Lost & Found

By Gil Paradis

She's gone.
Six-year-old Samantha was snatched, kicking and screaming from Providence Place Mall.
Detectives Grayson and Sousa take the little evidence left behind and try to find the girl.
When the leads are exhausted a desperate Grayson turns to Linus, a young psychic. Grayson wonders if conviction is possible based on psychic evidence.
The chase turns frantic when another child is abducted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gil Paradis
• Release date: Oct 31, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452482262

Gil Paradis

Gil Paradis sets his fictional stories in New England where he has lived for most of his life. He has several short stories published in the Newport Roundtable Anthologies, Walls & Bridges and Metamorphoses, and has supplied cover art for the Medicine-Health Rhode Island,a publication of the Rhode Island Medical Society.

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LOST & FOUND

Gil Paradis

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Gil Paradis

Lost & Found

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned;

–William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming

Chapter 1: An Innocent Victim

Samantha, Sammy or Sam was born white and wealthy by world standards but barely middle class in North America. In the land of plenty, all of her basic needs were met and sometimes with style. She was housed, clothed, shod and fed, but most importantly her mother, Julia, loved her unconditionally.

Children should be loved unconditionally, Julia thought, and for as long as possible, for childhood remained the only time when love came without strings. Sam approached that age, the Age of Reason, when sins counted, as Catholics were taught: age seven, when life became less simple, even for the healthy and happy.

Sam’s trials were skipping rope, sounding out new, multi-syllabic words in her reading, and fitting into the developing cliques at school. At home, she was given more responsibility for her grooming and setting the table for two.

Julia was divorced. Sam had absorbed the tension of the period leading to separation. Sam had already been poisoned by parental pedagogy. She knew betrayal, she knew lies, she knew love was not always unconditional, and she knew hurt and how to hurt. These unfortunate lessons became part of Sam’s personality and guarded behavior.

The stunning child had a perfectly formed face, dark hair and brown eyes. Her features were truly symmetrical and held the promise of great beauty.

She took after her father. For Julia, picking up the infant Sam was like picking the scab on her wounded heart. Sometimes, Sam could feel the strange hurt in her mother’s eyes. Sam had nothing at all to do with Julia’s undoing, but it didn’t feel that way to Sam during these moments.

Most of all, Sam was innocent. Her crimes were those of a child. Her grandest theft was to steal the hearts of those who took notice of her.

"…the essence of the mall is control . . . a potentially dangerous mistake,'' its fragile underpinnings supporting ''cathedrals of consumption.'' - William Severini Kowinski,

Chapter 2: A Perfect Setting

Providence Place is bounded by Francis Street, which runs along the urban mall's face. Hayes Street intersects Francis and runs along the north side, where multi-level garages provide entrances and exits to the lot and, eventually, the stores. Park Street partially extends along the backside from the northern end to an off-centered archway. The south side and a good portion of the backside is bordered by a long, curved and inclined entrance ramp to Interstate 95 North, and the building replicates the slope's camber.

Small boats pass under the asymmetric arch, where the Woonasquatucket River meanders into the city to feed Waterplace Park. The water is set afire regularly as part of a city celebration, appropriately called Water Fire. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people gather in the evening and into the night to witness the lighting of cordwood stacked into a number of braziers, appearing to float along the midline of the river. An eclectic mix of music and performers keeps the crowd’s interest. Living statues and gargoyles, unicyclists, clowns, dancers and mad-dash drummers stake out turf in downtown, hoping to make a little money from the generosity of the amused.

Road, rail and river pass under the steel and concrete spans of the Providence Place Mall. The construct is separated into two sides. State Side, which has a parking garage and Nordstrom's as an anchor, is near the State House grounds. City Side is closer to the epicenter of downtown Providence, has an anchor store, Macy's, and also incorporates a parking garage. The two sections are joined by the mall proper, which sits atop the divided foundation, while the garages are linked by elevated roadways. A sky bridge connects the mall to the nearby Westin Hotel on the City Side.

