Noam pinched the back of his neck, rolling his head in circles, trying to ease the pressure. He had work to do, and no matter the pain, he needed to focus. The migraine still lingered, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been over the weekend. He'd spent the whole time in bed, his room cloaked in darkness as he wished for death. The headaches always hit him hard, making him completely worthless. Even Casper knew to leave him alone when they were at their worst.
By Sunday night, he'd been able to pull himself from the bed, but the pain behind his eyes still lingered, and would for several more days. He just needed to push forward and get things done. He couldn't let the headache stop him. He'd spent enough time down and out over the years because of them.
Opening his desk drawer, pulling out a prescription bottle, and opening it, he dumped two pills into his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them, just as the phone started to ring. "Levinsky," he answered.
He stared at the clock on the wall as he listened to the caller, his stomach tightening as he received the information. Two young girls missing, last seen at the mall. His fist tightened as he wondered what two eleven-year-old girls were doing at the mall alone. Who let eleven-year-olds go out like that? Maybe he was too protective, but with the shit he'd seen, he probably wouldn't let his kids out of the house until they were thirty, if he had any.
"Yeah, I'm on my way. Send me all the camera footage from the mall." Officers were still getting witness statements. It was his job to go talk to the parents.
His headache seemed to build as he ended the call and gathered his things. He glanced down at the paper he'd written the address on. It was just a few blocks from his own house. What the fuck was going on with the rise in child abuse and child abductions in the area. It had never been this bad before.
Thankful that he'd never have his own kids to have to worry about, he headed out, trying not to think the worst as he thought about two young girls missing. They could easily be hanging out at a friend's house, but if the call had come to him, they'd either been seen with someone they shouldn't have been with or were missing long enough for someone to have checked all the friend's houses.
He forced back all his preconceived ideas, forcing himself to go into the case with an open mind. He wouldn't expect the worst, he wouldn't think about all the other missing kids he hadn't been able to find, and he for sure wouldn't think about the pedophiles he knew were in the area, the ones that they could do nothing about yet.
God, what kind of fucked up world were they living in? In the last few years, sex crimes against children had skyrocketed, and that was just the cases they knew about. He wasn't naive enough to think there wasn't a shitload more going on they weren't aware of. Hell, half the cases that the 'Castrator' had pulled off were things the police weren't aware of. Sure, most of the pedophiles had records in the past, but nothing active. They'd served their time and been let out.
So much for having probation and parole or the state follow up on them.
Something needed to change.
He slowed as he came to one of the child's homes, glad to see a marked patrol car still in front of the house. At least he'd hopefully be walking into a calmer situation and not have to face some fear-crazed parents. Though he could hardly blame them. He'd be out for blood if his own child went missing. The fear the parents had to be going through was immense. Sadly, he'd done this too many times before.
As he got out of the car, he looked around the neighborhood, taking in a few people in their yards, probably curious as to what was going on. He smiled at an older man as he passed by on the sidewalk, then headed up to the front door of the home, gently knocking on the door.
He didn't have to wait long for one of the uniformed officers to open it. He recognized him and smiled. "Jorgenson." He nodded in greeting. "What do we have?" He'd rather get a rundown on this now, before facing the parents face to face.
Jorgenson sighed as he pulled out his notebook, glancing at his notes. "Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are inside, along with Mr. Pierre. Abby Wilson and Trina Pierre, both eleven years old, were at Lakeside Mall. Last seen talking to a male, approximately twenty-five years old in the food court. We're trying to get surveillance footage from the mall, but I've got nothing yet."
"Any family issues I need to be aware of, custody issues or anything?"
"Nothing. Mrs. Pierre is deceased and no sign of problems with the Wilsons. No family issues that we've found so far, and no problems with school. Both girls are good students, active in church, and have been best friends for five years." Jorgenson glanced up at him.
Noam gritted his teeth, again wondering what kind of parents let their eleven-year-olds go to the mall alone. "How long had they been at the mall?"
"Mrs. Wilson dropped them off after school while she went to show a house to a client. When she went back, she was unable to find them and got a hold of mall security, who called us. Witnesses that Mrs. Wilson was able to find, confirmed her daughter and friend were in the food court, but from there we have nothing."
There wasn't much more they could do until they got the footage from the mall, and even then, several hours had passed since the girls were last seen. If they were taken, they could be out of the state by now.
Noam rolled his shoulders, ignoring the tension in his neck and the pain behind his eyes. "I'll talk to them. Who's all in there?"
"Parents, a pastor, and one of the girl's brother. He's seventeen. We've confirmed that he was at baseball practice all afternoon. Typical brother-sister relationship. They fought, but nothing more than the average siblings. Nothing shows the families are involved in this in anyway." Jorgenson slipped his notebook into his pocket. "They're all calm now, but I'm afraid Mr. Pierre is about to break."
