Discoveries: The Sad Girl, #2

By Bob Mueller

Welcome to their version of normal.

Six months ago, Danny Cumberland rescued his daughter and her friends from a trafficking nightmare. They came home from Argentina and started the healing process.

Now Danielle wants to find her missing mother.

Nikolai Egger, the leader of the kidnappers who snatched Danielle so long ago, disappears during a prison transfer. Is that his body in the burning van?

A dead man arrives in San Diego on a bus, carrying nothing but the Cumberland's new address.

Danny and his friends find evidence that the trafficking rings' tentacles are entwined more deeply than anyone thought possible, even reaching into federal law enforcement. They're running out of people they can trust, too.

After a traumatic shooting literally in Danny's face, he must set off on another harrowing trip, scrambling to deliver the evidence that will crack the ring wide open. But can they trust the person they're meeting?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indefixa
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780997675344

Bob Mueller

When you get right down to it, Bob Mueller writes about emotions. He finds them in his own experiences as a divorced father and family member of a sex abuse survivor, and from the people he meets. He puts himself in someone else’s shoes, and teases out their feelings. Blending that with bits and pieces of history and life experience, he crafts a story that might have been inspired by a song, or a news article. But it’s about emotions in the end. Born in north Texas and raised in southeastern Ohio, Bob is a member of International Thriller Writers, Tulsa NightWriters and Oklahoma Writer’s Federation, a father of eight, and a pastor’s husband. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading (thrillers, historical fiction and non-fiction, and police procedurals), genealogy, and shooting. For more information, visit http://www.bobmuellerwriter.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

August 2011

LIFE WAS PRETTY GOOD.

It wasn't all rainbows and unicorns, of course. My seventeen-year-old daughter's three-year trafficking ordeal ended less than a year ago. She still had a lot of healing to do. Danielle saw her therapist weekly, and we had family sessions every so often. I went once a month for my own time too. We were making good progress, as near as I could tell. Her nightmares had tapered off, at least.

It was hard becoming an instant father to a daughter you didn't know you had.

But I was off parole early. I was still selling recovered police evidence and property through Graybar Auctions and business was good. Teresa and I had been married for two months, and the three of us were working hard on becoming a family.

It was Thursday night, and Dani was working on dinner while I went through the fan mail. It had been nine months since Teresa and I rescued Dani and the other four girls in Argentina, and we were still getting a ton of cards and letters on a regular basis. We had picked up a post office box fairly early on to deal with the crush, and it just made sense to keep it when Teresa and I bought our new place. Most of the mail was for Dani, talking about how brave she and the rest of the girls were. She got the occasional request for a photo, too, sometimes with a request for it to be autographed. All the girls we had rescued were getting messages like that, and none of them were replying to those at all. It felt creepy to us parents. We had taken one group photo of the girls at Lake Mead back in May, and made that available to any press outlet that inquired, and we all felt that would be enough.

I had gotten a ton of mail in the beginning too, mostly heartbreaking stuff asking if I had heard of this child or that one, or had seen them when I was rescuing everyone. Some of the parents had lost their kids over a decade ago, and still held out hope they were alive. I was never sure which would be better for the kids in those cases: that they had been killed years ago, or that they were still alive and suffering. The numbers beyond our case were staggering: 15,000 kids kidnapped or missing in the US on a weekly basis. Thousands trafficked regularly. Assistant Special Agent in Charge  Deborah Nguyen, our local FBI investigative contact, had painted a grimly realistic image for us during our weeks of interviews, and it reminded me daily how lucky we had been when it came to finding the girls. Then again, as Dani had said the day I rescued her, lucky was relative.

There was a short time, around the end of January and into early February, when the mail I got had shifted from Find my child to Are you single? I had never really thought I was that handsome, so some of those letters were huge ego boosts. Teresa wasn't thrilled with some of the enclosures though. True, I had been in the Navy and in prison, but I was still a Midwestern boy at heart, and what some women would send to a total stranger surprised me more than once.

