Cold As Ice Ch. 02

The chronological order of my stories is as follows:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series, The Swap series, Interludes 6-10, The Murdered Football Player Series, Case of the Black Widow series, Teresa's Christmas Story, The Case of the Black Badge series, A Case of Revenge series, Teresa's Summer Race, The Trilogy series, Dark Side Of The Force series, Caught In The Act series, The Phyllis Files 1-2, Case of the Murdered Bride series, The Credit Card Caper series, The Phyllis Files 3, The Hot Wives Investment Club series, Seriously Inconvenienced series, Case of the Paper Trail series, Christmas Mystery Theater, The Porno Set Mystery series, The Medical Murder Mystery series, The Eightfold Fence series, The Phyllis Files 4, Pale Morning Light series, Silverfish series.

Cold As Ice, Ch. 01-02.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

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Part 7 - Amber Alert

"This is Priya Ajmani for KSTD Five-Alive News!" shouted the lovely Indian reporterette into her microphone just outside the neighborhood where our temporary Police command center had been set up. It was getting dark on Saturday night, April 4th.

"An Amber Alert has gone out for little Marie Pressman, who has been reported missing since this afternoon by her parents." Priya reported. "Police believe the five-year-old walked away from her backyard while her parents weren't looking, and may be in the wooded areas not far from her home. The Search and Rescue Teams have been called out, as well as the Police Auxiliary, the Fire Volunteers and Auxiliary, and many citizens from the Town and County."

We had a formal, trained Search & Rescue group. They had badges like ours, but were silver instead of gold, had a seal showing a compass instead of the Great Seal of the Town & County in the middle, and "VOLUNTEER" instead of a Police or Fire Department number.

My mother would've been one of the Auxiliary Police leaders, but she was out of Town for the weekend. I was in the command center tent that someone felt the necessity of setting up, and I'd just given instructions to the many search teams. Cindy Ross was with me, as were several radio dispatch officers. The operation was going smoothly, led by Lieutenant Wes 'Coldiron' Masters of the Uniformed Officers division.

"Think we'll find her?" Cindy Ross asked.

"You tell me, Crowbar 2." I said. "Think."

"I'm not a Troy. But to your point, I don't think she walked off." said Cindy. "The Pressman's have two dogs, and I asked them if their daughter and the dogs got along. They said the dogs loved her and she loved them." I smiled and nodded, but Lt. Masters was not comprehending.

"Why is that important?" he asked.

Cindy replied: "I've observed the Commander's daughter and their new dog, Bowser. She cannot and could not walk anywhere without that dog following, and if she left the yard Bowser would be right there with her. But the Pressman's dogs did not go with little Marie. That suggests she was taken by someone."

"Yes, the dogs did nothing in the daytime." I said, paraphrasing the Conan Doyle quotation. "I agree with you, Lt. Ross. But we got an anonymous tip two hours ago that someone saw a little girl matching Marie's description was wandering in a field near here, and near Ronald Reagan Park. And KSTD had info on that tip before we could even do anything about it, and were setting up their cameras. Ergo, I called for the search and rescue operation... after all, this is what it's for."

Lt. Masters nodded, then excused himself to check in with his radio operators. Once alone, Cindy asked me quietly "Do you think this is being done to distract us?"

"I think it's for something, and this girl will be found." I replied. "KSTD is all over it; KXTC is way behind the power curve, which is strange enough. Myron said the anonymous tip came from a burner phone, and he exceeded his authority by checking and finding that the phone also called KSTD before calling the Duty Desk."

"And let's go one further." I continued. "If I were a citizen and saw a kid wandering around, I'd go get that kid, at least make sure she's okay. This anonymous tipster didn't do that... cared enough to call it in, but not enough to actually help the child. A strangeness there, my friend."

"Yep." Cindy said. "So you don't think someone is going to push some diamonds through the County while this is going on?"

"No." I said, dropping my voice. "The FBI got some info that there will be a diamond shipment Monday night. Our TCPD sources have not heard a thing, nor have our C.I.s, so I really think this is the real deal, while that first shipment may have been a dry run or a much smaller delivery. Croyle is already preparing our raid, and she's making sure nothing is written down where Sharples can hear about it."

