GUILTY 22

Detective Gerald Sullivan Saturday May 20, 2016 I’m sitting in my office going over my notes. Holden and Ashby have left to obtain the search warrant for Savannah’s place. But until they get that, I’m stuck here, idling. I flip open my notepad and begin reading over the notes from the beginning. Winston’s initial statement, Danny’s list of potential suspects, eyewitness accounts from neighbours, statements from the nanny and babysitter. I’m flipping through the section with Mrs Mendoza when I see that name again - Rosie. It could be nothing, just a friend dropping by. But something isn’t sitting right with me. I continue flipping through the pages, reading over Ainsley’s statement about the red Impala sitting outside the house. This, too, struck me as odd. A case of stalking, perhaps? Could someone have been targeting the Waters? Scoping out the house to see when people were home and when they were gone? But then again, if someone did do that, why take the child when her mother was home with her? Why not wait until more opportune time to strike? Scenario 1: This ‘stalker’ stakes out the house, plans to abduct Emerald. Comes in on Thursday afternoon and takes her. But that doesn’t explain the fact that Danny was home during the abduction. Could she have already been asleep when the perp came in? Or did something else happen - a confrontation, perhaps? - But Danny may have been in a dissociative state and forgot completely. Was Danny Waters even home during the time of the abduction? Scenario 2: Danny Waters has a psychotic break, kills Emerald, disposes of the body, goes to sleep and forgets any of it happened. In either scenario, we have an unreliable witness who has no idea what really happened. That’s when it clicks in my brain, puzzle pieces fitting together into place. I stand up quickly, rushing down the hall to see our tech analyst, Meredith Yong Vincent. Her door is open, but I knock twice and stick my head in. She’s on her computer, typing away. ‘Yong, good morning,’ she smiles as she spins in her chair to face me. ‘Hey, I have a favour to ask,’ I walk over and stand beside her desk. ‘Whats’ up?’ ‘Can you pull up a search for me? Red Impala’s in the greater Davenmore area.’ ‘Okay,’ she nods, pulls up another screen, types into the search. Twenty - six matches come up. ‘Can you be more specific? Partial licence plate, maybe?’ she asks. I look at her, ‘Even better than a licence plate. I have a name. Can you cross reference the car with ownership?’ ‘Sure, what’s the name?’ ‘Rosie.’ I say, my heart beating through my chest. I pray that I’m right about this. She clicks her mouse, presses a button, types in the name and we wait for something to come up. ONE RESULT…. ‘You’re in luck,’ Yong turns to me. ‘There’s a 2012 Chevy Impala registered to a Rosie Miller. I’m guessing you want her address?’ ‘Yes please.’ -------- I get the address for Rosie Miller and head out to her place, trying to wrap my head around this situation. The woman who came by the house two weeks ago is the same person who was lurking outside back in March. Who is this woman? I arrive in Suburbia. It’s a nice neighbourhood with large, ornamented homes, nuclear families galore. A place where parents move to raise their children. High School just around the corner, two parks within a three kilometre parameter. Upper - middle class people who work all day, then come home to a well - prepared dinner at night. Cookie - Cutter perfection. I pull up in front of the house, which was confirmed to be Rosie’s when I saw the red Impala in the driveway. I silently chastise myself for not connecting the dots sooner. It’s a fairly large house, stained mahogany double doors, fully bloomed garden out front. As I walk up the pathway to the front steps, I try to peer through the curtains to see if anyone’s home. Surely she’s here. If her car is here, she must be as well. I ring the doorbell and wait patiently, thousands of thoughts filling my mind. Where to begin? How do you know the Waters? Why were you lurking outside of their house? And do you know anything about the disappearance of Emerald Waters? I ring the doorbell again and wait. Hearing the sound of the kids playing outside, I turn and observe. Across the street are two children, bouncing a basketball and playing with a skipping rope. I turn back and face the door. I knock loudly three times, ’Ms Miller, this is Detective Sullivan from the Davenmore Police Station. Please open up.’ I knock a few more times, getting aggravated that she’s not answering. I don’t think she’d be that senseless to ignore the door when there’s a cop there. Perhaps she’s not home. Does she own more than one vehicle? Is she married? Out with a friend? I need answers to these questions, but I’m not going to get them standing here pounding on her door. I’ll get a warrant to search the premises if I have to. I hustle back down the steps and head across the street to where the children are playing. ‘Hi there,’ I smile as I approach. ’Is your mom or dad home?’ The kids don’t answer me. In fact, they look quite frightened. The little girl in the orange T- shirt points towards the house. I smile, nod, then head up to the front steps. A man opens the door, taking in my appearance as I take in his. He’s about equivalent to my height, has a head full of dark hair and looks to be in his late forties, early fifties. ‘Good afternoon. I’m Detective Sullivan.’ I stick out my hand. He shakes it firmly. ’Christopher King. What can I do for you today, Detective?’ ‘Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your neighbour, Rosie Miller?’ I nod towards her house. His eyes follow, then return to mine. ‘Rosie? Is she in some sort of trouble?’ ‘Nothing to be concerned about.’ He nods his head. ’Would you like to come inside?’ I turn to look at the children. ‘They’re fine.’ He says. ’They’ll be in shortly for lunch.’ ‘Sure.’ I step in the house and we walk towards the kitchen. I imagine that this is what Rosie’s home must look like as well. Large brick fireplace to the left, laminate tiles, marble counter tops. ‘So, what do you want to know?’ He says as he takes a seat at the table. He gestures for me to sit, so I pull out the chair and sit across from him. ‘Are the two of you close?’ I ask. ‘We’re neighbourly. Everyone around here is. Her daughter, Clementine, is friends with my son.’ ‘She’s has a daughter?’ ‘Yeah, she’s about ten or eleven, I believe. Nice kid. ‘Is Ms Miller married?’ ‘Don’t believe so,’ I jot this down, ‘How long has Ms Miller and her daughter lived in the neighbourhood?’ ‘A couple of years now.’ ‘Three, four, five ….?’ ‘Maybe four. I’m not too sure. My wife would know better than I would.’ he laughs. ‘I know you said you’re not close, but can you tell me anything else that may come to mind?’ He thinks for a moment. ‘She’s a nice lady, really. Always baking cookies for Clementine to bring to school. She’s involved in a lot of community stuff. Bakes cupcakes for fundraisers and such. I don’t really know much else. Real nice lady, though.’ ‘Alright,’ I say, jotting this down. ‘Do you happen to know if she’s home today? I knocked on her door but there was no answer.’ ‘Hmmm, I’m not too sure. I haven’t seen her outside or anything the past couple of days. But that’s not too unusual. She’s usually out and about doing things. Works at the hospital, so her shifts are very sporadic.’ He stops, thinking. ‘Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen Clementine this weekend either. Perhaps they had a little mother - daughter get - away.’ ‘When exactly was the last time you saw either of them?’ ‘Thursday, maybe. No, Friday. Yeah, it must have been yesterday because my son, Logan, delivers papers on our street and we saw them coming home from the grocery store yesterday afternoon.’ I write this down, then stand. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr King. If I have any other questions, I will contact you.’ He stands, awkwardly dropping his hands to his side, then bringing them in front of him. ‘Is everything okay with Rosie? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you asking?’ I stare at him, ‘Like I said, it’s nothing to be worried about. Just some questions I had until I reach her myself.’ He nods his head, accepting that I’m not going to elaborate. Until I can either get in contact with Rosie Miller or get a search warrant for her place - with very little to go on, I might add - I need to focus on any and all other options. And the first on my list of priorities is Savannah Visagie.. ---------- Winston Waters April 10,2016 I ditched work and took the day off. I wanted to spend time with Rosie. It’s Wednesday, which means that Danny will be at the office all day, possibly even later. She loves her job so much. Sometimes I think she loves it more than her family. But I’m happy for her. I truly am happy that she’s doing well and is back in her old environment, doing the thing that she loves the most. I left work around eleven, joking to Vanessa that since I’m in charge, I can leave whenever I want. She laughed and waved as I left. I snuck home to see Emerald before my day out. Marcia had Winnie the Pooh on and was singing to Emerald as she sat on the floor clapping her hands. She’s already so big, growing up so fast. Everything is new and pure in her eyes. Soon enough she’ll be crawling and then walking, The day seems so far away, but I know it’s approaching. I change out of my work clothes and throw on something casual. I walk back out, give Emerald a big kiss on the cheek, then tell Marcia I’m heading to work - lunch. She smiles and waves as I walk backwards out the door, smiling as I watch Emerald attempt to wave back. We’re having a picnic by the river, Rosie, Clementine and me. Clementine is Rosie’s eleven year old niece. Her parents - Rosie’s sister - died in a car accident when she was only a baby, so Rosie took her on as her own. She’s a cute kid. Dark hair, light eyes and a cheeky little smile. Rosie says she has her mother’s eyes and it reminds her of her sister every time she looks at them…. TO BE CONTINUED…