Oblation: A Spine-Tingling Crime Thriller set in Small-Town California, page 7
Given the rush, Gary was surprised the sheriff did not turn on the lights and siren. But glancing into the side mirror at the ten or so reporters congregating across the street from the school watching the sheriff leave, he figured she did not want to draw any more attention to her leaving than was necessary. About a quarter of a mile down the road, the sheriff reached over, flipped the switch for the lights and the siren, and proceeded to push the gas pedal closer to the floor as she weaved around a small gray Prius stopped at a red light.
“Listen,” she said without taking her eyes off the road, “I need you to identify whether the child at the plant is from the bus. If he is, we need to lock down the area. We don’t need a bunch of parents searching for their children and destroying evidence. One more thing, and this is very important. She looked over at him, and given the speed they were traveling, he looked back at her with concern and a bit of fear for the other drivers on the road. “I don’t know what we are going to find there. You have to hope for the best, but,” and she looked hard into Gary’s eyes, “prepare yourself for the worst.”
Mr. Oakes did not like the sound of that but mumbled, “Okay.”
Turning the corner onto Oleander, Gary could see a sheriff’s vehicle stopped in front of the gated entrance of the battery plant. Tarpley pulled over and came to a rocking stop on the gravel shoulder in front of an F-150 whose best years were behind it. Opening the door, she ignored the driver of the F-150, who was saying something about damage to his truck and walked toward the back of the other sheriff’s vehicle, where a deputy was searching for something in the trunk. “Deputy Evans, this is Principal Oakes.”
Deputy Keith Evans, a young man of about thirty-five, peered momentarily around the top of the open trunk. “Pleased to meet you,” then emerged from behind the vehicle with a large bolt cutter. “Here it is,” he said, somewhat triumphantly.
“What have we got?”
“The boy,” Evans began, “is Michael Guerro. I remember him from his accident a few years ago. He’s a paraplegic, which is why he is sitting on the ground.”
Sheriff Tarpley did not need to have Principal Oakes verify this information because she remembered the tragedy and had recognized the parents from the library, but she looked over at Gary anyway.
“He was on the bus. Both he and his brother were picked up,” Oakes confirmed as he turned and walked over to the gate, following the two sheriffs.
He saw Michael sitting up straight in the gravel. He was dirty, with a streak of dried blood on his head. Gary could see blood on his hands, and his clothes were caked with the white dust from the surrounding rocks. He was looking at the ground around him and appeared completely alone in the world. “Michael… Michael, it’s Principal Oakes. We are coming. Your parents are looking for you. They should be here soon.” Glancing over at Sheriff Tarpley, who nodded, he added, “I promise.”
Michael looked up at the group of people huddled just outside the gate and yelled, “He took Alex! You have to find Alex. And Amanda. He took Amanda too! You have to find both of them.”
“Okay, Michael,” Principal Oakes continued as he heard the snap of the bolt cutters make quick work of the chain. Deputy Evans pulled the loose chain through the fencing and pushed the gate open. Principal Oakes was the first one through the gate. He rushed over to Michael and knelt beside him. Placing his arm around the boy’s back, he allowed Michael to lean into him as he heard the boy sob, “He took them.”
“Who took them, Michael?” he said as he pushed the hair away from Michael’s eyes.
“I don’t know, but they’re gone,” came the tearful reply.
Sheriff Tarpley looked down at the boy and the principal sitting in the dust and said as calmly and as softly as she could muster, “Michael, where’s the bus?”
Michael looked up and pointed at the building. “It’s behind the building. Other students are in it. I think some of them are dead.” With that, he buried his head into Gary Oakes’s chest and gave a loud sob.
Sheriff Tarpley glanced over at Keith Evans, who took off at a run toward the building as Tarpley grabbed the mic at her shoulder. “Dispatch.”
“Dispatch here.”
“We need you to send every available ambulance to the battery plant, as well as every available officer who is not either manning a roadblock or at the school.”
“Ten-four. Every ambulance and officer. Roger that.”
Looking back at the driver of the F-150 standing some ten feet away looking lost, she said, “I want you at the gate. No one comes in unless they are with the Sheriff’s Department or are medical personnel. When one of my deputies arrives, you give him the same orders that I gave you. After that, you can go.”
The driver nodded but added sheepishly, “What about the damage to my truck? The kid threw a rock at it.”
Tarpley took two steps toward the driver and, using all of the three inches she had on the man, looked down at him. “Right now, I don’t give a shit about your truck. Just do what I told you to do.” She turned around, walked over to Gary Oakes, and whispered in his ear. “After someone comes and takes over the care of Michael, I need you to get to the bus. Remember, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”
She stood up and trotted toward the far corner of the building. When she reached the corner and was out of sight of the road, she broke into a full sprint.
Winded, she reached the bus where Deputy Evans was already making his way up the center aisle. Evans pointed toward the back of the bus, and Sheriff Tarpley met him at the emergency entrance. “It looks like the kid was able to get the back door open but fell out of the bus. There’s some blood there on the ground,” Evans said, pointing to the concrete next to where the sheriff was standing.
