Case Overview

January 29, 1991

"Kincaid, can you believe this!"

Without waiting for my reply, my colleague, Terry Parker, threw the newspaper on my desk, knocking the report I was working on to the floor. Terry didn't apologize. She never apologized for anything when she was this angry.

"Good morning to you too." I replied, taking a sip from the cup of coffee I had thankfully been holding while scanning the front page.

Parents new suspect in Christmas kidnapping.

What really happened that night?

I was neither shocked nor surprised by this new take on the McCallister case; Journalists could be such vultures.

"It's disgusting." Terry said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"It sells papers.

– I know, and that's the problem!" sighed Terry, walking back to her desk. "When has our society become so scandal hungry?

– Become? This is nothing. You should look up what they wrote during the Lindberg baby kidnapping; dissing the parents is practically a milestone in these sorts of cases."

I did not have the time or energy to waste on the press anyway. Dealing with them wasn't part of my work description. Terry, however, wasn't one to drop the subject so easily.

"You think the McCallisters will sue?

– On what ground?

– I don't know, how about defamation?

– Technically the journalists aren't outright lying; the McCallisters have been interrogated." I pointed out.

"Oh yes, and we all saw what a great idea that turned out to be."

Superintendent Martin had the McCallisters interrogated for days until they've had enough and lawyered up. The press had gone wild at the news. That had been a clumsy move on the superintendent's part. We couldn't afford a legal battle right in the middle of our investigation. That just complicated and slowed down the process. Just one of the many mistakes plaguing this case.

It had been at this point that the file had landed on my desk. I had been stuck picking up the pieces ever since.

This case stank.

God, I was getting too old for that kind of pressure. It was the kind of case that could make or break a guy. I didn't need this. Why couldn't they give it to one of the newbies? They were always so eager to prove themselves.

I looked at the picture in the file. A smiling Kevin McCallister stared back at me. I knew why they had assigned me to the case. Too many mistakes had already been made. This wasn't the kind of case they could allow rookies to cut their teeth on.

I had some experience handling missing persons and abduction cases, but not like this. I've dealt with my fair share of runaways, and stumbled across one or two more serious cases of human trafficking while investigating a prostitution ring, nothing out of the ordinary. A few years back, I had successfully resolved a missing woman case which had some similarities to the McCallister kidnapping. The difference between these two cases being that her entire family and friends had been able to point me in the right direction; classic case of an ex-boyfriend gone mad with jalousie. It had only been a matter of finding him, and following him back to where he kept the woman. Much more memorable, at least in my mind, was the case of a deadbeat father kidnapping his two infant daughters after his ex-wife had won custody of both kids. We had found the man in some shady bar, drunk out of his mind. He had left the kids alone in a motel across the street.

All these cases had been straightforward. I knew where to take them, had a feel of what was going on. This case however… It stank there was no other way of to put it.

I had plenty of experience under my belt, but that was not the reason I got landed with this file. I was given this delicate investigation thanks to my ability and will to work with the feds. I did not care if I had to share the spotlights, or if I didn't call the shots. I just wanted this case solved and closed as soon as possible. Given how public this one had become, all of my superiors, starting with the superintendent, were in agreement.

Find the kid. Close the file. Everybody's happy.

With some luck, shoot the culprits so we don't go through a messy trial, and save some taxpayers money.

What they needed wasn't a detective, it was a miracle.

This case stank from top to bottom. The premise read like a movie script. I had to go through the file a few times just to understand how this unlikely string of events had led to this tragedy. The house and main scene of the crime had been so contaminated it was near impossible to make heads or tail of it. From the pictures I had seen, it looked like a battlefield. How I would've like to interview young Kevin McCallister to understand the reasoning behind his traps. But I couldn't. No one could. And so the mystery remained.

An empty street, no witnesses or suspects, and a missing child.

What a nightmare.

I did not believe in perfect crimes, there was no such thing, but I could recognise a recipe for disaster. The closes thing we had to suspects were some ghost burglars that may or may not be involved. There had been over two dozen similar burglaries in the greater Chicago area over the past months. Those clowns had been either smart enough or mean spirited to flood each of their victims' house, destroying most prints and DNA samples in the process, meaning that besides circumstantial evidences, we had very little to connect them to the boy's disappearance. The idea that they might've witnesses something had crosses my mind, but we couldn't simply invite thieves to walk into the station to give a statement.

We wouldn't find out much about those thieves until they were caught, if ever. Our unit had been on high alert for similar burglaries for over a month now. There had been no shortage of burglaries, but no signature flooding. Either they had moved on to greener pastures, given up flooding houses, were taking a break to enjoy their holiday loot, had been spooked by all the commotion surrounding the boy's disappearance, or were our culprits. There were too many "or" in this equation and no way to cross any off the list.

We were running out of leads, and out of time.

