*violent crime

The Mystery of the Missing Intern

by Mary

Special Agent Jonathan Simms hung up the phone and turned to Trixie Belden, his 22-year old intern. "It’s confirmed. That is Penelope. They’ve informed Mrs. Waters," he said grimly.

Trixie paled and put down the file she was reading. "Oh Johnny! Is she…"

"I’m afraid so, kiddo. And from the looks of things, she was killed immediately, so don’t you go blaming yourself, or wondering what else you could have done. There was nothing more you could have done. An autopsy will have to confirm it, but I’d say the Professor only held her for a few hours before he…" the agent stopped. There was nothing more he could say.

"She was so young," Trixie moaned, tapping her pencil on the desk restlessly. "It’s just such a waste. Poor Mrs. Waters."

"Welcome to the FBI," Agent Simms said wryly. For three months, Trixie had been working as an intern at the White Plains Office, wanting practical experience before starting her own detective agency with her best friend, Honey Wheeler. It had been their dream since they were 13 years old. "Your work on this case was excellent, Trixie. First rate. We have Professor Ripkin in custody largely thanks to you."

"For all the good it did," Trixie lamented. "It doesn’t help Penelope."

"It helps Mrs. Waters, Trixie. Believe me. Having her daughter’s murderer in custody will help her with her grief. It just goes to show you, you never really know what people are capable of. Ripkin is a respected Professor who’s been with the University for years." Simms shook his head. "Don’t you dare think you didn’t do any good. Now that sicko can’t hurt anyone else."

It was a disturbing case. When the 20-year-old Penelope Waters didn’t come home, it was assumed that the troubled young woman with a history of running away as a juvenile simply cracked under the strain of college. But when her mother discovered Penelope’s torn and bloody blouse in the woods behind their house, the police began to take the case seriously, referring it to the FBI as a possible kidnapping case. Trixie worked closely with Mrs. Waters; the agents figured she would have an easier time talking to someone roughly the same age as her daughter. It was when Trixie went through Penelope’s schoolwork that she noticed the increasingly strange notes written on her papers by her English Professor…

"He was sick all right. I just wish she would have told someone about how he was acting," Trixie sighed. She could not get the picture of the young girl, whose pictures were all over her mother’s house, out of her mind.

"That’s the trouble with some of these young women. They crave attention, even the wrong kind of attention. She was probably in love with the guy, that’s the worst part about it," Simms commented.

"Oh, that’s so awful," Trixie exclaimed, shaking her head, her blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders.

"Yeah," Simms agreed. "Must make you glad to be married."

Trixie smiled, feeling some of her sadness evaporate at the thought of her husband of six months, Jim Frayne. "Oh, I’m always glad about that, believe me!" she laughed.

"I don’t know…you’re awfully young to be tied down, kiddo. Don’t you want to sow your wild oats?" Simms countered, grinning wickedly.

"I never did like to sew!" Trixie joked. Then she grew serious. "And anyway, what could I do? I’ve loved the guy since I was 13 years old." Her blue eyes got a fond, faraway look in them.

"Thirteen, huh? How’d you guys meet?"

Trixie laughed. "As my baby brother would say, I ‘founded’ him!" She gave him the condensed version of finding Jim in the abandoned house and the events that led up to his adoption by the Wheeler family.

"Wow, that’s something else. Your first case!" Simms looked amused. "It’s almost 4:30. Why don’t you go home to dreamboat, there’s not much more to do tonight. We won’t get the autopsy report until tomorrow anyway."

"My brother and his wife are coming over for dinner. I could use the extra time," Trixie mused.

"That ought to cheer you up. Trix, take it from me, you can’t get too emotionally involved in these cases. Trixie started to protest and he cut her off. "I know, you do anyway. It’s just my standard speech I give to trainees." Simm’s face suddenly looked lined and tired. Penelope Waters had been so young and so beautiful…

"Come to dinner. Meet ‘dreamboat’," Trixie urged, seeing the depression in her mentor’s face.

"Some other time kiddo. Some other time. Now get lost before I change my mind."

Trixie left the building slowly, thinking about a young girl who was no more.

As she headed to her car for the eleven mile trip home suddenly she stopped. "Dang! I forgot the sour cream for the stroganoff!" she said aloud. She glanced at her watch and decided she had plenty of time to walk the block to the A&P rather than drive. "Should clear my head," she muttered to herself, walking briskly down the sidewalk. She walked past the carts and straight to the dairy section. As she was reaching for the container, she heard her name.

Turning around she almost gasped aloud to see the white, strained face of the woman standing before her. "Mrs. Waters. I’m so, so sorry about Penelope," Trixie said passionately, wondering what on earth she was doing in the grocery store at a time like this. She picked up the sour cream, holding it awkwardly, not sure what she should do next.

"Thank you," she answered strangely, her eyes haunted and bruised-looking. Trixie’s heart went out to her.

"Do you have someone you can stay with tonight? You shouldn’t be alone," Trixie said, concerned.

"Of course," Mrs. Waters replied. Trixie shivered. Something wasn’t right with her tone. "That is to say, I…" Mrs. Waters looked confused, her voice faltering. Suddenly, her voice sounding more normal, she said, "I wish you would come home with me for a bit. I could make you a cup of tea and thank you for all you did." Her eyes filled with tears and Trixie couldn’t bring herself to say no to the poor woman.

I am off an hour early, and she’s just lost her only daughter. How can I say no? "I’d love to, Mrs. Waters," Trixie replied. "Just let me buy this sour cream first." The two women walked to the checkout counter, where Trixie paid for her item. As they walked outside, Trixie said, "I’ll just get my car and I’ll meet…"

"Oh that won’t be necessary, dear. My car’s right here!" Mrs. Waters said brightly. Again, the pitch of her voice seemed skewed, the words splintering the air. Trixie hesitated. "You’re the only one who really cared about my Penny," Mrs. Waters said, her voice cracking. "It would mean so much to me…"

Trixie nodded and got into the car, a fairly nice Lexus with leather seats that felt cool and inviting. Mrs. Waters drove silently, her mouth trembling. Trixie cleared her throat. "I really do need to be back in an hour, Mrs. Walters. My husband and I are having people over for dinner and he’ll kill me if I’m late." As soon as the words left her lips she winced, but Mrs. Waters didn’t seem to notice the slip. They drove on in silence, the busy streets giving way to the lush wooded area, the most exclusive part of town.

