The Collector

Alan had just sat down on one of the park benches when his phone rang. The caller ID read “Wayneston PD.”

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Swansea—Chief Myers here. We just left Fowler’s house and I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. The place is clean. I mean squeaky-clean. No sign of any girls whatsoever.”

  Alan felt his heart sink like a stone. He couldn’t be hearing this.

  “I’m having trouble believing that, Chief. I mean, did you just poke around the grounds or did you actually investigate his home?”

  “We not only cased out his home from stem to stern but his guest house as well. I’m telling you, Swansea, the place is clean. I don’t know who your sources are or what you think you’ve discovered through your investigation but I can tell you that Martin Fowler is not involved in it.”

  Alan was reeling from this. How could it be? Charlie had traced the number to Fowler’s home. Fowler had bought the girls from the Russian. All roads led to this place—

  Popov! Just as he suspected might happen had happened: Yuri Popov had tipped Fowler off!

  But even if this were true, how in the hell could Fowler have possibly cleaned up his place so thoroughly and in such a short time? To such an extent that there evidently wasn’t a single shred of evidence indicating that the girls had ever been there? A thought suddenly occurred to him.

  “What about his computer, Chief? Did you check that out?”

  “No, I did not,” the chief replied, clearly agitated now. “Listen Swansea, we were able to investigate Mr. Fowler’s home only because the man was willing to let us do so out of the kindness of his heart. He did not have to do that, but he did. I had no search warrant and therefore I had no right to poke around in his computer or anything else that wasn’t in plain sight. So look—we made a deal and that deal was if I checked out Martin Fowler’s place and found nothing to indicate that he was involved in any wrongdoing, you would accept that and let it go. It is time you let it go, Alan. That was our deal, my friend.”

  “Alright, Chief. A deal is a deal and I will honor it. I appreciate your help and am sorry that you wasted your time doing this for me.”

  “No problem. I have to admit that at one point I actually thought there could be some truth to what you were alleging. Now we know it just ain’t so. But there are no hard feelings—we did what we had to do.”

  “Thanks, Chief. So I guess I’ll just be moving on. Thanks again for your time.”

  Alan disconnected, cursed out loud and stared at the screen of his iPhone for a full minute, his head spinning.

  Now, what? he thought. Time to begin accepting the fact that he had screwed this whole case up royally? Go back to Columbus, call that poor woman stuck in that little room turning tricks day in and day out and tell her sorry, but he couldn’t help her anymore? That he had done all he could but wasn’t able to find her little sister?

  Shit!

  He looked at his watch—it was 9:35. What could he do at this point in time? Fowler’s house had been given a gold star rating by the police chief and the place was virtually inaccessible, making it impossible to check it out for himself. And even if he could somehow manage to get past the electrified fence and video cameras, all he would probably end up doing was get himself into real trouble if he were caught trespassing on Fowler’s property.

  Alan sat back on the bench. He began reviewing all of the events that had led to his arrival in this little town in an attempt to decide what he could have done differently. He promptly came to the conclusion that there wasn’t anything, except perhaps for his visit to Popov’s house, which was what had led to the man’s suspicions of him. But had he not cased out Popov’s place and freed Nadia, he would never have gotten the Russian recruiter’s phone number and in turn, Fowler’s phone number. He would in essence still been on a dead end street in this case.

  This rationale actually bolstered his spirits for a moment. He knew as sure as he was sitting there that Fowler was the one who had been keeping and using those girls all this time. But after Yuri Popov called to inform him that there was a chance he was being investigated, Fowler had taken the girls out of there pell-mell. How he had done so after such short notice and without leaving any traces was anyone’s guess.

  And all moot points at this juncture.

  The relevant thing and ten thousand dollar question was where had he taken them? And was there any chance he could find them?

  His phone rang. It was Marcia.

  “I was just about to call you,” he lied.

  “Have you heard from the chief, yet?”

  “Yeah. He said he didn’t find a thing. He supposedly went all through his house and the grounds but saw nothing that indicated there had been any girls there.”

  “What do you mean, supposedly? You don’t believe him?”

  “Hell, I don’t know what to believe! I mean, I guess he probably did go check out the place but it was only a cursory search. He didn’t check out his computer or dig into anything that could actually incriminate Fowler. So as far as I’m concerned, he didn’t conduct a conclusive investigation.”

  “But even so, don’t you think that there would be some pretty obvious signs that there had been a group of girls living there for the last six months without the chief having to scour the place? I mean, Martin Fowler had no forewarning that the police were paying him a visit so he couldn’t possibly have had enough time to hide the girls and clean up the evidence. So, isn’t there a pretty good chance that maybe they were never there in the first place?”

  “Oh, I think Fowler had plenty of time to get rid of them and clean up! Because the mob’s kingpin had already tipped him off of my possible arrival to this town. I’m certain that’s what happened. And now I have to try and figure out where Fowler took those girls.”

  Marcia fell silent for a moment. Then she said, “Alan, I know how disappointed you must feel right now, but don’t you think you ought to look at this rationally? I mean, even if everything you say has really happened, don’t you think the odds of finding those girls at this point are pretty slim? I guess what I’m saying is that you need to lighten up on yourself and consider the possibility that although you have done all you can to try to save those girls, it may not happen.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that, Marcia. No offense, but what you’re suggesting is that I should simply give up on this case, which is pretty lame. I have not spent all this time in search of this guy only to let your police chief’s slipshod investigation discourage me.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute, now—I wasn’t saying that at all, Alan! I feel every bit as sympathetic toward these poor victims as you do and want nothing more than for you to catch these bastards and ship them off to prison. I was only trying to tell you not to be so hard on yourself in the event that you can’t find them. I’m sorry you took it the wrong way.”

  “And I’m sorry too. I guess I’m sort of down right now and not thinking clearly. I honestly don’t know what my next move should be.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure.”

  “How about the two of us going on a little picnic in the country?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I know of a gorgeous place not far from town where we could lay out a blanket and chill out for a while. I think it would do you good to get your mind off of this for a little while. Maybe it will give you a new perspective.”

  Alan thought a moment. The offer was tempting and he literally had no idea what to do with regard to the case at the moment. And the prospect of lying on a blanket with this beautiful girl was simply impossible to turn down.

  “Okay, let’s do it—to hell with this case for now.”

  “That’s the spirit! Where are you right now? I’ll come and pick you up.”

  “I’m on a bench in the park.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”