| |
Karen had decided to limit her yelling to every half hour. It wasn’t working anyway, and her throat still stung after vomiting when she awoke from whatever drug was used on her. Her clothes were soiled, since she hadn’t had access to a restroom. A dusty wool blanket was keeping her from freezing, and her captor had provided bottles of water with straws sticking out. They were just close enough for her to sip them with feet chained to a sturdy wooden post and her hands locked behind her back with antique-style manacles. The rough-hewn small barn was drafty, and she hadn’t heard any sounds except for gusts of wind and some crows.
She hadn’t seen her captor yet, and she assumed she was into her second day of being held against her will. The strangest thing was that she still had her gun in her holster. Who would do that? She knew it was the brother of the deceased child, but who was he? Suddenly, she thought that she was hearing the very distant sound of a siren on the wind. Yes, she was definitely hearing it. Heavy footsteps come up behind her. As she twisted around to see, a burlap bag swallowed her head. She yelled and bucked violently as her captor sprayed something noxious into her. Karen’s world went black.
______________
Chief Reyes was questioning Angela Foy, who was now known as Pamela Leone. She had a different lawyer than her sister. One of the officers told Gil that she was somewhat of an area celebrity, being the lead singer of a long-standing rock band called Soundslip. She also owned the art gallery in the same building as Susan’s antique shop.
“Do you have any children?” Chief Reyes asked.
“No.”
“What is your relationship to Mark Breen?”
Pam chuckled. “I don’t know what he is to me, scientifically speaking, but I consider him to be my nephew. He’s my sister’s son, but my father was his father. He’s also my employee. He helps me with my gallery and is a roadie for my band.”
An officer came into the interview room and handed Reyes a note. Reyes suspended the interview and excused himself. He left the room and called Sergeant Phillips, who said, “Karen was here in Farnum at what used to be part of the commune. She was kept in a small barn, but she’s gone. Her pants and underpants are here, soiled. There are bottles of drinking water, so it looks like Breen is keeping her alive. No sign of her gun. Crime Scene is on their way. Where to next?”
“I’m interviewing the other sister now,” said Reyes. “I’ll see if I can find more places to search.”
Gil had overheard the conversation. “Did you search the places that had arsons?”
Reyes said to Phillips, “Search the places where Karen was investigating arsons.” He hung up and told an officer to work on that. Then, back in the interview room, he said, “Mark Breen is suspected of kidnapping a police officer, and we’re searching for him. Do you know of any places that he would hide if the police were searching for him?”
Her lawyer held up his hand to stop Pam from answering. “Let the record show that Ms. Leone has answered this question when first contacted by the police.” He looked at Pam and said, “You may answer the question.”
“Other than his apartment and our warehouses, I don’t know of any more places to look.”
“Where are the warehouses located?” Reyes asked.
“There’s one on Sherman Drive in Turner’s and one on Hope Street in Greenfield.” She thought for a few seconds. “Before we got the one on Sherman Drive, we had a smaller warehouse on Pierce Street in Greenfield.” She gave Reyes directions, and he gave the order through the one-way glass.
They discussed the history of what happened to Pam and her family from the beginning, and the story matched what Susan had described. Reyes asked if she stayed in contact with any of the commune members. She provided a few names, the same ones Susan provided.