Stan, his voiced muted and dull. “And, Tim, you need to try harder. These people are just trying to do their jobs.” Tammy raised a hand to her mouth. She looked like she might get sick.
Dad doesn’t believe me either. I sure hope Scott and Luke do a better job than I did.

24

Scott sat next to his mom. Carl had offered to come, but Beth told him that she didn’t think Carl needed to miss his first day of training for his new position. When the detective and doctor came into the room and introduced themselves to Scott’s mom, Scott realized that he hadn’t even had the chance to tell her what had happened. Van Endel set a tape recorder on the desk, said something about the date, along with their names, then cleared his throat.

“How are you doing, Scott?” Van Endel asked.

“I’m doing OK. Still a little freaked out, but OK, I guess,” Scott said, trying to feel confident, but each word slipped from his mouth as though it were steeped in syrup.

“I want you to tell me everything you remember,” said Van Endel. Behind him, Dr. Martinez was smiling thinly and nodding. “Just go over all of it, all right? Let’s start with an easy one: How was she dressed? Try and make us feel like we’re right there with you.”

“All right. I guess I’d say she was wearing normal clothes for a hot day.” As soon as the words escaped his lips, Scott knew somehow, something was wrong. Dr. Martinez had immediately looked
at Van Endel, the sort of glance he wasn’t supposed to notice but had anyway.

“Could you clarify for us, son?” Van Endel said it with a smile on his face, but already, Scott didn’t trust the detective he’d been so excited to have met just a short time ago. “We really need a more definitive idea of how she looked. Was she hurt?”

“No, I don’t think she was hurt. She looked really, really scared, though.”

“I’m sure she did,” said Van Endel. “But what I want to know is what she was wearing, Scott.”

“She was wearing…” Scott stumbled over the words, his face reddening instantly. “I don’t know, I don’t want to be wrong. I didn’t really notice her clothes. They were just clothes, hot-day stuff.”

“I’d rather you be wrong, and still hear a definitive guess,” said Van Endel. “Hearing you say ‘just clothes,’ that doesn’t tell me anything. I want something I can get my teeth in, do you understand?”

Dr. Martinez leaned forward. “Scott, let’s just relax. A lot of times, we see more than we really think we do. Try taking a deep breath, maybe closing your eyes, and—”

“Can I ask what the problem is?” Scott’s mom asked in an annoyed tone, the one Carl called her uptown voice. “You called me in from work for this, and my son has tried to answer this silly question. It matters what she was wearing? You’re in trouble if it does. A twelve-year-old boy is going to notice a girl’s clothes? These boys are lucky if their socks match. Scott said he saw a man holding a gun on a kidnapped girl, isn’t that more important than what the girl looked like? What am I missing here?”

Van Endel and Dr. Martinez shared a look, and Van Endel said, “Ma’am,” when a knock on the door interrupted him. “Excuse me,” he continued, barely missing a beat. “Why don’t you come too, Doc? This will give Scott a chance to think and talk to his mom.”

“What is it?” Van Endel said as he opened the door. “We’re in there trying to figure out where—” Then it was shut behind him and Dr. Martinez and his voice was gone.

“Why don’t they believe me?” Scott asked his mom, once he was sure the door was all the way closed. “All they’re doing is asking me about her stupid clothes, and I’m telling the truth, but they still don’t believe me.”

“Calm down,” she said. “I think they’re just trying to verify that you aren’t making any of this up. It’s their job to be distrustful; it might be the reason they wound up working here in the first place.” She sighed. “Either way, just keep your chin up. Hey, wasn’t Carl’s news the best? I can’t wait to cash out my last table.”

“You could just quit, Mom. You don’t owe them anything.”

She shook her head. “No way. That would totally mess up the schedule and make everyone else have to pick up other shifts. I kind of feel bad about quitting as it is. Isn’t that weird? All I’ve done is complain for years about that place, and now I don’t want to leave, in this really weird way.”

25

Van Endel was furious. He was in there trying to figure this shit out, which was bad enough, and now Summers was pulling him out of an interrogation. Walt knew better. This was beyond unprofessional—it could ruin the minor progress that he and Dr. Martinez had made. Van Endel was ready to scream, thought maybe he was already screaming, when he saw Chief Sanborn standing next to a wounded-looking Walt.

