Melissa Foster - Chasing Amanda

Molly pushed aside her frustrations with Cole, and mentally raced through her to-do list:

1. Look up Kate’s clothes when missing.

2. Who was in the cellar?

3. Call Hannah.

Molly turned on her computer, and, while it booted up, she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She leaned against the sink and looked outside where Stealth and Trigger sat by the back door. She let them inside, and Stealth pushed his body against her leg as he walked by. The comforts of home settled around her, making her feel sad for Tracey, for Kate, and for Amanda. Their safety had been abruptly stolen away from them.

The phone rang, and Molly immediately hoped it wasn’t Cole, then hated herself for the thought. Reluctantly, she reached for it, cursing herself for choosing a decorative phone instead of one with caller I.D. “Hello?” “Molly Tanner?” The voice sounded like a teenage girl’s. “Yes? Who is this?” “Someone wants you to know there’s a guy who can tell you what happened to Kate Plummer.” Molly’s heartbeat quickened. “Who is this?” she asked anxiously. “What guy?” “I don’t know,” the girl was irritated, rushed. “I just know that I’m supposed to tell you that, like, you have to find the guy.” “Where? Where do I find this guy? Who are you?” Molly pleaded desperately.

“She paid me to tell you this,” she said in an annoyed, exasperated teenage fashion. “I don’t know where to find the guy. I don’t know anything about this,” the girl spat her answers. “She said, like, he would know about Tracey, too.” “Who paid you? I’ll pay you twice as much to tell me who paid you!” Molly said eagerly. “No, I can’t. I want no part of this. I…I have to go—” “Wait!” Molly yelled. “Just tell me who told you to call.”

The caller covered the phone. Molly heard muffled voices. When the caller returned to the phone, she asked, “Who is Kate Plummer?”

Molly sighed, deflated. The girl was merely a pigeon—a messenger. “Who paid you? Please tell me!” she pleaded. “A child’s life is at stake.”

“What?” Molly heard fear in the girl’s shaky, unsure voice.

“A child has been abducted—Tracey Porter. If you know anything, please, please tell me. This is life or death!”

“Jesus, I’ve heard about that girl,” she said. “I saw her on the Missing Children flyer that came home from school. Fuck! I don’t want no part of this!”

“Wait! Who told you to call me?” Molly begged. “She may be involved. I may be able to save the girl! I’ll pay you! I’ll do anything you want!”

“Shit! Fuck this shit!” The girl yelled distantly, as if holding the phone at arm’s length. She pulled the receiver close again, “I don’t know, alright!” she yelled. “Some woman! That’s all I know!”

Molly’s heart sank with the resounding click . She yelled, “Goddamn it! Give me a fucking break!” Molly stared at the phone as if it were evil, “Goddamn you! Help me find her! This is goddamn bull shit!”

For the next hour, Molly played the phone conversation over and over in her mind, like a bad rerun. She had tried to use *69 to trace the call, to no avail. She had called the operator only to be told that they didn’t offer a tracing service—she’d have to go to the police. When the doorbell rang, the dogs went crazy, barking and jumping up at the front door. Molly was frustrated. She tried to ignore the door, hoping the person would just go away.

There was another hard rap at the door, “Mrs. Tanner?” a deep voice boomed through the door. “It’s me, Sergeant Moeler.”

“Just a minute!” she called out, remembering their appointment and trying to decide if she should mention the phone call, knowing they’d tap her phone if she did. Undecided and flustered, she answered the door.

The stocky man she had seen when leaving the interrogation room stood before her looking serious, then quickly smiled, revealing large, square, white teeth. Stealth and Trigger’s tails wagged excitedly next to Molly.

“Heel!” she commanded, and they obediently came to her side. She managed a smile, “Hello, Sergeant, thanks for coming.”

“Sorry I’m early, ma’am. I had a break so I decided to head over.” His face was warm and his blue eyes friendly. His neatly-combed brown hair and ironed uniform gave him a youthful look. He extended his hand to Molly, and Molly shook it, pensively.

She stepped aside. “Come in. They bark but don’t bite unless they hear the secret command,” she smiled.

They sat in the living room, and he pet Stealth and made playful sounds toward Trigger. Molly was confused by the relaxed man who sat before her. His personality in stark contrast to the stern look he’d given her in the hallway at the police station. “They think anyone is fair game,” Molly attempted small talk. “I love animals. I have a Great Dane and a Pomeranian.” Molly lifted her eyebrows.

“I know, strange mix,” he said. “The Dane was mine, and the Pomeranian belonged to a victim. I just couldn’t let it go to the shelter. Anyway, they’re best buds now. Rex, my Dane, thinks Tippy is her puppy. She’s very protective. Cutest thing when they’re curled up together.” Molly was surprised by his open and bright demeanor. In a more serious tone, he said, “So tell me about these leads.” She was no longer on edge from the phone call, relieved to hand over the worries of the day to someone else for a while.

Molly started to explain about the notes she had received, and Sergeant Moeler cut her off. “I’m interested in the notes, but quite frankly, Mrs. Tanner—” “Molly.” He nodded, “Molly. Mike,” he smiled again. “You were dead-on in the interrogation room.” “But how—” Molly shook her head, then it dawned on her. “Two-way mirror?” He shrugged. “So Officer Brown sent you over because he thinks I’m crazy? Or party to the crime?” Molly turned away angrily.

“No,” Sergeant Moeler said, then corrected himself, “maybe, but that’s not my intent. I came because I’m curious. How did you know about the interrogations?”

Molly stewed in her growing anger. “If you’d like to talk about the anonymous notes I’ve been getting and how they might lead to Tracey, that’s fine, but I’m not going to discuss my visions anymore. I’m not a circus freak. I seriously wanted to help, but I can see that no one at the police station takes me seriously.” She stood, as if ready to walk him to the door.

He didn’t move.

She put her hand on her hip, “Sergeant Moeler, I don’t know what you expect to find out about me.”

He stood, his body relaxed next to Molly’s tension-ridden self. He spoke easily, “Molly, I’m not trying to cast you as a circus freak, and I’m sorry if you felt that way. I’m not curious out of voyeurism. I’m curious because we never know what lead will take us to find the missing girl.”

Molly questioned his motives, staring silently.

He handed her a business card, “Look, here’s my number. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen,” he paused. “Do you want to show me those notes?”

Warily, Molly acquiesced. When she returned with the notes, she asked, skeptically, but with a sense of hope, “So what do we do now?”

“ We do nothing. I have to hand this over to the officer in charge.” Sergeant Moeler gathered the notes and stood to leave.

“Officer Brown?”

“Do you have a problem with Officer Brown?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Well,” she hesitated, ran her fingers along the desk as she looked in the distance, “not a problem , really. It’s just that…well, let’s just say that I’m not sure he is really going to take me seriously, and I don’t see him as a go-getter. I get the idea he’s more of a sit-and-let’s-see-what-happens type of guy.”