Noam had seen more than one parent go off the deep end when their child was missing. "I'll talk to them. Thanks." He took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for what he was going to have to do. This was the part of the job he hated. Give him a case file and let him follow the leads and he was good, but dealing with parents, family, yeah, that was the part he wished he didn't have to do.
Forcing his emotions back, he headed into the living room, not surprised to find a woman on the couch in tears and two men sitting on either side of her. On the smaller couch across the room, a teenage boy glanced up looking tired but worried. "I'm Detective Levinsky." He didn't offer his hand. "I'm sorry about your daughters. We are doing everything to find them."
The mother glanced up at him, holding the tissue tightly in her fist. "Someone has them. I know they do. The girls would never go off on their own. They have a talent show at school tomorrow, they've been practicing for a month now. They are happy girls. Not the type to run away." Her body shook with a heavy sob. "They're only eleven."
Noam physically felt her pain, his chest tightening at what she must be going through. "We are looking into anything and everything. Right now, we hope they just took off with friends and didn't tell anyone, but we are covering every scenario. My team is going through mall video surveillance as we speak, along with any camera footage from other businesses in the area. If the girls left the mall with anyone, we'll see it." Thankfully, he didn't have to lie about that. The mall had every door covered by at least one camera. It would be impossible to move around the mall without being recorded. "I know you've been asked this all before, but have you called all their friends, checked with other family members, grandparents, aunts, uncles?"
One of the men, he guessed Mr. Pierre since he wasn't holding onto Mrs. Wilson like the other man was, glanced up. "We've called everyone. Members of our church are going door to door and talking to all their friends. My sister is going to all the businesses at the mall and in the area with pictures."
"Good, my team is as well, but every bit helps." He needed to let the family feel as if they were doing something. "Did either of the girls have phones we can trace or were they on social media in any way?"
"Trina wasn't allowed on social media, but she had one of those phone watches they sell for kids. I've tried calling it, but she's not answering. I've tried to track it, but I guess we didn't set it up right or I'm doing something wrong." Mr. Pierre blinked hard as if holding back tears.
"Have you given my team her number and your service provider?"
Mr. Pierre nodded.
"Abby has a phone, we gave them her information too. It's going right to voicemail and when we tried to track hers, it came up at the mall," Mr. Wilson said.
Noam figured it was in the bushes or a trash can.
"Abby wasn't on social media either." Mr. Wilson hugged his wife to his side.
"Um…" The teen across the room sat up straighter. "Actually, Abby was. I caught her on Facebook the other day and she begged me not to tell anyone. I warned her you guys would be pissed, but she said she wasn't going to use it often. And I know she downloaded a chat app to her phone." He named the app before fisting his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry, I should have told you right away, but I didn't think it was that big an issue."
"Paul, you should have told us. Who was she talking to?" Mr. Wilson glared at his son.
"I don't know, she said her friends from school." Paul bit his lip, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't think. I mean, all the kids use them."
"She's eleven," Mrs. Wilson snapped at her son.
"Don't get upset at Paul. We need to remain calm and keep clear heads." Noam glanced at the young man. "Thank you for letting us know. That will help a lot."
"You think she was talking to someone online?" Mr. Pierre glanced at Noam.
"We can't know until we look at her accounts. We're going to need access to any computers or gaming systems that either of the girls might have used. We'll work with the cellular company and the chat app that she was on to get records, but it could take some time. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but for now, all we can do is wait until we go through the videos and look through her social media. Keep calling her friends and anyone who knows the girls."
Mrs. Wilson shook her head. "Someone might have her."
"And she could be at a friend's house. We just don't know, but we are going to look into all of it. I've got a team who will be coming in shortly to deal with any computers or gaming systems. As soon as I leave here, I'm headed to meet with mall security and find out what my team there has found. We will do everything we can to find your daughters."
"But you can't promise you will." Mr. Wilson looked up at him.
Noam didn't answer. He didn't need to. They all knew it was a promise he couldn't make. They all knew what the worst-case scenario was.
"Your team can take whatever they need. I just want my daughter home safe." Mr. Pierre stood. "I need to go home and make sure she hasn't called. My mother is at my house waiting, but I need to be there too." He turned to Noam. "I live right next door. Come get whatever you want, do whatever you need. Just get my daughter home."
Noam nodded. "My team will be there shortly. I'll be in touch as soon as we have any news." He pulled his business card out of his pocket. "Call me if you hear or need anything." He handed one to Mr. Pierre, then set another on the coffee table in front of the Wilsons. "I'm sorry you have to go through this." When they didn't respond, he turned and headed back outside, his stomach in knots. His gut told him this was more than a simple case of a lost child. This one was going to be bad. As much as he wished he could ignore his gut, he couldn't. It was seldom wrong.