“My office, now,” said Chief Jefferson flatly, and Van Endel took Walt’s nod as he entered the office as a mark of sympathy.

This is bad, I know it.

Chief Jefferson sat behind his desk after waddling around it, then turned on Van Endel with an annoyed look. “Stretch out your drumsticks, and sit down. I got bad news, and you’re not going to like it, so let’s get it over with.”

Van Endel sat reluctantly. The chief and he had been at odds for almost six months over Van Endel’s handling of the Riverside business. Van Endel was a smart enough man to know that his attitude hadn’t helped. Regrettably, and especially to his boss, neither had his detective work. Van Endel grinned, then frowned,
but got no reaction. Finally, he took a Werther’s Original from a bowl on Jefferson’s desk and said, “Spill it.”

“We got a body,” said Jefferson. “White female, burned beyond recognition, teeth smashed out with a hammer. Whoever does dental on this girl is going to be in for a serious nightmare.”

“Where was she?” Van Endel asked, his voice higher than normal, pulse accelerating. “How long has she been deceased?” He looked at the clock on the wall. The 911 call was less than ninety minutes old.

“Calm down,” said Jefferson. “I see that look in your eyes, but it’s not what you think. She’s been dead about two days, according to the coroner, and from the amount of fire damage, she burned for a while.” Jefferson lit a cigarette, coughed twice into a handkerchief, then leaned back in his chair. “Body was found in a shallow grave, near the drive-in but off the property. You need to go down and talk to the guys working that night, get the fear of God into them, maybe even give them a serious look as possible suspects.”

“So the whole 911 call was bullshit?” Van Endel asked, in a voice that was escalating now. He could feel rage boiling in his stomach.
If that was my fucking kid and he did that
…Van Endel let out a breath he’d been unconsciously holding in.

“Yep,” said Jefferson. “That seems pretty damned obvious. You’re going to go back in there, and you’re going to very politely tell those kids that they’re a bunch of fuckin’ attention-seeking, miserable little pricks, and then you’re going to go the crime scene. If that sounds like an order, it’s because it is. The coroner is saying the body is close to the height and weight of the Peterson girl, so after you’re done at the crime scene, you’re going to the morgue with the body to verify, eyes-on, that those things are correct.”

“Have you contacted the mother yet?”

“Nope, not yet,” said Jefferson. “That’s next, just as soon as your butt’s out of that chair. I’m going to call the mother, give her a heads-up on the possibility of really bad news, and then when
you verify the size of our corpse, I’ll let her know we’re waiting on dental.”

“How long do you think dental will take? I know normally it’s only a few days, but is it even possible when the teeth are that bad?”

“Doesn’t matter, dental’s going to come up positive,” said Jefferson. “The press is going to report this kid is dead, so is the TV news. It’s going to be all over. Even if dental does come back negative, it won’t be worth a shit. The guy from the coroner’s office, the new whiz kid they got, he says the perp stabbed her to death, then meticulously—his word—pulped out her fucking teeth before burning her. We won’t get within a mile of conclusive with the girl’s damn teeth.

“Back to those fucking kids. This is some malicious, deliberate shit, and those little assholes need to know that playtime is over. Then it’s time to kick in some doors and find this fucker.”

“I’m on it,” said Van Endel, standing. He was walking out the door when Jefferson called after him, “Don’t fuck this up. This girl isn’t some whore. She’s one of us.” Van Endel wanted to shout back at Jefferson and tell him that response was precisely why they were nowhere on the Riverside case. If the prostitute murders had been treated with this sort of priority, it could have been solved long ago. There was no point. Van Endel let the door chase him out, and then his eyes were on Dr. Martinez. He crossed the room quickly to her.

“Well?” said Dr. Martinez in a hushed voice. “What was so damn important?”

“They got a body,” said Van Endel, his voice just as quiet.

“Oh, my God,” she said, the color draining from her face. “Where, in the woods? I feel so terrible; if only we could have done more, or had a little bit more time. Fucking shit, seriou—”

“Doc, you need to calm down right now,” said Van Endel, grabbing her arm. “They found her at the drive-in, and she’s a
burned-up wreck, and been there two days or so. Those kids didn’t see shit in those woods except for maybe some squirrels.”