"Good." Cindy said. "I've had about all I can take of that fat ass." Her words caused me to go into a reverie, thinking of what had happened earlier in the day...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Earlier that Saturday morning, I was playing with Carole and Bowser after breakfast when there was a call on my police cellphone. It was the Duty Desk.

"Commander," said the Duty Sergeant, "Councilman Thomas Cook's office called here, and said the Councilman expects you in his office this morning at 10:00am sharp."

"He 'expects' me there?" I asked. "He used that tone of voice?"

"It wasn't him, sir." said the Sergeant. "It was his assistant, and yes, the voice was one of an order, not a request."

"I see. Thanks for the call." I said. As I disconnected from the call, my first thought was to let Thomas P. Cook pound sand. Then I had an idea. I called Cindy Ross, and asked if she could go to the meeting with me, as I did not care to go to Cook's office alone. She agreed.

"If it were me," said Laura when I told her about the call, "I'd tell Thomas Cook to pound sand." I told her I had something else in mind, and went and got dressed (in civilian clothes) for the meeting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the City Hall office of Councilman Thomas P. Cook, the assistant admitted me but refused to let Cindy inside. I'd told Cindy that might happen, and that she should watch the assistant as if she were a bad dog, and make her nervous.

"Ah, Commander," said Cook jovially as I came in, "thank you for coming. Have a seat. Would you care for some coffee?"

"No thank you." I said coldly. "And I must ask you to come to the point, as I am missing another appointment by coming here."

Cook looked a bit put off at my brusque lack of manners, but he came to the point: "Okay. I understand that the grievance for Detective Sharples happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you directly that it was me that had that hearing expedited. I also wanted to tell you that while some Council members have expressed a desire to separate Detective Sharples from the Police Force, that attitude is by no means a unanimous one. I for one think Detective Sharples has done a fine job and will continue to... if you stop harassing him in the performance of his duties."

He looked at me to see the effect of his words upon me, but I'd long since set my face into impassive indifference, showing nothing. If his pause was meant to allow me to say something, it didn't work; I sat silently, waiting for him, until the silence of the room became embarrassing.

"So I don't want to hear of any more problems with this Detective and with the Union in general." Cook finally continued. "Despite some illusory things said to the Sheriff, and apparently taken out of context, the Council does not want the expense nor the media publicity of a lawsuit. And remember, Commander, that you will not be Acting Chief forever, especially as you declined to accept the job full time."

At this pause, I did speak: "I have just one question, Councilman: are you speaking formally for the Council, or is this just your own opinion and words?"

"You may consider me to be speaking for several members of the Council." Cook said. "Again, this is a political issue, or is becoming one, and we do not want to have to deal with it."

"Is that it?" I asked as I got up.

"I guess so." said Cook, totally unable to determine what to do next, and not knowing if he'd made an impression upon me. "Thank you for coming." He had stood up and was now extending his hand.

"If you'll excuse me, then, I have other things to do." I said, ignoring the outstretched hand. I turned to go.

"Do be careful, Commander." said Cook, stopping me. "You hold your job at the pleasure of the Council, and a dubiously-awarded Medal of Valor, a crowbar, and solving some cases won't protect you from people that have their own political interests at heart. Oh, you may try to bluff and say you can walk away from the job, but we both know you don't want to leave it."

I slowly walked back towards the desk, as if thinking. "Mr. Cook," I said, keeping my voice unnervingly quiet, "I don't know why you're working with the Union to protect that slug Sharples, but you had better hope and pray he doesn't lead you into anything criminal that I find out about... whether or not I'm a Police Commander here, or working on political corruption issues with the State or Feds. Have a nice day, and remember to follow the law like a good citizen." Adam West (Batman) could not have been any cheesier, and Cook looked utterly shocked as I turned and left.

As Cindy and I left City Hall, I knew that if I walked back in the office I would catch Cook examining the recording device he'd used... and that the device had failed to catch the conversation, thanks to my trusty jamming device, which was getting way too much use these days...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Cindy and I had some coffee in my office at Headquarters, I talked with her about my conversation with Chief Griswold.

