Blake Pierce - Once Gone

“I understand,” Riley said. “But is it okay if I just look around here a bit? I might find some clues.”

Madeline nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Take as long as you like.”

A distraction tactic quickly took shape in Riley’s mind. She began to browse among the dolls while Madeline tidied up some of the accessories. Riley reached up onto a high shelf as if trying to fetch down a doll. Instead, she managed to knock a whole row of dolls off the shelf.

“Oh!” Riley said. “I’m so sorry!”

She backed away in the clumsiest manner she could muster. She collided with a rack of accessories and knocked them all over.

“Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” Riley said again.

“It’s all right,” Madeline said with more than a note of irritation. “Just – just let me take care of it.”

Madeline started to pick up the scattered merchandise. Riley hastily left the room and headed for the front desk. Glancing to make sure that Madeline wasn’t watching her, Riley dived behind the desk. She quickly spotted a ledger book on a shelf under the cash register.

Her fingers shaking, Riley thumbed through the ledger. She quickly found the date, the name of the man, and his address. She didn’t have time to write it down, so she committed it to memory.

She had just stepped out from behind the counter when Madeline returned from the back room. Madeline looked genuinely suspicious now.

“You’d really better leave,” she said. “If you come back with a warrant, I’ll be able to help. I certainly want to help the Senator and his family in any way I can. I feel terrible about all they’re going through. But right now – well, I think you should leave.”

Riley made a beeline toward the front door.

“I–I understand,” she stammered. “I’m terribly sorry.”

She rushed to her car and got in. She took out her cell phone and called Bill’s number.

“Bill, I’ve got a name!” she almost shouted when he answered. “His name is Gerald Cosgrove. And I’ve got his address.”

Remembering carefully, Riley recited the address to Bill.

“I’m only a few minutes away,” Bill said. “I’ll call in his name and address, see what kind of information the Bureau can turn up. I’ll get back to you right away.”

Bill ended the phone call. Riley fidgeted, waiting impatiently. She looked back at the store and noticed that Madeline was standing near the window, looking out at her suspiciously. Riley couldn’t blame Madeline for her mistrust. Her behavior just now had been more than a little odd.

Riley’s cell phone buzzed. She answered it.

“Bingo,” Bill said. “The guy’s a registered sex offender. The address you gave me isn’t far. You’re maybe a little closer to him than I am.”

“I’m driving there right now,” Riley said, stepping on the gas.

“For Christ’s sake, Riley, don’t go in there alone!” he barked back. “Wait for me outside. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Do you hear me?”

Riley ended the call and drove away. No, she could not wait.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Riley pulled up to a dusty, isolated lot. A shabby-looking mobile home sat in the middle of it. Riley parked her car and got out.

An old car was parked on the street in front of the lot, but Riley didn’t see any sign of the truck the witness described after Cindy MacKinnon’s abduction. Of course, Cosgrove might well be keeping it somewhere else. Or perhaps he had dumped it for fear that it might be traced.

Riley shuddered when she saw a couple of sheds with padlocked doors at the back of the lot. Was that where he had kept the women? Was he holding one right now, torturing her and preparing to kill her?

Riley looked around, taking in the area. The lot wasn’t completely isolated. There were a few houses and mobile homes not far away. Even so, it seemed likely that no one live near enough to hear a woman screaming in one of those sheds.

Riley drew her gun and approached the trailer. It was set up on a permanent foundation, and it looked like it had been there for many years. Some time ago, someone had planted a flower bed alongside the trailer to make it look more like a regular house. But now the bed was overrun with weeds.

So far, the place matched her expectations. She felt certain that she’d come to the right place.

“It’s all over for you, you bastard,” she murmured under her breath. “You’ll never take another victim.”

When she reached the trailer, she banged on the metal door.

“Gerald Cosgrove!” she yelled. “This is the FBI. Are you in there?”

There was no answer. Riley edged her way up onto the cinderblock steps and peered through the door’s little window. What she saw inside chilled her to the bone.

The place seemed to be packed full of dolls. She didn’t see a living soul, just dolls of all shapes and sizes.

Riley shook the door handle. It was locked. She banged on the door again. This time she heard a man’s voice.

“Go away. Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything.”

Riley thought she heard someone scrambling around inside. The trailer door was designed to open outward, so she couldn’t kick it in. She fired her gun at the locked handle. The door fell open.

Riley burst into the small main room. She was momentarily dazzled by the sheer number and array of dolls. There must have been hundreds of them. They were simply everywhere – on shelves, on tables, and even on the floor. It took a moment for her to see a man among them, cowering on the floor against a partition wall.

“Don’t shoot,” Cosgrove pleaded, his hands raised and shaking. “I didn’t do it. Don’t shoot me.”

Riley sprung at him and yanked him to his feet. She spun him around and pulled one hand behind his back. She holstered her handgun and got out her cuffs.

“Give me your other hand,” she said.

Shaking from head to foot, he obeyed without hesitation. Riley quickly had him cuffed and sitting awkwardly in a chair.

He was a weak-looking man in his sixties with thin gray hair. He cut a pathetic figure, sitting there with tears running down his face. But Riley wasted no pity on him. The spectacle of all these dolls was enough to tell her that he was a sick, twisted man.

Before she could ask any questions, she heard Bill’s voice.

“Jesus, Riley. Did you blow open this door?”

Riley turned and saw Bill stepping into the trailer.

“He wouldn’t open up,” Riley said.

Bill growled under his breath. “I thought I told you to wait outside,” he said.

“And I thought you knew better than to think I would,” Riley said. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. This looks like our guy.”

The man was wailing now.

“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me! I did my time! I put all that stuff behind me!”

Riley asked Bill, “What did you find out about him?”

“He did some time for attempted child molestation. Nothing since – until now.”

This made good enough sense to Riley. This monstrous little man had undoubtedly moved on to bigger prey – and to greater cruelty.

“That was years ago,” the man said. “I’ve been good ever since. I take my meds. I don’t get those urges anymore. It’s all in the past. You’ve made a mistake.”

Bill asked in a cynical tone, “So you’re an innocent man, eh?”

“That’s right. Whatever you think I did, it wasn’t me.”

“So what’s with all the dolls?” Riley asked.

Through his tears, Cosgrove smiled brokenly.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” he said. “I collected them little by little. I got lucky a few weeks back, found this great store over in Shellysford. So many dolls and so many different dresses. I spent my whole Social Security check right there and then, bought as many as my money could get me.”