“I wanted to confirm that before-“
“It sounds to me like Giovanni confirmed that before he even called you.” Reott shook his head at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Hart opened his mouth reply, but Reott held up his hand.
“No, I don’t want to hear it. Your excuses aren’t worth a boot full of piss to me right now.” He strode out of Hart’s office and headed toward Major Crimes.
Hart watched him go, struggling to swallow and feeling the pink in his cheeks. Reott’s recriminations rang in his ears and he raged back silently.
I did what I thought was right!
It didn’t matter, though, because Captain Reott, like most cops, thought he knew better than Lieutenant Alan Hart.
He pushed away his audit paperwork and stared down at his desk, deep in thought.
FIVE
1031 hours
“Let’s go, Stef!”
Officer Kopriva looked up at Detective John Tower. The twelve-year veteran gave him an urgent wave. The pistol he wore in a shoulder holster swayed with the motion.
“C’mon, I can use your help.”
“With what?” Kopriva asked.
“An abduction. Come on. Browning’s already left.”
Kopriva raised his eyebrows. Tower worked sex crimes and missing persons, but Detective Ray Browning worked in Major Crimes. If he was heading out on this, too, then it was serious.
With a grunt, he rose from his chair and limped quickly after Tower, who waited impatiently at the back exit.
“Unless you’d rather run down some more runaways this morning?” Tower asked.
Kopriva made a face and shook his head.
“Then let’s go.”
They walked as quickly as Kopriva could to Tower’s unmarked patrol car. It was outfitted with a radio and a shotgun, but no shield between the front and rear seats. “What’s going on?” he asked Tower once they were in the car and rolling.
“Some guy in a van snatched up a six-year-old girl,” Tower told him.
“You’re kidding? In broad daylight?”
Tower nodded, then cocked his head. “Is there such a thing as narrow daylight?”
Kopriva usually enjoyed Tower’s humor, but he ignored the question. “Is it a custodial thing between parents?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. According to Captain Reott-and his briefing was very short and full of holes-the parents are married. The father is out of town on business or something. No, it sounds like a legitimate kiddie snatch.”
Kopriva tried to remember the last time such a thing had happened in River City, but couldn’t. At least not since he’d come on the job in 1991.
“Is there a description of the van?”
Tower nodded. “Yeah. Uh, dark blue or brown, I think. There was a witness, also six years old.”
“She saw it happen?”
“Yup, looks that way.”
Kopriva shook his head. “She’ll be having some bad dreams for a long time.”
“Yeah, well, imagine the dreams the little girl who was snatched is going to have.”
Neither man spoke for several minutes. The gravity of Tower’s words sank in quickly and deeply, as did the unspoken inference that naturally followed.
If she lives through this and is able to dream.
Tower drove through the pre-lunch traffic precisely and with deceptive speed. They soon pulled onto the 4300 block of North Arlene. A marked patrol unit sat in front of 4318 with several unmarkeds parked nearby.
“It’s a convention,” Tower muttered, parking his car behind a light blue one that looked brand new.
Probably a captain’s car, Kopriva thought.
They walked quickly up to the house and when Tower knocked, Officer Anthony Giovanni opened the door for them.
“They’re in the kitchen,” Gio told Tower. He gave Kopriva a short nod, then ignored him.
When they entered the kitchen, the first thing Kopriva noticed was Detective Ray Browning, who sat next to a small dark-haired woman and engaged in a quiet conversation. Standing nearby was Lieutenant Crawford, the Major Crimes commander. Crawford’s pale skin with florid blotches, his large belly and drooping mustache were in stark contrast to Browning’s cocoa-colored skin and compact features. The only thing the two men had in common were the deep lines they both wore on their faces.
“What’s he doing here?” Crawford asked Tower, motioning toward Kopriva.
Tower glanced at Kopriva, then back at Crawford. “I thought we could use some help,” he said.
Crawford grunted and gave Kopriva a dark look he couldn’t quite interpret.
“You’re certain of that?” Browning asked the dark haired woman. Chaplain Marshall sat next to her, his chair turned slightly in order to sit closer.
“Yes. Absolutely,” she said. She held a balled-up piece of Kleenex in her hand and her eyes were red, but her voice was firm.
Browning looked up at Tower and Kopriva. “This is Kathy Dugger, Amy’s mother. I was asking her about her husband, James Dugger. He’s out of town on business, and she’s sure that there are no marital problems. She doesn’t believe James might have taken Amy and run.”
“There’s no chance of that,” she told Tower and Kopriva.
“What about other family members?” Tower asked.
Browning shook his head. “She’s called all of them. Except her mother.”
Tower raised his eyebrows, but Crawford interrupted. “Tower, I want you to go over and re-interview the witness. All we’ve got right now is the patrol interview.”
Kopriva saw Tower cringe slightly and look around to see if Officer Giovanni was within earshot. Crawford didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, sir,” Tower said.
Kopriva moved to go with him, but Crawford shook his head. “No, you stay here. You won’t be any help to him over there.”
“He rode with me, El-Tee,” Tower said.
“And he can ride back with someone else,” Crawford said shortly.
Tower shrugged and left.
All eyes turned back to Kathy Dugger. If she noticed, she didn’t give any indication.
“Tell me about your mother,” Browning said.
“What’s to tell?” she said with a shrug.
“Start with her name.”
“Her name is Nancy Henderson.”
“Does she live in town?”
“Yeah. Down in West Central on Swanson Avenue.”
Browning slid his notepad across the table to her along with the pen. “Would you write down her address and phone number?”
Kathy scrawled the address, then looked up. “Honestly, officer, I don’t know her number. I can look it up for you, if it’s still the same. My mother and I don’t talk. We haven’t in years.”
“Why’s that?”
Kathy pushed the notepad and pen back to Browning. “Because she’s crazy,” Kathy said. “She’s crazy and she’s a drunk.”
Browning let that lie for the moment. “What about your father?”
She shook her head. “He left her as soon as I graduated high school.”
“Where’s he now?”
A touch of sadness dimmed Kathy’s eyes. “Passed on,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Browning said.
Kathy wiped away the beginnings of a tear. “You didn’t know.”
“Does your mother live alone?”
“No. She lives with her new husband.”
“Who’s he?”
“Fred Henderson,” she told him. “They got married about ten years ago.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Next to nothing. Anyone who can deal with my mother, I’d prefer not to know.”
Browning leaned forward and fixed Kathy with a careful gaze. “Now, Mrs. Dugger, I have to ask you a question. Do you think there’s any way your mother could be involved in this situation?”
Kathy Dugger took a deep breath and gave the question careful consideration. Kopriva watched her eyes as they digested the question and calculated the odds.
“No,” Kathy said. “She’s nuts, but not like this.”
1106 hours