"He said to create an atmosphere of 'understanding' about Sharples." I said.

"I think that already exists." Cindy replied. "What else can we do?"

"I want the word put out to be very formal with his name. Do not call him 'Sergeant' and correct anyone who does so as if they're committing a sin by calling him the wrong rank. Very quietly let word filter down that Sharples is a bad seed. And assign Sharples to jobs in the Tenderloin Districts and predominately-black districts, but be sure not to let him use Precinct 2 as his headquarters office, lest he set an ugly precedent there."

"Anything else?" Cindy asked.

"This won't be as easy, but any time Sharples fucks up or causes a mission to go bad, talk to Bettina Wurtzburg on 'deep background' and let her know he's the fuck-up. Maybe we can get Sharples some bad press, and that'll intensify him as the problem child."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Back in the present, with the sun now having set and the search parties using flashlights and lanterns in the darkness. Cindy and I sat at the command center tent, listening to progress reports.

"Commander, couldn't we be at Headquarters monitoring this search?" Cindy asked.

"Yep." I replied, understanding her. "Or from Precinct 3 or Precinct 1 Headquarters. This is for Media show, to make it visibly look like we're working on it. And that's why you and I are here: to make it look like we're in charge and working on it. Yes, we're working on it anyway, but if we don't show it publicly, the Media will accuse us of apathy and indifference."

"Geez, I'm beginning to hate the Press." Cindy said.

"That puts you on the fast track to the Commander position and the Chief position." I 'warned' my partner with a grin. A blue crowbar was waved in my general direction in retaliatory response.

The Press had been denied access to the command center, and a separate tent was set up for Lt. Peterson, the Media Relations Officer, to deal with them. At about 10:00pm, I watched over there for several minutes, then turned to Cindy Ross.

"The girl will be found within ten minutes." I said.

"How do you know?" Cindy asked, looking at me as if I'd lost my mind..

"Priya Ajmani got a cellphone call, then she and her cameraman just left the Media tent and snuck out of here." I said. "They know something. Also notice that Priya stayed at the Media tent, while Bettina, John Hardwood, Amber Harris and other reporters are out with the search teams, leaving 'cubs' at the central post."

The conclusion was obvious. Cindy looked over at the Media tent, then back at me. "I'm not a Troy, but even I can see that something is not right about that."

Sure enough, just five minutes later a voice came over the police radios, saying "I've got her, I've got her!". It was Detective Leonard Sharples's voice.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The girl was relatively unharmed, but was crying and asking for her mommy. She was reunited with her parents within minutes in the glaring light of a crush of Media cameras. The family was hustled into an ambulance for a trip to the Hospital for a checkup.

The Media was buzzing, trying to get Sharples on camera as he told his story to Priya Ajmani and her KSTD cameraman. "I spotted her in this field behind us, here." he was saying. The field was a grassy patch, and behind it was a tree-lined, weed-surrounded creek that emptied into the River about a mile away. "It wasn't easy to see her, but I caught sight of the colors in her dress and investigated." He was really buttering himself up, but it was Priya's fawning and her softball questions amongst exclamations of praise that had me looking at this scene as if it were scripted and play-acted.

Have I mentioned that Cindy is not the only person with a crowbar who truly hates the Press?

To top it off, KSTD had "exclusive" coverage of Sergeant Sharples bringing the girl out of the field, and they would be showing that footage over and over and over again for the next several days as they told the Public that Sharples a "hero" over and over again.

Part 8 - Appearances

Sunday morning, April 5th. After spending the night in the hospital for observation, little Marie Pressman was brought with her parents to the office of Dr. Laura Fredricson. If anyone was capable of working with a child and getting the answers out, while keeping the child soothed at the same time, it was Laura.

To help Laura, our dog Bowser was present. His coat was a yellow-labbish very light color, and he'd been fitted with a red bandana around his collar, making him look utterly adorable. Sure enough, little Marie took an instant liking to the dog.

"This is my friend Bowser." Laura said. "I think he likes you. Do you want to pet Bowser?"

