bag, reading the tag. “Ketamine?”
Houston tipped his reading glasses below eye level. “Not just for horses. It’s used to quiet cranky patients. Like inmates.”
Jack paused and Marquez chimed in. “Inmates?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t have figured it out without some good old-fashion luck.” Houston pointed further in the bag. “We found it under the bed sheets. Probably fell out when he was struggling with the wife.” Inside, a smaller clear plastic bag, torn open at one end, with white typed lettering: 150 mg dose of Ketamine from Butte County . “That’s Butte County Jail Infirmary,” Houston continued. “My sister worked as a nurse at a lock-up in Minnesota . Said they used Ketamine to calm inmates when they get all spooled up. We could be looking for someone with access to the drug vault in Butte . Possibly an employee.”
Jack paused for a moment, the pieces coming together in his head. There were too many coincidences. Drugs from Butte County Jail, where a child killer recently escaped. And now, suddenly a child is missing.
Alvin Franklin Cooper. He had come back into Jack’s life, and he was picking up where he left off.
Marquez glanced over, curiously. “What?”
“You know that case I needed your help with after this one was over?”
“Yeah.”
“Forget about it. We’re already on it.”
18
Wednesday –
10:21 a.m.
The man sounded out of breath when he walked through the creaky door that separated Jessica from the outside world. Thick tape was still over her eyes and a rag tightly knotted around her mouth. She didn’t know how long she had been struggling to breathe as the quietness voided all sense of time. Between the summer heat and fever, Jessica felt nauseated, fighting off the urge to throw up.
A sharp sting raced across her face as the tape over her eyes was ripped away; she cried out a muffled shriek. A second later, bright lights and blurry images swirled in front of her. She blinked hard, trying to get everything in focus. Suddenly, she could see. See him. Jessica dropped her stare, forcing herself not to look directly at her captor.
From the corner of her eye, she watched the man walk over to an old wooden table and shove sacks of groceries to the center. Dusty and cramped, the room looked exactly liked it smelled. The man reached into the bags, pulling out a two-liter plastic bottle of Pepsi, white bread, salami, and something that looked like cheese. He removed toilet paper and coloring books from the other bag .
“Hello.” The man spoke in a low soft voice. “Thought you might be hungry.”
Jessica twitched her head from side to side, still refraining from looking into his eyes. She winced, the tape that bound her hands cutting deep into her wrists every time she moved. She fought against the bindings but it didn’t matter. Even if she was able to break free, she was too weak to escape.
“I’ll make you a sandwich. Do you like cheese?” He spoke like she was a guest in his home. “I like cheese,” he added. “Grilled cheese, but I don’t have a stove. Still, it’ll be good.” The calmness in his voice rattled Jessica’s nerves. She bit down hard on the rag, trying to force herself steady.
As the man prepared the sandwich, Jessica’s body started to tingle, her mouth dry and scratchy. Her head began to pound and she started to cough through the gag. Sweat beaded across her forehead, her pajamas soaked in perspiration. The man stopped what he was doing and walked over to her, placing a hand on her forehead. She jerked back from his touch.
“You still have a fever,” he said. “You’re sick.”
Jessica’s coughing advanced into spasms. The man pulled the gag from her mouth, and immediately she sucked in a mouthful of air, the ability to breathe freely relieving some of her stress.
“There, there. You need to rest,” the man said. “You’re as sick as a dog. Luckily, I have a microwave. I’ll heat you up some soup.”
Jessica
Houston tipped his reading glasses below eye level. “Not just for horses. It’s used to quiet cranky patients. Like inmates.”
Jack paused and Marquez chimed in. “Inmates?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t have figured it out without some good old-fashion luck.” Houston pointed further in the bag. “We found it under the bed sheets. Probably fell out when he was struggling with the wife.” Inside, a smaller clear plastic bag, torn open at one end, with white typed lettering: 150 mg dose of Ketamine from Butte County . “That’s Butte County Jail Infirmary,” Houston continued. “My sister worked as a nurse at a lock-up in Minnesota . Said they used Ketamine to calm inmates when they get all spooled up. We could be looking for someone with access to the drug vault in Butte . Possibly an employee.”
Jack paused for a moment, the pieces coming together in his head. There were too many coincidences. Drugs from Butte County Jail, where a child killer recently escaped. And now, suddenly a child is missing.
Alvin Franklin Cooper. He had come back into Jack’s life, and he was picking up where he left off.
Marquez glanced over, curiously. “What?”
“You know that case I needed your help with after this one was over?”
“Yeah.”
“Forget about it. We’re already on it.”
18
Wednesday –
10:21 a.m.
The man sounded out of breath when he walked through the creaky door that separated Jessica from the outside world. Thick tape was still over her eyes and a rag tightly knotted around her mouth. She didn’t know how long she had been struggling to breathe as the quietness voided all sense of time. Between the summer heat and fever, Jessica felt nauseated, fighting off the urge to throw up.
A sharp sting raced across her face as the tape over her eyes was ripped away; she cried out a muffled shriek. A second later, bright lights and blurry images swirled in front of her. She blinked hard, trying to get everything in focus. Suddenly, she could see. See him. Jessica dropped her stare, forcing herself not to look directly at her captor.
From the corner of her eye, she watched the man walk over to an old wooden table and shove sacks of groceries to the center. Dusty and cramped, the room looked exactly liked it smelled. The man reached into the bags, pulling out a two-liter plastic bottle of Pepsi, white bread, salami, and something that looked like cheese. He removed toilet paper and coloring books from the other bag .
“Hello.” The man spoke in a low soft voice. “Thought you might be hungry.”
Jessica twitched her head from side to side, still refraining from looking into his eyes. She winced, the tape that bound her hands cutting deep into her wrists every time she moved. She fought against the bindings but it didn’t matter. Even if she was able to break free, she was too weak to escape.
“I’ll make you a sandwich. Do you like cheese?” He spoke like she was a guest in his home. “I like cheese,” he added. “Grilled cheese, but I don’t have a stove. Still, it’ll be good.” The calmness in his voice rattled Jessica’s nerves. She bit down hard on the rag, trying to force herself steady.
As the man prepared the sandwich, Jessica’s body started to tingle, her mouth dry and scratchy. Her head began to pound and she started to cough through the gag. Sweat beaded across her forehead, her pajamas soaked in perspiration. The man stopped what he was doing and walked over to her, placing a hand on her forehead. She jerked back from his touch.
“You still have a fever,” he said. “You’re sick.”
Jessica’s coughing advanced into spasms. The man pulled the gag from her mouth, and immediately she sucked in a mouthful of air, the ability to breathe freely relieving some of her stress.
“There, there. You need to rest,” the man said. “You’re as sick as a dog. Luckily, I have a microwave. I’ll heat you up some soup.”
Jessica
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