All characters and places in this series are fictional. Any resemblance they bear to actual people or places is purely coincidental.
- - - - - - - - - -
Max and JP were enjoying the day off together. Thanksgiving was a few days behind them and they already had their Christmas shopping plans laid out. They sat together at lunch inside one of the few oceanfront restaurants in Oceanside that stayed open all year. A lot of them were only open during the peak tourist months, but this one - the Sandy Dollar - stayed open all year and focused on welcoming the locals during the later fall, winter and early spring months. To express their appreciation for the tolerance of the locals during the tourist season, the restaurant reduced its pricing on everything in the off-season and even had menus printed for the off season and marked as such.
Both of them had ordered a grilled chicken Caesar salad - still feeling guilty about how much they'd eaten on Thanksgiving day, first at Max's sister's house and then at JP's parents' place. Max had done a rough estimate and decided he'd eaten almost double his usual daily caloric intake. In response, he'd upped the amount of time he spent doing cardio exercise every day since then and he'd adjusted his diet down a bit to offset the calories he'd consumed. He considered it well worth it and JP agreed.
They both had sugar-free iced tea to drink and were about half way through their lunch when Max's phone chirped indicating he had received a text. As both of them were police officers and knew that texts could well be emergency messages from squad mates or other people, neither of them got offended if the other pulled out a cell phone during a meal to see what it was. The only time they both silenced their phone was when they were at the movies and when they went to bed.
Pulling out his phone Max looked to see what the message was and was surprised to see it was from a relatively new friend he'd made the year before. He and Sean had traveled to Patuxent Naval Air Station in southern Maryland to attend some training and had met an Air Force Office of Special Investigations Major named Travis Slade. They had learned the Slade was attached to a counter-terrorism task force and that he truly loved his work. To some extent, Max envied the man. On the other hand, Slade had to be lonely quite a bit and Max wasn't in a hurry to embrace a lifestyle that included that.
The text said, "Slade here. Visiting your area tomorrow. Lunch? Dinner?"
Max was working day work the next day so he felt lunch wasn't a good idea. He responded, "Dinner. My treat."
Slade's response was pretty much what Max expected. "Done. No way. I invited. It's on me. Will call when I'm about a half hour out. Anticipate ETA 1730 hours."
Max replied simply with, "Roger that," and put his phone away. He shared the quick exchange with JP and she agreed to join them. Max told her what little he knew about Slade and then they turned their attention back to their meal and the remainder of their day off. He and JP enjoyed the rest of their lunch and then decided to brave the local mall to do some early Christmas shopping. They agreed it might be a bad idea due to their shared intolerance for stupidity, but they also agreed there were good deals to be had and they needed to get an idea of what each other wanted.
- - - - - - - - - -
Detective Lieutenant Andrea "Andi" Desalis was not having a good afternoon. Her partner, Detective Sergeant Jacob "Mac" Macgregor, was out interviewing various individuals related to their open investigation into the recent serial kidnappings that ended with murder. Every victim had been under 12 years old, of both sexes and held for at least two weeks in between their kidnapping and their murder. There was a single exception to that holding pattern, but it was one out of six.
Andi's biggest challenge was that they only had three real suspects in the crimes. All three had previous convictions for sex crimes, but it seemed as if all three of them also had alibis for at least two out of the six crimes. Given that there was no physical evidence connecting the victims to any given location or individual, Andi would have been happier if there was even a single suspect without an alibi for all of the murders. Another challenge was that the kidnappings weren't all reported as occurring in a specific window of time. In three cases, the children had gone to school as usual, walking from their homes to their elementary school, but in those three cases there was no proof that they arrived at school. Yes, attendance was taken by teachers, but some teachers reported the children as absent from class, yet the homeroom teachers and final class teachers of each student’s day reported them as present. The students never arrived home and it was assumed that they'd been kidnapped after the school day. The discrepancies in records for attendance, however, left a window of doubt - and such doubts could create findings of not guilty from a jury. Andi had to be sure and have a tight case before she could get a warrant for any one of the three suspects, or even to search any of their residences.
Of the three suspects, two had very good alibis while the last had a fairly flimsy alibi for three of the kidnappings and no alibi at all for the other three. It wasn't enough for a warrant application, but it was enough to make Andi focus on him. He had prior for the sexual molestation of a minor and, at least according to his neighbors, was a "weird" guy who made the feel creeped out. Such could never be used as evidence, but Andi had faith in intuition. Hers had always served her well and she trusted in that of others... when she felt it might be justified. She knew all too well that "hunches" had solved a lot of crimes and her hunch was that this third suspect was her man.
To help clear her thoughts and double check that she wasn't being unfairly prejudicial toward the one suspect, she reviewed the information she had about all three.
The first was Marcus Cantaldo. Cantaldo had prior convictions for aggravated assault, armed robbery and stalking. He had accusations of domestic violence and sexual assault in his background but hadn't been convicted on those charges. At 33 years old, roughly six feet tall and a lean one hundred seventy pounds, Cantaldo had worked as a carnival clown in the past, the makeup for which allowed him to cover up scars he had on his face from an industrial accident. He was a suspect on Andi's list because the victims of his stalking had been minors, although neither had been under fifteen years old and the prison psychiatry reports didn't indicate any predilection for pedophelia.