With so little to go on, it was easy to fall back on the McCallisters as the main suspects. I skimmed the file even if I already knew it by heart.

Peter McCallister, rising star in his company. Made partner before he even turned forty. He brought in a lot of money and attracted high profile clients.

Kate McCallister, a lucrative fashion designer. She had founded her own line of affordable clothes a few years back, and had recently signed a contract with some of the most important retailers in the country.

Victims? Suspects? Guilty or innocent?

Both of them were well connected, educated and charismatic. Everybody liked them, or so it would seem. In appearance, they had the perfect American family; five kids between the ages of fifteen and eight, three boys, two girls. A big family by today's standards, but the McCallister had the means to provide for them. I wouldn't have had any difficulty believing money had been the motive behind the boy's kidnapping, except there hadn't been any request, or communication from the kidnappers. No real ones, that is.

Mrs. McCallister's desperate plight on television had only muddled things. The superintendent never should've let her mention money. He hadn't debriefed them, or prepared them before their appearance on television. Yet another mistake that had costs us valuable time and resources.

I understood what had driven Mrs. McCallister to her statement; with her mind set on finding her boy no matter the cost, she hadn't stopped to consider how many crooks and malicious persons ready to make a quick buck on the pain and misery of others were out there.

We had received no less than fourteen ransom notes, and too many threatening calls to counts. Most of the letters had quickly been dismissed as hoaxes. One of them had clearly been sent by some kids who thought it would be an easy way to get a thousand dollars. A thousand dollars… Good god, what a joke, and waste of our time! Even the Lindberg baby kidnappers had had the balls to ask for $70,000, and that was back in 1932! What a pity; kids today didn't understand the value of money.

The calls had been taken more seriously, and had required much more work, but nothing ever came out of them. This time, I had personally prepared both Mr. and Mrs. McCallister on how to handle the situation. As the weeks went by, I don't think Mr. McCallister expected his sons' kidnappers to contact them anymore, which enabled him to handle most of the calls with a calm demeanor I had to admire. He didn't let the callers lead him on a wild goose chase, or play on his emotions. He demanded proof of his son's wellbeing, called their bullshit when they couldn't answer the simplest questions, and even hung up on them on some occasions. No matter how fired up he got, the poor man always ended up looking more dead than alive after one of those calls. As a father, I could not imagine going through that ordeal.

"You think the boy is still alive?" Terry asked from her desk.

Before I could answer, we were interrupted by a loud snort. I turned over to my other colleague, Sidney Lime, who had remained silent until that point.

"Would you stop kidding yourself, Parker? It's been a month. We all know we ought to be looking for a body by now.

– Lime you're a real jerk, you know that?" Terry replied from her own station.

"What? You asked, I'm just telling it like it is!"

I always had some difficulty grasping Lime. Most of the time, he came off looking as the biggest scumbag on the force, but that may only be because he was a cynic with a sharp tongue. He never seemed to care about the job, but no one would argue that he performed said job better than most. Lime could be counted on to take every situation in a stride, with a dark humour that made even our most seasoned officers uncomfortable. He wasn't a friend, but over the years, I had come to appreciate his uncanny eye for details, and instinct to ferret out liars; whether people liked him of not, Lime had deserved his detective badge.

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to tell me the parents are behind it too?" Terry accused him with sarcasm.

"What, you think I'm a moron or something? I ain't buying the superintendent's bullshit! He's grasping at straws. He just wants this case closed no matter what, and you know it.

– Jeez Lime! You want to say that a little louder, I don't think they heard you all the way on the other side of the floor" Terry replied, smiling in spite of herself.

Lime did not even roll his eyes. His sneer was sufficient to convey his personal feeling on our superintendent.

"Like I care a fuck! Martin's done. Everybody knows it. This case's just the final nail in the coffin; mark my words; he'll be out of here before you know it."

I winced internally. I wanted Martin gone as much as everybody else, but a change in management at this point and time in such a high profile investigation might spell disaster. I did not need anybody else sticking their nose in it.

"This case isn't rocket science boys and girls" stated Lime without hiding his boredom. "I don't see why you're all complicating things with far-fetched theories. The parents didn't do it, this was a burglary gone wrong, plain and simple. The kid saw too much, so they got rid of him. End of story."

Lime made it sound so simple I wanted to agree with him. The parents did not strike me as killers, but I had seen too many brilliant actors over the course of my career.

"You think strangers would've taken him? Most cases of kidnapping involve a family member, or someone close to the child, rather than complete strangers." I said, thinking out loud.

"I know the odds as well as you do Kincaid, but do you honestly think the kid would've put someone he knew, and trusted through that fun house of his?"

Lime had a point. Some of these traps had been borderline lethal. We had checked the hospitals and emergency room for any suspicious wounds, but nothing out of the ordinary had been reported over the holidays.

