“M

RS. GARDNER, I KNOW it’s only been three days, but we need you to bring her back down to the station for a few more questions.” Detective Kiser “Deek” Derickson’s usual mellow tone was growing impatient. Middle-aged, his dark, bushy head of hair and muscular build made him look ten years younger. Only his eyes bore the likeness of those of an older man. They drooped, somewhat puffy, toward his slightly flat nose, mostly from a lack of sleep.

It was rumored that Deek was the first pick of the city council for the captain’s job the year before. His 20 standout years as a police officer made him the most qualified man on the small force. So when he had hired on five years earlier—having accepted a hefty pay cut— it was with a tacit understanding he would be chosen to replace the soon-to-retire captain. The principal reason he had moved back to Utah was so that his children could be raised among those of his own religion—and to escape the precarious streets of Los Angeles. The captain had retired right on schedule but Chief Anderson, who served as council commissioner to the police force, had persuaded the counsel to hire Bingham instead.

Deek, still in homicide, slumped at his desk, exhausted from the hours he spent on his cases. “Look, we need every bit of information we can get...I know it might upset her again. I’ll do the best I can...You don’t want this to happen to someone else’s daughter do you? Good. I’ll see you at six then. Thank you, Mrs. Gardner.”

Captain Bingham was listening from his office. “She’ll come in?” “Reluctantly.”
“Good,” Bingham grunted. “You don’t mind if I sit in, do you?”

His deep, no-nonsense voice reverberated from around the corner. Captain Bingham didn’t take no for an answer. Bingham, his desk facing Deek’s on the other side of the office window, leaned back in his chair and brushed his long, stringy hair over his thick balding skull with his fingers in a vain effort to hide the aging effects of years of military violence. His face was hard, as if carved from granite; a chiseled scar lay deep in the cheek bone below his left eye—one of many trophies of war.

“Fine.” Deek didn’t want to make an issue of it. Besides, the captain had never worked on a police force in his life. A retired military man, Bingham had moved here from back east about a year ago. Now Bingham tried to run the force like the hard-nosed veteran he was, barking orders, demanding immediate action from his subordinates. However, the council had recently grown impatient with his methods. Several on the squad had already made their complaints known to Chief Anderson.