The building's spanned steel mesh provided enough space for renegade artists to make a home and draw attention to the building’s unique design and role in society. The artists inhabited the space undetected by the mall's security force for several years. Literally tons of cinder block and furnishings were moved into the squatter’s stateroom under the building and between the State and City buttresses.

The only side of the building with public entrances wears vertical stripes of brick and concrete of varied colors, which serve to distinguish the major stores along the curbside from one another, and to provide some relief for the eye, when taking in such a large structure. The urban mall faces the renaissance city of Providence, full of hope and celebration, while turning its long, arching back to the poverty of the inner city.

Concrete swags draped over fake finials in relief decorate the stylized spandrels along the back, highway side, where passengers can easily witness the seemingly festive shoppers move with American dreams in their heads. Dark green lattices of iron work and a short field of high, open space is all that separates the motorists from the dreamers.

The artists claim the mall is a secure place, free of crime for those with money to spend inside a controlled marketplace. The mall not only controls the shoppers’ environment but the shoppers’ psyche, through selective merchandising and creative displays, giving the entranced shoppers their objects of desire. Dreams are born and die under the tiered roof of the mall.

A security force ensures control of the crowds through cameras, guards, plain-clothed detectives, and the nearby Providence Police. To most, a trip to Providence Place, with its one hundred and seventy shops, is a delightful experience, a journey where earthly wishes are fulfilled. For Samantha Rawlings, the dream turned into a nightmare

And my guess is this guy isn't going to have a problem doing it again.

- Mark Sarafik, FBI Profiler on the Town Center Mall killings.

Chapter 3: Abduction

In Warner's department store, Edmon watched Julia and Samantha for some time. Edmon was a big, blond, third generation Irishman. His eyes were small and too close together, he had thin lips and a small, pointed nose all plastered on a large face. He wore work clothes and muddy boots. He was well read and intelligent. true crime books, detective novels, popular science and anything on forensics fed his mind. Little girls tantalized his soul.

Edmon watched as Julia tried on shoe after shoe settling upon a sensible pair. He knew by her choice, and little else, that Julia was a practical woman more concerned for the comfort of her feet than the style of her shoes. She must spend hours on her feet and in those shoes, he thought. Life on your feet can be torture in bad footwear.

Julia had short, dark hair, natural not dyed, and deep brown eyes. She had an oval face which lacked the precise shape and placement of features that made her young daughter such a striking child. Julia had a small, French nose, a small mouth with full lips, and a slight olive tint to her skin. She was a long-legged, slender woman who stood five feet, eight and a half inches, tall for a woman, but not exceptionally. Most attractive, however, was the aura of confidence displayed in her movement. It was obvious to Edmon that Julia was satisfied, if not happy, with her lot in life.

Edmon also took an interest in Samantha. The girl was resigned to her position as Mama's little helper but became increasingly wiggly with each fitting. When Samantha had enough, she protested with Let's go, Mama, I'm hungry.

Samantha's protest coincided with Julia's satisfaction in finding her new shoes and Julia relented. Okay, let's go, she said, as if in response to the child's prodding. As the two went to the counter, Edmon stayed a safe distance behind.

Edmon listened intently. Head down, he wandered through the racks of clothing, picking up an item or two for inspection, before reaching the back of the store, empty-handed. Meanwhile, Julia encountered some resistance to her use of a check by the cashier.

Will that be cash or charge?

Check, please, Julia said, as she removed a checkbook from her fat handbag. The clerk reacted with dismay.

I need a valid driver's license and a credit card.

Julia produced the license and her employer I.D., which usually sufficed. This cashier did not approve of the latter.

I need another form of identification, a major credit card, or a bill with your name and address imprinted on it.

I have a Visa. Will that do? Julia removed the credit card from her wallet.

The cashier examined the front and back of the various forms of identification, compared Julia's check signature with ones on the credit cards, and studied the features of Julia's face against that of the license photo until she pronounced her satisfaction, Will that be all, today?

Edmon watched as the clerk scrutinized every little thing and cringed at the demand for more identification. Counter Intelligence, he thought. A clerk can turn the simple act of paying for a pair of shoes into such a protracted and difficult affair. However, Julia's juggling of purchase, purse, pocket book, and photo I.D.s improved the developing situation. Edmon was delighted.

