His Sweet Read online

  “Gave you a copy?” Solomon had stopped taking notes and stared at the man in surprise.

  “Yeah... Look, I don’t want him to get in hot water for this; he was just being a friend. I wouldn’t even have told you if I didn’t... if I didn’t think it could help, and... I just really want to find my baby.” His eyes were pleading, and Yolanda knew that she wouldn’t even dream of causing more trouble to this man. She was certain Solomon wouldn’t go above her head, so this piece of information was to remain between the three of them.

  “Who was in charge of your case up there?” Yolanda asked as she started skimming through the police reports from the top of the pile.

  “Detective Rick Matthews was lead detective.” He paused for a moment to scramble through some papers. “Here’s their contact information. The FBI got involved pretty quickly, though, and we had our own contact over there. Her name was Rachel Philips, and you should have her details right there.”

  “Great, I’m going to have Deputy Tyne take copies of all these files, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not.”

  As Yolanda gathered the papers, she contemplated the situation. Now that they could be quite sure who the girl was, and since there was already an open case on her disappearance, she knew she’d have to contact the police department up in DC as well as the FBI. A part of her didn’t want to get others involved; she wanted to be the one to save that girl. Not because of the credit or the fame that would come with it, but rather because she needed to prove to herself that she could, that she wasn’t useless.

  Suddenly Tyne barged in, her blue eyes looking even bigger and more vibrant than before. She was clutching a piece of paper in one hand, nudging Yolanda to come talk to her.

  “What, what is it?” Yolanda asked once they’d huddled together a short distance from the meeting room.

  “I found somebody,” she breathlessly replied, showing Yoly a felon’s rap sheet. “He was convicted in 1990 for child abuse but got out in 2000. He lives over by Jordan Lake—and get this, he’s been working for the big truck company down in Montgomery.”

  “A big truck with steps,” Yolanda replied, her face taking on a stunned expression as the significance hit her. “Let’s go talk to him, but we’d better bring Solomon along in case this turns out to be our guy. I have a feeling he won’t make it easy for us.”

  1823

  It’s vacation time. Mister Whiskers says it’ll be Christmas soon, and that means I might get some nice food to eat. His company always gives him a large ham, cheeses, and other nice things for the holidays, and sometimes he’ll even share some of it with me. I love it when he gives me Christmas food. I tend to keep it for a few days so I can enjoy it longer.

  I asked him for a Christmas present once. I really wanted an orange hoodie, one that was soft. He said I was too big for presents and that he wasn’t going to participate in such stupid religious traditions. He said that Christmas was the winter solstice and that it had nothing to do with Christianity or Jesus. I didn’t want to tell him that I believed the little baby Jesus was born to help us be better people; I knew if I did, it would make him crazy. He doesn’t even believe in God.

  For some reason, Mister Whiskers has been very mad these past few days, much more than normal. He’s always angry, yelling, or telling me off, and it seems like I can never do anything right. I know I don’t always understand what he wants from me, and sometimes I make mistakes, but this is different. It’s like something is wrong, and I don’t think it’s me.

  Yesterday I asked him if everything was okay, and at first he didn’t answer, but then he just yelled again. He told me it was none of my business and that I shouldn’t ask questions like that. Curiosity kills cats and nosy girls, he said. I instantly shut my mouth and remained very quiet, not looking him in the eye. I’ve learned that it’s usually the best way to stop him from hitting me when he’s mad like that, but he did so anyway. He threw me into the wall, and I really hurt my back. I’ve been in so much pain since last night that I was only able to fall asleep lying on my side.

  I don’t know if he’ll visit me today, but I’m hoping he doesn’t come until he’s feeling better. Maybe he’s just angry at Christmas and the people celebrating. This is the first time he is, though, so I’m not so sure that’s the reason. Whatever it is, it’s making me scared. Scared he’ll come back to hurt me more. Scared he’ll come back even angrier. Scared if I say the wrong thing, he’ll do something even worse.

  The trucker’s name was Jacob Price, and he had been working for Transporticon for over a decade, or ever since he got out of prison. According to his employer, he was always on time and did a good job. No complaints during the entire time he had worked there.

  In order not to spook his boss, Yolanda had mentioned that he could have been a witness and could help with an ongoing investigation. The boss had then offered the information that Jacob had the next two days off, and it should be easy to catch him at home.

  “Do you think he’s our guy?” Solomon asked while examining the trucker’s house from the outside.

  “I’m not sure. We’ll have to talk to him to try and figure it out,” Yolanda responded as she examined the surroundings.

  Mr. Price lived in a one-story ranch painted light blue with white window frames and a neat gray roof. The grass was meticulously groomed, and it all looked very well maintained, as if the owner took great care of his property. The only thing missing from the picture of a perfect home was the white picket fence and a happy little dog rolling around on the front lawn. As they looked about, there was a lone mailbox by the pavement and a Nissan Leaf charging in front of the garage.