The phones were the same way. Tons of calls early on. I couldn't change my store phone numbers without a lot of effort, but we had changed our cell numbers about a month after we got back, and I had just changed them again last week. Unpublished didn't mean unavailable.

Teresa got home just before six, and Dani had dinner on the table half an hour later. I thanked God on a regular basis for how easily we had meshed into a family. Dani never argued with us about chores or rules, and was well along in her schoolwork even though it was only August. Education had not been a priority where she had been held in Argentina, for obvious reasons, so after we got home last November we set up home tutoring for the remainder of the last school year. Dani liked that well enough that we explored alternate schooling this year. California doesn't exactly allow homeschooling, so we signed her up for one of the online charter schools and she started classwork early. She had even taken two classes at San Diego Community College during the summer, so she could get some of her basic requirements out of the way.

In fact, Dani was so easygoing and our family transition had been so seemingly effortless that I asked our therapist Annie about it. I worried that Dani was overcompensating or something, trying to be perfect so we would love her and not let her get hurt. Annie said she didn't see any indication of that, and that Dani just seemed to be a pretty easy-going and caring kid.

Dinner was pasta with Teresa's signature sauce. After we were married, Teresa finally passed on the recipe—to Dani. Seems the family rule about only passing it on after marriage included a stipulation that it only got passed on to the daughters in the new family. Go figure.

We chit-chatted our way through the meal. Dani had an algebra test coming up, and was wondering about talking to my Navy buddy Marco about some of his database work. Teresa was training a new investigator at the Public Defender's office, and he seemed pretty full of himself, but otherwise competent. I was digging in to my second serving of pasta when Dani pushed her plate back, traded looks with Teresa, and said, Daddy, I need to ask you a favor.

She had waited until I had a bite in my mouth. I nodded around it.

I want to try and find Mom.

That bite of pasta became very hard to swallow. I'm sure my eyes were huge. I nodded slowly, then glanced at Teresa. She was only barely suppressing a laugh, judging from the twinkle in her eyes. I wish you could see your face right now!

I looked over at Dani, who was blushing a little. I assume you two have talked about this already?

Dani nodded. I wanted to make sure Teresa knew it was just about finding out what happened to Mom, and not because I didn't like her or something.

I studied my wife's face for a second. And?

Duh. Like there was any question. Who wouldn't want to know what happened to their mother?

I smiled as I took another bite. They had sandbagged me much worse in the past. And like Teresa said: How could I say no to this? My only concern was how Teresa might handle it, and it sounded like the two of them had already figured that out, which told me even more about how mature my daughter was.

Okay, what do you want to do? Dom already has your DNA on file with DOJ. Not sure what else we could do at this point. My former parole officer was a good guy.

Dani shifted in her chair, playing with her dark blonde hair a little. When Teresa and I talked about doing this, she said we should probably make a formal missing-person report. I don't think anyone ever did one, did they?

I thought back to my first meeting with Randy Thomas from Westwood PD that started me down the road to Danielle fifteen months ago. He had said at the time that as far as he knew, no one had an active case on her. I think you're right. I wondered for another few seconds. I looked at my wife, wanting her input as a member of the criminal justice system. Here, or up there?

Up there. That's her last place of residence, and where she went missing from. And I doubt you're going to be able to make this report over the phone. She let a little smile slip out.

Oh. Darn. That means we'll have to spend the night up there, and maybe see Jayne and Michael and Stacey. I glanced over at Dani.

She was beaming at the mention of her best friend who had been kidnapped at the same time. Could we maybe swing by the old place and see who's around? I haven't really talked to anyone there since I got back.

You're pushing your luck, now. You know that? I sounded serious, but I was grinning. I tried really hard not to spoil her, and not to give in right away, but there were some things I just couldn't deny her.

I love you too, Daddy.

