“So this is where the kid was the last time his mother saw him,” David explained, motioning toward the sandbox. His eyes lingered on my date clothes, settling on my T-shirt’s lacy neckline. “You look great, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said with a shrug. I’d been excited about getting dressed to spend the evening with him, but now I felt vaguely awkward. Maybe Mom was right, and I needed to raise my guard and not try so hard. After so many years married, the whole man-woman thing sometimes struck me as too complex to tackle. “But to be honest, if this is where I’d foreseen spending the evening, I would have dressed down a bit.”
David shook his head, and his mouth curved into a lopsided frown. “Nobody wants to be here. Just wish we could find the kid.”
The park crawled with law enforcement. The county sheriff’s department had been the first on the scene, calling in the FBI when they realized they might have a kidnapping. Deputies ringed the park, protecting the perimeter, while the crime scene unit searched for clues and detectives in plain clothes bunched together, comparing notes. Letting the others do their work, David explained what he knew. “The last time the mother says she saw the boy he was playing here, in this sandbox, rolling a plastic truck with his name written on it around in the sand.”
Glancing down at the sandbox, which had yet to be processed, I saw the grooves in the sand from what were most likely the toy truck’s wheels. “Didn’t find the kid’s truck, I take it?” I asked.
“No truck. But the boy’s Batman tennis shoe was found near that stand of trees, on the edge of the grass near the parking lot, like it fell off in a struggle when someone grabbed him,” David continued, motioning toward the area. He then turned in the opposite direction and pointed toward a large pond that backed up to the woods. “The mom says she was over there, sitting at that first picnic table, watching the ducks, while she talked with her estranged husband on her cell phone. She had her back turned to the kid for approximately twenty minutes. She says she thought they were alone.”
Sometimes I can’t help say what I’m thinking. Mom calls it a character flaw. “The boy’s mother should have turned around and watched the kid. The ducks can take care of themselves.”
David sighed. “Sarah, stay on point here.”
“I know,” I said. “Just makes me mad. People are so careless.”
“Understood,” he said. “But look around, ask anything you want. The mom’s name is Crystal Warner. She’s twenty-two, unemployed, separated from her husband. We have her at the sheriff’s department, in an interview room in major crimes, waiting. They’ve brought in the husband for questioning, too. The mom says she’s willing to give a formal statement, and I’d like you to be there. She’s high-strung, rather difficult, acts like she’s got a chip on her shoulder. I figure we have a better shot at getting her to open up with a woman.”
David’s a muscular man with strong features, graying brown hair that curls around his collar, sturdy hands, and a calm manner. When we’re together, I often have the sense that he finds me more than a little exasperating. Still, it can’t be too bad. He keeps coming back for more. I gave him a quick once-over and said, “You know, you call off our date for a bank robbery or a burglary, I might argue with you about not feeding me.”
“Not this case?” he asked.
“Not a chance. Not when a child’s missing,” I said. “Tell me about the kid.”
“Joey Warner,” David said, handing me a snapshot of a young boy sitting on a rocking chair. In the photo, Joey had long, shaggy light brown hair and bright blue eyes. He had a shy smile, a quiet child, I guessed, one of those you forget are in the room. This is the part I always hate, seeing the faces of children I know are either dead or in danger. Mom says some things tug at your heart, children at the top of the list. From the first look, like those two unidentified kids waiting in my workroom, Joey Warner had a hold on mine. I wasn’t hungry any longer. It had been a long day, but I wasn’t tired.
From that moment on, I was furious.
I looked around the crime scene at everyone gathered. A horde of reporters clutched together on the rim of the crime scene tape, with spotlights from TV cameras throwing shafts of light into the park. The black-and-whites parked along the perimeter shone their lights on the sandbox and the edge of the parking lot, where the kid’s shoe had been found, making light for the CSI unit. Throughout the park, boxed-off sections of light interrupted the darkness, courts and fields all lit, although no one played tennis or soccer. Despite the patches under the lights, most of the park’s three hundred acres remained clothed by night, including a hiking trail that wound through the bordering woods.
“You’re certain that Joey didn’t just wander off?” I asked, searching the shadows. “Pretty dark. He could even be scared and hiding in the woods.”
