Chapter 10

WHIPTON HERALD

Wed. Dec. 23, 2009

Prominent Attorney's Daughter Missing
Feared Kidnapped

Eight-year-old Macy O'Neal was last seen Tuesday afternoon at approximately 2:35 p.m. by her school bus driver. After canvassing the neighborhood, our local team found no significant leads. The FBI requested to join our investigation. At this time, we have not made any concrete connections between the earlier murders and Macy's disappearance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The teams worked relentlessly through the night, following every lead. 

Reilly paced the floor, waiting for someone to call, but the telephone remained silent. In the early morning hours, she succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep in a chair. The sound of the ringing telephone jarred her awake and she raced to answer it.

A muffled voice made the demand, "We want $500,000 in small bills. Have the babysitter go to The Lock Box Station at exactly noon tomorrow. Ask for Macy O'Neal's key at the desk. Put the money in the box and throw the key away. If anyone else brings the money or if the police are with her, you'll never see your daughter again."

"Please, I'll give you anything you want. Just don't hurt her." Reilly trembled. "Please, can I talk to her?"

"Just do as you are told." The phone went dead. The FBI agents snapped into action, hoping for a trace, but the call had been too short. The room was silent except for Reilly's sobbing.

She couldn't control her shaking hands as she dialed the bank. She stopped and dialed again. Having briefed the Bank President earlier, she only needed to confirm the kidnapper's demand of small bills and the drop time. Satisfied he understood, she replaced the receiver. The controlled "Ice Princess" was no more. Terror owned her, body and soul. She collapsed on the floor, causing a flurry of excitement.

An FBI agent, standing close by, lifted her unconscious body, placing her on the sofa. As a cautionary measure, Cappy had asked for an ambulance to be on standby outside Reilly's home. Someone summoned the paramedic.

"What happened?" Confused, she stared into a pair of dark brown eyes.

"You fainted. I've checked your vitals and everything appears to be okay. Slightly elevated blood pressure, but that's to be expected."

Reilly struggled to sit up, but fell back against the sofa pillows.

"No, don't do that. I suggest you lie still for a while. Give your body a chance to recoup." The paramedic patted her arm. "We're gonna find her and she's going to be okay. She'll need you when we do."

Reilly nodded her head, unable to speak as the tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘Max, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Please find my baby.’

With little or no sleep, he was canvassing the neighborhood, searching and questioning everyone he met.

She felt helpless, sitting and waiting. Normally, she was in charge of her court investigations, but today she was a victim, forced to wait while others searched for information. She gained a new respect for her clients, the ones that placed their lives in her hands. She'd never given their anxiety much thought; they were paying her to do whatever was necessary and she did it. ‘She must be so scared. Please God don’t let them hurt my baby, please.’

Wringing her hands, she rocked back and forth, praying they’d find her soon.

Volunteers passed out flyers with a recent picture of Macy, nailing them to every available space. Teams of officers were going door to door, interviewing people, hoping for any piece of information to break the case.


Late that evening, they got their first solid lead from the pastor. The FBI and Cappy's men swarmed the church. The Crime Investigating Unit began fingerprinting the church vestibule and bathroom. They worked long into the night, searching for that one vital clue that would lead them to Macy in time.

Chapter 11

WHIPTON HERALD

Thurs. Dec. 24, 2009

- Surveillance Tape Shows Missing Girl -

A surveillance video was discovered last night showing 8-year-old Macy O'Neal skipping across the Redeemer Lutheran Church Parking lot, shortly after getting off the school bus.

According to Chief of Police O'Donnell, the video shows the young girl talking to a man and a woman. Unfortunately, the tapes are too scratchy to make any identification. At this time, the couple is considered the last known people to see Macy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Max and his assigned partner, Dennis, interviewed Pastor Michaels. Originally, Michaels failed to connect another incident at the church with Macy's disappearance. When shown the surveillance tape, he recognized the man in the video.

“Give it to me step by step, Pastor Michaels. Exactly the way you remember it.”  This was their first solid lead. Max wanted to make the most of it.

“I was working on Sunday’s sermon, when a man knocked on my office door.”

“What’d he look like?”

“Tall, crew cut, maybe in his thirties.  Clean-shaven. Just like the guy in the video.”

“Okay, what did he say?”

“He seemed a little nervous. Said his son had soiled his clothes and would it be okay if he changed in the bathroom.”

“Did you see anyone with him?”

“No, can’t say that I did.”

“Anything else that you remember? Anything at all?”

“No, I’m sorry. It was only a few seconds and I was busy.”

“You did fine, Pastor. Could you work with the sketch artist and get us a better picture?”

“Sure, sure.”

“As soon as you have a likeness, get that distributed to everyone.”

After the ransom call, Reilly’s house was central headquarters for the FBI.  Hanna and Reilly huddled on the couch, watching and listening to every one.  

With sketch in hand, Max raced to Reilly’s side to tell her the news.

"We've got a decent sketch of the guy."

Jumping up, she almost knocked Hanna over, "Who is he? Where is he? Do you know if he has Macy?" Questions were flying out her mouth faster than Max could answer them.

"Whoa, slow down."

"Tell me what you've got. Is it a solid lead?"

"Pastor Michaels remembers the guy coming into the church. Something about his boy needing to change clothes. The sketch artist did a rendering and they are being distributed as we speak."

"Let me see him. Are you sure he has Macy?"

"No, but he was seen with a woman talking to Macy in the parking lot. It stands to reason that he at least should know if anyone else was there."

"Can I see the picture?" Hanna peered over Reilly's arm. "Oh mi padre en el cielo. Es el hombre de la pizza." Clutching her heart, she stumbled backwards toward the sofa.

"What ... What ... Hanna, what's wrong?"

"It's the pizza driver. I see him often in the neighborhood."

"Are you sure? Do you know who he drives for?"

"No, I'm sorry. Doctor says no pizza for my clogged arteries." Hanna shook her head back and forth." I have seen him."

"Cappy, the guy works for a local pizza joint. Let's get some teams canvassing with the picture. See if someone gives him a name.”  Max smiled at Reilly. “It won’t be long now. We’ll find him.”