Who'll Watch the Watchers - Part III

The Chase Is On

“You're friggin' crazy, man! What the hell is wrong with you?" The young cop was scanning for any other inhabitants. "Nobody sleeps hanging from their ceiling in a hammock. Whoa! That a gator skin you're wrapped in?”

Sean was used to hearing comments like that. People called him crazy and they were right. He just wrote them off as gormless, and maybe some of them were.

Detective Jim Bailey from the Glades County Sheriff’s office stood staring at the naked cop hanging in the condo's only bedroom. “You're out of your mind, Sean”, he said. “What the hell are you doin' hanging there like that?”

“If you gotta ask, you can't understand,” Irish-Japanese-American Detective Sean Yamamoto mumbled sleepily. He was resentful that his sleep had been interrupted one short hour after he hit the hammock.

“Well get your ass outta there and lets have at it. The 'Glades Pervert' is at it again, Sean.”

“Oh, Christ! What is it now?”

“That little girl from down near Citrus Center. She's turned up alive. Some 'bubba' that goes to the same church as her family found her.”

“What's the problem, Jim?” Sean queried absentmindedly. “They live close to where she turned up?”

“That's just it Sean. She was way out by Okeechobee. Thelma from the Comm Center said the guy who found her lives down by Citrus Center too. No way a six year old wandered over sixty miles”

“Hummm. Thelma's a pro. We better go with her gut and check this dude out,” Sean said, heading out the door. “You drive Jim, you can get from Lakeport to Citrus Center quicker than I can. Lights and siren bud. What's this guy's name?”

“Orin Swank. Rumor is he's a poacher. 'Gator skins, big cats, illegal stuff like that. Word is he's not too bright but there's nobody better out in the 'glades. Like he's part animal.”

“Record?”

“Drunk and disorderly, public intoxication, assault-no weapons. Got beat up under suspicious circumstances 20 years ago by a black truck driver from Citrus. Dude put him and his daddy in the hospital a few hours apart, and nobody'd say what started the fight. Somebody put Orin back in the hospital a few days later. Truck driver was gone on a run then, but again nobody'd talk.”

“Yeah, they're closed mouth out there in the 'glades.” Sean kicked back in the brown Crown Vic's passenger seat. Jim floored it and they were soon flying down FL 27 at triple digits. The police spec Ford's tall gearing kept the engine loafing at that speed, and Jim had Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett's 'Five O'Clock Somewhere' on the CD player, cranked to about 80 db. Forty minutes later, Citrus Center's faded and rotting corporate limits sign receded in their rear view mirror. Sean had the GPS set to the address Jim had for Hank and Jenny Strong's. The little four room house was on a grass centered lane, three dirt roads off the highway. The Vic kicked up a billowing cloud of dust as it rolled to a stop in the dirt yard out front. A little blonde girl playing in the front yard, got up and ran inside when she saw the cruiser pull up.

Before Sean and Jim could get out, the screen door swung open and a thin man with a deeply lined red face and sunken blue eyes came out. He ran a calloused workman's hand through his wispy gray hair and gave the Sheriff's Detectives a wary look.

“You boys from the Sheriff?” he asked, glancing toward the Ford's back seat.

Harkness Strong looked like he hadn't slept or eaten for a week, but his voice was clear and unwavering. His piercing blue eyes had 'born again' intensity.

“I'm Detective Yamamoto and this is Detective Bailey,” Sean said taking the outstretched hand that could probably crush a coconut.

“Well detective, you sure don't look Japanese. That your work name?” Hark asked smiling crookedly.

Yamamoto knew he didn't look Japanese. If fact he didn't resemble his father at all. His friends called it a virgin birth. A clone of his Irish mother, the former Mary Margaret O'Hearn, he didn't want a DNA test. Sean loved his dad but If his mom had a secret, it was hers to keep. He ignored Hark's comment and began asking him about the four days and three nights his daughter had been missing.

