She wasn’t whole. A part of her was missing and her life was out of balance, like a teeter-totter with no one on the other end. She couldn’t make it move, couldn’t do it alone. The fear that she might have lost her partner in life visibly weighed on her and Jason’s heart ached for her.

“Barbara, we’ll do everything we can to find your husband. Hang in there and we’ll be in touch.”

Tears started to well up as the stress began to come out the only way she knew how.

“Thank you, Detectives. I appreciate it.”

The door closed and Jason’s face turned hard.

“We need to find the bastard that’s taking these people and fast!”

****

Devin James had waited long enough. There was no movement around the farm, but something wasn’t right and he could feel it.

While he was sitting and watching, he had planned out a route he thought would get him up near the buildings without being seen. If he stayed in the tree line behind the property until the garage hid him from the house, he might be able to run up without Donnie knowing he was there.

Betty Jarvis hadn’t shown up from town and James was beginning to suspect she didn’t live there at all, or worse, something had happened to her.

He made his mind up it was time to move but before he left the vehicle, he dialed San Antonio police headquarters.

“SAPD.”

“Yes, is this Sergeant Connor?”

“Yes sir, who am I speaking with?”

“This is Devin James with the San Antonio News.”

“Afternoon Mr. James, what can I do for you?”

“I want to leave a message for Detective Strong.”

“Do you want me to see if he’s in?”

“No, I don’t have time. Can you just give him a note when you see him?”

“Sure. Let me get a pen…okay, shoot.”

“Tell him to pull the file from the Billy Jarvis suicide. It’s from ten years ago.”

“Okay. Pull the Billy Jarvis file. Anything else?”

“Yes. Tell him it’s connected with the missing persons.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks.”

James hung up before Dave Connor could ask any more questions. He took his binoculars and a small digital camera with him, locked the car door, and crawled under a barb wire fence. Staying low, and avoiding a small herd of Texas Longhorn cattle, the reporter made his way along the fence row behind the cover of the trees.

Five minutes brought him to the spot opposite the garage where he wasn’t visible from the house. He paused and took out his binoculars, searching the property for Donnie. There was still no one moving around and no sign he had been spotted.

He stayed and watched for a full ten minutes, catching his breath, before moving again.

Climbing under the back fence to the Jarvis property, he stayed crouched and made a run for the back of the garage.

****

Jason and Nina arrived back at the station and walked through the front doors.

“Jason!”

He turned to where he heard his name called from and saw his friend, Dave Connor, holding up a sheet of paper. Nina continued up the stairs while Jason walked over the sergeant’s desk.

“Hi, Dave. How’s things?”

“Good. You?”

“Not bad. What’s the note?”

The sergeant handed the note from the reporter to the detective.

“Your buddy Devin James called around a half hour ago and left you a message.”

“Buddy is not how I would normally describe him.”

Jason read the note and his pulse quickened. He walked away without thanking Dave.

“You’re welcome.”

Jason turned.

“Sorry. Temporarily distracted. Thanks and say hi to Vicky for me.”

“Will do.”

Instead of going upstairs, Jason went to ‘Records’ in the basement.

****

Marie Turley had been with SAPD for 38 years. She had moved to ‘Records’ after three years as a dispatcher and her memory for cases had made her famous around the precinct. She could track down files and names better than anyone. At 61, she was still sharp and prided herself on keeping up with as many cases as she could.

The records office could be lonely and was usually quiet except for the country music Marie kept on the radio. Johnny Cash, Mel Tillis or some other old country star was always on.

Marie was busy with the regular duties of pulling files requested by detectives or other personnel and re-filing the ones they were done with. Jason startled her when he snuck up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

“Boo!”

“Ahhh! You scared the hell out of me.”

“Oh, good. Then I’ve accomplished something today.”

“Very funny.”

She smiled up at the detective. Most detectives tended to treat her like their personal librarian but Jason Strong was not like most detectives. He treated her like family and she was very fond of him. There wasn’t any piece of information Jason could ask for that she wouldn’t try to get for him as quickly as she could.

“Whatcha’ need or did you just come down to brighten my day?”

“Not that doing so wasn’t reason enough to visit; I do, however, have a request.”

“Anything for you, Sweet cheeks.”

Jason smiled back at her. She had called him that since he first came on to the force as a rookie cop.

“I’m looking for the file on a suicide case. The name is Billy Jarvis.”

“Oh, I remember that. About 10 years ago. Very sad. I believe he was about eighteen.”

“You’re amazing, Marie. Can you find it for me?”

“I’ll do my best. Give me some time and I’ll call you when I locate it.”

“You’re the best. Thanks.”

Marie had already turned away as the detective headed out of her office. She loved these kinds of requests. They tested her memory and challenged her ability to locate old files. She was deeply involved in the hunt before the door had even closed behind Jason.

 

Chapter  18

 

Devin James pressed his back up against the garage’s back wall. At 58, he was in decent shape but a dash across an open field while trying to stay low was the kind of physical test he wasn’t used to. He leaned on the building and sucked air, waiting for his pulse to slow down. He still hadn’t seen any movement and everything seemed quiet.

Finally able to focus, the reporter crept to the edge of the garage and peered around the corner. The house was about 200 feet from where he was. Backtracking to the other corner, he leaned to where he could see the front yard. The van was still in the same place.

Devin’s breathing had returned to normal and it was time to move. Back at the corner where he could see the house, he made a quick dash to the rear wall, ducking below a window. Again, he stopped and listened. He heard voices but couldn’t tell where they were coming from.

Slowly lifting his head, he looked over the edge of the window sill into a living room. No one was in the room and the TV wasn’t on. He crouched again and tried to make out what was being said. Despite his best efforts, all he could hear was muffled words.

On his knees now, Devin crawled the length of the house and looked around the corner. From there he could see a window into the basement. The voices were a little louder but there was no other movement. Staying on his knees, he crawled the 15 feet or so to the window well. Looking through, it took him a minute to figure out what he was looking at.

The reporter found himself looking at some sort of a makeshift prison. Cell doors with padlocks. He tested the window and it gave slightly. A pungent odor was released from inside and the talking stopped. Then everything went black.