The second suspect on her list was Terrence Whitley. A 39 year old dark skinned African American, Whitley was just under six feet tall, with a medium build at one hundred eighty five pounds and a shaved bald head. He had one prior arrest for kidnapping but wasn't convicted. The "victim" was his daughter and the accuser was his ex-wife. The accusation of kidnapping was filed by his ex-wife during a custody dispute, alleging that he hadn't returned the child as specified in the visitation agreement. He had no other arrests.
The third - and the man she felt was the prime suspect - was Daniel Laidstone, better known as Danny. Very average at 43 years old, slightly overweight and with a smattering of freckles under a receding hair line, Laidstone had past convictions for pedophile sexual molestation. He was a registered sex offender living on the outskirts of Oceanside and was divorced. He was sufficiently strange that his adult aged children and his ex-wife had no contact with him and when asked about him they all described him as "weird beyond description." His physical description put him at five feet ten inches tall and a folly two hundred thirty pounds. His current employment was as a compactor worker for the County's Department of Waste and Sanitation.
In the file, each of the suspects had a single sheet of paper with all of their pertinent information on it along with bullet pointed information referencing why they were a suspect. As she had already done several times before, Andi read them and put them in order of how SHE felt they should actually be. Laidstone was on top of the pile. Whitley was on the bottom. Cantaldo was in the middle. In her gut she KNEW Laidstone was the guilty party just like she KNEW Whitley didn’t have anything to do with the crimes. Cantaldo, she felt, could have something to do with the crimes… or other crimes. She didn’t think he was innocent, but she felt strongly that Laidstone was the one they needed to be focusing on.
With that determination fresh in her mind, she started going through all the records and information they had for Laidstone again. She focused in on the three flimsy alibis he had and made a note to visit the schools again. She needed to find a way to narrow the window of time wherein the children had been kidnapped OR she needed to pick apart Laidstone’s alibis… or both.
- - - - - - - - - -
Max and JP met at his place when they both finished their day shift, changed and got some time in the gym before returning to his place to get ready for dinner with Slade. Max had suggested that they shower together to “save time and water” but JP just laughed and locked the bathroom door as she went in. In reality, they both knew that showering together would NOT save time or water and would more likely make them late for their dinner date with Slade. While JP was in the shower, Max’s phone chirped indicating a text. Slade had sent, “ETA city limits 1740.”
Max replied. “Meet at The Tarpole restaurant, 1800?”
“Roger that,” he got back from Slade.
The Tarpole wasn’t a big restaurant. Being built over the water (and sitting on tarred wooden pilings, hence the name) was a mixed blessing for any business. The location was prime and in the peak of tourist season there was always a line of patrons waiting to get in, from before they opened at eleven each morning until eight in the evening when they stopped seating people – because the kitchen closed at nine. In the off season, though, with often blustery winds coming off the ocean and all the parking behind the restaurant, forcing patrons to walk up the sides of the building and along the front to the entrance, the location wasn’t so great. The owners were a local family with a long history in the city and the other locals appreciated that the restaurant stayed open. Patrons kept the business flourishing even in the off season. During the peak season, the hostess station was set at the end of the boardwalk walkway which funneled patron traffic into an orderly waiting line outside the building. There was an awning that covered the walkway and plenty to look at along the beach and surf as people waited. In the off season, the hostess station was a few feet inside the front door because no one wanted to wait outside in the grayer cold beach climate during the late fall and winter months. The seating was a mix of booths and tables, all of which were designed to seat four people. If a party was bigger than that, tables were combined or pushed over to extend a booth. Total available seating was only seventy-two patrons, not including high chairs (which the restaurant had six of). The entire restaurant was built on a pier and the view from three sides of the structure was of the surrounding ocean.
Max and JP arrived at the Tarpole about quarter before six and went in to get seating. They knew the hostess and chatted for a couple minutes before asking for a table in one of the back corners. Max told the hostess they were expecting another person to join them and then he and JP sat on the same side of the table, their backs against the wall – where they could easily see most of the interior of the restaurant, the front door, the side door and the kitchen access/egress. It wasn’t paranoia. It was just being careful. Max knew that Slade would probably be slightly uncomfortable sitting with his back to the restaurant and front door, but he’d also know he had two officers sitting across from him. It was almost a running joke among most cops: whoever HAD to sit with their back to the room KNEW that if they saw the officers across from them reaching for guns, then their only job was to get down out of the line of fire.
A few minutes later Max saw Slade walking up the boardwalk along the side of the restaurant and stood to meet him after he’d come in the front door. Max waved from the back of the room, Slade said a few words with a smile to the hostess and then made his way back. With a strong handshake the two men greeted each other and Max introduced JP. Slade shook her hand as well, although not quite as strongly as he had Max’s, and then slid into his side of the booth.
