Every Fear by Rick Mofina Read Free Book Online

Vandyke. He was about six feet, strong build, with deep-set eyes that radiated an intelligent intensity bordering on dangerous.
    “Police business, get lost.”
    “I got a right to ask questions.”
    “I’ve got the authority to arrest you for obstructing a police investigation.”
    Jason’s jaw muscles pulsed, then he glanced at Lani, who had raised her hand, signaling that she had remembered.
    “There was a man.” Lani’s voice still carried the thick accent of her childhood. “A man and a woman in the van.”
    “Describe them,” Grace said. “Were they old? Young? White? Black?”
    Narrow slits replaced Lani’s eyes as she worked to remember.
    “Lani, what about the van? Do you remember anything about the van? The model, color, license number?”
    Her eyes opened.
    “ Tak, I maybe remember something about the van—on the back was a small picture of the sun and trees.”

8
    T wo hours and forty minutes after Dylan Colson was stolen from his mother, images recorded by the hardware store’s security camera filled the computer monitor at the desk of Seattle Detective Wes Delucca.
    He worked flat-out to identify the red van.
    The security tape only revealed the wheels to the lugs and the extreme lower portion of the vehicle. He studied the bottom door contours, lower front and rear quarters, and the beginnings of the bumper configurations. He enlarged, reduced, then checked the images against a list of other similar models. He compared the recovered wiper to manufacturer databases. The wiper pointed to a Chrysler but could’ve been a generic replacement part.
    If anyone was going to identify this van, it was Delucca. He was a veteran of the Traffic Collision Investigation Squad, a court-certified expert on crimes involving vehicles. As his nine-year-old daughter smiled at him from the framed picture next to his phone, he clicked with the cadence of a heartbeat.
    Let’s go. Every second counts.
    Delucca estimated tire size, wheelbase, and groundclearance, again consulting a database of vehicle makes and models. Then, using a scaled template, he matched the attitude of the suspect vehicle and transposed images of existing makes and models over the security tape images. He clicked faster because he almost had it. Glancing at the time, he needed to be absolutely certain.
    As his computer processed one more check, he consulted his notes. Lani Tychina, the confused eyewitness, was unable to provide any details on the plate. She didn’t know if it was a Washington tag or an out-of-state plate. But she said the rear door had a small, customized mural showing the sun and trees. The computer beeped with confirmation. Delucca exhaled then sat up. Here it is. The van in the security tape is a 2002 Chrysler Town & Country.
    Delucca reached for his phone.
    Two hours and fifty-eight minutes after the abduction, Grace Garner, phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, took down Delucca’s information.
    “Good work, Wes, thanks.”
    Grace called the coordinator for the Washington State Patrol, who was poised to activate the alert system.
    “We’ve got our lock on the vehicle from Records; the van is a 2002 Chrysler Town and Country.” Grace paged through her notes from her preliminary interviews, quickly reviewing all she had from Lani Tychina, Betty Kim, and Arnie Rockwell.
    “A 2002 Chrysler Town and Country,” the coordinator repeated.
    “Correct. You have everything now.”
    “Stay on the line, Detective.”
    The coordinator put Grace on speakerphone, connecting her with the analyst who was finalizing the text for the alert, double- and triple-checking details, facts, and circumstances with Grace.
    The Seattle Police Department and Federal Bureau of Investigation were coinvestigating agencies on the hit-and-run abduction. The SPD had already preapproved a hotline for tips. FBI Special Agent Kirk Dupree was at the Colson home with Lee awaiting a potential ransom call or other contact from the suspects. Nothing