As soon as I got to the store the next day, I looked up the numbers to San Francisco PD. Their Missing Persons Unit was in the Mission Station, which was the precinct Jayne and Michael Dirksen lived in. That would make things that much easier. We might even be able to walk to the station. A very tired-sounding woman answered the phone and identified herself as Sergeant Lopez.

I gave my name, then said, I need to file a missing person report.

The victim's name?

I clenched up at the word "victim. Part of me assumed Angie was dead, but I still hated the word. Angie...Angela Marie Dawson."

When was the last time she was seen?

I smiled just a little, flashing back to some of the similar moments when I first found out about Dani. May, four years ago.

Beg pardon?

I could imagine the look on her face. She's the mother of a teenager who was kidnapped around the same time. The child was rescued in November of last year, but Angie hasn't been seen since the kidnapping.

I see. And there's no chance her disappearance was related to the kidnapping?

I sighed. Not in the sense you're asking. I think she maybe decided to look for her daughter herself. But no one has heard from her since then, and given the news coverage of her daughter's return, I have to think it's not a good thing that we haven't heard from her.

We'll need their full name, date of birth, a list of any identifying scars, marks, or tattoos, as well as the most recent photo possible. The more information you can provide about your missing loved one, the easier it will be for us to conduct our investigation. You'll need to come down to our office to make the report. When can you be here?

I suppose Monday is probably the earliest. We're in San Diego.

Really? Are you sure you don't need to talk to San Diego PD then? She sounded like she really didn't want to be bothered with this case.

I doubt they'd investigate a missing person case from San Francisco. That's where Angie was living the last time anyone saw her.

She sighed. I see. I suppose you're right, then. We'll take a look at things when you get here Monday.

I shook my head after I ended the call. This was the attitude I had expected from so many people when I first heard about Dani, and was so thankful that I didn't get. I could picture Lopez as an older officer, stuck in Missing Persons, biding her time until she retired, hoping she didn't have to work too hard at anything. I wondered if she had been on the unit when Dani and Stacey, the Dirksens' daughter, were first kidnapped, and if that had any effect on the investigation in the first place.

I waited until lunch to call Jayne Dirksen. She was thrilled, of course, and started talking about things to do over the weekend. I hadn't thought about making a weekend of it, but the more she talked, the more it seemed like a good idea. Stacey and Dani had only seen each other a couple of times since we brought them home, not counting the week at Lake Mead.

Hey Beth! I called out to the junior of my two employees.

She stuck her head in the office a minute later.

You and Maria have the store tomorrow through Tuesday. Looks like we're going up to San Francisco for the weekend.

What's up?

Dani wants to file a missing-person report on her mom.

She nodded. I've always been curious why no one ever did.

I wondered the same thing for a while, but she was an adult, and apparently acting under her own wishes. And, there was nobody to file one. The folks at the commune were used to people coming and going without much notice. Plus, they probably thought she was looking for Danielle and thought she'd be back. Then by the time they figured out she wasn't coming back, they probably thought it was too late. I shrugged. It's sort of sad, but I completely understand it.

Chapter 2

WE HIT THE ROAD by eight-thirty for the nine-hour drive north. It wasn't so bad now that I had my license, and Teresa and I could switch off on the driving. I told Dani that she could get her permit as soon as she wanted, but she was perfectly willing to let me or Teresa drive her around for a little while longer. We stopped for lunch at what had become our favorite spot in Fresno. They had a new chicken sandwich that wasn't nearly as messy as most of their meals, so you could actually eat it in a moving vehicle without wearing it.

Dani was out of the car even before I had really stopped, racing up the front steps and colliding with Stacey in a squealing, screaming embrace. You'd have thought they hadn't seen each other in months or something.

