Vanished

By Bernie Ziegner

Sarah Hunter is a detective supervisor in a Montana Department of Criminal Investigation (DCI) office in Missoula. She is 32 years old, divorced with no children. Her senior detective is Allen Dickson, 29 years old, married and father of two young girls. They have been investigating a series of disappeara

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bernie Ziegner
• Release date: Feb 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890215802

Bernie Ziegner

Bernie Ziegner grew up in Philadelphia. His career involved work as an electronic engineer for major defense contractors. He lived in Arizona for over two decades and now resides in Massachusetts. He can often be found in western Montana where he enjoys nature, horses, cattle and the local people.

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VANISHED

Bernie Ziegner

Copyright © 2024 Bernie Ziegner

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Introduction

Sarah Hunter is a detective supervisor in a Montana Department of Criminal Investigation (DCI) office in Missoula. She is 32 years old, divorced, with no children. Her senior detective is Allen Dickson, 29 years old, married, and father of two young girls. They have been investigating a series of disappearances of young women that began over a year ago. They occurred in Seattle, Spokane, Missoula, Butte, Bozeman, Billings, and Rapid City. These disappearances seemed related, as there has been no evidence of foul play. Also, it is believed that since there has been no trace of any of the kidnapped women, the same person or group is likely responsible for all the abductions. No evidence that the women are dead has been discovered, and yet their being alive seems to be too much to hope for. The kidnapping occurred in cities far apart and at different times of year. One happened during the dead of winter. Although no evidence existed, the investigators from the various locales agreed that it was highly probable the same person did the kidnappings. Suspicion soon went to truck drivers on Interstate I-90. Sex trafficking and murder were often reported along the heavily trafficked I-80. However, I-90 had much less truck traffic and thus made investigators wonder why the kidnapper chose this route.

Chapter 1

Bighorn Truck Stop

Sarah Hunter sat in her state SUV at the Bighorn Truck Stop, parking so she could see every truck and car that pulled into the westbound facility on I-90. Allen Dickson sat in his state car at the exit, intent on watching trucks leave the service and parking areas. At 8pm, it was nearing the end of their work shift at DCI (Department of Criminal Investigation). As in most days, they spent the last hour, if not in the office, filling out reports, then watching the traffic at the truck stop with an eye to anything unusual. They were mindful of the unsolved disappearances of young women during the past year along the I-90 corridor. Their supervisor mentioned it every other day as well.

Bighorn Truck Stop, a significant travel center, was also the largest truck service area in Billings, located just east of downtown. Trucks that entered went to the backside of the facility, where truck parking, mechanical service, and fuel service were located. Fuel service for cars was in the front of the service center. Sarah looked at each truck with binoculars, not sure what would catch her interest. When a black and yellow Security Freight Lines trailer rig came into view, she saw it stop just before entering the truck service zone, which was unusual. She saw a male passenger get out of the truck with a large duffel bag. He said a few words to the driver, closed the door and hefted the large bag to his shoulder. He crossed in front of the truck, waved, and walked toward the automobile fueling area at the front of the facility. The big rig started moving toward the truck area, and Sarah lost sight of it as it went behind the building.

She turned her attention to the man with the large duffel bag as he purposefully walked past the services building and then through the automotive fueling area. She couldn’t see him any longer but had noticed he walked limply. Sarah picked up her microphone.

One-eight. You have eyes on a duffel bag coming your way?

Affirmative. Looks like he might be headed to the Night Owl Motel.

Keep an eye on him. Two-three out.

Roger. One eight.

----

Frank Rossi hefted the heavy duffel bag onto his shoulder as he walked away from the truck that had dropped him off in Billings. He had expressed his thanks and best wishes to Jake Carson, the driver who had brought him here from a truck stop just south of Chicago. He had gotten close to Jake during the more than two days on the road and would miss him. Jake had told Frank he would get his legally required rest and a debriefing from the local company office before heading to the coast. On the other hand, Frank planned to rest up in a nice bed for a few days before soliciting another ride to further his journey toward Seattle. He had never been to Seattle, but a friend living there had raved about it.