  “This house looks almost too neat,” Solomon said as he turned the corner to check out the rest of the property. He had hardly finished his sentence when the door opened, and a man in his forties came out, his face showing utter puzzlement.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing on my property?” the man said, putting on his glasses to make out Yolanda’s uniform. “Are you the sheriff? What’s going on?” He stepped out of the house, coming closer to Yoly, who stood in the middle of his lawn.

  She quickly approached him, putting on a grand smile. “My name is Yolanda, and I’m the sheriff from over in Crowswood. This here is Solomon, my deputy.” The man shook their hands. “You must be Mr. Jacob Price?”

  “Yes, I am. How can I help you?”

  “Would you mind if we came in for a second?”

  “Of course not. Please, follow me,” he said and directed them inside the house to the living room. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

  “No, thank you. We’re fine.” They had a policy of never accepting any drinks from persons of interest. There had been some cases of spiked drinks in other counties and nearby states, and since then, Yolanda had decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Mr. Price disappeared into the kitchen for a minute and came back with a mug of newly brewed coffee. “I hope you don’t mind if I have a cup. I slept in today and haven’t had any yet; I was working on my models well into the night.”

  “Models?” Solomon repeated, curious.

  “Yes, I like to build models in my spare time. It’s a bit of a hobby of mine. Let me show you.” He stood up and fetched a giant Viking long ship, extremely detailed and painted to perfection.

  “Whoa, that’s amazing,” Solomon exclaimed and got up from his seat to take a better look. “You made that?”

  “Yes. This is what I was working on last night. I’m such a big fan of history that I try to get my hands on models that display some interesting parts of it, the Viking era being one of my favorites.” He smiled, and to Yoly’s surprise, his smile was very warm and inviting.

  “How long did it take you to finish it?” Solomon was completely mesmerized by the ship, and Yolanda wondered how long it would take him to touch one of the pieces and accidentally break it off. To her relief, he knew better than to put his clumsy fingers anywhere near it.<
br />
  “Oh, I’d say about ten days. I had a few long shifts, so I couldn’t attend to it every day, but it was more or less every moment that I wasn’t at work.” He stroked his hand against the ship’s hull. “Now, what can I do for you good folk?” He placed the ship on the living room table and sat down across from them.

  “We’re working on a missing person’s case,” Yoly started and withdrew a picture of Lily and handed it to Jacob. He accepted and scrutinized it, wrinkling his forehead and turning his head sideways in order to try to view it from every angle. “This girl has been missing for some time now, and we’re asking around, trying to figure out if anybody knows anything.”

  “I’m sorry... I don’t think I know her.” He placed the photo back on the table, still turning it toward him and directing his eyes toward it every now and then. “I’m not sure why, but there’s something familiar about her face, but I just can’t place it.”

  “I understand. This is not the most recent picture, so if you manage to remember something, please give us a call.” Yoly handed him her card.

  “Of course. Can I hold on to the picture?” he asked, his eyes emanating pure innocence.

  Yoly wanted to say yes, but given this guy’s background, she just didn’t feel right letting him have the picture, not knowing what he’d use it for. That little girl had gone through more than enough. “I’m sorry, but we only have this one,” she replied, and he nodded in understanding.

  “Oh, I know.” He whipped out his mobile phone, and before Yolanda could get in a word of protest, he had taken a picture of the photo. “There we are; now I can perhaps come up with something once I’ve cleared my head.” He looked proud, like a child showing his parents what a good job he had done.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s all right,” she replied hesitantly, letting the moment of silence drag on, knowing that she had to get to the main reason for their visit. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m aware of your prison sentence and was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about that.”

  His face turned grim as his shoulders sank dejectedly and he leaned back into the sofa, creating as much distance between the two of them as he could. “I’m never going to be allowed to escape that, am I?” His tone made it evident that she had struck a nerve.

  “To be clear, I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s just procedure to talk to anybody who...”

  “Who has ever been convicted of a sex crime,” he finished for her, shaking his head. “It’s true, I was convicted, but it’s not the way you think.” He buried his face in his hands and slid them down toward his chin while blowing hard through his nose.

  “Could you elaborate?” Yolanda had taken out her pad and started taking notes.

  “I’m forty-one years old, and I sat in prison from the age of twenty-one until the day I turned thirty-four,” he started. “Nobody ever came to visit me in prison. My own mother didn’t want to look at me, her ‘pedophile’ son. And do you know why I sat in prison for so long? Why I lost the best years of my life?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It was because of a girl.”

  “A girl?” Yolanda hadn’t given herself time to read up on the case and now regretted it. She was so focused on getting Lily out of the hands of Mister Whiskers that she had run out the door as soon as they had a suspect, ready for a harsh interrogation.

  “Yes, a girl. We were in love.”

  “I don’t understand how that has anything to do with your sentence.” Yolanda had stopped writing and was now giving him all her attention to show respect for his story.

  “Well... when I turned twenty-one, I went out to celebrate with my buddies. A night I’ve regretted ever since.” Price didn’t seem angry but rather saddened by his story. “The guys took me to these bars where they just kept the drinks coming. Ana, my girlfriend, wasn’t old enough to come with us, so she stayed at home.”