Stepping back away from the bloodstain, Tarpley realized quickly that she had made a mistake. “Okay, we need to slow down. I don’t have any gloves. Do you?”
“No,” he said, realizing the point she was making.
“All right, touch as little as possible. We need to preserve as much evidence as we can.” She looked at the height of the emergency entrance into the bus and went to reach for the doorframe. Stopping herself, she took the hand Evans offered and was pulled onto the bus.
Kids were spread throughout the bus. Some were sitting, while others lay across the seats. She could hear soft breathing, which relieved some of her anxiety. “You check the kids on the right side. I’ll look at the ones on the left. Listen for breathing. If you don’t hear anything, then check for a pulse. We need to triage the kids. The medical people are going to need to know whom to look at first.”
“I’ve never done anything like that. I’m not medically trained.”
“You’ll do fine,” she answered. “We just need to identify which ones are alive and which ones are dead.”
The look of shock on Evans’s face was familiar to her. It was the same look she had seen on the faces of fellow marines in Iraq and Afghanistan. “It’s all right. It’s important. I know it is hard, but we need to help the ones we can. For the others, it is just too late for us to help them.” Looking him in the eyes, she said, “Focus on the job in front of you. We can break down later. Right now, the living need our help.”
Evans nodded and turned to the small girl closest to him, feeling for a pulse at her neck. He was rewarded with a slight pushback from just below the skin. “She’s alive,” he said, smiling, and moved on.
After making their way to the front of the bus, they discovered to their joy, that all the children were alive. They appeared to be sleeping, but hard as they tried, they were not able to wake any of them. They would have to wait until whatever drug they had been given wore off. But the fact that they were alive gave hope to both Tarpley and Evans that this day may not end as badly as it had begun.
Their examination of the students was interrupted by Principal Oakes with another deputy. “Sheriff Tarpley, how are they?”
“They’re alive. They appear to have been drugged and are asleep. Overall, they seem to be in good shape.”
Oakes started to climb through the emergency exit but was stopped by Tarpley. “No, there’s no need for you to be up here. Right now, Evans and I will stay on the bus. As the medical personnel get here, we can hand the children to them through the emergency exit.”
“How many children are on the bus?” Oakes asked.
“Twenty-nine, including Michael Guerro,” responded Tarpley. She knew the answer to the next question but needed to verify it, so she asked it anyway. “How many students are supposed to be on the bus?”
“Thirty-four,” came the answer from Oakes.
“Damn,” Evans said, “we’re missing five. Where are they?”
“That is the next big question,” Tarpley replied. “Change of plans. Principal Oakes, I do need you up here inside the bus. Identify each of the children. We need to know who is missing.”
Tarpley jumped down from the bus and interlocked her fingers into a hammock to provide a step for Gary Oakes while Evans offered a hand to the principal as he got into the bus. “If possible, don’t touch anything. Just ID the kids,” Tarpley directed.
Oakes looked down at Tarpley, who was walking away from the bus. “Where are you going?”
“I need to talk to Michael Guerro,” she answered back over her shoulder. “Right now, he is the best chance we have for finding the missing children.” Still walking away, she continued yelling back. “Get me the names of the missing kids as soon as you have them.”
THIRTEEN
Alex Guerro; Male, Age 7
Le (Amanda) Nguyen: Female, Age 12
Jasmine Kalmins: Female, Age 5
Jordan Hendricks: Male, Age 8
Ubay Emami: Male, Age 10
Five names. Five missing children. Phylis Tarpley looked at each of the names, willing their spirit to tell her where they were. Three males. Two females. None the same age. None of the same race. Why did he take them?
Michael Guerro had helped as much as he could, but he was limited by the trauma and the medication he had been given. He remembered that they had been taken in a white van that he thought had something printed on the side door, but he could not be sure what the symbol was. She felt bad because she had pushed him pretty hard to get information out of him. But he had soldiered through, and she saw in Michael a stubbornness and tenacity that had helped him in the past and would be an asset in his future. Michael had explained to the sheriff that he had spilled his drink and then shared one with Amanda.
Tarpley had put out an all-call to stop every white van in the county. The patrol officers and the air search teams were no longer looking for a bus. Now they were looking for the van. An even smaller needle in an even bigger haystack. The Sheriff’s Department was already getting complaints about vans being stopped multiple times, but she did not care about that.
The good news was that the kids on the bus appeared to be in good shape. The initial examination did find them to be dehydrated but not harmed. All of them were still asleep except for Michael. One sniff of a juice packet found on the floor of the bus confirmed a strong medicinal smell, but exactly what had been given to the children had yet to be identified. It was only sheer luck that none of the kids had died or gone into shock since each child had most likely received the same dose of whatever medication it was. The doctors were not sure how long the children would be asleep, but they guessed that because of body weight, the older ones would wake up first.
Almost immediately, parents began drifting to the front of the abandoned factory after the news went out over the police radio that the bus had been found. Parents had been reunited with their sleeping children, with one parent being allowed to ride in the back of the ambulance or the police vehicle as they were transported to the small local hospital, which was already overwhelmed. One parent had to be detained when the mother and father started arguing over who should get to ride in the ambulance. So much stupidity.
