Of Guilt and Innocence (2 page)

Sergeant Stokes had been a patrol supervisor for roughly seven years, but had never supervised the preliminary investigation into a child abduction, which made it hard for him to accept that it could, in fact, be a legitimate abduction. He really believed in his heart that the girl would be located and it would be discovered that she had simply wandered off; he just hoped she would be found alive and well. “We are going to do everything we can to find her,” he added.

The back of Tom's neck felt like it was engulfed in flames. His mouth was suddenly overrun with saliva and his eyes lacked focus. He questioned silently how this could have happened. It had to be a mistake. Missing? It just couldn't be possible. He stood almost paralyzed as he held his still sobbing wife. Just then a tall, heavyset white man and short, muscular black man, both dressed in suits opened the front door and walked into the foyer area, standing there sheepishly. The heavyset one motioned for Sergeant Stokes to approach them, which he did.

“What do we got here, Sarge?” he asked. The men were the Boca Raton Police Department detectives that Sergeant Stokes had promised would arrive and he repeated to them the information he had just told Tom Wooten.

When the briefing was finished the shorter detective asked the all-important question, “Do you think this is a legit kidnapping?” Both detectives were well aware that in the typically crime free, wealthy areas of Boca Raton crimes of this magnitude tended to get sensationalized by the people who reported them.

Sergeant Stokes looked at him and shrugged, “I don't know Dan. I can tell you the girl is missing, but did she get taken by someone or did she wander off? I don't know. Either way there is a concern for her safety.” He didn't want to say what was in his gut because if he gave the indication it was not a legit kidnapping and in any way hindered the initial investigation in doing so, he would surely face the repercussions. The three men approached Tom and Lisa, who were now standing in the kitchen, each drinking a glass of water. The tall, heavyset detective lumbered toward Tom with his right hand extended.           

“I'm Detective Jim Brekenridge, and this is my partner, Detective Dan Jones. We understand this is a very difficult time for you folks right now, but we really need to ask you a few questions so we can find your daughter as quickly as possible.” His tone was not as sympathetic as Sergeant Stokes' had been and a sense of urgency came through in his words. Jim's approach to police work, and social interactions in general for that matter, was no nonsense; his bedside manor was less than comforting most of the time.  He would not hide his anger when he felt people were wasting his time; however, no case he was given and instructed to solve was ever too small to receive one hundred percent of his attention.  

“Uhh, sure, yeah, ask whatever you need.” The first words out of Tom's mouth since learning of his daughter's disappearance sounded odd as they hit his ears. They didn't sound like they were spoken in his voice, and they seemed reluctant as he moved his lips.

“If it's OK, sir, I would like to interview you in the kitchen area here, and my partner can interview your wife outside, maybe? It will be easier and quicker, and that way she can show him the places she looked and take him through everything she did prior to our arrival.” In actuality, the detectives simply wanted Tom and Lisa separated.  If there were any pertinent details that may cause trouble between the spouses, they were most likely to come out with the parties out of earshot of each other.  

Tom and Lisa agreed and Lisa exited the residence with Detective Jones following behind. Tom and Jim sat on barstools at the kitchen counter next to one another. Tom explained that he had been golfing with his brother, Mark, from ten that morning until he received the call from Lisa around two p.m. He explained that his Ashley had never wandered off before and, though she did have friends within their community, it seemed highly unlikely she would pay them a visit without telling her mother first.   

“All right, I'm going to ask you this question and I really want you to think about it. Please don't take offense to it or anything, but also really consider it. Is there anyone, for any reason, you can think of who may have taken your daughter?” Jim studied Tom's expression as he asked this question. He watched closely for any tells or hesitation.

“No, no one.” Tom responded after a brief moment to ponder it, nothing discernible in his body language.  