"You know, I gave my daughter everything," Mrs. Waters said abruptly, her knuckles white on the wheel.

"I’m sure you did," Trixie replied gently. One cup and that’s it, Trixie thought, remembering John Simms’ advice about not getting emotionally involved. Why is it that I never listen to good advice?

Mrs. Waters pulled into a curved driveway and shut off the engine. "Now you come right inside!" she said brightly. Trixie followed her without a word, still unknowingly holding the sour cream, the receipt fluttering away. The older woman led her into a beautiful entryway with a dark, cherrywood table in front of a gilt mirror. She set down her purse and kept going, leading Trixie into a sumptuous living room, neat as a pin, carefully arranged.

"You do have a lovely home," Trixie murmured, wishing she were in her own modest home that was built near Jim’s school on Ten Acres, the land he inherited from his late uncle. She was horribly uncomfortable and regretting more and more that she had come here. She couldn’t say why.

"Have a seat. I’ll be right back with the tea," Mrs. Waters said. Trixie sat down, fidgeting. In a few minutes, Mrs. Waters came back carrying two china cups on a tray. "There! Milk and one sugar, just the way you like it!"

"Thank you," Trixie replied, taking a sip. The tea had an odd taste, a little dark.

Mrs. Waters stared at her oddly. "Where have you been?" she asked quietly.

"Um, excuse me?" Trixie asked, puzzled. She took another tiny taste of her tea.

"I’ve been waiting and waiting. You didn’t come home and I worried. You know how I worry." Mrs. Waters’ eyes were like black saucers, the flesh under them white.

Trixie set down her tea. "Mrs. Waters, I think I should call someone," she began, then stopped, frightened at the slurry sound of her voice, her head suddenly feeling thick.

"You won’t leave again, will you dear? Will you?" Mrs. Waters was shaking, her voice high.

Trixie was, by now, thoroughly frightened. "I…I have to leave," she mumbled, trying to stand. There was something wrong with her legs. Mrs. Waters was fading, fading…Jim! was Trixie’s last coherent thought before she slumped down onto the chintz sofa, the sour cream rolling onto the floor from her nerveless fingers.

Mrs. Waters picked up Trixie’s limp hand. "No you aren’t leaving again. Aren’t leaving again, my darling girl," she crooned, stroking Trixie’s arm with trembling fingertips.

Jim, hearing a car’s engine, looked out the window expectantly, but it was not his wife’s jaunty Honda Civic, but rather his sister and brother-in-law’s BMW, a wedding gift from his parents. "Doctors don’t drive pickup trucks!", they had joked. "Teachers do!" Jim had replied, and they remembered, giving he and Trixie a Tahoe for their wedding gift. But Trixie hated driving it, clinging to the car she had bought in college. Jim opened the front door and stepped out on the porch as Brian and Honey got out of their car.

"Hey Jim, it’s stroganoff time! Where’s Trixie?" Honey called, pushing her long, light brown hair back from her face. "Are we early?"

"No you’re not early. And I don’t know where Trixie is. She isn’t home yet." Jim replied, looking worried.

"She didn’t call?" Brian asked, picking up his brother-in-law’s concern.

"No, and I’m really starting to get worried. It’s 7:00, and she’s usually home by 6:00," Jim said.

"Maybe she’s just working late," Honey suggested.

"I tried calling her, but I just keep getting her voicemail. She’s not there."

"Try calling her boss, what’s-his-name, John somebody," Brian suggested.

Jim smiled. "Of course! He’d know where she is. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before." He opened the door and beckoned them inside. "Come on in, help yourselves to whatever you want to drink." He flipped open the address book by the phone, and dialed.

"Simms," a gruff voice answered.

"Hi, this is Jim Frayne, Trixie’s…"

"Ah, it’s dreamboat!" the voice said cheerily.

Dreamboat?! "Um, uh I’m trying to track down Trixie. Is she working on something?" Jim said, a little thrown by the dreamboat remark.

"No, she’s not working. In fact, she left over 2 hours ago," Simms replied.

"Oh my God." Jim said quietly. Even with heavy traffic White Plains was only a half an hour drive at worst. Brian and Honey came to stand by him, alerted by his tone that something was wrong.

"I wouldn’t be too worried. She probably had errands to run and lost track of the time."

Jim shook his head. "It just isn’t like her. And she knew her brother and his wife were coming over."

"Yeah, she did mention something about a dinner, come to think of it. I was glad because we got some disturbing news tonight on the case she’s been working on. I thought good company would cheer her up." Simms said.

"What kind of news?"

The FBI agent sighed. "What the hell, it’ll be in all the papers tomorrow anyway. They found the body of that girl who’s been missing."

Jim turned white. "Do you know who did it?" he asked, suddenly frightened. What if he went after Trixie? Honey gasped at the terrible sound of his voice.

"They caught him, they caught him—he’s behind bars," Simms said quickly, picking up Jim’s thoughts over the phone.

"Thank God," Jim breathed, relaxing a little. "I had the worst thoughts in my mind."

"Well you can dismiss that thought," Simms said. "He’ll never hurt anyone again. Listen buddy, I’m sure she’ll show up any second, apologizing like crazy."

"You may be right. Sorry to bother you."

"No bother." The phone abruptly went dead. Jim remembered Trixie saying he was a man of few words. He hung up the phone slowly.

"She’s not there," he said unnecessarily.

"What was all that stuff about catching someone? You scared us to death!" Honey asked, her eyes wide.

"They found Penelope Waters’ body today. That’s the case that Trixie’s been helping with, so I thought…" Jim broke off, not wanting to think about it.

