Roy hovers inside the foyer. His heart beats rabidly inside his chest and his lungs suck in the icy air. It has an artificial edge created by the air-conditioning.
"Mr. Miller," Marissa nods, walking swiftly over to him. The formality in her voice is softened by a tone of compassion. "How have you been coping?" she asks gently. She shakes his hand, squeezing it in hope of comforting him. "OK," Roy breathes.
"There was something you wanted to talk to us about?" she frowns, considering her expression. "Um...yeah."
Marissa nods, flicking her platinum blond ponytail over her thin shoulder. "Just come this way," she ushers him down the narrow, whitewashed hallway. The soles of her flat shoes slap against the floor.
She pushes open a thick, heavy door. "Just take a seat," she murmurs. Roy hesitates before stepping inside the small, plain room. He collapses into the seat propped up beside the limp table.
"Would you like some coffee?" she asks, smoothing her hands over her black, pressed pants. Roy shakes his head, staring at the table, "No thank you."
Marissa draws in a deep breath and walks across the room. She sits down opposite him, resting her hands lightly on the desk. "I-I know who has my daughter," Roy says.
Marissa leans forward on the desk, smoothing her hands over the wood. "Who?"
"Rick Hart."
Marissa lips tighten at the corners. "What brought you to this conclusion?"
"His...his son came and told me."
"Just spontaneously?"
"No...I'm not sure. He seemed scared and he...the kid looked like he'd been beaten up."
"All I can do is check it out," Marissa sighs, falling back against the chair. "Without proof we can't get a search warrant," she folds her arms across her chest.
Leaning across from him Roy can't imagine the strong independence and fierce nature that makes her such a determined officer. Her petite body reclines in the chair and her blond hair frames her soft features.
"I-I have proof. This kid was terrified. He looked like someone had bashed him," Roy insists.
"Mr. Miller we can't search the place without a warrant. To get a warrant we need proof."
"No. Look you don't understand," Roy hovers over the desk, "This guy has my daughter."
"We have no proof," Marissa sighs.
"We have his son! His own kid wants out!" Roy's voice raises slightly.
Marissa shifts in her seat, straitening against the back. "Can you convince this kid to come in?"
"I-I don't know. He seemed pretty freaked out."
"If you can get this boy to confess then we have proof," Marissa breathes.
"Do you know what this man can do in the time between when I see this kid?"
"You need to convince him to come in. OK? If he can supply us with solid proof linking this man to Ella then we can get a search, maybe even a arrest warrant."
Marissa leans forward onto the table. Her blue eyes bore into him like daggers. "We are trying our very best to get her back." She draws in a sharp breath and stands up. "But if you excuse me Mr. Miller I have to get back to work."
She strides swiftly out of the room, hesitating in the doorway. "I will follow it up," she murmurs before ducking out of the room.
Roy sits inside the lonely room and stares at the table top. He traces the knots of wood. A sickening form of anger bubbles inside his stomach.
Marissa walks quickly down the hall, knocking on Jason's office door. The door cracks open and Jason leans against the frame. "Hmm?"
Heidi lingers behind him, blushing slightly. "I'm sorry but-," Marissa begins.
"Nah it's right," Jason interrupts, glancing over his shoulder at Heidi. "What's up?"
"I think we have a lead."
"A lead?"
"OK get this," Marissa breathes, brushing past him and pacing across the room, "Roy Miller just came in and said that he suspects Rick Hart of kidnapped and holding his daughter hostage."
"And how did he come to this conclusion?" Jason asks, folding his arms across his chest. "Apparently Rick Hart's son told Roy that his father was not only brutally beating him and his sister into silence but holding Eliza Miller hostage in the basement."
"Natanael?"
"I don't really know his name," Marissa shrugs.
"I didn't know the man had a daughter. I knew 'bout the son. He's epileptic I think," Jason says.
"Epileptic," Marissa frowns, "Would that give the father a motive to beat him?"
"Don't know. It could be very frustrating. Especially if the kid's had it for a long time. It could of caused him to snap."
"Well we can't get an arrest or search warrant based on what Roy has told us. We need to somehow get this kid to come in by himself," Marissa murmurs.
"The boy's not going to come in by himself," Heidi sighs. Marissa and Jason stare at her. She shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. "H-he's probably afraid of his father."
Marissa nods, her mouth knotting at the corners, "Roy did make a point that the boy seemed terrified."
Jason wanders around the heavy desk, collapsing in his chair and switching the computer on. "I'll check Rick Hart's criminal records but I don't think we'll find much."
Heidi stands awkwardly at the back of the room, twisting her shirt around her knuckles. "I've got to pick Abby up," she mumbles. She lightly kisses Jason before leaving the room, flashing a shy smile at Marissa.
Marissa folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows. "What?" Jason mutters, drumming his fingers over the keys.
"Nothing," Marissa shakes her head.
"OK he hasn't shown up with any criminal record. He works as a chaplain at the local high school."
"So he has access to Ella and has possibly met her," Marissa breathes, dragging a seat beside Jason's. "He grew up in Australia and moved to Spain when he was nineteen with a Christian program," Jason scrolls through the information splayed across the computer screen. "He met Eva Valdez and married her four years later. Their daughter, Cristina Hart was born that year. Their son was born three years later. They divorced in early 1997," Jason leans back in the chair, "Rick moved out here later that year. He went back to Spain in 1999. Basically he took he kids and brought them out here."
"Say anything about the kids?" Marissa hooks her torso over the thick arm of the chair.
"Mentions a few things about Natanael's epilepsy. He was diagnosed when he was twelve. He started medication that year and got a seizure dog when he was fourteen. Cristina has pretty much disappeared since coming to Australia," Jason shrugs.
"It fit's the time frame," Marissa mumbles.
"Do you think it's this guy?" Jason asks.
"We'll keep tabs on him."
YOU ARE READING
Salvation
Teen FictionShe's his prize, his beautiful, flawless prize. She's his trophy, a girl he stole from the world. He holds her captive in the harsh shadows of the basement and tortures her. He loves her, charishes her every breath and lives off her every scream. He...
