Rick Mofina - Whirlwind

This morning she’d set out determined to continue investigating the chain of events leading up to and after Caleb’s disappearance. Above all, she’d needed to find the people who were closest to Caleb before he vanished.

It all comes down to those mysterious strangers who tried to help.

Paging through her notes Kate again zeroed in on the words Jenna had used to describe her encounters with them.

They’re complete strangers. I never saw them before in my life, but the woman seemed kind of forward, kind of infatuated with Caleb… Then we saw them in the center, I mean they were just there…

The Valdez video was intense, but Tony and his mother, Dolores, didn’t recall seeing Jenna and the strangers. Neither did any of the other vendors Kate had reached for help.

“Most of the people who got out alive just scattered. They left,” Tony Valdez had told Kate. “They went home, or to schools to check on their kids or to other shelters to look for family in other parts of town. It was just chaos.”

So all morning Kate worked on her story the old-fashioned way.

With legwork.

In the back of her mind she continued weighing the possibility that the strangers may have abducted Caleb. But there was no evidence. She’d hit every shelter she could, telling volunteers about Caleb and the woman and man who were last seen near him. She asked them if anything sounded familiar, or whether anything had surfaced that might be linked to them.

She’d checked out shelters in Hutchins, Lancaster and DeSoto.

In each case Kate struck out.

Duncanville was next.

Duncanville, Texas

Most of the trees lining James Collins Boulevard had survived the storm.

As Kate drove by them, she took a hit of water from her bottle, parked, then went into the Duncanville Recreation Center, which was serving as an emergency shelter.

One more on the list and I’m getting farther and farther away from the flea market. Don’t expect to learn anything here.

“Hi.” Kate presented her ID to one of the older women at the entrance information table. “Kate Page. I’m a reporter with Newslead.”

“And how can we help you?” The woman smiled over her bifocals.

“I’m doing a story on a family searching for their baby who went missing in the storm.”

“Goodness, there’ve been so many tragedies. Too many.”

“Would you mind if I walked around, talked to people in the shelter to see if anybody might know something connected to this case?”

“By all means, if it’ll help.”

“Thanks. Maybe I could start with you and your people at the table here? I’m guessing you see everybody that comes in for help.”

“We sure do.”

Kate reached into her bag for her notebook, recorder and a flyer Frank Rivera’s people had distributed for the Cooper case. She summarized the circumstances of what happened at the Saddle Up Center in the Old Southern Glory Flea Market. As the older woman studied the flyer, she flagged the attention of other nearby volunteers.

Kate ran through the details on the strangers who’d helped Jenna Cooper. “They were a white couple in their twenties. The woman had short spiky red hair, a low-cut top, jeans and maybe a tattoo below her neck of a butterfly or bird,” she said. “The man was about six feet, muscular build. He had jeans and a T-shirt with a motorcycle or a dog, tattoos on his arms, possibly flames. and stubble. He was kind of soft-spoken.”

The women started shaking their heads.

“They might’ve been traveling with the baby,” Kate added, sensing that it was going to be futile.

“We’ve helped a lot of people with babies,” the woman said, “but I don’t recall anyone fitting those descriptions. But then, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“We had that couple with the baby yesterday morning,” a ponytailed teenage girl standing behind the woman said.

“That’s right, Mary Jo, and you helped them.”

“How old was the baby?” Kate asked the teen.

“Six months, a year,” Mary Jo said. “They said it had a bump on the head from the storm, and I took them to the medical unit. But the woman had dark hair and glasses.”

“That’s right,” the older woman said, remembering. “They said they were from out of state. The young fella did.”

Kate bit down on her bottom lip, thinking. “Maybe I’ll talk to the people in the medical unit.”

“It’s down that way,” Mary Jo said.

Heading to the area, Kate cast a glance to the activity in the double gymnasium. The floor was lined with rows of cots for people who’d lost their homes. The medical unit, with its curtained treatment stations and waiting area with folding chairs was not busy when she arrived.

Kate identified herself to a young woman in her twenties named Maggie Prentice. She was holding a clipboard, and Kate figured her to be a coordinating assistant.

Kate explained the situation, reciting details by rote.

“That’s terrible,” Maggie said. “But nothing comes to mind. We’ve treated so many people since we set up here after the storm.”

“I see. Well, the other volunteers up front had mentioned that a couple came to you yesterday with a baby, six months to a year old for treatment for a bump on the head. Can you tell me anything about them?”

Maggie unconsciously moved the clipboard in front of her, hugging it, shielding its contents as if they were a secret.

“We have to respect patient confidentiality, so we really couldn’t tell you anything.”

“What’s this about?”

A woman in her thirties wearing a flowered smock, her hair in a bun, and a stethoscope around her neck, emerged, exuding authority and sipping coffee from a mug.

“I’m Kate Page, a reporter with Newslead.”

“Dr. Charlene Butler. What is it you’re looking for?”

Kate launched into another round of explanation, ending it by giving a flyer to the doctor, who studied it for a long moment, convincing Kate that she was actually absorbing the information.

“We’ve seen nothing that fits this,” Butler said. “Even if we did, we couldn’t disclose patient information. It’s confidential.”

“I respect that,” Kate said. “I also understand that the Missing Person Emergency Search System is working with shelters, hospitals and search-and-rescue efforts.”

“Absolutely. We’ve had several cases of dislocated and disoriented patients brought here from other disaster sites and we’ve alerted the Search System folks. It’s resulted in a couple of happy reunions.”

Kate nodded.

“Did you talk with the Missing Persons team?” Butler asked. “They’re set up across the floor here.”

“I will, but could you tell me in generic terms-no names or addresses, that kind of thing-about the baby you treated yesterday and the couple?”

Butler smiled a warm friendly smile. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“I guess not. I feel pretty connected to this story.”

“Okay, let me see.” Butler exhaled and glanced to the ceiling. “Well, in generic terms, not disclosing names, that baby was three months old. A big three months.”

Kate nodded, taking notes. “And the mother and father?”

“Twenties, but no red hair on the mom. Dark hair and glasses.”

“What about the father-any tattoos?”

“I didn’t see any. Did you, Maggie?”

Maggie shook her head.

“Look,” Butler said. “I think this is futile.”

“Well, I’m just checking,” Kate said. “Are you sure there’s nothing more about them that sticks with you?”

“No. Well, there was-” She started then stopped. “No.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”