"But they caught the guy." Brian said, wanting to be reassured.

"Yeah," Jim replied. "But we still have the same problem. Where is Trixie?" The three of them stared at one another.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Honey said, chewing on her lower lip.

"So do I," Jim replied grimly. The phone rang, startling the group. Jim swiftly picked it up. "Trix?" he said.

"It’s John Simms. Trixie’s car is still in the parking garage. Still locked," the agent said bluntly.

"What!?" Jim said. Now he knew something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut.

"Come down here. Let’s figure out our next move," Simms said, tensely. He was very fond of his young intern—she was like the daughter he never had.

"We’ll be right there," Jim replied, hanging up the phone. He turned to the others. "Her car’s still there." He said simply.

Brian blanched. "Something must have happened to her," he said, his voice sick. The three of them rushed out of the house, piling in Brian’s car. What had started as a pleasant evening was fast eroding into a nightmare.

Special Agent Simms met the group at the deserted front desk. There was something about the dark-haired man, his hair peppered with gray, that Jim instantly trusted. Trixie was crazy about him, often telling Jim that she was learning more working with him than she learned in four years at college.

"Come with me, kids," he said, heading into the stairwell. Jim was glad he didn’t waste time with pleasantries and introductions. They followed his rapid ascent, their footsteps loud on the metal stairs. He led them into a room with several desks and sank down into one well-worn chair. "Sit down. We need to talk strategy," He said, picking up a notebook from his desk.

"Sir, we’ll do whatever it takes to find my sister," Brian said, sitting across from the older man.

"Call me John. We all need to start making phone calls, lots of phone calls. We need to call everyone Trixie knows to rule out the possibility that she went to someone’s house."

"Shouldn’t we call the police?" Jim asked, worry like a cold fist in his stomach. He sank into a chair, absently picking up and putting down the items on the desk. He suddenly realized he was sitting at Trixie’s desk when he saw the picture of the two of them on their porch swing. Where are you? He thought, gazing at the blonde smiling face in the photo.

John nodded. "We’ll get to that. They’ll argue that a person has to be missing for at least 24 hours, but I’m sure we can get around that. Especially when we tell them that we’ve already called everyone she knows."

"Do you really think she went to someone’s house?," Honey asked doubtfully. "Why would she leave her car behind?"

"We can’t know what happened. What if someone drove up and needed her help. You know Trixie. She’d go."

The three smiled a little at that. Yes, she would go. For the next several hours they called everyone they could think of. Having the FBI’s ability to trace numbers was especially helpful in some cases. But the answer was always the same. No, they hadn’t heard from her. No, they hadn’t seen her. Jim could feel panic looming, and forced it down; panicking would accomplish nothing.

"All we’ve done is scare everyone Trixie has ever known!" Honey wailed, tears welling in her hazel eyes. It had taken all her persuasive skills to keep Trixie’s parents from storming the FBI Office. Instead, the family was going to gather at Ten Acres and wait for news.

"I’m calling the police," Jim said grimly, picking up the phone and dialing. He was transferred to the missing persons department, who promptly gave him the spiel about someone having to be missing for 24 hours.

"I know, but…" The dispassionate voice interrupted him again to tell him that it wasn’t unusual for someone’s wife to take a little ‘vacation’ from their marriage. Did he think he was the first husband to have his wife take off?

Jim was so furious that he couldn’t speak for a second. Calm down. Calling this guy what he is isn’t going to speed up anything, and we’re running out of time. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, clenching his fist, fighting for control. "I’m sure you’ve heard this kind of thing before. But I can assure you that’s not what’s going on here. Her life may be in danger." He listened some more and shook his head, handing the phone over to John. "I’m not getting anywhere with this guy. He isn’t taking it seriously," he said angrily. He couldn’t believe the police actually thought Trixie had just casually decided to leave him. He was no expert on happiness, but the past six months had been so incredible…he glanced at Trixie’s desk calendar and felt his heart constrict. Trixie had doodled "Trixie + Jim" and drawn a heart around it that very day.

The agent took the phone. "This is Special Agent John Simms of the FBI. Put your supervisor on." His voice was steely. A few clipped sentences later, John hung up the phone. "They’re putting an all points bulletin out."

Jim was relieved. Finally something was happening. "Now what? I have to do something. I can’t stand just sitting around," he said passionately. Brian and Honey echoed his sentiment.

"I know how frustrating this is. But you need to go home and rest. I’ve alerted some agents, and the police are on the job now too. You won’t be any good to her if you collapse from exhaustion." John’s voice was firm, but sympathetic.

The three reluctantly agreed, thanking the Agent for everything he was doing.

"We’ll find her, I promise you that," John said, his eyes firm. After they left he rubbed his eyes tiredly; he wasn’t really sure at all. Where are you, kiddo?, he thought, leaving the office himself.

 

Chapter 5

As Jim, Brian and Honey pulled up the drive, several people poured out of the house, gathering on the porch. Their faces fell when they didn’t spot Trixie.

"What’s going on?" Mrs. Belden, Trixie’s mother, asked rushing up to the car, her face pale and strained. Jim got out of the car and hugged his mother-in-law.

"I don’t know. She just didn’t come home. Her car is still in the parking garage, so she didn’t drive herself somewhere. It just doesn’t make any sense!" His voice was anguished.

"Did you call the police?" Mart, Trixie’s "almost twin" brother asked, his face pale. Jim’s adopted parents flanked him.

"Of course. At first they wanted to wait 24 hours, but Trixie’s boss took care of that, thank God," Jim replied.

"Let’s go in the house. You all must be starved," Mrs. Belden said anxiously. Not one to bear sitting around either, she had made a pile of sandwiches for everyone, desperate to burn off her nervous energy.

For the first time Jim became aware that he was weak with hunger, and knew Brian and Honey must be too. "That’s a good idea," he said tiredly. He walked up the porch steps, suddenly overcome with exhaustion, welcoming the strength of his father’s arm around his shoulder. It was a sober, worried group that entered the normally happy home of Jim and Trixie Frayne.

