Her Silent Cry

Forty-Seven

Josie squeezed in between Oaks and Mettner behind where the agent sat so she could look at the map. The agent pointed to a small red circle on the screen and said, “This is Violet Young’s address, but that’s not where the GPS puts the phone.”

“She must be out somewhere then or he stole her phone,” Josie said. “Where is the phone?”

The agent tapped on some keys and then dragged his fingers across the mousepad. Finally, another map appeared, and another small red circle hovered over a map of East Denton where a branch of the Susquehanna River flowed through that side of the city. “That’s a bridge,” Josie said. It was the bridge in Denton under which many of the homeless and drug-addicted took refuge. Had Violet Young been near there? Had the killer merely taken her phone and gone there to make the call? Or had he kidnapped Violet, dumped her body elsewhere and then taken her phone?

Oaks said, “Let’s go.”

Josie and Mettner rode together behind a caravan of FBI vehicles, speeding through Denton until they reached the bridge. Josie called Noah as Mettner drove, explaining what was going on. “Call the school,” Josie said. “And try to locate her husband, would you?”

“You got it,” he said. “Be careful out there.”

Mettner pulled over behind the rest of the caravan, all the vehicles crammed onto the side of the road, a strip of gravel and weeds just before the bridge. FBI agents flooded the area, all wearing bulletproof vests with the letters FBI emblazoned on them. Josie and Mettner pulled their own vests out of the trunk and threw them on. Everyone gathered around Oaks, who had to yell to be heard over the traffic crossing the bridge and the rush of the river below. “The phone’s signal is still strong at this location. Let’s split up into six teams of two. Three on that side and three on this side, meet in the middle below the bridge.”

“Wait,” Josie said. “Be advised that there is a large homeless camp under the bridge. There’s a lot of drug activity that goes on down there. Stay on your toes.”

They split up into their teams and descended on the area beneath the bridge, searching for Violet Young, the kidnapper, or both. Several makeshift tents had been erected on the riverbank. Josie and Mettner stayed together, checking each one and finding nothing. No one was willing to talk to cops.

The six teams met up in the middle. There was no sign of Violet Young or the kidnapper. Josie said, “The phone has to be here. We should spread out, widen our search area along the riverbank.”

Oaks nodded and gave a signal with his hand for his agents to move. With two FBI teams searching parallel to them, Josie and Mettner searched nearest the water, picking over rocks and trudging through mud. She was a half mile from the bridge when she spotted a small flash of color in the mud. She squatted down for a closer look. It was a cell phone with a bright purple glittery cover. “Mett,” Josie called, waving him over.

He took one look at the phone and called the other teams. They backed off once the FBI’s Evidence Response Team arrived. A few minutes later, Oaks confirmed that the phone belonged to Violet Young.

Josie’s own phone rang. She took it out and saw it was Noah. Swiping answer, she said, “What’s up?”

“Violet left for work at seven-thirty this morning just like always. She went out into the schoolyard with the kids during the afternoon recess period which was around one-thirty p.m. She did not come back in.”

“Did anyone see where she went?”

“When the principal and other teachers questioned the kids, a couple of them said she looked like she was watching something out in the street. She told one little girl she’d be right back and left the schoolyard. No one saw where she went after that.”

“Did you pull footage from the cameras near the schoolyard?” Josie asked.

“Gretchen did, but all it shows is Violet staring out toward the street and then exiting the schoolyard.”

“Jesus. Did you talk to Violet’s husband?”

“He’s in Orlando on business. At the airport, actually. The principal called him when Violet didn’t come back from recess. He told her to call the police, which she did. Dispatch took the call and sent a unit to the school.”

“No one called the mobile command?” Josie asked.

Noah sighed. “Why would they? Dispatch had no way of knowing this lady was Lucy Ross’s teacher.”

Josie knew this was true, but she couldn’t help but wonder whether Violet would have been saved had the teams on the Ross case been the ones to respond. “When did the husband last speak with her?”

“Last night. He’s on his way back now.”

Josie asked, “Violet’s car?”

“Still in the school lot.”

Josie sighed. “Thank you. I’ll let Oaks know.”

“I asked Hummel if we could run the elimination prints he got from Amy Ross through AFIS to see if her prints match any already in the database. I know Chitwood didn’t think it was worth it, but I put Hummel on it anyway. I don’t know how soon he’ll get to it though. I had to send him over to the school to help Gretchen interview the faculty and then try to track down the kids who saw Violet leave the schoolyard.”

“The drop is at six,” Josie groaned. “Amy and Colin still need to be prepped. The drop sites have to be monitored, and now Violet Young is missing, probably bleeding out while we’re all standing around on a riverbank. He’s spreading us thin.”

“Seems that way.”

Josie saw Oaks striding toward her. “I have to go, Noah. Thanks for your help.”