CHAPTER ONE
The flight out to Dayton was pretty boring to James Ford and Miles Straume. Flying halfway across the country on this missing persons wasn't exactly routine for them, but somebody "high up" had insisted on it. For some reason, this missing kid had piqued the interest of somebody and Ford and Straume were put on the case.
A tip had led them to the small town of Lima, Ohio. Supposedly the kid had been spotted by a local off a Missing Children's website and they had called the LAPD. An interview with his grandmother had confirmed that he had distant relatives in Lima, but that he hadn't ever met them.
Regardless, James and Miles were now in a rental car and heading towards Lima. Both men eyed the town cynically as they entered it. Your run-of-the-mill small industrial town, holding its own from the de-industrialization of the 70s and 80s.
"Nice burg, huh?" Straume said sarcastically. "Oh, yeah," Ford replied, "I'm thinking of retiring here." Both smirked. "What do you think?" Ford thought for moment. "If I were a kid on the run…where would be the best place to hide out, blend in?" Miles nodded knowingly. "Where there were a lot of other kids." Ford nodded back.
They stopped and asked directions and then made their way over to the local high school. As they pulled in the parking lot, they saw the sign "William McKinley High". The two police officers made their way past all the stares of local teens ….jocks…nerds…cheerleaders, the usual assortment and headed for the principal's office. They spoke to the secretary, who buzzed them in to see him. "Yes? I'm Principal Figgins," the Indian-American man stood extending his hand, "How can I help you?" They both took turns shaking it and then sat in the chairs in front of the desk.
Ford and Straume presented their badges, while James spoke. "Detective James Ford," he indicated to Miles, "Detective Straume, LAPD." The school administrator had a puzzled, worried look on his face. "What does the Los Angeles police want here?" Ford continued. "We got a missing kid case and our leads have led us to Lima." He pulled out a photo from his leather jacket and handed it to Figgins. "Name's Walter Lloyd or Walt... 10 years old." Figgins examined the picture. "I don't recognize him," he handed it back. "Besides, our children are fourteen or fifteen or older."
Ford nodded. "Yeah, we just thought we'd start here before going to the junior high and elementary schools, in case some one of your kids had a clue, we could catch up to him without him knowing we were in town." Miles jumped in. "His grandmother said he had some relatives in this town named 'Jones'," he stated, "You got any African-American kids named 'Jones'?" Figgins nodded. "Yes, let me pull the student roster." Reaching behind him, the principal pulled out a large book. He flipped through it. "Yes, there are three." He showed it to the other two men.
"Marcus Jones, Kendall Jones, Mercedes Jones" James Ford read. "Okay, mind if we talk to these kids?" Figgins demurred slightly. "Well, I don't want to pull them out of class if we can help it." Ford nodded, "Okay, how about after class?" Figgins nodded, "Alright. Marcus is on the basketball team, so he'll be in practice at 3pm. Kendall is track and will be on the field also at 3pm. Mercedes is in our Glee Club, so she'll be in the choir room about that time." They looked at the clock, it said twenty to three. "Mind if we wait here?" Ford asked. "Please."
Just about five minutes later, Figgins' door burst open and a tall, thin blonde woman in her late forties came in, wearing an orange tracksuit and a whistle around her neck. Ford and Straume turned instinctively, slightly reaching for their holstered handguns. The woman was incensed.
"What the hell is this?" she demanded. "You've cut my budget for hairstyling for the Cheerios? This…will…not…stand!" Figgins grew angry, primarily at the embarrassment of the interruption in front of strangers. "Sue! $500 a month for stylists is an outrageously expensive….uh…expense. Especially given the Cheerios current status." Both knew that meant Sue Sylvester's recent loss at Regionals. She seemed taken aback by the cut and was about to outburst again, when she finally saw the two men sitting there in front of the principal's desk. "Who the hell are you?"
Ford looked at her smugly. "Well, I might ask the same of you, Bear Bryant?" Sue was taken aback again. Figgins jumped in "This is Sue Sylvester, coach of our cheerleader squad." He motioned to the men. "Sue, these are Detectives Ford and Straume of the Los Angeles Police." At the mention of their assignment, Sylvester blushed. She pointed her finger squarely at Ford. "You can't prove a damn thing. The video clearly shows I wasn't anywhere near Rodney King!" She turned back to Figgins. "As for the budget cut…there WILL be a reckoning, Figgins. Oh, yes!" And with that, she left the office, slamming the door behind her.
Ford and Straume stared at each other for a moment, completely confused. Then back at Figgins. "She's very …passionate," he tried to explain. Three o'clock arrived in silence. Ford turned to Straume, "Miles, you go check out the kid at the basketball court…I'll go down to the choir room. When we get done, we'll meet at the track field." Straume nodded. James turned to Figgins. "We'll try to keep it brief, but if we need to talk to any kid alone, you'll need to call their parents." The principal nodded and Ford left the office and headed down the hallway.