I'm hungry, Mama, Samantha repeated, while pulling the hem of Julia's jacket.

I know you're hungry, honey, Julia said. I just have to pay for these shoes then we'll go right across the mall to Michael's and get you some lunch.

As Julia picked up the rubble of her transaction strewn upon the glass battlefield, Edmon studied the camera and its cable. The camera not a mall fixture but of lower quality employed legacy technology and must have belonged to the store. The images, in all probability, were recorded by a time lapse VCR, on a tape made to repeatedly record the interior of the shop every other day. This tape was swapped with a twin and saved for a day; the next day the twin was removed from service and this tape reinserted into the VCR, taking its turn at being dragged across the recorder's spinning heads.

Rotating thirty times a second, the cylinder carrying multiple coils charged the magnetic particles on a bias, recording brightness and color information. The field charge and position of iron oxide particles on the Mylar film became more or less permanent where the store's interior was fixed. The changing scenes were grainy at best. Confident his face was not among those blurred images, Edmon cut the cable. He hadn't noticed his girth straining the limits of his blue work shirt. One of his buttons arced toward the rug to mingle in the mud left by his movements.

Like a sidewinder, Edmon slithered toward Samantha just as Julia returned the five feet to the counter for a forgotten item.

I'll be right back, Julia cautioned Sam. Don't move.

Samantha obeyed fastidiously.

I forgot my checkbook, Julia reported.

It's right where you left it, the clerk responded with mock cheer.

At a thoroughbred's gait, Edmon made his way back through the final racks of clothes, snatching Samantha in full stride. The store's exit was a few feet away. Just to the right of Warner's entrance was a door leading to a series of silent halls. There were no surveillance in these corridors, which led to the service entrances of the individual shops and out to the loading docks. The chance of an encounter along this path was minimal. Edmon decided he would pretend to scold a wayward child, if he met anyone at all on his way out.

Edmon wondered what made him want the young girls so badly. He wasn't satisfied to play house with a wife or go to work in the field of his training as an auto mechanic. He liked garbage collection and the freedoms and opportunities of working alone and for oneself. He read the Bible, studied the six orders of the Mishna, and pondered his existence, like the Talmudic scholar, who conjectured that God created man without woman. It wasn't until God noticed Adam's desires that Eve was created. Adam had all the apparatus of a man but had no woman. What was that thing for, if there were no women?

Edmon loved prepubescent girls and knew just what to do with them. But he was more twisted than these desires. Even more than loving his little Lolitas, he liked to hurt them.

* ~*~ *

Julia wasted no time returning to Samantha, who was now nowhere to be seen.

Sam, she called.

Sam, she called again, her voice full of hushed alarm.

Sammy, more frantic and louder now, as she searched back and forth, high and low, with her head appearing to be mounted on swivel casters.

Samantha! she cried loudly, attracting the attention of those within earshot.

Samantha Rawlings! she shouted hysterically, you come out here, right now!

Nothing.

She ran to the door, Samantha! And into the hall, head swiveling and voice demanding, Samantha!

The tears began to negotiate the terror of Julia’s twisted face. Shoppers stopped to watch without assisting. Some whispered their judgments, How do you lose a child? Others were ambivalent, Some mother. Still others had predicted, She's hiding in the clothes. But none approached Julia in an earnest attempt to help.

A uniformed security guard asked, Can I help you?

In contrast to the shoppers' reactions, Julia's anguish set off an alarm in Greg, one of a handful of security guards employed by Colfax Security, the company contracted by Providence Place. He wore a uniform of a light blue shirt with dark epaulettes and dark blue trousers detailed with a royal blue stripe at the outer seams of each leg, and a black leather gun belt and shoes. He did not carry a sidearm but did have a container of Mace, handcuffs, and a radio, the microphone was a separate piece and attached by a long coil of flexible wire.

Is everything okay? Are you all right? Greg fired his questions in rapid succession, heightening Julia's hysteria.