She’s been missing for hours and hours. Where in God’s name can she be? Jim thought, overcome with fear. He knew he couldn’t count on getting any sleep that night.

*     *     *

Trixie slowly opened her eyes, completely disoriented. It was pitch black and her head ached miserably. "Where am I?" she groaned aloud. Everything was so fuzzy and there was a loud whine in her ears, making it hard to think. Suddenly she remembered and her whole body jerked with shock. She strained to listen, to see, slowly becoming aware that her hands were tied behind her back and that she was lying on them. When she tried to rise, she discovered that her feet were also tied together, as well as tied to the end of the cot she was lying on. Her heart pounded with fear, and she took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Panic is the enemy, she reminded herself. Her eyes were slowly becoming adjusted to the dark, the moonlight helping, shining through the one window. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was in the Bob-White clubhouse, she thought, noting that she was being held in a little wooden cabin. Obviously I’m not at Mrs. Waters’ anymore. Where can I be? She puzzled. Then she remembered something Mrs. Waters had told her during one of their interviews.

"Penelope was always running off into the woods to be alone. She had her secret clubhouse as she called it. Really it was just an old hunting cabin that was never torn down. You probably think the idea of a secret clubhouse is rather silly," Mrs. Waters had said, trying to smile. Trixie had smiled back, saying that no, she didn’t find the idea silly at all, as a matter of fact…

"I must be in Penelope’s clubhouse," Trixie said aloud. She shivered. What was Mrs. Waters planning on doing with her? That she was mentally ill was apparent; Trixie would never forget the look in Mrs. Waters’ eyes before she passed out. Suddenly she stiffened as she heard the sound of the door creaking open. An involuntary moan of fright escaped her as footsteps made their way to her…

 

Chapter 6

"I thought you might be awake by now!" The unnaturally cheery voice of Mrs. Waters floated in the darkness. Trixie heard the sound of a curtain being closed then blinked in the sudden light as Mrs. Waters turned on the lantern she was carrying. Trixie looked around the room quickly, not wanting to waste the opportunity to look for a possible escape. There wasn’t much too see, it was basically four walls, one door and one window, very small and high up. She was relieved to see cracks in the walls and rotting boards. If I could get my feet loose, I might be able to break a way out of here, Trixie thought hopefully. "It’s so good to have you home!" Mrs. Waters broke into her thoughts. She sank on the floor next to the cot and put her hands on Trixie’s shoulders. Trixie could not stop herself from shrinking away. Mrs. Waters looked stricken. "Don’t pull away from me, honey. You’re all I have." Her face almost seemed to crumple in on itself.

"Mrs. Waters, this is Trixie. Trixie Frayne. You’re upset…"

Mrs. Waters’ face turned white, her eyes glittering like dark unnatural diamonds. "You want to leave again, don’t you? You can’t stand being around your own mother. I give you everything, everything! I love you so much and you, you…" Mrs. Waters broke off, heaving, digging her nails into Trixie’s shoulders until she cried out in pain.

"Mrs. Waters, I want to help you! Please let me help you!" Trixie begged, fear settling in her chest like a hot stone.

Mrs. Waters began crying harshly, her hands leaving Trixie’s shoulders and reaching around her neck, Trixie gasping for air as she tightened her grip. Just at the point Trixie feared she would lose consciousness, Mrs. Waters relaxed her hold, stroking Trixie’s cheek as she gulped air thankfully. "I gave you everything," she said kindly, her eyes vacant.

"I know you did," Trixie whispered through her swollen throat, trying a new tact. "I’m sorry I’ve been so ungrateful. I didn’t mean it." Mrs. Waters smiled, her eyes starry. "Can we…let’s go back to the house, mother." It made Trixie sick to say ‘mother’ to this woman. Suddenly she longed for her own mother so strongly she nearly started bawling. She must be worried sick! And Jim, oh my God, he must be going insane by now. A planet of regret sat on her shoulders and she wondered how she could have ever considered getting into this woman’s car. How stupid can I be? I even suspected there may have been a history of abuse, that her attachment to her daughter was…unnatural, Trixie railed silently.

"Oh my Penny, my Penny…" To Trixie’s immense relief, Mrs. Waters started untying the ropes at her feet. Suddenly she stopped. "You just want to leave again. You want to leave me again. You’ll leave! You’ll leave!" Mrs. Waters drew back her hand and struck Trixie across the face.

"No, I won’t!" Trixie said desperately, her cheek stinging and hot, but Mrs. Waters didn’t appear to hear her, jumping up and picking up the lantern.

"You’ll stay, by God, you’re not going anywhere. You are not leaving ever again." Mrs. Waters’ voice was flat and terrible—Trixie’s heart froze at the note of finality in her tone.

"Wait…" but Mrs. Waters was gone, slamming the door behind her. Trixie was left staring into darkness, hot tears sliding down her swollen face, panic circling like a dark patient bird, waiting for the opportunity to land.

Chapter 7

BODY OF MISSING COLLEGE GIRL DISCOVERED!  The morning headlines screamed, a large picture of the young and beautiful Penelope Waters in horrible contrast to this statement. Further below, a smaller headline proclaimed YOUNG FBI INTERN MISSING. John Simms shook his head. "Those people sure didn’t waste any time," he muttered, taking a swig of black coffee. He tossed the paper onto his desk as he left, going downstairs to meet Jim and Trixie’s family and friends. "Bring plenty of live bodies. We’re going to canvas the streets and see if anyone saw her yesterday," he had told Jim.

As soon as he saw Jim, he spared him the trouble and stated simply, "No news." The younger man’s face fell. Simms laid his hand on his shoulder briefly, the faced the group. "Okay everyone, here’s the drill. It’s highly likely that Trixie walked somewhere near the office. We’re going to spread out in all directions in groups of two or three and question everyone in every house, every business, now matter how unlikely, in a one mile radius He handed out several 8 by 10 pictures he had made from Trixie’s badge picture in the FBI computer. "We’ll report back here, but call my cell phone immediately if you have anything to report. Any questions? Okay, good luck." They headed outside and the FBI agent pointed each group in a different direction. Jim felt incredibly grateful that Simms, with his many years of experience, was taking such capable charge.