For now, Tarpley’s focus was on the missing children and their parents. The parents of the missing were directed back to the school library. The mother of Jordan Hendricks had fainted but, after being revived, had refused to go to the hospital and insisted on returning to the school. Tarpley assumed a similar hysteria would be the dominant emotion for the next hour or so. As she pulled the Tahoe into the parking lot of the school, she prepared herself for the raw emotions of the five missing children’s parents.
Walking toward the school’s entrance, she steeled herself for the upcoming meeting. Then she glimpsed Trooper William Blantley waiting for her in the lobby with his arms crossed. He was the Highway Patrol Captain for northeastern California, and they had worked together on multiple occasions. Brantley was smart and a thorough administrator but was a climber. He was always looking for the next higher position, and she did not doubt that someday he hoped to run for Attorney General or possibly governor.
He flashed his thousand-dollar smile at Tarpley, which opened other doors for him but not hers and shook her hand. “Tarpley, you’ve got a mess here. What are you doing about it?”
Already positioning yourself for deniability. She resisted the urge to punch him in his perfect nose because, right now, she needed him. Blantley had access to the resources and assets she needed. Smiling, she said as calmly as possible, “We could really use your help right now. If you could assist in shutting down all access across the state borders into Nevada and Oregon, that would be a big help. It’s been over three hours since the bus was first reported missing and probably about the same amount of time since the white van with five children left the factory. I have my deputies watching the roads in the county, but if the state could take over all the crossings, that would free up some resources.”
“From what I’ve seen, it seems to me like you have it pretty much covered. After all, your county sits at the corner of California here, so you have jurisdiction over those crossings, but I’ll put a call out.”
Tarpley again felt the desire to punch him but this time in his perfectly straight teeth. She was actually amazed at her restraint and instead placed her nose within inches of his and hissed. “Thanks for your help, Bill. Now stay out of my way.” She pushed past him with a final comment. “And I’ll be sure everyone knows just how helpful you’ve been.”
She could feel him following her as she entered the library, but she ignored him and did not look back. He would want to be present, so he could claim some credit for assisting even if things went south. But he would not want to be too close in case things went terribly wrong. Then he could blame it on the incompetence of the Sheriff’s department.
She walked to the front of the library and motioned for Blantley to stand to her left. He bristled at the order but took his place. Better if she appears to be in charge, Blantley thought. I am here for support. I can be close enough to provide a shoulder for a grieving parent. Great photo op.
He was so busy with his thoughts that he missed Tarpley introducing him, but he did hear her say, “… and Captain Blantley has promised the full cooperation of the California State Patrol and has already been in touch with the Governor, who has promised to assist us in any way he can, including assisting at the border crossings into our neighboring states.”
She turned toward him and gave him her best “eat shit and die” look, which was not visible to the parents. Looking back at the anxious parents, she continued, “I just want to give Captain Blantley a couple of seconds to explain all the things he and the governor are doing to assist in locating your children. Trooper Blantley…”
As he stepped past her, she said softly, “I suggest you get on the phone with the governor.”
He smiled at the concerned parents gathered in the library and gave a very short speech assuring them that the governor was aware of their situation and keeping an eye on the events as they unfolded.
“But what specifically are you doing to find my little girl?” asked the mother of Jasmine Kalmins.
Shifting his weight to his left, he flashed her a smile. “Well, for one thing, we are monitoring all the border crossings into Nevada and Oregon. Every vehicle is being examined. This should prevent whoever took your children from leaving the state.”
“What else? And how come it took so long for the state to show up?” asked Mr. Hendricks, a local real estate developer and a county councilman.
As much as Tarpley would have liked to sit back and let Blantley get grilled by the parents, there was a more important issue on the table: the safety of the children. She stepped forward. “I know you are feeling frustrated by the situation, and so am I….”
“Your child isn’t missing,” retorted Mr. Hendricks.
“No, he is not, but sniping at each other is not going to help right now.” Realizing the irony of this last statement, given how she had treated Blantley, she turned to face him. “I just wanted all of you to know that we are being helped by the state. The captain took time out of his schedule to meet with you, but he is in the middle of coordinating the larger state response, so thank you, Captain Blantley, for taking the time, but I know you have things you need to do.”
Blantley took full advantage of the dismissal and left the room. Now he did have things to do, and the first thing was to contact the governor’s office and inform them that they had been thrown under the bus by the Sheriff of Modoc County.
Tarpley knew she would have hell to pay from Blantley later and most likely from the governor, but right now, she had gotten what she needed, and she was secretly pleased with herself.
Sheriff Tarpley turned her attention to the anxious faces of the parents around her. Some were sitting, but most were standing because their nervous energy demanded that they do something to find their children. Tarpley had led men and women in war zones, and she recognized the look of people ready to spring into action. Their children were missing, and they needed to do something about it. She felt for the table behind her and sat back upon it, trying to portray a relaxed attitude.