Michael Dirksen had called us an hour or so before we arrived to get our sub orders, so we all settled in to the living room for a feast from Mr. Pickles. Life was settling down for the Dirksen family as well these days. Stacey went through a long period of nightmares, and still had occasional flashbacks around older or heavily-muscled men. Like all of the girls, she was healing, but it was going to take time. Some were healing faster than others.

Teresa finally broached the subject. Has anyone heard from the Tapleys lately? Al and Donna Tapley's daughter Cyndi was one of the five girls kidnapped, and the most emotionally injured of the group. She'd been raped repeatedly and often by one particular employee of the man who ostensibly owned the girls.

Cyndi didn't speak the entire time I was with the girls in Argentina.

She seemed to be doing well a few months ago when we all gathered at Lake Mead, but a few weeks ago she locked herself in the garage with the car running. Her sister Linda had found her just in time.

Jayne nodded. Cyndi is doing amazingly well at this point, given the amount of time she was in the garage. She's got some temperature-control issues, and some short-term memory issues. Unfortunately, she's also developed some vision loss, not unlike what you might experience after a stroke.

I watched Stacey and Dani to judge their reactions. They were both studying their sandwiches closely. But she's home now?

Yes. And I think all of the siblings are in town for a while.

That was helpful. Probably. I had no way of knowing what kind of relationship Cyndi had with her brothers and sister, but I hoped it was a good one. It's not like I knew anything about siblings though. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister, but tried not to focus on it too long. That way I wouldn't start thinking about how disappointed they'd have been in me when I went to prison.

The girls headed upstairs to Stacey's room where I expected them to stay for the night, doing typical high-school-girl stuff. The adults continued catching up on life. Michael was working on a new technique for treating traumatic brain injuries that he hoped to be able to share with the military. Jayne had joined a local domestic violence group and was helping them with some fundraising plans.

Conversation eventually petered out for a break. When I got back from the bathroom, Michael was tuning his guitar, and looking from me to the piano. We're playing and the girls are singing.

I knew better than to argue, and didn't want to anyway. We jammed for the next hour until my wrists couldn't take any more, but it was a great feeling. I didn't get to do much of that at home. I found time to practice every four or five days, but Teresa usually just listened and Dani didn't know half of what I played because I stuck with classic rock. It was a great ending to the evening.

I woke just after dawn Sunday morning and headed quietly downstairs for a cup of coffee. I heard the whisper of voices, and found Dani on the couch, looking far too wound up for it being before seven. She spent fifteen fruitless minutes trying to wear out the TV remote, then checked her social media feeds, then back to the TV, then read part of the paper, then back to her phone, then the TV again. I finally took the remote away after she blew past The Hunt for Red October for the third time. It was by far my favorite Clancy movie. I turned the volume down a little so we didn't wake anyone up, turned on the closed captions, then hid the remote from her. She pouted for half a minute before snuggling in to me with a sigh. We didn't move until the credits rolled.

So what's got you so unsettled? Second thoughts about tomorrow?

She shook her head and sniffled. Not tomorrow. Today.

It was easier to let her work her way through things rather than push her with questions, so I waited.

Stace wants to go back to the park. She said she hasn't yet because she wanted us to go together. And I was fine with the idea last night, but now I'm not so sure.

I nodded. The reality of action could easily overwhelm the enthusiasm of planning.

I know, like, I've got nothing to be scared of. The guys who took us are all in prison. And we were thinking of asking you or Michael to go too. So I don't know why I'm so nervous. Her hands found a couch pillow and pulled it to her chest like a shield.

I hugged her. Gee, I can't imagine why you'd be nervous about going back to the place where you were kidnapped. You could have a battalion of Marines with you and you'd still be nervous.

But good stuff happened there too. I mean, that's where I got saved.

You ask Annie her thoughts?

She nodded. I called her Friday after Stacey and I talked. She was all mystic Master Oogway about it. 'Go. Don't go.' She basically said I should do whatever helps me.