"Besides" insisted Lime "you're not hearing me. How many times do I have to say it, this wasn't a premeditated act. Face it the odds of everybody in that house forgetting about the kid sleeping on the third floor were next to none. There is no way his kidnapping could've been planned. The thieves showed up, thinking no one's home, saw the kid, panicked, and snatched him to keep his mouth shut.

– You think you're so smart Lime" Terry said with a sufficient smile "but riddle me this, why would someone insist on breaking-in after all those traps?

– Terry's right" I was forced to admit "Burglars usually go for easy targets, and there was nothing easy about that place.

– They should've called it quits after the tar on the stairs, or the blowtorch. I know I would've!"

Lime smirked, unimpressed.

"Oh, I don't know about that. A couple of burglars, getting their asses kicked by a kindergartner? That must've pissed them off."

It was hard to deny that Lime had, yet again, a point. I meditated the case. Something was strange. Many details in this case did not add up, but still, something bothered me.

"Those traps, though" added Terry "He set them up, why? Something or someone must've spooked the kid real bad for him to devise those.

– Who knows why kids do the things they do." shrugged Lime. "Maybe he was afraid of the bogeyman.

– No" I interrupted, half listening. "The kid was afraid of his neighbor, not the bogeyman.

– Marley? The last person to see the kid? And that doesn't strike you as suspicious?" probed Lime.

I shook my head and went through the file one more time. I wasn't too concerned about Joseph Marley. The old gentleman lived alone next to the McCallisters. According to some witness, the boy had been terrified of him. I might've been tempted to pursue that lead if the elder of the McCallister family hadn't confessed to telling his kid brother some made-up stories about their neighbor being a serial killer.

Ah, brotherly love.

Besides, Marley didn't have a scratch on him, and his alibi on Christmas Eva was solid. That's not what bothered me. I looked at the pictures from the scene of the crime. His traps must've taken some time to set up, more than enough time for him to call the police, and yet… There had been a 911 call lodged from the McCallister residence sometime after nine o'clock in the evening of December 24, but the caller, no doubt young Kevin McCallister himself, had called on behalf of his neighbors, the Murphys. Why wouldn't he call to let them know someone was breaking into his own house? There was no way for the kid to have caught the burglars in the act at the Murphy's place; the basement had well over a foot of water by the time the police arrived on the scene, minutes later, meaning that the burglars had hit that house hours, if not days before the call. So why send the police over there?

"He didn't trust the police." I realised at that moment. "Why wouldn't he trust the police?"

My assertion was met with stunned silence.

"Don't go there, Kincaid." said Terry, shaking her head.

"No, no, that's an interesting theory you got going." countered Lime. "Let's talk about this; why wouldn't the boy trust the cops?

– Oh shut up Lime! I know you, the only reason you like this idea is because you'd like to pin something on Hudson.

– Hey, ask around, everybody wants a piece of Hudson, and why not? If he hadn't done a half-assed job as usual, and fetched the brat like he was supposed to, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

Terry glowered; she hated when Lime was right.

"Don't give me that look, Parker. I know you can't enjoy being pegged the bad guy in this town, or seeing our good name dragged through the mud because of that looser!

– You said it Lime, not me, Hudson is a looser, but he's not involved in this.

– Hudson would've done a better job covering his tracks, anyway." I reasoned.

Throwing a pointed look Lime's way, Terry added:

"If the boy really didn't trust the police, it would explain why he didn't answer the door when Hudson stopped by.

– But why wouldn't he trust the police?" I repeated, frowning. "Children, especially boys, love cops.

– Who knows Kincaid, maybe he stole some bubble gum, or a chocolate bar." suggested Lime impatiently.

"Or maybe the person the boy was afraid of also happened to be a cop."

It was a crazy theory, just as poorly thought of as the superintendent's was. I was losing my edge, as could clearly be illustrated by Lime's lack of interest.

"Kincaid, I know you're not seriously suggesting that the ones who broke into that house were cops. If you are, I'd say it was time you took a few days off. Relax, and think about something other than this file. It's driving you nuts."

As soon as Lime spoke those words, I knew he was right. It was dumb to suggest it.

"Hold on" Terry suddenly said, raising her hand.

"Parker, don't encourage him! Forget what I said about Hudson, you know I was just kidding, the kids wasn't snatched by a cop!

– I know, but what if the boy saw someone he thought was a cop, or someone dressed as a cop?"

This time, it was Lime's turn to frown, eyes narrowed.

"You mean like a cop impersonator?

– Why not? Cop impersonators are on the rise.

– Plenty of criminals, including Ted Bundy, have used to the uniform to lure their victims." I added, giving the idea some thought.

"Everyone knows that!" hissed Lime "I'm just saying you don't have much to go on for that theory to fly."

There was something in his voice that made me look up. Anger would've been a strong word, but something in this latest theory had definitely rubbed Lime the wrong way.