JP gave Slade the once over as he had been walking back. He looked to be a few years older than Max’s 25 (and he was at 32, but JP didn’t know his exact age), and he looked to be about the same height and weight. The two men were actually only an inch apart in height and within ten pounds in weight. Where Max had dark brown hair and matching brown eyes, Slade’s hair was slightly lighter, although still brown, and his eyes were gray. From Max she had learned that Slade was a Major in the Air Force and worked in the Office of Special Investigations. She also knew that the two men had met when Max had attended some training up in Maryland the year before. Beyond that, she knew nothing about Slade.
Seeing that the whole party had arrived, the waitress came over and took their drink orders, asked about appetizers and then went to get the drinks. After a bit of small talk about Slade’s drive down, Max asked him what had brought him to Oceanside. Slade didn’t give a direct answer but merely said it was for work. Max accepted that with grace, knowing that Slade’s job could easily involve classified work or have an investigation centered around controlled information – or something else sensitive. What Slade said next took Max by surprise though.
“Actually,” said Slade, “One of the reasons I’m in Oceanside is you.”
“Excuse me?” said Max, the question obvious in his voice.
Slade explained. “When we met last year I told you I was working on a counter-terrorism task force.” Max nodded his head in acknowledgement. “The task force is looking for a few new members,” explained Slade. “They’re actually looking at standing up another team.” Max still remained quiet. “So when my Colonel asked me if I knew or could recommend anyone that we might want to have on the team, I remembered meeting you, and what you told me about your military background and EMS skills. I thought you might be a good addition if you’re interested.”
Max was more than interested but he’d never heard of a federal task force using officers from an agency as small as Oceanside and he was confused as to how the logistics of the whole arrangement would work. “I’m intrigued,” said Max carefully. “But how does this work? The police department just hands me off to… who? DHS?”
“Actually,” explained Slade, “we tend not to use anyone but federal officers on the task force. What would have to happen is that you’d apply for a position with the U.S. Marshal’s office and once there, we could second you over.”
Max wasn’t fond of the thought of leaving Oceanside Police Department even though he was enthusiastic about the idea of being a U.S. Marshal. “So I’d have to relocate to where?” he asked.
“Actually you wouldn’t have to relocate,” said Slade. “You’d have to go to school down in Georgia for about ten weeks and your ‘home office’ would be in Richmond, but you could still live here in Oceanside… or wherever nearby. You WOULD travel quite a bit for work though. I’ll be honest about that.”
JP had been quiet through the conversation so far and she still chose not to say a word. She felt the need to remind Max of their relationship though and, under the table, she put a hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze. It had the desired effect. Max’s thoughts refocused on his immediate reality and how good things were going for him in Oceanside. As much as he liked the idea of being a U.S. Marshal, and having the expanded jurisdiction, not to mention being on a counter-terrorism task force and having – potentially – worldwide jurisdiction, what price would he pay to gain such?
“How fast do you have to know?” he asked Slade.
“The project outline for the new team is being forwarded for approval in the new year and it won’t actually be staffed until it’s properly approved and funded… and that won’t be until next July.” Slade paused to think. “So, the Colonel would actually need some kind of answer from you by, say… late March.”
“It won’t take me that long,” said Max in reply. “I’ll have an answer for you by end of year.”
“That’ll work,” said Slade.
The waitress came back to ask them about their orders and the rest of their meal was spent discussing non-work related items. None of them had done their Christmas shopping yet – not completely anyway. Slade was happy for Max and JP when he saw her engagement ring but disappointed that they hadn’t picked a date yet. He reassured Max that he hadn’t taken up surfing, but kept thinking about it – and got some good information about the South End Surf Shop as the best place for surfing equipment and lessons.
Max briefly discussed the choice he had to make at the police department and JP weighed in on what she thought he should do (apply for and go to the SWAT team). JP talked about Beach Patrol, the pros and cons of always working in or near the sand, and the comforts of the summer uniform. All in all, it was a relaxing and casual meal that allowed Slade and Max to catch up and – without being obvious about it – for Slade to get a better idea of what kind of person Max was and where he was in his life. By the time the meal was complete, Slade wasn’t sure if Max would be best served by making the move to the Marshal’s service and joining the counter-terrorism task force, but he knew the pending team would be better off if Max did. Max’s background and experience was such that Slade was pretty sure he’d like to have the man around in bad situations.
- - - - - - - - - -
Across the city, in a basement apartment, the suspect that Detective Desalis was looking for was taking a long last look at his latest victim. The child was mercifully unconscious and soon to be disposed of – as he thought of it. The reality was that such actions couldn’t be continued and he was all too aware of the pressure being put on the police department and surrounding agencies to find whoever was committing these crimes. If the actions had to stop, could he live with that? Did he have any choice? Even as he committed the crimes he was aware of how heinous they were. On the one hand he hated himself for it. On the other hand, it was the only source of pleasure in his life. Why did he enjoy torturing people? Animals? Anything living? He didn’t know. And as soon as he started to think about it he’d have a hard time even remembering why he WAS trying to figure it out. The thoughts often drifted away and his mind came back to his immediate reality; in this case, where he was going to dump the body of his latest victim.