I can't find my Samantha, she was right there, I turned for a minute, less than a minute, and she was gone, Julia explained, wiping tears and gathering some inner strength to aid her collapsing knees.

Why don't you follow me to the security office? Greg offered in practiced calm. We have lots of monitors and it will be easier to find your Samantha there. He was trained to keep the peace and sought to separate the distraught woman from the otherwise contented clientèle of the mall.

I can't. She'll be looking for me. I have to stay here.

Greg keyed the mike of his Walkie-Talkie. I have a woman at Warner's whose child went missing. She refuses to leave the area, thinking the child will return to the place looking for her. Can you send someone to wait for the child?

Affirmative, came over the radio, which Greg held high and close to Julia as if the radio possessed a magic greater than the ability to pluck a wave of specific frequency out of the air, and convert that signal to sound. Clearly he had more faith in the electronic god than Julia, who refused to budge and just shook her head.

Trust me, Greg pleaded. We do this kind of thing all the time. Someone will wait here for Samantha.

How will they know my Samantha? Julia asked.

Any child anywhere close to Samantha's age will be displayed on the monitors via the closed circuit. Greg pointed to the nearby camera location, a black eyeball-like dome that clung to the ceiling.

Please, Greg begged. This sort of thing happens all the time.

Greg knew the child was not far. They never were. He wanted to report the incident, not so much to his supervisor, Eileen, but to a coworker, Linus.

Linus wasn't a guard but worked with the audiovisual surveillance equipment gathered from the four corners of the Colfax Security service area. Linus had a real knack for fixing things and finding lost objects, even children. Besides, there were many monitors, and the mall did use cameras extensively, as did the individual shops.

The lookout arrived in the form of Roger, another uniformed guard. After an exchange of greetings and promises, Julia half-heartedly followed Greg to the security office. Not that long ago William Snelling was directed to the security office by a retailer in the mall. He had lost his son and was frantic. In the midst of Greg's description of the boy, Linus had already located the child sleeping in a pile of stuffed animals in a Macy's display. Security had called 9-1-1 emergency services and the Providence Police responded, all for a false alarm.

The odd thing about the incident was the fact that there were no cameras anywhere near that toy department. Linus just seemed to know where the boy could be found.

This was not an isolated incident. There were numerous other examples of Linus' uncanny ability to find lost objects. Greg wanted Snelling's experience to be repeated now with Samantha and Julia’s fears allayed.

* ~*~ *

Upon entering the office, Eileen immediately intercepted the couple. She was an attractive Latino woman of average height with dark hair and dark eyes. She had smooth unblemished skin and was in her late thirties or early forties.

What seems to be the trouble? she asked.

This is Julia Rawlings, she lost her little girl, Samantha, while shopping at Warner's, Greg explained.

Julia, why don't you sit down here at the monitors, and let us know if you spot your daughter, while I ask you some questions, Eileen pulled a chair back from the black laminated counter at the wall of screens .

Julia took an empty seat next to Sly, the guard who was watching the monitors and manning the phones.

Do you have a photograph of Samantha? asked Eileen.

I do, I'll dig it out, Julia said, as she frantically attacked her purse.

What was your daughter wearing?

I watched her dress this morning but can't think… Julia answered, her voice as shaky as her memory.

Oh! She had on jeans, Osh-Kosh, but not overalls, yeah, she said, her memory clearing, and a light blue pullover, a hoody with something on it. Oh, a white lamb on it—Julia’s words struggled through a tightening throat and welling tears. She had her white sneakers on and some light blue socks.

Just like a mother, you know every detail. Eileen rubbed the anxious woman's shoulder soothingly.

Julia handed a folded photo to Eileen. On one side of the fold was Julia and Samantha, the other held the image of a man who was neatly removed from the family—a photograph of separation and divorce.

"Don't you think we should ask him?" Sly pointed with his head and eyes to Linus' office.

I'll get him, Eileen said. You call 9-1-1. She handed the photo to Sly. There's somebody I'd like you to meet, Julia. He's young, I know, but he's been very helpful in these situations.

Eileen knocked on Linus' door, then cracked it open to speak. There's a woman out here who could use your help, Linus.