"Yeah." Marie said, smiling brightly. "Hey Bowser!" She petted Bowser, who liked the attention as he sniffed his new friend.

While they played, Laura asked Marie some questions. "How did you leave your house?" Laura asked. "Did you walk away?"

"No." said Marie, who was a smart child. "A man picked me up and said he was taking me to Mommy."

"What did this man look like?" Laura asked. "Did he wear glasses?"

"Yeah." said Marie. "He had a big beard, too. And a funny hat."

"Was he fat or skinny?" Laura asked.

"He was fat." said Marie.

"So do you remember where you were?" Laura asked.

"No. It was a dark room. It was little." said Marie. "He put me in there with the thing like Daddy uses on the grass in the yard. He said to go to sleep, and if I peed in my pants Mommy would be mad at me. But I couldn't help it." The girl looked distressed.

"I'm not mad at you, sweetie!" Marie's mom said, hugging her.

"Marie," Laura said, "were the walls of the room wood like this table? Or metal, like that desk?"

"Wood. Like the treehouse my friend Carla's daddy made."

"Ah, that's fantastic." Laura said, impressed. "Marie, what was the man wearing?"

"A brown coat and blue pants." said Marie.

"Like blue jeans? Like your dad is wearing now?" Laura asked.

"Yeah." Marie said, looking over at her father, who was wearing blue jeans.

"Do you remember seeing anything else in that little room?

"There was a coat hanging up. It looked like that." Marie said, pointing at the chair next to me. I'd been sitting unobtrusively in the chair in front of Laura's desk. My trenchcoat was folded on the chair next to me.

"Like this?" I asked, holding up the coat. Marie looked up at Laura, then her mother.

"It's okay," Laura said reassuringly, "you can talk to him. He's my husband, and Bowser's friend."

"Yeah, it was like that." Marie said, reassured about me.

"Marie," I said, trying to keep my voice as gentle as possible. "I'm going to stand up. Will you tell me if the man you saw was as tall as me?" I stood erect, towering over her.

"No, you're much higher than that other man was." Marie said. "But his tummy was much wider than yours."

"How did you get out of the room?" Laura asked.

"The man came and opened the door and told me to go into the field, that my mommy was down there." said Marie. "I ran out but I didn't see Mommy."

"Do you remember the police officer that found you?" Laura asked.

"Yeah, he was fat too." Marie said.

"Was he the same guy that brought you into the little room?"

"I don't think so." Marie said.

"Thank you for helping me, Marie." I said. "I'm going to let you talk to Dr. Laura here some more, okay?" My wife did not like being called 'Dr. Laura', but as I was talking to a child, she let it go.

"I know who you are!" Marie suddenly exclaimed, grinning. "You're that Crowbar guy on TV!" She was very happy with herself for figuring that out. Laura's eyes were twinkling as she grinned at me.

"Er, yes, I am." I said, smiling wryly. "My real name is Don, so call me that, okay? You're a very smart little girl."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, Commander," said Sergeant Rudistan. "Internal Affairs asked Sharples to show us where he found the girl. At first he said over there in that field about 200 yards down the road, but the trees behind it didn't match the video footage." He showed me some news footage from the previous night. There was enough light from cameras and some light behind the treeline, so we could generally tell the landscape.

"So Sharples then said he wasn't sure, that it was night, he got disoriented by the news cameras, yadda yadda yadda." said Rudistan. "But I think this field here fits the video footage."

"Sure does." I said, then pointed at spots on the ground. "And you can see the trampled grass where Sharples went after the child, then around here were some Media people were."

I had Cindy come over, and said quietly to her: "One other thing: the Search and Rescue teams were coming this way, and they were not the teams Sharples had been assigned to go with. He apparently broke off from them, came here by himself, and 'Hey, presto!' the child shows up right in front of him... before anyone else could get here to see what happened."

"Not only that," Cindy said, "this field is visible from the road, and several patrol cars went by in the previous hour. I've had officers approach me and make a point to say they saw nothing at all. They're suspicious, too. Yeah, they could've missed her, but she'd have to be practically intentionally hiding for that to happen."