Simple.
After that, another level of the forum opened up to him, one he hadn’t known existed. A core within the core. And there they talked about the big money. Hundreds, not tens of thousands. And there was a thread with a simple request. A buyer for a very specific kind of item, who was willing to pay into seven figures. A sequence of instructions, methods, requirements. And an email address, should anyone be able to fulfill the request.
Now, his hands shaking, Whiteside read the message again. Then he pressed reply.
To: RedHelper
Subject: Re: Items for sale
Message:
Dear RedHelper,
Thank you for your prompt reply. I confirm that your offer is acceptable and await your instructions.
Regards,
AZMan
He pressed send, waited for confirmation that the message had sent.
Done.
He switched the phone off and returned it to its pouch beneath the dash.
13
AUDRA SAT IN silence. Cuffs around her wrists, joined by a chain threaded through a metal loop on the table. The room was painted battleship gray over cinderblock, chipped linoleum on the floor, one small grimy frosted window reinforced with wire mesh. The table’s vinyl top flaked in places, showing the particleboard beneath. The whole station was like that, verging on ruin, as if the people here had simply given up.
It occurred to Audra that one good yank would probably pull the loop out of the tabletop. And what then? The state patrolman by the door would have her face down on the floor within seconds, that’s what.
The patrolman stared straight ahead, hadn’t moved a muscle in the hour she’d been in the interview room, not even to clear his throat. She had tried talking to him, asking about her children, asking for a lawyer. Nothing. He was a big man, all biceps and belly, with meaty fists. His uniform was an almost identical beige to the sheriff’s; Audra wouldn’t have known he was a state cop, had she not been told.
A knock on the door, and Audra’s gaze jerked toward it. The patrolman turned and opened it a few inches. A string of whispers, then the patrolman stepped aside to allow a young well-dressed man to enter. A conservative suit, a plain tie. The patrolman had said the FBI were coming, and this young man had to be one of them.
He carried a tripod, its legs bunched together, a small camera mounted on top. A minute of fussing and adjusting and he had it set up in the corner, the lens aimed at Audra. He pressed a button, then another, rotated a display so he could see it. Once satisfied, he nodded, and went to leave.
‘Excuse me,’ Audra said.
The FBI man ignored her, grabbed the door handle.
‘Sir, please.’
He stopped, turned back to her.
‘Please, sir, tell me what’s happening.’
He allowed her a pained smile. ‘We’ll be with you presently, ma’am.’
As he opened the door and stepped through, Audra called after him, ‘Have you found my children? Are you looking for them?’
The door closed. Audra dipped her head, brought her hands to her mouth, whispered into the cup of her palm, ‘Goddamn you.’
The patrolman looked at her now. ‘Excuse me?’
Audra held his gaze. ‘Are they looking for my children?’
‘I wouldn’t know anything about that, ma’am.’ He returned his attention to the far wall.
‘When can I get a lawyer?’ she asked.
The patrolman remained silent.
Audra exhaled, spread her hands on the table, willed her mind to level out, to be calm. She found a crack in the vinyl that looked like a black lightning bolt. She stared at it, followed its arcs and branches, focused in on the details, felt order restored within.
Another knock on the door, harder this time, and the trooper had to sidestep it as it swung open. A woman and a man entered, both suited, her attire crisper than his. She was tall, long-limbed, dark-skinned, her Afro hair cut tight to her scalp, bright eyes that suggested a deep intelligence. The man shambled behind her, a nest of gray-blond hair on his head, the lined face of a smoker. He gave a phlegmy cough and drew out a seat and dropped into it. The woman remained standing, an iPad tucked beneath her arm, along with a notepad and pen.
‘Mrs Kinney, I’m Special Agent Jennifer Mitchell from the Child Abduction Response Deployment team, Federal Bureau of Investigation, based out of Los Angeles. May I sit down?’
Audra nodded.
Mitchell smiled, said thank you, and took her seat. The man bristled and coughed again. Audra caught the stale cigarette smell drifting across the table.
‘This gentleman is Detective Lyle Showalter from the Arizona Department of Public Safety, Criminal Investigations Division, based out of Phoenix. Detective Showalter is here strictly to observe. Let me be clear, I am in charge of the investigation into your children’s whereabouts.’
As Showalter rolled his eyes and shared a smirk with the patrolman, Audra opened her mouth to speak. Mitchell silenced her with a raised hand.
‘Before we begin,’ she said, ‘there are a few things you should be aware of. Firstly, although you are under arrest for possession of marijuana, this interview does not concern that. Further, you are not under arrest in connection with the disappearance of your children, and you have no entitlement to the presence of a lawyer during this interview. You are therefore free to terminate the interview anytime. I should warn you, however, that failure to cooperate in this matter will not help you. Finally, you see that camera?’
Audra nodded.
‘That camera is recording this interview, and I will share footage of this interview with as many other investigators or agencies as I deem necessary to the advancement of this investigation. Mrs Kinney, do you understand everything I’ve just told you?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Audra said, her voice small and whispery in her throat.
Mitchell pointed at the shackles on Audra’s wrists. ‘Officer, I don’t think those are necessary, do you?’
The patrolman looked to Showalter, who nodded. He left his position at the door, taking a key from his pocket as he approached the table, unlocked the bracelets, let them clatter on the tabletop.
‘Are those the clothes you were wearing when you were arrested yesterday?’ Mitchell asked, pointing with her pen.
‘Yes,’ Audra said.
Mitchell closed her eyes and sighed. She opened them again and said, ‘They should have been removed as evidence. Once we’re done here, we’ll get you something else to wear. Now, shall we start?’
‘Okay,’ Audra said.
Mitchell smiled. ‘Comfortable? Would you like some water?’
Audra shook her head.
‘Mrs Kinney … Audra … may I call you Audra?’
Audra nodded.
Mitchell took a breath, smiled, and asked, ‘Audra, what did you do with your children?’
Audra’s head went light and full of sparks. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. Her mouth opened and closed, no words to fall from it.
‘Audra, where are they?’
Stay calm, she thought. Reason with her. Explain.
Still gripping the table, Audra took a long deep breath, filled her lungs. ‘They took them.’
‘Who took them?’
‘The sheriff,’ Audra said, her voice rising. She waved her hand at the wall as if Whiteside was on the other side, ear pressed to the cinderblock. ‘And the deputy, the woman, I don’t remember her name.’
‘Do you mean Sheriff Whiteside and Deputy Collins?’
‘Yes, Collins, that’s her.’ Audra became aware of the brittle edge to her voice, breathed again, tried to smooth it. ‘Deputy Collins took Sean and Louise away while I was in the sheriff’s car waiting for the tow truck.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, that’s right. They took them.’
‘I see.’ Mitchell gave her a small, kind smile. ‘Thing is, Audra, Sheriff Whiteside doesn’t remember it like that. He told me this morning that there were no children in the car when he pulled you over.’
‘He’s lying,’ Audra said, her nails digging into her palm.