Markhov and Johansen said nothing as they approached the house. They wouldn’t joke or chatter on the way to a potential tragedy anyhow, but this time they worked in near silence. Even the after-midnight air seemed unusually still. Another potential abduction, a missing girl and an open bedroom window… Please let it just be nothing. She snuck out to see her boyfriend or something, Markhov silently begged. She went out the window to avoid her mother catching her. Please let that be all.
He suspected every officer who was listening to the radio across the city had the same wish.
Since the last abduction, the police of St. Louis shared the unspoken hope that the kidnapper had met his end in the fire. Markhov, who had watched the building erupt into flames, believed he was dead. For the poor girl they had rescued that night, now in a mental health ward stricken by unknown demons, the only possible justice would be if the villain were now frying in Hell.
Heading up the walk, he recognized the house. He had been here before, but he couldn’t place it. He started rolling his mind through recent calls, through friends and acquaintances. Johansen rang the bell while he wrestled with his memory. After a moment, the kid followed with a knock on the door. “Hello? Police Department! Responding to 9-1-1!”
The door flung open, and a wild-eyed woman flew into a surprised Johansen’s arms, her hair a wild mop of blond, her words barely coherent. “Oh, God. Oh, God, they’ve got her. They took her. They took her….”
Anything further she said was lost in panicked sobbing. Johansen looked over at him in confusion. The boy was still a provisional officer, still learning the job, and hadn’t dealt with many panicked victims yet.
Markhov shrugged. Give her a moment, he tried to make his expression say. After waiting a bit longer, he cleared his throat and held out his ID. “St. Louis MPD, ma’am. May we enter the house?”
She looked at him, caught her breath, closed her eyes, nodded rapidly. Markhov unsnapped his holster as he stepped into the house. Nice place, clean, but not obsessively so, his mind started cataloging. Pretty normal looking residence. Odds are, it’s a healthy family situation.
Behind him, Johansen led the woman back into the house. He glanced back at her. “You told 9-1-1 your daughter’s window was open, ma’am. Can you show us?”
Wordlessly, she nodded and pointed down a hall. He went that way, saw an open door into a lit room. After glancing back for confirmation, he entered the room. Strewn bedclothes on the floor, and curtains moving slightly in front of an open window… someone had shoved a desk away from the window as if to get in.
He approached, inspected the window to see what he did not want to see. Broken casement linkages and broken hinges… using unknown tools, someone had forced the window right out of the frame, just like all the previous abductions.
He yanked his mini off his belt and radioed, “Dispatch, this is 3-5-32-Adam! Abduction confirmed. Repeat, abduction confirmed. Same MO. Window has been pulled out from the outside. Request immediate Amber and Crime Scene Unit. Stand by for victim description.”
“3-5-32, we copy abduction is confirmed. CSU is alerted. Standing by for Amber description.”
Johansen spoke with an alarmed tone. “Markhov, look at this!”
The kid pointed at the wall opposite the window. Posters of soccer stars lay on the floor, ripped off the wall to make room for something written in Magic Marker in unfamiliar characters.
He frowned. He’d never seen this one in the reports. “Was that writing there, before, ma’am?”
The woman looked at it in stark fear. He could tell the answer was ‘no’ from her eyes, even before she shook her head vigorously. She turned to Johansen and buried her face in his shoulder again.
“Yeah, that, too,” Johansen said, “but I meant this.”
Johansen pointed again, and this time Markhov saw the frame in the midst of the strange writing, a picture of a late-elementary-school-age girl with a man in a uniform. A St. Louis MPD uniform…
It was an old picture, so it took him a moment to realize it was the abducted teen and her father, but then he recognized the father’s face.
“Oh, Lord.”