“OK, well here is what I would like to do. First, I would like to get you to sign this form.” Jim produced a piece of paper from the pages of his notebook and put it on the counter in front of Tom. “It gives us permission to search your home and have the Crime Scene Unit process it as a possible crime scene. I don't think we need to tap your phone lines or anything like that just yet, although we can't rule out the possibility of some type of ransom.” Jim tried to think of every possible angle to a case from the second he was tasked to resolve it. He was known for going overboard at times: tapping the phone lines, or even requesting the department do it without any indication of a kidnapping for ransom scenario. He was teased for it by the other detectives often. They would ask why the National Guard wasn't called or other similar remarks. None of it bothered Jim though. He always felt it was better to act too soon than too late, and when his methods worked it made him look like a genius. Which, of course, he constantly reminded everyone of.

“Ransom? We don't have that kind of money. Who would possibly try to get ransom from us?” Tom was shocked. Kidnapping Ashley for ransom money seemed absurd to him.

“Well, you own your own business, you have this beautiful home . . . people might get ideas about your finances.” Tom's was a small shop in a local strip mall in which he repaired computers, as well as selling individual computer parts or entire computers he had refurbished. The beautiful home, as well as the country club membership, was paid for mainly by the success of that business.  

 

Jim noticed Tom looking over the form he had given him to sign. He knew Tom was having reservations about signing it and allowing the intrusion into his privacy. “Listen, our goal here is to find your daughter, that's all. We aren't insinuating that you or your wife have done anything wrong. We just don't know what happened, and until we exhaust every avenue it will be more and more difficult for us to do our jobs. We are going to search the interior and exterior anyway, this just allows us to begin right away without waiting for a search warrant. Unfortunately we don't have the luxury of time.”

Tom signed the paper and slid it back in front of the detective.

 

Dan stood on the sidewalk with Lisa, who was still barefoot and with her arms crossed, having finally composed herself as best she could. She explained to Detective Jones everything that happened from the time she left her home to go to the mall to the time she discovered Ashley missing. He was trying to transcribe word for word everything Lisa was telling him in a small notebook. Dan Jones did not have the eight years of experience as a detective or the seventeen years of general police work experience his partner had. He had been a police officer for seven years, and a detective for only two.  Dan was the mirror opposite of his partner in almost every way. Physically they looked nothing alike, with Jim being tall, heavyset, and white and Dan being short, thin, and black. Their personalities were even more diverse. Where Jim could be loud, crude, and quite often lacked social graces, Dan was a quiet man, very polite and soft spoken. These were the differences that made them such an efficient team.     

“Did anything or anyone stand out to you at the mall? Maybe you noticed someone following you or had a strange encounter with someone?”

Lisa retraced her entire mall outing in her head.  She realized how focused she was on shopping and how little focus she had on her daughter or anything else. She had always felt secure in her neighborhood and her home, as well as places she had been hundreds of times, such as the mall. But now that feeling of security had been stripped away. Tears trickled down her cheeks again as she felt waves of guilt wash over her.    

“No, nothing” she replied, trying to catch her breath enough to answer amidst her tears.

“I noticed you have a security gate that everyone has to come through, did anyone or anything stand out to you as you entered the gate? Someone loitering in the area, or cars behind you that seemed out of place?”  

“Not really, I wasn't paying attention when I got to the gate and I didn't push the clicker right away. Cars started lining up behind us; there were probably four, but nothing that would stand out.”

Jim peeked his head out of the front door and motioned for Dan and Lisa to come back inside. Lisa sat down at the bar next to Tom as the two detectives conferred in private for a moment in the hallway. “All right, folks,” said Jim in a booming voice as he and Dan re-entered the kitchen. “We are very sorry to be meeting under these circumstances, but for now that's all the questions we have for you. We will have more follow-up questions as the investigation develops, so we will be in touch.” Jim paused for a moment to gather his things off the kitchen counter, then continued as if reading from a card or out of a textbook. “What's going to happen now is crime scene should be here shortly and they are going to process your house, inside and out, for any clues to your daughter's whereabouts. An officer will stand by with them while they are here. We are going to speak with the officers who are doing a neighborhood canvass right now and find out what information they have. After getting any pertinent information from them we will initiate an Amber Alert.”