“We had the dogs out, and they lost his scent at the edge of the parking lot, near where the mom says she found the tennis shoe,” David said. He looked upset, and I knew he had to be thinking about the four-year-old, dead or frightened, if not lost and alone, assuredly with someone who meant him great harm. The next twenty-four hours would be crucial. Most missing children are found with a family member or are freed by their abductors during the first day. For those who aren’t, the statistics aren’t hopeful. “When we got here, it was light enough to see, and we searched and didn’t find him. I hope he’s hiding in the park, waiting for morning, safe. Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll just walk out of the woods at dawn. But it doesn’t look that way.”
“Okay,” I said. “And this mom, tell me more about her.”
David appeared to consider how to portray Crystal Warner and then opted not to. “I’d like you to make up your own mind. Let’s just finish up here and we’ll head out.”
“I’ve told y’all that a thousand times. Just stop asking me all this stupid stuff and go find Joey,” the boy’s mom snapped in response to my first question: What was her son doing when she last saw him? “You’re wasting time.”
A full Amber Alert was out on the boy, notifying every law enforcement agency in the state and the nation, along with the media. Detectives working the case were following leads as they were being phoned in. In Harris County, somewhere around thirty cops were searching for Joey, so the boy’s mom didn’t have a real gripe, but we’d already explained that to her, and that information hadn’t appeared to make an impression. While the others followed leads, our hope was to generate some from those closest to the boy, his parents. Plus, there was that doubt that had to be satisfied. Stranger abductions are exceedingly rare. In any case involving a missing child, statistically the most likely suspects are the parents.
We were at Lockwood, an aging, nondescript building ringed by a chain-link fence on Houston’s southeast side, home of the Harris County Sheriff Office’s major crimes division. The interview room had four off-white walls, a door with a window, a second mirrored window that led to an observation room, a table, chairs, and nothing else. Nothing to distract from the business at hand. I tried to decide what one word I’d use to describe Crystal Warner, if I had only one to use. Bristling, I guessed. She was a slender young woman, with long dark hair that hung loose around her shoulders. A pair of blue jean short shorts with rhinestones on the back pockets and a white T-shirt wrapped her body so tightly that neither had the opportunity to wrinkle or sag. Even though her son had vanished only hours earlier, Crystal didn’t appear frightened. Fuming at whoever took Joey? Sure, but even more so at David and at me, as we talked, a videocamera recording our every word, hoping to glean any information that could help us find the boy.
When all else fails, my best philosophy is to smile. I did just that, sitting back in the uncomfortable metal chair with its too-straight back. Crystal didn’t blink, just stared at me unwaveringly, as if girded for my next move. She didn’t trust me. Of course, she had no reason to, especially since she undoubtedly sensed that I didn’t trust her.
“Mrs. Warner, please, we’re not the enemy,” David suggested. “Let’s keep focused on why we’re talking with you. Law enforcement personnel are out looking for your son, and at my request Lieutenant Armstrong has agreed to help us. She’s asking questions…we’re asking questions for only one reason: to find out if you know anything that might help us find Joey.”
The woman didn’t buy it; that was obvious. She shook her head in disgust. “I know I look young, but I’ve been around, and I’m not stupid,” she said. Before we could argue either point, she went on. “I’ve seen those movies on TV, the ones where the kid disappears and the cops don’t even look for him, because they’re so busy pinning it on the mom and dad. You need to leave me alone and go figure out where Joey is.”
Frowning, I gave the woman another skeptical stare. “You know, funny thing,” I said. “When a kid goes missing, it is almost always the parents.” I waited to see what she’d say, but she simply swiveled her gaze from David’s face to mine with no less anger. Since she kept mum, I decided not to. “That said, no one here is trying to pin anything on you. We don’t know what happened in this case, and our intention is simply to find out. How cooperative you are, how eager you are to help us, that will help us decide what we believe about your possible involvement in your son’s disappearance. If we can eliminate you, we move on. If not?”
I left the latter thought hanging, hoping she’d jump in. She didn’t, so again, I continued, “Mrs. Warner, the truth is that Special Agent Garrity and I are doing two things here. Besides looking for clues to your son’s disappearance, we’re gauging your cooperation.”
I saw David resolutely examine the young woman’s expression as I bent closer and lowered my voice. “What do you want us to think about you, Crystal? Do you want us to believe you have something to hide? Do you?”