"For the record, I think that's the dumbness thing I've heard all morning, but just to shut the two of you up, I can give the word, and ask if anyone's seen a weird cop nosing around.

– No, don't!" I snapped back. "Let's not jump the gun on this. If the word gets out, that there may be a child kidnapper dressing up as a cop out there, we're going to have a panic on our hands."

Not to mention that the superintendent would have our heads, I thought.

"You mean a child killer." Lime corrected me.

– Until we have proof, we shouldn't-"

Lime shook his head, clearly disappointed by the way this conversation was going.

"Knock it off will ya; the only reason those thieves would've had to keep the boy alive was to ask for a ransom, but since that didn't happen, they got rid of him.

– You don't know that" I said quietly.

"No, I suppose you're right, they must've kept him out of the goodness of their hearts. As a pet, maybe!" Lime mocked me. "You know what; I bet those burglars were just a nice couple looking to adopt.

– I'm just saying the boy might be worth more to them alive than dead. If they have the right connections."

I was a little disgusted by my next words:

"We all know how much some people would be willing to pay to get their hands on a child."

That gave Lime a moment of pause.

"I wager a shit load of money." he agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well worth going through that house. Cut their losses.

– But we went through the child sex offender registry." Terry reminded us. "There aren't any in the Winnetka area.

– But that doesn't mean there aren't any, there' just not registered." I pointed out, bitterly.

– You live in a sick, sick world, Kincaid." teased Lime.

"Don't we all?"

No one answered me. The three of us were quiet, lost in our own thoughts. Lime was the first one to break it:

"Well children, this has been fun, but I still think the simplest explanation is the right one, so I'll stick with my original theory of a burglary gone wrong.

– Your probably right, but I prefer Kincaid's take on it." Terry said, gathering some files.

"His theory would mean that the kid is in the hands of some pedophile, how is that any better?" snapped Lime.

"Because his scenario means we could still save him."

That seemed to shut Lime up as we both watched Terry leave.

"Women." sighed Lime "Too sentimental for the job, I tell ya.

– I don't know, I think we could all use a happy ending on this case.

– You want a happy ending? Find the burglars, and you'll get your answers. Forget about the kid, he's a goner."

Find the burglars. Easier said than done, and we all knew it. Burglars were notoriously hard to catch. The odds of us finding them were slim to none.

"Let's say I'd want to find the burglars. You have any idea who I could speak to?"

Lime did not even bother lifting his eyes from the notes he was taking.

"You know just as well as I do; Send some of our men where the parole guys hang out. Thieves like to brag. Even if they keep their mouth shut about the kid, their habits are bound to be known by people in the trade."

I already knew all this; I had men in bars, and speakeasy around town. I had given the word out to loan sharks, and kept an eye on some fence guys, and pawn shops, but nothing had come up so far. I was getting desperate. If I truly wanted to find these guys, I needed more. I needed someone who knew the inside out of that world, and to whom criminals did not mind talking to. And I knew that for all of his pretences, Lime was much closer to that world than should've been appropriate for a man in his line of work.

"What about you Lime, you heard anything about this whole mess?"

Lime cocked an eyebrow.

"Me? You think I hang out with thieves and kidnappers on my lunch hour or something?"

I had to tread carefully here. I did not want to come off as accusing Lime of being a dirty cop. I just knew he was connected to the right people. When we needed answers, Lime usually knew who to ask.

"You got ears to the ground, Lime. I don't care who you know or hang with, but have you heard anything that could be related to this case?

– You think I'd keep it to myself? Some opinion you have of me!

– I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you'd give me an honest answer."

Lime wasn't one to be sweet-talked into doing something he didn't feel like. I saw him roll his eyes, before finally giving-in:

"Fine, you want the truth, here goes: yeah I hear stuff, plenty of stuff, but not a word on the kid. Kidnapping's not really their thing, you know. And if it was, they wouldn't tell me. We're not talking about some pimps trying to lure underage cheerleaders, or some punks reselling stolen cars here.

– Somebody knows something. This wasn't a one man's job.

– You want my opinion? If anybody's involved, somebody fucked up big time, and they won't tell me. Nobody wants to have a kid's blood on their hands. Nobody can afford that kind of heat.

– You really think the boy's dead?"

Lime held my gaze without flinching.

"You know the body'll probably turn up around Lake Michigan come spring. They always do."

As much as I did not like Lime's frankness, I knew he was probably right. Lime must've caught my disappointment because I heard him sigh:

"Fine, I'll make some calls, do a little digging. I'll let you know if I hear anything, but don't hold your breath.

– Thanks Lime, I owe you one."

I did not really expect Lime's source to lead him to the kid, if they knew anything at all, but still, it was worth the shot. I turned back to the smiling picture of the boy.

Kevin McCallister what on Earth happened to you?