Chapter 1: "Sugar"
New Mexico: A place of intense heat, sand, lots of clouds and much-open terrain. A person could literally disappear out here quickly and be found dead before help could ever reach them unless you had wings; thus the planes that patrolled the skies. You had to be fast, steady with the controls, sharp of eye and with good descriptive powers to begin to be considered qualified, especially in the eyes of the chief of the police force.
Because of this, there were only a small few who warranted consideration and even fewer who passed; those who did were able-bodied, quick to respond, and knew every quadrant of the desert like the back of their hand. The only limiting factors were weather and distance along with numbers. Apart from that nothing really ever got past them. The cars were what came after the planes. With so much distance to be covered at speed, if there was an emergency, you needed to know the exact nature of the situation and what you were getting into.
The report came in and the police cars would respond according to the calls and the location. People knew who to call, yet it was always difficult to reach in time if there ever was a situation. However not much of anything ever occurred out here in the desert. That did not mean something bad could happen; sandstorms could catch the unwary or unprepared and someone who wanted to be able to operate anonymously would naturally choose to come here. Even the planes could not be everywhere at once which would be perfect for someone sought by the law.
Today was just like any other day; almost to be precise. Breakfast and uniforms, then the report for duty, meeting with the partner, and then driving out into the desert upon receiving a call. What made this one unusual was the report from a man stating he had seen someone wandering blindly in the desert. Could have been a mirage but the guy had said he was perfectly healthy and had very good eyes. And thus it was that plane 301A found itself headed out in the area indicated and shortly caught up to car 5W which had responded to the call and was nearing the destination.
"Plane 301A to car 5W," Jonny called in, "I think that were chasing the wind out here Ben. It's looking to me like the guy who sent in that report drank his breakfast. Hey, wait just a minute."
Jonny maneuvered expertly off to the left and got a better look at the movement he had noticed against the sunlit sand. A small figure moving at a steady pace in one direction not halting even from the noise of the approaching plane, just as reported. "It definitely is a kid I think, maybe fifty to sixty yards off the road. I'll keep circling around until you pick her up."
The car stopped and Sergeant Ben Peterson and his younger partner Ed Blackburn exited. Ben was the senior officer and quickly caught sight of his target and called out several times but the child continued moving along without response or hesitation. Peterson finally proceeded to run until he intercepted the child's path. Upon closer inspection of the young girl he was disturbed by several things: the child was clad in pajamas and plaid bath robe, a doll with a broken head was tucked into the crook of her left arm, and she was covered in smudges like dirt, but the worst part was her eyes which stared sightlessly ahead without blinking.
He inquired about her name and parents but received no response audible or visible. Waving his hand in the girl's face had the same negligible effect. Puzzled yet protective, Peterson scooped her up over one shoulder and brought her back to the car. Jonny flew off seeing that the child was secure. "Doesn't look like she was out in the sun too long, especially judging by her face," observed Blackburn.
"Nope," agreed Peterson, "She couldn't have been out in the sun much. It looks more like she's in shock. She didn't respond to anything I did. It's going to be difficult to place her until we can get her picture and description out."
"Jonny just called right after you picked her up. He spotted a car and a trailer a couple of miles up the road. Maybe she could be from there. After all at her age I bet she couldn't have traveled too far very fast."
Three to five miles later and the car and trailer came into view. Blackburn spared Peterson the trouble of getting out for the child had fallen asleep at his side during the ride. Blackburn moved towards the trailer and then stood briefly before signaling to Peterson. He got out, gently easing the girl down into the seat so not to disturb her. "What is it?"
"Have a look," Blackburn stated simply gesturing towards the trailer, what remained that is. A flower-shaped hole from the top to the bottom of the trailer opened out where the door would have once stood. Both stood for a minute taking it all in before entering. The place that once was the kitchen was in absolute disarray. Broken dishes, dollar bills scattered all around, clothes torn to shreds and furniture smashed into pieces.
As the senior officer Peterson was best suited to comment on closer observation of the clothes which were thoroughly bloodied. "This blood is probably ten to twelve hours old. Whatever happened here must have occurred early in the morning, or last night. Check outside for any footprints or signs of what happened here."
While Blackburn examined the exterior, Peterson moved through the ruin of the kitchen and into what was the bedroom where the occupants would have slept. A glance down prevented his foot from coming into contact with a snub-nosed revolver lying upon the ground. Peterson used a pencil in his breast-pocket to hoist it carefully and close examination told him it had been fired due to the smell. Gently he returned it to the ground, and examined a partially open cabinet beneath a small bed, most likely for a child due to its size, and found a piece of cloth and broken piece of plastic that resembled a doll's head. Armed with these clues he returned outside.
"Nothing points to this being any form of traffic accident. I mean look at the walls," Blackburn stated upon spotting Peterson.
"No vehicle alright; this wasn't caved in, it was caved out," commented Peterson rubbing his hands along the broken edges.
"Yeah and there's no sign of and movement from the trailer or car so there was no impact of any kind whatsoever. No signs of tire marks or anything that indicates a vehicle. I found these all along the ground and there's six or seven more." Blackburn tossed Peterson a cube of sugar and both men could not help but notice that upon the kitchen counter was an open pack of sugar cubes.
"There's also something else you should have a look at though it doesn't make much sense to me. See what you make of it cause I am completely perplexed," stated Blackburn leading Peterson over to a partial-ready site for cooking. "A mountain lion would never come down into a desert would it because I don't think a cat would be capable of making this."
"No," Peterson had to agree staring down at the strange print in the sand, "There isn't cat alive or dead that could make that kind of print."
"Maybe something was set down here, a bag or something like that maybe? Surely there is some logical explanation for any of this."
"No there isn't," Peterson said, "Look this is a 9-14. Put in the call and get fingerprints and equipment down here right away and also get paramedics to send an ambulance to pick the kid up."
While Blackburn made the call, Peterson checked on the sleeping child and made a few comparisons before he was satisfied. Once Blackburn was finished, he showed him the same comparison. The piece of cloth was a perfect match to the girl's robe and the broken plastic fit in perfectly on the broken head of the doll. The girl had come from this exact trailer but was the only survivor of whatever had taken place. And whatever had happened had been terrible enough to frighten her into complete silence.