Mart, Trixie’s other brother Bobby and Diana Lynch took a picture and headed off. "We won’t miss anybody," Mart promised.

Trixie’s parents, Jim’s parents and Honey and Brian took their pictures and left, their still white faces a testament to their lack of sleep.

Jim and Simms headed down the sidewalk. "How you doing, man?" Simms asked, not liking the look on Jim’s face, but not blaming him either.

Jim shook his head. "This is a nightmare," he said simply. "I’m thankful for everything you’re doing." He said no more, not trusting his voice. This was no time to start cracking up.

"Glad to do it. After we find that girl, I’m going to take her up on her dinner offer. She’ll owe me one." John forced his voice to sound capable and confident.

The two men walked on in the bright sunshine that was a cruel reminder to Jim how long Trixie was missing. His legs were leaden with exhaustion, and fear was stealing away his oxygen. Last night he called every hospital, describing Trixie until his voice was hoarse, each time relieved she wasn’t there and yet disappointed because that meant she was still missing. He felt like his sanity was starting to slip away. Even Patch, the dog he’d had since he was 15, knew something was wrong. He kept dashing into different rooms, whining, unable to sit still. It seemed like he was wondering where Trixie was too. Jim listened for several hours as Agent Simms questioned people tirelessly, impressed with his professionalism—he felt completely incapable of talking calmly about Trixie. His arms ached to hold her; he felt like he was missing an essential part of himself like an arm or a leg. Please God, let us find something, anything, anything at all, he thought, anguished.

"Here’s the A&P—she may have needed something for the dinner," Simms said.

"Hey, yeah," Jim replied, suddenly hopeful. The two men entered the store where Simms flashed his badge to the first cashier he saw.

"John Simms, FBI. Miss, I need to talk to the Manager right away."

The cashier was stunned. "Wow, FBI? That’s Mr. Burnell, he’s right over there," she pointed to a short stocky man standing nearby. He noticed and came over immediately. "Is there a problem?" he asked pleasantly.

Simms wasted no time, showing him the picture of Trixie. "We need to show this to anyone who was on duty last night, approximately 4:30 PM or later. This person is missing and may have stopped off in here."

"Yes, she did stop in. I was here last night." Mr. Burnell replied. "I’m very good with faces," he added by way of explanation.

Jim grabbed his arm before he could stop himself. "When did you see her?" he asked urgently.

Mr. Burnell looked at him with understanding. She must be his wife or girlfriend, he thought. "Must have been pretty close to 5:00. I was almost through with my shift, and I remember her mainly because of the woman she was talking to. She seemed pretty upset as I recall."

Simms and Jim looked at each other, electrified. "Describe this woman," Simms demanded.

"Weeell now, she was a middle aged woman. Not real tall. Darkish hair, bit of gray. Very nicely dressed. She was crying a little bit."

"Did she appear to be forcing the young woman to talk to her? Was she behaving in any kind of threatening manner?" Simms asked.

"No, like I said, she just seemed upset about something. They walked to the register together and left. That’s all I remember."

"Did they leave together?" Jim demanded

Mr. Burnell considered the question, pursing his lips. Jim restrained the urge to shake the answer out of him. "I guess you could say that."

"What do you mean ‘guess’?" Jim was almost beside himself with frustration.

"Easy son. Easy." Simms said quietly.

"I’m sorry, I don’t have anything else to tell you. They were heading for the door together, but I don’t know what happened after that. I couldn’t tell you if they left together—I wasn’t outside with them." Mr. Burnell was a very precise man.

"Thank you. Now about other people on duty last night. We need to question them too." Simms stated.

"Of course," the store manager replied. "Beth. Lucas, Cbris…" he pointed out a cashier and two stockboys.

The pair questioned everybody, but nobody could tell them what happened after they left the store. The young cashier, Beth, remembered the woman who was with Trixie. "Yeah, she was real upset, crying and all. I think your friend felt sorry for her—she was being very nice."

Jim felt like crying. Was Trixie’s good heart rewarded by…he didn’t want to think any further about what might be happening to her. Who was this woman, and what, if anything, had she done to Trixie?

"Let’s go back to the office. We need to let everyone know what’s going on," Simms said, walking rapidly to the door.

Within 15 minutes, everyone was gathered around Simms’ desk. He excused the other agents from the room abruptly. "Trixie was spotted in the A&P last night. She was talking to a middle aged woman with dark hair, some gray."

"Is that who she’s with now?" Honey exclaimed.

"It would seem likely, but it’s not for sure. Do any of you know who this could be?"

"An ex-teacher?" Brian asked, throwing out a possibility.

"Maybe the mother of one of her classmates? This seems so hopeless!" Mrs. Belden leaned against her husband, rubbing her eyes. "It could be anybody."

Jim turned to Agent Simms. "The case you’ve been working on. Trixie couldn’t give me any details but she did say she had to talk to the girl’s mother a lot. In fact, she spent a lot of time talking to her."

Agent Simms nodded. "Yes she did. And she does fit the general description. But it seems highly unlikely. Trixie almost single-handedly put her daughter’s murderer behind bars. Any mother would be grateful, I would think." He shifted the newspaper from this morning to the side of his desk and reached for his coffee cup. Jim glanced down and froze.

"Oh my God," he said picking up the paper. His eyes did not want to believe what he was seeing.

"What? What is it?" several voices asked. Jim wordlessly turned the paper to face the group, who gasped at the large picture of Penelope Waters.

"She looks just like Trixie!" Diana gasped, taking the paper from his hand and looking closer at it. The young girl in the paper stared out with big, soft eyes, her long curly hair just past her shoulders.

Mrs. Belden clutched her husband. "Any mother might be grateful, but any mother could also be out of her mind!" she said, her voice trembling. The coincidences were just too many for her not to think the worst.