A somewhat scruffy, carefully dressed young man turned his attention from a soldering station. I'll be right there.

As soon as Linus looked at Julia, he froze momentarily, and then blurted out, Call 9-1-1. I think she's been taken!

Everyone present reacted in horror to Linus' outburst. A strained moment passed before Eileen again took charge. What on earth are you doing? You're frightening this poor lady!

Linus flushed in embarrassment but retained a genuine belief in the urgency of the situation. I'm sorry, so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, he said to Julia, then turned to Sly. Please hurry.

Eileen slipped between Linus and the others, motioning for him to back up, while she spoke to Julia without facing her but staring into Linus’ eyes, I don't know what came over Linus, he usually isn't like this.

Sly was now reporting the incident to the police as Eileen whispered to Linus, What is this all about?

I don't know, I got a bad feeling about this one.

Amidst Julia's sobbing, she pleaded, Don't say that! No - it's not true!

* ~*~ *

Several patrolmen and women from the Providence Police Department followed a familiar routine in response to the request for assistance. The detectives who led the search and investigation were from the Youth Services Division. Detective Grayson and his partner, Detective Sousa, were anxious to interview the mother, the last person known to have seen Samantha.

Grayson was close to six feet and had a full head of salt and pepper hair and steel blue eyes, which sat under eyebrows much darker than his hair. He had a strong jaw with a boxer's chin, an angular nose, and a forehead that was neither too high nor too narrow. He was fit and would look good in most clothes, but wore a suit from one of the warehouse stores. The suit gave him an uncomfortable appearance like he was wearing woolies in winter. It was an appearance caused only by the poor cut of his off-the-rack jacket.

Sousa was shorter, five feet, eight and a half inches. He had broad shoulders and a stocky frame, dark tan skin, and brown eyes. He was clean-shaven except for a thin stroke of a mustache just over his lip. It was evident he meticulously shaved the area between his nose and the well manicured black line. He was an easy going and friendly man, and it showed in the crow's feet and smile lines of his round face.

Prior to interviews, Grayson gave the response force their assignments, while Sousa started with the background information like a seasoned reporter for the Providence Journal. He focused on the facts: who, when, where, how, and sometimes why. Sousa talked to everyone and anyone he could find in the mall, the store and the office, jotting notes on a small pad. He relied heavily upon the notes to solve cases when he discussed the incidents with his partner.

It was Sousa, who went to Warner's and inspected the crime scene and noted the most suspicious elements. There wasn't much evidence there. The button hid under a rack of slacks and a conscientious stock clerk, who was not forthcoming with this information, had vacuumed the mud. The soiled carpet slipped her mind like a poor seller on a high shelf.

Sousa gave more attention to the store's VCR tapes and the severed input cable. He noticed the cable appeared crushed as well as cut, suspecting the use of dikes, which crush thick material, such as the multi-part insulation of coaxial cable, while they cleanly shear the braided shielding material and copper core between two angled cutters. The ends of the copper wire resembled medieval pikes sharpened from two sides.

Grayson started with the best witness - or suspect - who was none other than Julia Rawlings, mother of the missing. His tactics contrasted with Sousa's fact finding. He was a criminologist. Grayson studied the eyes, facial features and body language of those he interviewed.

When he asked for a fuzzy fact, he noted, whether the eyes moved to the upper right, where one retrieves a memory, or to the upper left, where one constructs images? Were the emotions expressed congruent with the person's expressions? Was the person evasive in eye contact, physical proximity, or by using an object, such as a book or coffee cup, to shield himself or herself from the interrogator? Were the hands covering or interfering with the mouth?

Was humor and sarcasm used as a crutch to evade truth? Were the answers long winded and composed with words taken from the question, or direct and spontaneous? Did the person of interest use pronouns and contractions, or was the language more stiff and formal? Was there a direct denial?

There were so many signs, but a seasoned investigator like Grayson picked up on each and every one, weighing the intent. Many questions were designed to elicit an emotional response, which made it difficult to mask one's lies.

"Ms. Rawlings, I'm Detective Grayson of Youth Services. I don't mean to frighten you.