Hark Strong seemed genuinely convinced that Jeanie had ridden her bike for miles and miles and just got lost. He had no idea why she would do that. No, she'd never done anything like that before. She'd always been very reliable and had never even stayed overnight with a relative before then. That she couldn't account for her bike or her camera, her two most prized possessions, didn't seem to trigger any doubt in Mr. Strong's mind. He was a man who just believed whatever people told him, and let it go at that. Odd as it was, Sean and Jim believed the man.

“Mr. Strong,” Sean asked quietly. “Would you mind if we talked to Jeanie about this?”

“Of course not. She doesn't seem to remember much, but mama and I figured maybe she fell off her bike and hit her head, or something.”

While Hark went to fetch Jeanie, Sean told Jim to look her over carefully while he questioned her. He wanted Jim to see if he could detect any scrapes or bruises, especially a knot on her head or a cut that might show where one had been.

“Hi, Jeanie. My name is Sean. I'm a Glades County Detective,” Sean told the wide eyed little girl. Do you think you could talk to me about being lost?”

“Sure, Mr. Sean. There isn't much to tell, though,” Jeanie said. “I went out to take some pictures with my new camera and got lost.”

“Jeanie, do you know where your bike is?” Sean asked.

“Nope!” Jeanie blurted out and a tear suddenly rolled down her cheek. “I lost it and my camera too! I can't have new ones 'cause daddy says we can't afford 'em.”

“That's too bad, Jeanie. You never know, they may just turn up after all,” Sean smiled at the pretty little girl. “You remember where you last saw your camera?”

“I, I, I'm not sure. I thought I took some pictures out in the swamp. A 'gator came right up to me and smiled. Mr. Orin told me I was wrong. But the last time I thought I saw it, I thought I saw Mr. Orin kick it into the swamp and stomp on it. I prob'ly just 'magined it, though.” Tears were now streaming down both of Jeanie's cheeks.

Her mama came into the room and saw her crying. She scooped Jeanie up and told the two detectives that Jeanie couldn't answer any more questions. She'd gotten lost, and that was all there was to it. She just wanted to forget about it and let Jeanie get back to her normal life.

Sean and Jim said that would be fine, thanked the Strongs, and walked out to the Crown Vic. They looked at each other for a few seconds and nodded at the same time. Both cops had the same thought. Jeanie could remember what happened but probably all the adults involved were encouraging her not to. That very likely included the man who abducted her. EMS had taken Jeanie to the hospital in Citrus Center when they got her from the swamp. The Strongs knew Jeanie had been sexually assaulted, and were denying it. Sean and Jim weren't overlooking that horrible fact, however. They were now looking directly toward Orin Swank.

Heading back toward Lakeport, Sean got the Glades County Chief of Detectives on the radio. “Ronnie,” he said. “I want to talk to Orin Swank. Could you tell me where he is right now?”

Sean relayed Swank's address to Jim who spun the Ford back toward Citrus Center. Next stop, Orin Swank's shotgun shack.

“He's gone”, the heavyset woman at the door said. “When I woke up this morning his side of the bed was empty. Orin took some under-drawers, a couple pairs of jeans, some fresh tee shirts, and disappeared. No note or nothin'. He's never run off like that before. What do you boys want him for, anyway?”

“Mrs. Swank?” Jim asked, noting her red eyes and the damp hanky she held.

“Yes, I am. Been married to Orin for 19 years, and he never done nothin' like this before. I'm really scared!”

“Is that Plymouth yours or his?” Sean queried slowly edging toward the rusty Reliant K.

“No, and that's the thing. Orin never goes anywhere without that car.”

“How else could he have left? Any other vehicles around?” Jim asked.

“Well, the 4 wheeler out in the shed. That thing's his pride and joy, it is. Keeps it clean as a whistle all the time.” Nellie beamed with pride at the mention of Orin's big Kawasaki ATV.

The trio walked out behind the shotgun shack, down a short path to the woods.

“That's strange,” Nellie blurted. “The lock is missing. Orin gets real mad if anyone unlocks that shed.”

Detective Sean Yamamoto pulled the shed door up and out. There, inside the steaming little shed, sat a naked dirt floor. All three just gawked then looked back and forth at each other.

Jim Bailey broke the silence. “Now we know how he left. Where the hell do you suppose he's headed?”