John Simms paled. "And all Trixie kept saying after I told her was ‘poor Mrs. Waters’". The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. "We’re going to pay a certain person a little visit," he finished, grimly.

But would it be too late?

 

Chapter 8

Meggie Hansen and Sarah Monroe, age 13, were arguing again.

"Meggie, we might get into trouble. That place is on private property, you know." Sarah said, lifting her long blonde hair up off her neck to cool it as they walked through the woods behind their house.

Meggie groaned. "Oh Sarah, why are you always such a stickler for the rules? Nobody cares about that dumb old cabin. It’s falling apart." She liked her best friend more than anyone else, but sometimes she drove her crazy.

"If it’s just a dumb old cabin, why do you want to go inside? It’s probably filled with bugs. Ugh!" Sarah complained.

"Saaaaraaaah, how are we going to be the next Muldour and Scully if you’re afraid of a few bugs? Don’t you remember what happened to them last week?" Meggie asked. "Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"I have a sense of adventure! It’s just that I like how Scully figures things out scientifically. You can be Muldour, chasing after aliens!" Sarah replied. She liked categorizing all the facts, patiently weaving together the picture of events. Her reports for school were always marked high for research.

Meggie’s dark eyes danced. "I might as well, I’m already friends with one!" She playfully bumped Sarah’s shoulder with her own. "And anyway, even Scully gets her hands dirty!"

"Oh hardy har har!" Sarah said, giving her a tiny shove back, causing her dark braid to swing off her shoulder.

"Pleeeease let’s go to the cabin; just for one minute. I’ve just gotta know what’s in there!" Meggie wheedled.

Sarah sighed. She knew her best friend well enough to know that she wasn’t going to give up. "Oh all right. But you have to go to the new Freddie Prinz Jr. movie with me then."

"Deal." Meggie replied. The Matrix was really more her style, but she guessed she could stand a couple of hours of ‘boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-wins-girl-back’. "Let’s go!"

***

Trixie slowly opened her eyes, amazed that she had actually managed to sleep for a few hours. The cabin was dark and quiet, but she could tell the sun was shining outside. She tried to stretch, crying out as her calves cramped painfully. She could no longer feel her hands. "Oh God, what am I going to do? I want to go home!" she whimpered aloud, her eyes filling with tears. She took in a shaky, impatient breath. "That’s enough of that. I’ve got to be calm and think. Think." Trixie said. She needed a drink of water badly. She again tried to work her feet loose, and was filled with savage hope as she felt the ropes give way on one side. "Please…" she breathed, moving her feet side to side. She had to hurry—she sensed Mrs. Waters would be arriving any minute. Suddenly she froze, hearing voices and footsteps.

"Oh I’ll go in first!" Trixie heard, then the door opened and a dark head peeked through. Dark eyes met her own, wide with shock, a gasp escaping her mouth.

"What’s wrong, Meggie?" A second voice asked.

"There’s somebody tied up in here!" The first girl said. She rushed up to Trixie and babbled, "You’re that missing FBI intern, aren’t you?" She started untying the ropes that bound Trixie’s feet to the end of the cot. The second girl stood in the doorway, her mouth open in horror.

"Girls, get out of here. Run, call the police," Trixie said urgently.

"Let us untie you, get you out of here!" the dark haired girl exclaimed.

Trixie shook her head. "She could be back any second. She’s dangerous. Go! Go now!" She made her voice as authoritative as possible. If anything happened to these young girls, she would never forgive herself. "RUN!" she screamed, and to her immense relief they turned and fled.

Trixie’s heart pounded loudly, she held her breath and strained to listen for several moments, finally relaxing when she realized they had gotten away. It wasn’t a moment too soon. Her whole body froze as she recognized Mrs. Waters’ footsteps making their way to the cabin.

Mrs. Waters walked through the door and over to the cot, her eyes dead. Trixie’s stomach turned to ice at her expression. She’s going to kill me, Trixie thought in a moment of absolute clarity. She has completely lost all touch with reality.

Mrs. Waters stood at her side, staring down. Her hands pulled at the sides of her hair restlessly, her face slack and expressionless. Trixie could hardly believe this was the same charming, worried woman she had interviewed just weeks before. "I’ve done everything I can. Everything. I don’t know what to do. Don’t know what to do." Her voice was dark and toneless.

"You don’t need to do anything. Why don’t you go back to the house and lie down? You’ve already done so much already," Trixie tried, hoping to placate the deranged woman.

Mrs. Waters smiled a strange and terrible smile, freezing Trixie’s blood. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to leave you alone so you can be with your professor. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to! She showed me what he wrote. She showed me! And you liked it, didn’t you?" her voice rose in pitch. She sank down on the side of the bed and caressed Trixie’s cheek. "You know there’s only one thing we can do, don’t you?" she asked, almost kindly.

Trixie was too frightened to respond. She closed her eyes and thought about her sweet Jim, her parents, friends. She knew she would never see them again.

"We can start all over. Don’t be scared, my darling girl. It’s the only way. You’ll see," Mrs. Waters’ voice was soothing.

Trixie tensed, waiting for the worst, but to her surprise, Mrs. Waters left the room. She went limp, feeling the fight completely drain out of her. I just can’t take anymore. I can’t! She wept to herself. The constant fear had left her utterly exhausted. I’m sure those girls have called the police by now. Maybe they’re already on their way! She suddenly thought, feeling a little energy creep back into her body. Suddenly she tensed as she smelled an unmistakable odor. "Oh my God," she croaked helplessly. The cabin was on fire!

 

Chapter 9

Jim, Brian, Honey and John Simms drove in strained silence to the house of Katharine Waters, mother of a beautiful young girl, no longer living. A girl that looked eerily like Trixie…there was no question of waiting for a warrant. Special Agent Simms could care less if it meant an early retirement. The horrific autopsy report weighed heavily on his mind; he was damned if he was going to wait for official permission. He supposed he’d get reamed for bringing along civilians too. Tough.