“Hold on a moment,” the dispatch secretary said into her mouth piece.
“Captain Bingham, line one.” Maryann served as both part-time secretary and night-time dispatch.
“Captain Bingham here.” Anger flooded his face upon hearing the voice. Without another word, he placed the phone on the desk and stood to close his office door.
Deek glanced up to see what Bingham was doing. Through the window he recognized the first few words the captain said: “I told you not to call me here.” Then he turned his back to the window.
“4/9 5:42.” Deek noted the call on a scratch pad. He began to scroll through the data on the five abductions. What were they missing? They were no closer to catching the guy than they’d been months earlier.
“Deek, Mrs. Gardner and Ashley are here to see you,” Maryann said, approaching him. Deek twitched. Ashley and her mom stood only a few feet behind her. Ashley was a beautiful girl, with dark eyes, long brown hair, and symmetrical features, her pubescent figure just starting to mature.
“Please come take a seat,” he motioned.
Deek again glanced through the window that separated him and Bingham. The captain, his back to the window, was still on the phone, rocking forward and back in his chair. Maybe Bingham needn’t be involved. He swivelled to face the mother and daughter and spoke soothingly. “How are you, Ashley?”
“I’m fine. Is Sig here?”
“He’s working tonight with Officer Stacey.”
Ashley seemed distracted. “I like Sig,” she spoke, her eyes flitting from object to object on Deek’s desk. “Do you think they’ll be coming in here tonight?”
“He might. Do you think you’d feel safer if he were here?” Ashley nodded. “Just a minute and I’ll call him.”
Deek took his radio from the desk drawer and keyed up the microphone. “One nineteen to one thirty-nine....Stace?”
“One thirty-nine. Go ahead, Deek.”
“Stace, I have a young girl who’d love to see Sig–his biggest fan. Can you come in?”
“Affirmative. See you in five.”
Deek put the radio back in the drawer and slid it shut.
Just then the door to Captain Bingham’s office swung open and Bingham stepped out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Detective Derickson,” he said, his hat in hand. He hardly acknowledged the girl and woman in the office, just shuffled over to the coat rack, put on his expensive mohair overcoat, and left the building.
“Will all the other men be here this time?” Ashley asked, a little more at ease.
“No. It’ll just be you, your mom, me, Officer Stacey and Sig. How does that sound?”
“That’ll be a lot better.” She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t even think those other times. There were too many people.”
“Did it help to talk to the doctor? Let’s see, what was her name?” Deek wanted to see if she remembered.
“Dr. Wendy,” Ashley informed him. “She was really nice. She asked questions about my friends, uncles, the people my mom works with. I’m not even sure what she wanted to know. I finally told her I was tired and wanted to go home to bed. I’m supposed to see her again tomorrow.” Ashley turned to her mom to see if she was right.
“Yes, we are,” Mrs. Gardner said quietly.
“Mrs. Gardner,” Deek said, leaning forward, “I know this isn’t easy for you and Ashley. Lieutenant Barker keeps his officers running special patrols in your area each day. We don’t think he’ll be back. I don’t know how many more times we’ll have to talk to Ashley before we’re through.”
The beam from Stacey’s headlights shone through the glass doors at the rear of the office, then turned off. Stacey and the dog could be seen as silhouettes against the lights in the parking lot.
“Maryann,” Deek called out, “will you open the back door for Stace?”
The door buzzed and Stacey pulled it open.
“Come,” he commanded, slapping his leg.
Sig paused outside the door. He was usually not allowed inside.
Ashley sprang from her seat to greet her canine friend. “Go,” Stacey signaled. In one leap Sig bounded in front of Ashley, wagging his tail and licking her face, hands and arms with his long, rough tongue.
Mrs. Gardner was disgusted, but refrained from reprimanding her daughter.
“There’s no doubt he likes you,” Stacey said. “How’ve you been, Ashley?”
“Good. I went back to school today. Everyone was real nice. The kids said Dr. Wendy talked to them about me yesterday.” Ashley held tightly to Sig’s collar as they walked back to Deek’s desk.
“What did she talk about?” Deek asked, scooting a third chair up to his desk.
“Sit, boy,” Ashley commanded. Stacey flashed a subtle hand signal and Sig sat down next to the girl.
Deek could tell she wanted to talk to Stacey. Making eye contact and giving a slight nod of his head, Deek indicated to Stacey that he needed his help. “So Dr. Wendy talked to your friends?” Stacey repeated.
“Yes. She told them not to worry, that you guys wouldn’t let anything happen to them. They said she talked to them about me, too. You know, the kind of questions not to ask me and stuff.” Ashley rolled her eyes.
“How do you feel about that?”
“Oh, it’s okay. Some things I don’t want to talk about. It’s too scary.”
“That’s only natural,” said Stacey. “Are you willing to tell me and Sig?”
“I can tell you anything. Sig saved me, you know.” Sig perked up each time Ashley spoke his name. “And your sister is in my class. She says you’re the best cop in the whole state.”