Frank got a room at the Night Owl Motel. He paid for three days and dropped his bag in room 28. He had mulled over the stories he had heard of the dark side of life along I-90 during his ride from Chicago: stories of large payoffs for human trafficking and drug shipments. Jake Carson had explained that Security Freight Lines was mob-connected and that appearing too curious about operations was not advisable for anyone. Jake had emphasized that drivers would never carry drugs in the truck cabs of Security Freight Lines. However, large cash shipments were frequently brought, and he indicated the bunk bed with his thumb. A briefcase-type container was locked to D-rings on the floor to be removed by certain certified couriers who had the lock combination. Transporting hitchhikers was not condoned but usually overlooked. However, a driver caught with drugs in the truck cab would be immediately fired and possibly worse.

After a stop in the bathroom to freshen up, Frank walked to a nearby bar, Drop Inn Lounge, hoping for a cold beer and sandwich or slice of pizza. He stepped inside into an ongoing quarrel between a man and a woman. The door had no sooner closed behind him than the man savagely punched the woman in the face. Frank, acting on impulse, stepped in to defend the woman. Two big bruisers in defense of their pal quickly attacked him. Frank was getting the worst of it when a solid blow to his previously injured midsection landed him on the floor.

----

Two Billings police cruisers whizzed by Sarah with their light bars flashing. One-eight, you have eyes on this?

Drop Inn Lounge.

Somebody got a pool cue bounced on their head?

Maybe. Duffel bag went in there five minutes ago.

Keep an eye on the place. I’m curious about the duffel bag. I’d like to get a chance to ask him about his ride. Two-three.

Copy. One-eight.

A few minutes passed, and then Sarah’s radio came alive again. Two-three, the city has two in cuffs. Oops, here comes the duffel bag. He’s limping toward the motel. You must’ve gotten tangled up in the scuffle. You still want to brace him?

Negative. Let’s call it a night.

Copy that. One-eight out.

Sarah had wanted to approach the truck passenger for a casual conversation about his trip to focus on any suspicious behavior he might have witnessed relative to the disappearances of young women along the I-90 corridor. But seeing local police action at the lounge, she thought better of it.

----

Frank Rossi made his way back to the motel. The pain in his side reminded him of the trouble he had left behind three days ago. The bullet hadn’t hit anything vital, and the backroom doctor had sewed him up and given him dressings and medication. He now took a soothing, hot shower and redressed his wound. He hoped to get a good night’s sleep.

Chapter 2

Homicide

Sarah and Allen had left the area of the Drop Inn Lounge and were driving toward the DCI office. A radio call alerted them to a homicide that had just been reported from the truck stop that involved a Security Freight Lines tractor-trailer rig.

Two three, you have ears on this?

Roger. I’ll see you back there.

Sarah and Allen turned their vehicles around and headed back to the truck stop. The city police had already arrived and were in command of the situation. The DCI agents ascertained that the driver, Jake Carson, had been shot twice in the head. The blood-spattered truck cab seemed to be otherwise undisturbed. The driver still had his wallet on his person.

Freakin’ gruesome, said Allen.

What the hell happened here?

The duffle bag guy had long ago walked away.

Yeah. He’s in the clear, said Sarah.

Sarah and Allen made copious notes of their observations. On arrival of the ambulance, they said goodnight to the police and drove away. They did not mention the passenger they’d seen exiting the truck earlier, as it seemed unrelated.

While Sarah prepared her daily report, Allen stopped by her desk. Just wanted to tell you I asked the truck-stop security supervisor to send me a video of the Freight Lines truck. It’s useful as it captured the arrival time, the time the passenger left the truck, the time the rig was parked, and the time police arrived.

I’ll look at it when I get done here.

The security supervisor told me the same video has already been sent to Billings Police.