  “All right, then what happened?”

  “I got loaded. Drunk completely out of my mind, and at some point this girl walks up to me and starts flirting.” He swallowed. “I was young, stupid, and drunk, so what do you think happened? I went home with her and woke up the day after in agony. Mad with grief over betraying Ana.”

  “That must have been terrible,” Solomon said, sounding sympathetic.

  “Was that girl underage? The one you had sex with?”

  “No, she was even older than I was. But when I told Ana what had happened, it all fell apart. She could never trust me again, and before I knew it, I had lost the only girl I ever loved.”

  “I’m still not sure what this has to do with your conviction.” Yolanda was trying to put two and two together but had so far only come up with five.

  “You don’t understand how heartbroken Ana was. It tore her apart. She stopped sleeping and eating and became a shell of her former self.” The story clearly pained him; he was starting to rock back and forth. “I tried to be her friend, to support her, but she didn’t want anything to do with me. Understandably. In the end, she figured her only way out was to punish me for what I had done, so she went to the police and... and she reported me.”

  “Your girlfriend reported you? For what?”

  “She accused me of statutory rape as she was only fifteen when we started being together. I was nineteen at the time, and although everything was of course consensual, that’s against Alabama law.”

  “Oh dear...” Yolanda hadn’t expected that. Here she was, ready to go hard on a pedophile and grill the living daylights out of him, but now all she wanted to do was hug that twenty-one-year-old boy and tell him that everything would be all right. Tyne’s inexperience had led her to describe this man as a pedophile, but that simply was not the case. Yolanda now, more than ever, regretted not reading through the file before jumping out the door.

  “I felt so guilty about the whole thing that I just took it. I barely defended myself in court and of course ended up getting a stiff sentence. I loved her so much, and truthfully... I still do.”

  “Have you tried contacting her again? After you got out, I mean?” Solomon, ever the believer in true love, was of course trying to find his happy ending.

  “No. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her. After I had been inside for a bit over a year I received a letter from her. She said she was doing better and asked me to forgive her for what she had done. I just… I just didn’t feel there was any use in replying. I had broken us, and there was no turning back from that.”

  Yolanda knew that this man was not the one keeping her girl in his cellar. It was not only that he had told a convincing story, but everything else as well. He didn’t seem bothered by their visit. He wasn’t trying to rush them out. He didn’t seem to have a basement. He had immense patience if his ship was any indication, and her instincts told her he was too genuine to do such foul things to another human. He wasn’t Mister Whiskers, and he didn’t have Lily. They were on the wrong track, and if they didn’t hurry, they might never find the right one.

  1896

  I’ve been sick for a few days. Mister Whiskers says I have the flu, and he doesn’t really want to come near me for fear of catching it. He claims that I didn’t get it from him since he hasn’t been sick, but I don’t know where else I could have gotten it from. He’s been accusing me of secretly meeting other people, but it isn’t true. I don’t know how I would go about doing that when I’m locked in here without any method of communicating with the outside world.

  Every time I see him, he’ll start with the accusations again. I don’t know what to say to that, so I hide under my blankets until he’s gone. Thankfully, he never stays long these days because he says I’m contagious, and he claims he can’t afford to get sick right now.

  When I got sick at home, it wasn’t all that bad. My mom would bring me popsicles, and Dad would read me my favorite books. He used to sit with me all day and read and read until I fell asleep. I’m sure he read for hours on end, and it always comforted me. I had two books that I liked the most; they were my
“I’m sick” books. Both were by the same author, about this very big house on top of a mountain where there lived a variety of fun beings.

  In the books, two of the girls were best friends and always whispering to each other. They did it so much that they ended fused together. I found that funny, especially since Susan and I used to whisper all the time too. There was also this man in the story; he lived on the top floor of the house and was so smart that his head became enormous. The other creatures had to help him get down the many stairs so he wouldn’t tip over or hurt himself. There were some pictures in the books, and I remember looking at the creatures in the illustrations and trying to imagine going to the house and becoming friends with some of them.

  I don’t have my books now, and I don’t have my dad either. He used to say that sleep would cure any cold, so I’ve been taking his advice and reading Alice out loud to myself until I fall asleep. Alice is not bad, but she’s nothing compared to the happy creatures who all had their different and funny personalities. I wish one of them would appear now to tell me that everything is going to be all right, and then they’d sit with me and make me laugh.

  I miss laughing. It’s been such a long time since I laughed. I don’t know why, but I think it’s probably because I’m always scared, and it’s hard to laugh when you’re scared. I’m scared that he’ll stop feeding me, and I’ll wither away in here. I’m scared that he’ll yell at me. I’m scared that he’ll hurt me, and most of all, I’m scared that he’ll keep me here forever, and I’ll never get to see any of my loved ones ever again.

  “Oh, it’s good to be back,” Solomon exclaimed as he plopped himself down and chugged the half-cold cup of coffee he’d left on his table when he went out to chat with Mr. Price. He hadn’t been working as deputy for long, and Yolanda knew he’d need a bit more experience before events like these stopped taking their toll on him.