Stacey tousled Sig’s head. His big tail thumped at the leg of the chair. “Thanks. Little sisters are kind of partial.”
“Maybe so,” she agreed.
“Can you talk with us about what happened the other night?”
Ashley started to withdraw. “Too scary,” she said in a quiet voice.
Stacey knew he needed to be a little less direct. “Sig hasn’t learned to talk yet or he’d tell me. What does Sig know, but can’t tell me? Did he see the man?” Stacey patted Sig on the head again.
“No! He ran off before Sig got there. I could hear the police sirens and all the voices. I kept kicking and fighting the best I could. That’s what my mom taught me.” Ashley paused. “I think I kicked him in the mouth.”
“Why do you think that?” Stacey questioned.
“Cause I heard him swear; the “‘F-word,’ you know.” Ashley glanced at her mother to see if she disapproved.
Stacey reassured her. “That’s okay. We know which word it is....What did his voice sound like?”
“Well, not as deep as yours. Kind of high and scratchy, I think.”
“How tall do you think he was?” Stacey stood and put his hand out to the side of his dark sideburns. “Was he as tall as me?” Ashley thought about the question. Slowly she began to shake her head.
“No, not nearly that tall.”
Stacey began to lower his hand as Ashley looked on. Each time he would stop, she would shake her head. Finally, she stood up next to Stacey. “I think about this tall,” she said, reaching to about the middle of his chest.
“So he’s kind of short?” Stacey sawed at his chest, as if memorizing its height. “Mrs. Gardner, would you stand next to me a moment?” The woman stood, and Stacey moved close. She was about the height of Ashley’s mark. Then his probe continued. “Do you think he was about as tall as your mother?” Ashley, her cheeks drawn up in a pained grimace, looked at the two of them standing next to each other.
“Yes only...skinny.” Again she looked at her mother to see if she’d offended her. “And very strong.”
“Mrs. Gardner, how tall are you?” Deek asked.
“Five-four.”
So far Stacey and Deek had uncovered more information about the killer than any other investigation team. The county was involved in the investigation, along with the FBI and three other area cities. Evidence had been painstakingly examined, reexamined, sent to the labs, but to no avail. They had one DNA sample of skin taken from under a victim’s nails which matched that from the blood sample recovered from the shooting. Information from each of the incidents had been plugged into the FBI’s computer system to cross link the data.
Deek continued taking notes. The other teams had already questioned Ashley several times. As far as they knew, the killer never spoke. Now, out of the blue, Ashley remembered the swear word.
Stacey resumed his questioning. “Can you tell me what he was wearing?”
“Everything was black.”
“What did his clothes feel like?”
“They were kind of slick.”
“How did he smell?”
“I don’t know...normal, I guess, except his breath. It smelled like rotten meat.”
Stacey and Deek exchanged a puzzled glance.
“Do you think it was from something he ate?”
Ashley shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Deek broke in to ask a question. “Did you feel any rings on his fingers?”
Ashley hesitated and looked to Stacey for assurance.
“Don’t worry,” said the younger officer. “He’s here to help. You can answer him.”
Still, Ashley directed her remarks to Stacey. “I didn’t feel any.”
After another 20 minutes of questions, Stacey asked, “Ashley, is there anything else you can think of that might help us?”
Ashley thought for a minute. Finally she said, “I don’t think it was the “F” word...I think it was a different language. I can’t remember anything else.”
Stacey nodded. “Will you do your best to remember and come back again to talk to me?”
“Yes, if you bring Sig.” She reached down with both hands and rubbed the sides of his body. His big tail thumped the chair again as it swept the floor. Mrs. Gardner stood. Deek shook her hand and thanked her again for coming in. Stacey and Sig walked them to the car. He told Ashley how proud he was of her for being so brave. “Now, if you need us for anything, you call me anytime, day or night,” he added. He took a card from his pocket and wrote his phone numbers on it. “That’s my cell number if I’m not at work. Will you call me?” Ashley nodded and bent to give Sig one last hug. Sig’s tongue came out. “One last lick for the road,” Stacey chuckled. “He likes you maybe more than he does me.”
When the officers returned to the building, Maryann asked Stacey, “Well, how did it go?”
“Good, really good,” he hurriedly replied, wanting to get together with Deek to confirm his feelings about the case. “We may have a better idea of his height and build...a small break in the case.”
Deek was busy typing in the data he’d noted in the interview when Stacey entered the office. Stacey stopped to read over his shoulder. When Deek had finished e-mailing the new information to every other interested agency along with a request for a meeting, he turned to Stacey. “You did great, Stace. And you too, Sig.” Sig lay patiently at the side of the desk. “It’s not a whole lot, but more than anyone else has.”
Stacey pulled himself to his feet. “Well I’m on overtime. Think we’ll head for home.” He slapped his leg. Sig jumped to go. “Good night, Deek. Maryann.”