I smiled at her mention of the wizened master in Kung-Fu Panda. I knew what I wanted to say, but I wasn't sure of the best way to say it. I held her for another minute or so, thinking. "I don't know that you need to go, at least for you. I've seen you grow so much in the last few months. It's been stunning, and I'm so proud of you. That got me a hug. But it almost sounds like Stacey needs to go. And I don't think it will be bad for you to go, you know? I barely felt her nod. But I'll support you no matter what you decide."

She sighed. You're not going to tell me what to do, are you. It was a statement.

I smiled. Nope. You can do this, kiddo.

I hate when you make me be responsible.

An hour after lunch, the girls showed up in the living room, bright smiles on red faces. I smiled, shook my head, and reached for my keys.

Teresa joined us for what turned out to be a quiet drive to the park. The place was busy, but not overcrowded. Their table, where they were sitting when they were taken, was empty, but I'm not sure if that helped or not. Stacey and Dani walked up the path hand-in-hand, apparently determined to defeat whatever specters might remain in the clearing.

I stood behind Teresa, my arms around her as she rested against me. The girls walked the perimeter of the clearing, then up the path a short distance before circling back to the table. They stood there for a bit, then were suddenly talking, turning and pointing here and there, replaying that day four long years ago.

I couldn't stop my own personal record of those months from playing, and I thanked God as it did. It had become obvious not long after we got back to the States how much a part He had played in things, even when it seemed like He was nowhere to be found. Too many things throughout the course of the rescue had worked out entirely too well for them to be coincidence, from my finding the photos to having all of the right connections to be able to track the girls down.

Teresa shifted against me, bringing my thoughts back to the present. The girls were sitting at the table, heads down and holding hands.

I didn't sleep much Sunday night, and Dani apparently didn't either. When I went down to the kitchen around six-thirty, she was already there with coffee in front of her. She had been more productive in her insomnia though. Stacey and I couldn't sleep, so we went through the old scrapbooks and found a bunch of pictures of Mom. She pushed the top half a dozen or so off one stack toward me. I poured my own cup of coffee, sat down next to her, and absorbed the crush of memories from the pictures.

I wasn't in any of them, and doubted any photos of the two of us existed. It seemed like she hadn't changed much over the years. Her hair was a little lighter in the more recent shots, but just as long as I remembered. There were two new tattoos that I could see, and more jewelry on her ears, too.

I was relieved we'd have pictures to show the cops. I've never been one to be able to describe people well. I could give a general shape of the face, but beyond round or oval, I was pretty useless. I remembered her eyes being this almost indescribable shade of brown, deeper and richer than Dani's, but I didn't think chocolate was a valid term for eye color.

I realized as I finished my coffee that Teresa had replaced Dani and was going through the pictures. She was looking at a profile shot of Angie with the extra earrings and chains.

I never knew how pretty she was. You've said a couple of times that Dani favored her, but holy cow, babe. I'm glad I wasn't competing with her. She's gorgeous.

I smiled more than a little as I refilled my coffee. Angie was beautiful. But so was Teresa. I had been blessed to be loved by two beautiful women. Every guy thinks his woman is attractive. But I had watched how people acted around both Angie and Teresa, the former out of a young buck's jealousy, and the latter out of an ex-con's nerves, at least in the beginning.

Teresa watched me over her coffee cup for a long minute. You sure you're ready for this?

I nodded. I'm just worried about how Dani is going to handle it if she finds out her mom is dead.

"Have you thought about how you're going to handle it if she's alive?"

That caught me mid-sip. I set the cup down semi-gently and stared at her for a minute.

Take it that's a no?

That's a fair assessment. I watched the steam from my cup. I think I just assumed she was gone, since no one had heard from her at all.

Teresa nodded. Not an unreasonable assumption. And from what I've learned about her, she doesn't sound like the kind of person who would or could just walk away from her daughter. But everyone thought Dani and the girls were dead.

Because Egger tried to make everyone think they were. We never did figure out why he had done that,