Jerking her head to the side to avoid me, she clamped her jaw down hard, yet I didn’t see it tremble. Based on appearances, her clenching wasn’t a result of being afraid that she’d cry, but rather a futile attempt at containing her anger. David and I said nothing, waiting to see what she’d do next. The boy’s mom took a deep breath and turned to me, this time with a strange smile, broad yet unnatural, as if she were determined to hide her true feelings. “Okay, ask away. But one more time, a few more questions, and I’m done. I’m out of here. If you’re not going to look for my kid, there’s no reason for me to help you.”
“I assure you, as I explained earlier, that there are detectives and deputies all over Houston looking for Joey,” David said.
“Yeah,” Crystal answered. “That’s what you said.”
“Okay, tell us this—if you were us, where would you look for your son?” I challenged. If the woman had any theories, we needed to hear them. “Where would you start?”
At that, she pinched her lips together and frowned, as if she hadn’t considered the possibilities. “I’m not sure,” she said, pausing a moment before shaking her head. “I can’t think of anyplace except the park.”
“Any guesses on the identity of the person who took Joey?” David asked, sizing up the young mother with a quizzical gaze. “That’s not a hard question, and it’s one you want to answer, right? I know you want to help us. Don’t you?”
This time a long silence, then she closed her eyes as if concentrating. “I can’t think of anyone,” she said. “Nobody in particular pops into my head.”
Surprised that she didn’t have a single direction to send us in, even a guess at someone we could investigate, I gave her a puzzled look. “Okay. Let’s take this from step one. Let’s see if we can piece together a few clues, so we’ve got a whisper of hope of searching the right places. Did you see anyone in the park, at any time today?”
“No, we were there alone. Or at least I thought we were,” she snapped, pointing at David. “Just like I told him.”
“Have you gone to that park in the past?” I asked.
“Yeah. All the time, if the weather’s good. Joey likes the park, and it gets us out of the dump of an apartment we live in, since his dad left us,” she answered. She held on to the chair arms as though she thought they might keep her stable. Maybe she thought that if she let go, the storm out in the Gulf would sweep her away. “Most of the time, since school started, we’re pretty much the only ones there.”
“Okay, so think back, anytime in the past,” I said. “Did you see anyone who appeared to pay any attention to you or to Joey? Did he talk with anyone? Did you?”
“This is important, Mrs. Warner,” David stressed. “Think hard.”
The room grew silent, and Crystal lowered her head and again closed her eyes. At such moments, there’s electricity in the air, not knowing if what the source says next will break open the case. This time around, we weren’t so lucky. “No,” she said. “Like I said, since school started, we’re usually about the only ones there. That’s what I like about the park. It’s quiet.”
“What about a car?” David asked. “Did you see any cars there today?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “The other cops asked me that, too.”
“Okay,” David said. “What about earlier this week, or any other time? Anything you remember for any reason?”
Again, Crystal took her pose, head bowed, thoughtful. This time, she looked up, appearing hopeful, as if something had just occurred to her. “Sometimes, but I never saw anyone get out of it,” she said. “Sometimes lately, now that the park’s so deserted, this car shows up, kind of an old white sedan, you know, four doors. I don’t know what kind.”
“How old?” I asked.
“I don’t know, just old, not new,” she said.
“Did you see anyone inside?” David prodded. “Anything unusual about the car?”
“Yeah. I think it was a guy. The car’s always parked too far away to see what he looked like. But like I said, he never got out,” she said, shaking her head. “I just always thought that was odd, that he came to the park, then sat in the car with his windows all up.”
“How often was he there?” I asked.
“Maybe three or four times,” she said, tying her mouth into a bow. “Over the past month or so.”
“Think back to be sure. Did you see the car today?” I asked.
“No,” she said, again shaking her head, irritated at the question. “Like I said, I didn’t see any cars today. But I wasn’t looking, either. I was talking to Evan, Joey’s dad, on the phone, listening to him tell me I was spending too much money. That I couldn’t have the three hundred I needed. I was kind of distracted.”
Leaning forward, David appeared to consider what she’d said. “Okay. But think back to those other times, when you saw the white sedan. What else did you notice about the person inside, or about the car?”
Again a pause, then she said, “Nothing. Just that there was this kind of older-looking car with a guy inside, and that he didn’t get out of the car or roll down the windows to get fresh air. Why go to the park just to sit in a car?”
“Maybe to enjoy the view,” David suggested.
“Well,” she said, hesitating. “I guess.”
