Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (rooftoppers txt) 📕

at the park a few blocks from our house. He likes the sandbox. Obsessed with it really. It’s one of the few things that can keep his attention for long periods of time. So I went over there to see if that’s where he was.”

“And when you found he wasn’t there?”

“I ran around the neighborhood looking for him for a few hours. I checked some of his favorite restaurants, the library. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I called a few of the neighbors to see if they’d seen him. No one had. I know you have to wait twenty-four hours to file a missing person’s report, so I didn’t know what else to do. I heard on Saturday morning about the fire and called to find out if it was Evan. I just waited and prayed until the Sheriff’s Department called last night.”

You’re lying. “Ms. Locke, you know as well as I do, that thanks to the Amber Alert, you don’t have to wait to report a missing child. I can’t find one good reason why, with one child already murdered, you wouldn’t call the authorities the second you couldn’t find your son. How about you tell me the truth?”

Sandra’s eyes widened and more tears welled up in them. She knew she was trapped. “I . . . I don’t want to cause trouble in the department. I work with these people. You work with them. It’s no one’s fault!”

“Ms. Locke, Sandra, you don’t have to worry about that. Just tell me.”

“I did call the police. I called right away. They said that he was probably at the park, like usual, and that he would come home soon. I’ve called the police a lot in the past to go look for him. I think they’re annoyed with me for calling so much over the years when it always turns out to be nothing.”

He was sitting across from a woman who had been convinced by his own department that her fears were irrational, and that she was nothing more than an inconvenience to them. It was enough to make his blood begin to boil. “Who did you talk to?”

“Sergeant Wentworth.”

Who else? It could have been any one of a number of the useless officers who polluted the police department, but everything always came back to that bulbous bastard. Manny tried to calm himself down. He would deal with that waste of space as soon as he finished with Sandra Locke.

“Ms. Locke, I’m so very sorry. None of this is your fault, and I promise that we’ll do everything we can to see that those responsible for your son’s death are held accountable. All of them. But for now, I just have a few more questions, if you’d be so patient. It’s almost over.”

Sandra nodded, wiped her eyes clear, and reached out to grasp his hand. Her grip was tight yet assured. It gave him hope.

“All right, good,” he said, squeezing her hand back. “Now tell me, how well do you know the Lowes family?”

“I know them as well as most people in town,” she said. “We’re not close friends, but the kids went to the same school, so I saw them around. Tom sold some property for the county a while back, so I knew him from that. We talk sometimes after church. His wife is nice, would even keep an eye on Evan from time to time when I did confession after Mass. You know, just your average casual acquaintances.”

“Okay, and any information on that sale that you can give me? Anything relevant you can think of?”

“They were commercial buildings we weren’t using anymore, over in Glenbrook. Some investor he knew bought them. I think they’re going to redevelop and rent them out. I’m not really sure. I just did the books.”

He made a mental note to look into the public record, asked Sandra to write down whatever names and contact info she had, and escorted her to the front door of the building.

“All right, Ms. Locke, I’m sure you’ll be contacted by Agent Layton or Agent Lorenzo from the FBI as a follow up after I file your statement. Do you have someone you can speak to in the meantime? I mean, someone who can help you?”

“My sister is coming in from Illinois to stay with me for a while,” she said. It seemed that she was drained of all her emotion. Her face had become blank.

As he walked her out of the building, all Manny could think of was the incompetence within the department that had allowed this little boy’s abduction to fly under the radar in the first place. The sheer lack of care for this woman and her son by the slackers he called coworkers consumed his thoughts. His cordial, sad smile and small wave as Sandra walked toward her car was all he could muster while the eruption brewed inside, waiting to be released.

Manny bull-rushed his way back through the station doors and made a beeline directly toward Wentworth’s desk. He found Sam sitting with his feet up, on the phone, laughing loudly at what was clearly a personal call. Manny swung his head from side to side. The captain wasn’t in sight, and no other officers seemed to be paying attention to the sergeant’s clear disregard for regulation. Fuming, Manny grabbed the receiver from Wentworth and slammed it down, severing the call.

“What the hell, Benny? That was my sister you just hung up on!”

Instead of apologizing, Manny knocked Wentworth’s feet off the desk and spun his chair around to face him. He could feel the redness in his cheeks, and his heart was racing. “You stupid son-of-a-bitch!”

“What’s up your butt?” Wentworth replied, attempting to turn his chair away.

Manny held firm. “Sandra Locke called in to report her son missing Friday afternoon, and you blew her off.”

“You trying to say that kid’s death is on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

The station went quiet. Wentworth glanced from side to side, as if he was looking for