I’ll take a look at it now. When Sarah looked at the video on her computer, it clearly showed when the passenger left the cab, and the driver continued to the parking area. It wasn’t long afterward, and on a different camera, a man could be seen approaching the truck cab and was allowed to get in. A minute later, the man exited the cab carrying an aluminum case and went out of camera range toward a densely parked group of trucks. Video of trucks leaving the facility showed the truck passenger with the heavy duffel bag walking across the tarmac in front of the building and disappearing toward the motel.

Duffel bag is in the clear, said Allen.

Yeah. Sure looks that way.

Chapter 3

Interviews

Frank was dressed the following day by eight o’clock after checking the national news on TV; he left his room, walked past the motel office, and went to Eddie’s Diner. Jake had told him of the excellent and low-cost meals he had discovered at Eddie’s. He acknowledged that the food at the truck stop was also good but costlier. Frank sat on a stool at the end of the counter and ordered breakfast. He picked up a newspaper left there and started reading. Breakfast included scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, buttered toast, and coffee.

Ten minutes later, Frank heard the door open and close. Then he heard the waitress say, Good morning, Sarah. A few seconds later, he was startled to see a casually dressed woman with a badge and gun at her hip beside him, even though no one else was sitting at the counter. Although he was unsettled by the presence of a police officer, he had to admire the attractive woman. The waitress placed a cup of coffee in front of Sarah.

She extended her hand to him. Sarah Hunter, DCI.

I’m Frank Rossi. What’s a DCI?

Department of Criminal Investigation, a state agency.

Okay, I think.

"No problem. I saw you get out of a truck yesterday and wanted to know if you would mind my asking you some questions about your ride into Billings.

He shrugged, Sure. Why not?

She looked at Frank while gesturing to the stack of toast. Are you going to eat all of that?

He grinned. Help yourself.

She took a slice. What happened in the lounge last evening? You looked a little wobbly coming out of there.

Frank looked at Sarah, You were there?

No, my partner had eyes on the place. What happened in there?

I walked into a domestic quarrel and got jumped by a couple gorillas when I tried to help the woman. Her partner was thumping her. I got out there when the cops showed up.

My partner thought you got hurt…

Frank nodded, Yeah, took a boot in my side. It still freakin’ hurts.

Doctor, look at it?

Nah. I’ve had worse.

The waitress came by to top off their coffee. Frank asked for another order of bacon.

So, you solicited a ride in Chicago? asked Sarah.

Frank nodded. Truck stop on I-90. Jake came in from Gary. He stopped for a meal before he hit the road.

Sarah paused, sipped coffee, and then turned to him. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the driver, Jake Carson, was murdered last evening.

Frank looked at her in disbelief. What...Jake? Dead?

Sarah nodded. I’m sorry.

But…but how? I was just with him. Who…?

He was shot in his truck.

His wife…daughter. This will crush them.

Sarah nodded.

Why? Was he robbed? Frank kept shaking his head. Are there any arrests?

None, yet. This case is being handled by the Billings Police Department.

He turned toward her. "Am I a suspect?"

I don’t know what the police are coming up with. But… I’ve seen the video evidence from the truck stop, the same video that the police have, and it absolves you of any fault.

Frank exhaled and nodded. I’m glad to hear that. Thank you.

Can you tell me what was in the cab of that truck? What items did you see?

Not a whole lot. He kept a clean cab. He had a stack of folded clothes on his bed. There was a small duffel bag. Two folded blankets and a pillow. There was an aluminum case that was locked to a floor bracket.

What was that about? The case, I mean.

Frank shook his head and shrugged. We didn’t talk about it. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business, after all.

Sarah looked at him. "The killer was allowed to get into the cab. A minute or two later, he left with the case, and Jake was dead."

Holy sh... He must’ve known the guy.

Seems that way.

Hard to believe.

Frank… I’d like you to come to the DCI office and write a statement of what you know. You willing to do that?

I…I don’t know.

"If we get your story on the record, then the Billings