In case it could be tied to Joey’s disappearance, David wrote down the description of the car. Yet there must have been a hundred thousand white sedans in Houston, so with nothing to differentiate the car, Crystal’s lead didn’t promise much help. “Are there family members or friends, anyone who’d take Joey? Anyone who was upset with you or your husband?” I asked. “Maybe someone said they didn’t think you were taking good care of the boy?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she railed, sitting up pin straight and eyeing me. “I take good care of Joey. I’m a good mother!”
Ignoring her irritation, I went on, “Focus here, Crystal. Agent Garrity asked this earlier, but think hard about it. Do you know anyone who wanted but couldn’t have a child? Anyone who might be desperate enough for a child to take your son?”
Still miffed, Crystal quickly shook her head. “No one I can think of. My parents see Joey lots, probably more than they want, ’cause they babysit. And Evan’s parents could care less. Evan and me, we had a good life together, and we were pretty happy, but his mom and dad trashed us when we got married. They just saw the marriage as a stupid mistake. Which I guess it was, since he left me for that Barbie doll.”
On the way to the interview, David had filled me in on what Crystal had to say about her not-yet-ex-husband, none of which qualified as flattering. The guy sounded like a lowlife, uninvolved in his son’s life, unfaithful. Yet from the melancholy look on her face, I had the feeling Crystal wasn’t finished with Evan Warner yet, that she still wanted him back. And after meeting the young mother, I figured there were definitely two sides to this particular story. The boy’s dad waited in another room, but we had business to finish with the mom. First off, I had something I wanted cleared up.
“Crystal, Agent Garrity showed me the photo of Joey you gave the deputies, the one released to the media. It’s the one that went out with the Amber Alert,” I said, broaching something that had been bothering me ever since I’d looked at the photo. “Maybe I’m wrong, but Joey looks younger than four to me. When was it taken?”
With that, the young mom shrugged, as if I were bothering her with something irritatingly inconsequential. “About six or seven months ago, I guess,” she said with a smug frown. “It could be as long as a year, but I don’t think so. When he was three.”
David flinched. His voice rose, although he kept it tight and in control. “You told the officers the photo was recent.”
A rueful huff, and Crystal said, “I told that cop that it was the most recent photo I had. I didn’t have anything newer on me, and I didn’t want to go home to get one. That would have been a waste of time. Why? What’s the problem? A photo’s a photo.”
I took a deep breath, too angry to answer.
“The problem is that you’ve got the police, the public, everyone, looking for a kid who probably doesn’t look like that photo anymore. Children change quickly. Joey is older, bigger, his face has matured,” David said, glancing over at me. “We need a new photo. A current one.”
At first Crystal simply stared at us, then her eyes searched David’s face. She said nothing, but I had the sense that she understood we were serious about the magnitude of her blunder. “I have some at home,” she said, for the first time with an attitude that bordered on demure. “When I leave here, I’ll get them.”
“That’s good. That’s very good. But there’s something else,” David said, leaning forward, intentionally invading Crystal’s space. Uncomfortable, she sat back, trying to lengthen the distance between them. “Before anything else, you have a job to do. You need to convince the lieutenant and me that you’re not involved in your son’s disappearance.”
“I knew you thought it was me,” she said, and shook her head as if we were all she expected, two dumb cops without a clue, Barney Fifes reincarnated. “Sure, like, how am I supposed to do that? Swear on a Bible or something? You’ll believe me if I do? Get real.”
“Take a polygraph,” David said, sitting back and watching. “We give it to you, now. You pass it, we believe you, and we look elsewhere.”
The young mother folded her arms across her chest. “No,” she said, resolute. “Not a chance.”
“Now that’s not smart, assuming you’re not involved,” I suggested. “It’s all ready. The examiner is waiting in the next room. You pass the polygraph, and we’re on your side. We believe you.”
Slouching in her chair, Crystal seemed to give that some thought. “I’ve heard those things don’t really work,” she remarked with a nonchalant shrug. “What if it says I’m lying, and I’m not? That can happen, can’t it?”
“The tests aren’t foolproof, but they’re a pretty good indicator,” David said. “And the examiner who’ll conduct your test is good. He’s been at this a long time. If you’re telling the truth, passing a polygraph is the quickest way to convince us.”
Crystal shook her head and stared down at her hands. If that was supposed to mean no, we weren’t jumping on it. She was going to have to spell it out. We waited, and she looked up. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”