"Remember, we could be wrong about this so let me do the talking. I’m going to play it off like it’s routine follow up. Everyone got me?" Simms’ voice was calm and steady, his eyes staying on the road.

Jim, sitting next to him, nodded. He knew talking to this woman was out of the question; throttling her was more like it.

"Yes," Honey and Brian echoed. Honey could feel Brian’s hand trembling in hers and slid closer to him, pressing against his body in wordless comfort.

They pulled up in front of the large attractive house. It did not look unlike the big, beautiful home featured in the movie Home Alone. Honey let out a surprised noise. "I just didn’t expect it to look so…homey and nice," she said when everyone looked at her.

They walked up the lavish pathway, prettily bordered by bright flowers. Suddenly Honey bent down and picked up what looked like a scrap of paper caught in the flora. It was the only flaw in the immaculately kept grounds and it drew her eye.

"What? What is it?" Simms demanded as Honey sucked in her breath audibly.

"It’s an A&P Grocery receipt!" Honey whispered, her eyes huge. "Oh Brian, Jim; she’s here!" her voice trembled and she grabbed Brian’s arm for support. They all gazed at the piece of paper wordlessly.

John broke the silence. "I know what to do. And say. Will you kids trust me and not get in my way?" he asked, looking at each of them in turn.

Even though they only knew this man for a few days, there was something about him that inspired complete trust. They all nodded.

John rang the bell and the group waited tensely. Jim’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. He trembled with the suppressed urge to throw himself into the house through the nearest window.

John rang the bell again and knocked sharply. A bird sang loudly overhead as they waited; Jim didn’t know how much more he could stand. He glanced at Brian and could read the same thoughts running over his tense face.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a small curved shaped wire. Within seconds he had the door open and the group entered the house.

"Mrs. Waters? It’s Special Agent John Simms. I really need to talk to you," Simms called loudly. His voice seemed to echo in the stillness.

"Let’s spread out and look for her," Brian suggested.

Simms shook his head. "I know we can cover more ground that way, but we don’t know what we’re dealing with. We need to stick together." As frustrating as his words were, they knew he made sense. The large living room with it’s ornate antique furniture and lush sofas was deserted, as was the dining room, the kitchen and what appeared to be Mrs. Waters sitting room. The only sound was the steady ticking from the large grandfather clock in the living room. Honey let out her breath in a rush, only then realizing that she had been holding it for an uncomfortably long period, straining to hear something.

They headed upstairs. "This looks like the master bedroom," Simms said quietly as they entered a beautifully decorated bedroom with a lavish four poster bed. They all froze at the undeniable scene before them.

Brian rushed to the unmoving body laying on the thick carpet at the side of the bed and turned her over carefully, laying his first two fingers on the side of her neck. "She’s dead," he said in horror. No one moved for a long moment. They could all see the pill bottles scattered on the nightstand, a silent testament to a deeply disturbed, unhappy woman.

As if one body, the four rushed out of the room. "Trixie!" they each called, running from room to room, no longer needing to be quiet.

"Trixie are you here?" Jim called frantically, diving under beds, opening closets, his heart in his mouth. The sight of the dead woman had froze his blood. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that they might find Trixie in the same condition…

"Trixie, Trixie!" voices floated from all over the house as the group searched frantically. They met in the living room, breathless and worried.

"What we’re going to do next is…" The ringing of John’s cell phone cut him off. "Simms," he answered abruptly. His face suddenly looked 10 years younger. "Thanks." He clicked his phone closed and started running for the back door. "Two young girls found her out in an old hunting cabin in the woods!" he called over his shoulder.

Jim felt as if his entire body had been suddenly hit with a bolt of lightening. "Where is she now?" he gasped, struggling to keep up, his legs suddenly rubbery. Move!

"Still there. She made them leave. She’s tied up. Worried they’d be in danger." He puffed out the short explanations as the four headed outside. They went out the gate and found the footpath. They could instantly see the deep track that could only be a wheelbarrow and followed it rapidly.
"She must have knocked her out somehow," John said through gritted teeth.

"Oh God," Honey moaned.

"Does anyone else smell smoke?" Brian asked.

The same undeniable conclusion raced through their minds in a horrifying instant, causing them to break into a flat out run. The woods thinned out somewhat and they could see the tiny cabin slightly below them completely engulfed in flames, the roof falling in with a loud crash. Simms caught Jim’s arm as he lunged forward. "If she’s in there she’s dead already!" he yelled hopelessly. Jim struggled against the older man, whose grip was unbelievably strong. "Let me go!" he screamed. "I’ve got to get her out of there!" He broke away from the agent.

You can kill a man if you hit him hard enough where the base of the skull meets the top of the spinal cord. John merely tapped Jim, however and caught him as he went down like a sack of potatoes. "Sorry dreamboat, but I can’t go having you killed," he muttered as he lowered him gently under a tree. "He’ll be all right," he said to Brian and Honey who stood there with their mouths gaping open.

"Wha…what about Tttrixie?" Honey sobbed as she and Brian clung to one another.

"I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as she is. If anyone could have gotten out of a jam like this, it’s her. Let’s go look for her. Come on!" he added when they didn’t move, shock paralyzing them.

"He’s right," Brian said, pulling Honey’s hand. "She got out. She had to!"

The three left poor Jim under the tree and made their way to the other side of the cabin, carefully skirting the heat and flames, sudden determination and hope blossoming in their hearts.

"Mrs. Waters!" Trixie suddenly gasped. "John, you have to find her, she’s going to hurt herself, I just know it." She looked at her mentor and knew. "Oh man, oh man," she moaned, closing her eyes. "It’s such a waste."

Brian was amazed. "Trix, the woman tried to kill you!"

Trixie shook her head. "She was disturbed Brian. Penelope was the only person she had in the world and she was taken away. She had nothing, nothing." She took hold of Honey’s hand and slowly pulled herself up, glad to find that she could stand. "She had nobody in the world," she repeated sadly.

