Chapter Four
Melinda woke up again and the officer was gone. Rich, however was by her side. "I found the scene exactly where you said." He states. There’s a crease between his eyebrows which means he was deeply confused. "But everything about that place screams dump site. Not kidnapping site. And that blood - well it could be from her pumps - or it could be much worse."
Melinda was suddenly jogged awake. "Why can I see you now? Of all times?"
"Because you need my help. And you work in a cemetery, what did you expect?" Rich replied with a chuckle.
Even Melinda smiled at the thought. "So what does that mean?"
"Well, if I’m right it could mean a variety of things. She was in with the wrong crowd, it was an accident, or even…" By the look on Rich’s face she knew something was wrong.
"What?" She said patiently. Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
"It was intended murder. But something spooked him." Rich stated soundly.
"How do you know it’s a ‘him’?" Melinda asked.
"Cindy was what? - 115 pounds at least. So most likely a male carried her to the van. There were tire treads. But they fade as it squeals out of the alley." Rich explained.
Melinda felt tears threaten her eyes. "It was my fault. I heard her screaming."
"When?"
"I left the bar at three-thirty, so uh, a little after then." Melinda reached for a tissue. "I heard her begging."
"Then it was defiantly an armed male who owns a van. Weapon might’ve been a knife or gun. But whatever it was, be assured he most likely didn’t use it. There was no gun residue or shell casings. No evidence whatsoever that he hurt her in the alley."
"What about the blood?" Melinda asked.
Rich hesitated. "Some of it was Cindy’s. Some of it was the perp’s. She fought back."
Melinda silently thought of Cindy all alone in that alley. She thought of where she found the keys. "Something doesn’t add up." She muttered. She swung out of the bed, and Rich smiled.
"Ready to do some police work?" He asked.
"There." Melinda felt a cold breeze and she clutched her jacket tighter. "That’s where I found the keys."
"That’s odd, since no one saw a struggle, and the bouncer said he was out for a smoke at the time." Rich noted.
Melinda circled the spot where she’d found the keys. Her vision was sharper, her senses alert. She nodded to herself. "It’s as though she looked up as she scrambled for her keys. And she was startled, so she dropped them." Melinda broke off.
"She knew the kidnapper." Melinda states firmly.
"If so, this is deeper than I thought." Rich said grimly. "Everyone’s a suspect."
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Chapter Five
Melinda and Rich start closing in on suspects...
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On the ride back to her house Melinda pondered what they had discovered. A male, who was armed, someone Cindy knew…Cindy knew a lot of men. She thought of the incident where someone had rifted through her stuff in the car.
"Rich." She said his name softly.
"Yes?" Rich eyed her troubled face. "Why’d you suddenly pale?"
"Someone looked through my car. Screwed around with my things… on Tuesday." Melinda explained.
"And on Friday Cindy was kidnapped." Rich nods. "This has to be connected."
"Were they looking for something of hers?" Melinda was baffled. "Why not search her car, why mine?"
"I have no idea." Rich shakes his head. "But I have a bad feeling."
Rich watched Melinda drift off to sleep. He pondered what she’d told him. Someone riffling through Melinda’s things, and then Cindy’s kidnapping within a week of the incident. It was a strong lead. But where did it lead to? Rich sighed heavily.
He missed the good old days when cops were out on the field, getting their hands dirty. When cops sure, had a donut once in a while, but these ‘officers’ were a disgrace. Filing paperwork seemed to be all they were good at. And though he didn’t like saying this, crime was much more widespread now. He shook his head again, and took Melinda’s pen and paper.
He began a list of what they knew and didn’t know. What they thought was on there too.
Facts: It was a male. No woman could have carried Cindy that far. They had a van, one in need of an oil change. They needed a hospital. Running out of time. Cindy is rich. Blood on dress was both hers and someone else's. Someone broke into Melinda’s car days before.
Thoughts: Plausible that it was someone she knew. Could be kidnapping gone. Blood might be the kidnapper’s. Were inquiring about Cindy’s schedule in Melinda’s car.
Don’t Know: If Cindy’s alive. Motive or suspect. Why the break in?
Rich continued writing until Melinda woke up again. She didn’t notice him hunched over her desk. She grabbed some clothes - black sweats and a sweatshirt before heading to the bathroom. He waited for her, patiently. When she came back, she smiled at him.
"Figured anything out?" She asks.
"I wrote some things down." Rich said.
Melinda scanned the paper. She nodded. "That looks about right."
"I take it Cindy knew a lot of men." Rich added.
Melinda shot him a dirty look. "Maybe she did. But there’s only two people I think could do this.
"Marcus. Her ex-boyfriend. She broke up with him after he crashed her first car. He lost his job. He blamed her, and vowed for revenge. Or," At this point Melinda hesitated. "Or it was Charlie."
"Who’s Charlie?" Rich asked.
Melinda looked off into the distance. Her eyes seemed to be staring at something right before him. "She was our best friend who died in a boating accident. Cindy was driving the boat. We were drunk. And then… well Charlie fell overboard. And she drowned."
"But she’s dead." Rich pointed out.
"So are you." Melinda shot back.
"No, I mean, she’s dead. The police won’t buy it. She’d need an accomplice. You’re mine. When I do human like things I take your energy." Rich explains. "A willing accomplice is hard to find. It’d have to be the both of them."
"So what now?" Melinda asked, lost.
"Did Marcus own any land that was cut off, or seemingly deserted and in the middle of nowhere?" Rich questioned.
"Yes." Melinda replied. "The cabin in Mill Woods."
Rich nodded. "That’s good. Have an address?"
Melinda recited it to him and grabbed her car keys. She immediately thought back to all those nights spent in the woods, by the lake, on the bluff. It’d been a great summer. They’d swam, made s’mores, and told ghost stories. Now her life had become one.
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