Lisa cried aloud upon hearing this. Just the words “Amber Alert” made it seem so real. It made her feel even more detached from her missing daughter and fearful she would never see her again. Issuing an Amber Alert was the modern day equivalent to the faces on the back of milk cartons she used to see when she was younger. Now the image she was envisioning on the back of a fictitious carton of milk was her own daughter's.  

“Don't give up hope just because we are going to these lengths already,” Jim said, sensing Lisa was becoming more hopeless with every detail of their planned investigation that he laid out. “There still is a good chance she could have wandered off and may simply turn up. But it is best for us to treat it as something more than that right now, just to be on the safe side, so we don't miss out on a possibly important piece of evidence by waiting. We are going to go run down some other avenues, but we will be in touch and we will keep you informed every step of the way. If there is anything you think of later on that might be important, please call us immediately. Nothing is too small. Also, before we go, if we could just get a recent picture of your daughter it would be very helpful.”

Through a puddle of tears caught in her eyes Lisa looked at Tom, terrified. Tom knew what she wanted without her having to say it, and slowly walked into Ashley's bedroom. He tried to block everything out; just get the picture and be back out of the room as quickly as possible. What was once a happy place inside the house was now a virtual snake pit, full of memories that would serve to hurt if dwelled upon. Tom reached up and grabbed a picture frame off of a shelf. The picture, taken two weeks prior, was of Ashley holding the Wooten family dog in her arms and had been put in a frame and placed in Ashley's room just days ago. The look Ashley displayed was of pure happiness, a beautiful smile consuming her face. Though he tried not to, his eyes flashed across the picture, then slowly across her bedroom. He felt a pain like he had never felt before. Not the sharp, stabbing pain and shortness of breath he had felt when he learned his daughter was missing. This was a dulling pain that slowly became greater and greater.

He walked back out of Ashley's room, shutting her door behind him. He handed the picture to the detective without saying a word, then quickly walked into the master bedroom. The dull pain had finally consumed him. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the door and began to cry. Harder and harder he cried, still trying to be as quiet as he could. He knew he was going to have to be the strong one for Lisa. He knew he would have to remain positive and hopeful for Ashley. He just didn't know how he was going to accomplish those things, or if he even could.

 

The detectives and the Crime Scene Unit seemed to trade off with one another. Sergeant Stokes sat with Lisa and Tom, who had now re-emerged from the bedroom more composed. He ran his fingers through the sides and the top of his short brown hair, which he always kept well manicured— however, due to the excessive fingering it was now anything but. He stared blankly at the counter in front of him as he bit his lower lip nervously. He thought back to the last time he had seen his daughter. It seemed like an eternity ago, though it was just this morning. He had sat at the dining room table, which had a clear view through the glass doors into the backyard where she had been. He watched as Ashley ran and played and laughed. Her strawberry blonde hair was tangled and uncombed as it fell over her tiny shoulders. The sun shone down on her porcelain skin as she ran. He didn't know why, but at the time he could focus on nothing else but watching her. He remembered the hug and kiss she had given him before he left for his round of golf. He could still smell her shampoo and feel her soft skin. He still heard her voice telling him “Good luck” and that she loved him.

Now his heart was breaking and his stomach churned. Then he remembered something else. He remembered that as he sat at the dining room table, the few occasions when he was able to take his eyes off his daughter, he glanced at the day's edition of the
Palm Beach Post
. He remembered commenting to Lisa about an article that took up the bulk of the front page. It was about the serial killer known as the South Florida Strangler who had been terrorizing southern Florida for years. The article described the common belief that the killer had moved on in one way or another due to his body count remaining the same over the past six months. He had jokingly remarked about it to Lisa, feigning fright of the faceless killer. For some reason he thought back and felt a twinge of embarrassment over it now. Embarrassment for not truly seeing that the world could be evil. That evil things actually do happen in real life, not just in black print. He was certain that the so-called South Florida Strangler had nothing to do with his daughter's disappearance, ninety nine percent so, but someone else had still performed this unconscionably evil act—that much he was one hundred percent certain of. His fear was now real.