Brian hugged her tightly. "I’m just glad you’re safe." Honey hugged her from the other side. Trixie closed her eyes and hugged them back tightly.

"Where’s Jim?" she asked, wondering for the first time why Brian and Honey were with John, but not Jim.

"Uhhhhh…" John began, suddenly wondering how he was going to tell his intern that he had clocked her husband. Trixie looked at him quizzically. "He uh, well, he was bound and determined to go into that cabin, and, well I couldn’t let him, the roof was falling in, fire all over the place, and well…I kinda cold-cocked him."

"Where is he?" Trixie demanded. Then the full meaning of what he was telling her sank in as she visualized Jim burning to death, as he almost had 10 years ago in his uncle’s decaying mansion. "Oh my God," she whispered. She grabbed John’s arm. "I…thank you," she said simply, kissing him on the cheek.

"He’s over there under the tree," John mumbled gruffly, not used to such affection.

"Can you walk?" Brian asked his sister.

"I think so," she replied, and they made their way over to where Jim still lay unconscious on the ground, Trixie wincing with every step.

Brian bent down and lifted Jim’s shoulders, giving a gentle shake, "Jim, Jim?"

Trixie sat next to him and cradled Jim’s head in her lap. "Gleeps John, how hard did you hit him?" she asked, worried, stroking his forehead. Honey sat next to her.

"It was just a tap in the right place. Trouble is, he hasn’t slept for over 24 hours, or eaten much, I’ll bet. I’m sorry, Trix. He may have been killed if I hadn’t done it." Simms replied.

 

And it would have been my fault! Trixie thought, looking down at the peaceful face of the man she loved more than her own life. She was so glad to see him she could hardly breathe.

John noticed her expression. "For Pete sakes, you’re blaming yourself again. Did you ask for a psychotic woman to almost kill you?"

"No, but I should have used my head," Trixie replied quietly.

"That woman was in so much pain—any one of us would have tried to help her without hesitation. John’s right, you can’t blame yourself for what happened," Honey spoke up, putting her arm around Trixie’s shoulder.

Trixie put her head down wearily on Honey’s shoulder. "You always know just the right thing to say. How do you do that?"

Honey smiled. "It’s a gift!"

Jim stirred and moaned. "Jim?" Trixie said softly, caressing his cheek.

"Had the worst dream. Just horrible. Did you put Patch out?" Jim mumbled.

Trixie and Honey looked at each other, suddenly smiling. "Yes," Trixie said. "Don’t worry about a thing." It was delicious to hear something so…normal. She almost felt like laughing aloud.

Jim’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Trixie. "Trixie?" he choked in disbelief. He sat up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that swept through him and pulled her into his arms, relief and joy completely paralyzing his vocal chords for a long moment. "Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God," he whispered when he could finally speak, tears coursing unashamedly down his face as he clutched her to him. Trixie melted into his chest, feeling a love that went way beyond words. "Did she hurt you? Are you all right?" Jim asked, holding her tightly. He hadn’t recovered from the shock of going from thinking she was trapped in a burning cabin to finding himself laying in her lap.

"I’m okay, I’m okay," Trixie reassured him quickly, hugging him back. She could feel his exhaustion and worry seeping into her body like a chill. "Oh Jim I’m so glad to see you, you can’t imagine!" she said.

"I’m never asking God for another thing. Not another thing." Jim said passionately. He drew back slightly and looked at her bruised and dirty face, thinking it was the most beautiful sight in the world. He kissed her for a long, long time.

Agent Simms coughed. "I hate to break this up, but we need to get Trixie to the doctor. He could already here the sounds of police and paramedics making their way to the cabin, or rather what was left of the cabin. Luckily the cabin stood in a cleared spot, and, with no wind, the fire had simply run out of fuel and died, leaving only charred scraps, ashes and smoke.

"I don’t need a doctor. I just want to go home," Trixie exclaimed in protest.

"Trixie, you’ve been tied up for 2 days, you’ve got a nasty bump on your head and in your weakened condition you’re vulnerable to infection from those rope burns. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been unconscious!" Brian responded firmly.

Trixie sighed; she knew there was no use arguing when her brother’s voice got that tone. "How do you know I’ve been unconscious?" she asked weakly.

"It doesn’t take a detective to figure out you didn’t go out in the woods willingly. She knocked you out, didn’t she?"

"She slipped something in my tea," Trixie admitted. "When I woke up, I was in the cabin." She shuddered at the memory, glad that Jim’s strong arm was around her.

"Well we can add chem screen in that case," Brian said, upset. His mind touched on the memory of Mrs. Waters lying dead on the floor from an overdose and swung away.

The paramedics had reached them and were slipping a blood pressure device over her arm. "Just relax," the young blonde woman said, smiling at Trixie.

"All right, you win," she muttered to Brian, feeling the cuff squeeze the inside of her elbow. She hated having her blood pressure taken—she could feel the pulse pounding in her arm. She was glad when it was finally released with a whoosh.

"I don’t believe it, Trixie’s actually cooperating!" John joked, glad to feel some of the tension dissolve. He wondered if he was starting an ulcer.

"Don’t get too used to it!" Trixie joked back.

"Lay down, please," the young paramedic indicated the stretcher.

"I gotta ask you two a question," John said, as Trixie reluctantly laid down , holding Jim’s hand. They all started walking up the path where an ambulance waited in front of the Waters’ home, the wheels bumping along the ground. "How in the hell do you guys live in the same house without killing one another? You’ve got to be two of the stubbornness people I’ve ever met!"

Brian and Honey laughed—they each privately wondered the same thing sometimes.

Jim and Trixie looked at one another, suddenly grinning. Trixie squeezed his hand. "Well, we only have one rule at our house," she began, her blue eyes bright. "No sharp objects!" Trixie and Jim said together.

The sound of laughing followed Trixie into the ambulance as the paramedics gently lifted her in with a smooth jolt. Jim climbed in after her and Trixie closed her eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep, still holding his hand.

The End

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