Stacey backed the patrol car into the driveway of his apartment. The council had approved the use of police cars twenty-four hours a day, reasoning that the more cars seen in the city, the bigger the force appeared. Stacey didn’t use it much except for work. He preferred his truck, as did Sig, who loved riding in the bed. They lived in the upper apartment of an older home. He used the small back yard to do most of Sig’s training. A short chain link fence ran around the front of the yard.
Stacey stepped out of the car and opened the back door for Sig, who hit the ground on the run. With a single, graceful bound he leapt easily over the fence. Stacey closed the door and, with a two-step flurry, also cleared the fence. He loved being a cop. He’d spent the previous four years preparing to join the force. He sent applications all over the state, but wanted to work in his hometown until he had a little experience under his belt.
His year on the force, of course, wasn’t without its problems. Captain Bingham could be a hard, demanding cuss. The night shift hours were sometimes long and boring. Day work often brought him in contact with friends and neighbors. He once pulled over his first grade school teacher, Mrs. Tait, who had run a red light while going only 15 miles an hour. She had spent 28 years teaching and mothering and wiping up after first graders, and even ten years after retirement she still remembered his name. She wasn’t happy that little Ricky Stacey had given her a ticket. Unfortunately, it was her fifth in under a year. Stacey had to stand in front of Judge Benson—also a former first grade student of Mrs. Tait—and watch her lose her license. They both suffered the wrath of a seasoned, old-fashioned teacher. Judge Benson would have fined her for contempt if it had been anyone else.
Sig was a bonus to the force. Stacey was only allowed to bring him to work after three months of proof he’d be a valuable asset. He wasn’t paid extra for his “partner.” Only the month before, Sig had nailed the biggest heroin bust in the state’s history. A van driver had stopped for a burger on his way through town. Coincidentally, Stacey had pulled up to park right next to him. That’s when Sig reacted. The driver, hearing Sig, was more than a little nervous. Stacey turned Sig loose to see what was the matter. Realizing he was about to see some serious trouble, the driver set out on foot. Thirty seconds later, he found himself face down on the asphalt, his hands cuffed at his back.
A rumor had gone around that they were going to honor both him and Sig for the great work they’d done in saving Ashley. Even the FBI was impressed.
Stacey wasn’t married. At twenty-four, he wasn’t concerned about it, although his status certainly wasn’t from lack of effort or opportunity. He was well-known to Mapleton’s available young women.
His dog and his work were his passion. Each time he and Sig did well, it opened up other possibilities to them. The state had offered him a job at the airport. The pay was good, but the work wouldn’t be nearly as rewarding. So he’d just wait until the right job came along.
Stacey opened the front door to his apartment. “Seek!” he commanded. He didn’t really need Sig to search his disordered apartment, but it was good practice. Sig made a quick round and reported back to Stacey, who produced a treat from his uniform pocket.
It hadn’t been easy to obtain all the drugs necessary for Sig’s training. His father had to post a bond in order to legally use and return the minuscule amounts of illegal substances needed. Stacey had purchased Sig as a pup three years earlier. In the beginning of training, he used a stuffed gorilla as a decoy. It wasn’t long before Sig could find the toy hidden any place in his dad’s house. Stacey slowly introduced the drugs inside the toy. Sig learned to find whatever it was his master wanted him to find. Now he was as smart and disciplined as any professionally trained K-9 in the country.
Stacey had moved into his own place after being hired by the force. It was quiet. His half-Italian mother wasn’t around to keep the place clean, but since he didn’t often entertain guests, it was no big deal. The apartment had a small kitchen, full bath, a living room, and two small bedrooms. He shared the larger bedroom with Sig and kept a small office in the other, where he worked on police files at home.
Stacey flipped on the computer on his way to the kitchen to find something to eat. There wasn’t much to choose from. He opened a couple of cans of dog food and dumped them in Sig’s dish. Sig sat patiently, waiting for a signal to eat. Stacey opened the refrigerator and rifled through the cupboards. Nope, not much! Sig still sat quietly, his mouth watering.
“Okay, lunch!” Stacey called. Sig lunged forward. Stacey picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Jimmy the pizza man! It’s Stace calling. Think you could send me the regular?”...“By the way, how’s business?”...“Good, you deserve it after all these years.”
Hanging up the phone, he returned to the computer and began calling up cases that even came close to the current one. Thousands of missing and dead girls; this was not going to be easy. Sig settled down next to the computer desk and promptly fell asleep. He would be wide awake, though, by the time the pizza man arrived. It wasn’t that he liked pizza; it was the empty box that he enjoyed.