The Children's Corner
Chapter 33
"Detective Kate Beckett," Giles Mallory repeats. "Of course I know who you are. Every cop in the department does. Aside from your case closure record, which my captain holds up as an example every chance she gets, you're the only cop in the city starring in mystery novels. I guess it helps to be married to a best-selling author, huh?"
"I'm not in any mystery novels. A fictional character named Nikki Heat is. And I closed plenty of cases before I met my husband. But, look, Detective Mallory, I have no idea where you got the chip on your shoulder. And I don't care. All I'm offering is some free assistance. You don't even have to tell your captain about it. You're free to grab the glory, assuming we can find Mitchell Meadows. And you might even get a little of my husband's creativity thrown into the deal. So, do you want my help, or don't you care if a guy who mowed down a kid and his mother stays on the street?"
Mallory sinks his teeth into the end of a well-gnawed pen. "I'm sorry, Detective Beckett. Of course, I care. But Captain Grimwald just chewed me out for hitting a dead end on another case. And your name came up in her rant. Still, that's not your fault. Sure, I'd appreciate your help. As far as I can tell, Mitchell Meadows could have been abducted by aliens. None of his neighbors or co-workers admit to seeing him. He has no credit card charges, no debits, no cell phone calls, nothing. But I'll send you what little I have. If you can come up with some other way to track him down, best of luck to you."
"Thank you for that, Detective Mallory."
"Giles."
"All right, Giles, and it's Kate."
"So, any insights?" Rick queries as Kate studies the documents Mallory attached to an email.
"Maybe. According to Mallory's interviews at Meadows' workplace, Mitchell was very much a creature of habit. Two of his colleagues referred to him as 'obsessive-compulsive.' He arrived precisely at the same time every day. He parked on the outskirts of the lot, so no one else would take his spot. He brought the same lunch day in and day out. He even took his bathroom breaks on the same schedule. They said they could set their watch by him. So I'm wondering what would happen to a person like that if his routine is upset."
"Are you considering asking Doctor Burke?" Rick wonders.
"I might. But he wasn't too happy with our last hypothetical, and that's all I could use. So I thought I'd do some research."
"You want some help?" Rick offers. "I'm at a stopping point for now, until my characters start whispering into my brain again. And with Cary, that kind of research might help. To say he's deliberate would be putting it mildly. That's partially because of his speech difficulties. But still, he's more comfortable with well-planned out moves, something that continuously frustrates Tamar."
"They sound like an interesting pair."
"I hope so. I realize that many bibliophobes view literature as an antidote to insomnia, but I prefer to keep my readers awake. So, we can both explore what might underlie Meadows' vanishing act. I have a sign-on for a UFO-debunkers' site. I like checking out the source of their skepticism. The posts tend to deal with weird psychology. So, in the case of Meadows, they might come in handy."
"I think I'll go with more conventional sources," Kate decides. "But twins allowing, we can share over lunch."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Why are you grinning?" Alexis asks as she and Dana meet for a quick lunch.
"I just got an email with the start date for my new job."
"When?"
"Two weeks from today."
"That's less than a week before my graduation. It's great, Babe, but with neither of us attached to Hudson, we won't be able to be houseparents anymore. That means we have almost no time to find a new place to live and arrange a move."
Dana sinks down next to his wife. "Wow, with the news still sinking in, I hadn't thought about that. We won't be eligible for student housing, either."
"Some of the privately-owned student slums won't care, as long as we can make rent, but those wouldn't be anywhere we should bring in a child. My dad knows real-estate people. Maybe he can help."
"My mother knows a couple of them from church, too. I think she has one in her quilting group. Everyone from the church has always been willing to help me. I can ask."
"Great. And I saw something in a Hugh Jackman movie once. His girlfriend was an ER nurse, and whenever someone died, she'd have him check out the apartment. I thought that was pretty gross. But neither one of us is put off by dead bodies. So we could check the death notices for any place that might be available."
Dana wrinkles his nose. "That's still a little macabre. But sooner or later, someone dies almost anywhere. And we're racing the clock. So we should look into every possibility. All right. You call your dad. I'll call my mom. If you want to take the Ledger, I'll take the Post."
"I'll check Variety too. Gram looks at the notices to check on old friends. The obit of anyone connected to showbusiness ends up there. In New York, that's a lot of people."
Dana grabs a potato chip. "Looks like we've got a plan. Let's hope it works."
Waking up from a nap, it takes Mitchell Meadows a moment to remember where he is. It's the cabin he and his father came to every summer. The stream outside has plenty of fish. They could always catch their dinner. They used nooses to trap small animals as well. And the woods are full of edible plants. Devon Meadows spent years teaching his son which ones were safe. But he knew that once Mitch had a grasp of the rules, he would never stray. He'd always be safe.
And now, the cabin is the only place Mitch is still safe. Off the electrical grid and away from cell phone towers, no one can track him. He'll have enough to eat, at least until winter covers the foliage in snow and the stream with ice. But he has months until then.
Yet he's kept wondering if he should turn himself in. The sudden snarl of traffic threw off his schedule. Still, he was sure he could make that light. But the automatic timing was off or something. So his car hit those people. But it wasn't his fault. He's sure of it.
The only thing Mitch can do now is stay where he's safe. The cabin has always been safe and always will be. No one will disturb his routine here. And maybe in a week or two, the sounds of crunching metal will vanish from his dreams, and he'll sleep through the night.
"Kate,'" Rick calls, "do you remember the hermit bomber?"
"The guy who lived in a cabin in the woods? Sure. He was a complete embarrassment to the FBI. They had 100 agents looking for him, and they were all in the wrong state. They would never have found him if his brother hadn't turned him in."
"Right. That guy. I was reading a posting about him. He had some tendencies similar to Mitchell Meadows. So if Meadows has completely dropped out of sight, maybe he's off in the deep woods somewhere."
"Could be," Kate considers. "But if he is, we'll have a hell of a time finding him."
Pushing out his chest, Rick draws himself up to his full six-one and 5/8 inches. "The team of Beckett and Castle will find a way."