Looking for Sophie

“Ma, I came because you asked me to talk to Pop. If this visit is really about you matchmaking, I’m getting right back on my bike.”

His mother kept a firm hold on his arm as she steered him inside. “Honestly, I thought you prided yourself on juggling a dozen cases at once. Are you saying you can’t meet a pretty girl and head your dad off at the pass?”

“I’m saying I’m not looking for a wife. If that’s why you invited the gourmet cook to join us for dinner, uninvite her. Besides, the fewer people who hear about Pop’s sighting another missing child, the better.”

“You’re right.” Beth pouted a bit as they entered the house, but she picked up the phone anyway, so Julian knew he’d made his point.

He’d unpacked a few shirts and was seated at the kitchen table enjoying a cold beer, when his dad ambled in from work. Sam greeted his son with a slap on his back that morphed into a sort of hug.

“Hey, stranger. I hear you caught the guy you were looking for. Congratulations! I assume that’s why Mom and I have the pleasure of your company. Good work, son.”

“Thanks. It was a tough case. The chief wants me rested and ready to testify at the trial. I thought I’d see if you felt like tossing a line in the river. Why don’t you grab a beer? We can go sit on the back porch and discuss the best fishing hole.”

“Sorry, son. You’ll have to go fishing alone. I’m involved in a bit of surveillance, myself.”

“Oh?” Julian feigned surprise.

“Let me get that beer. And then we’ll go out where your mom can’t overhear us. She thinks I’m a meddling old fool but I know I’m right this time. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. This is right up your alley.”

Julian had thought he’d have to pump his dad for information. This was almost too easy, he decided, twisting the cap off a second bottle of light beer.

Once they’d settled into matching wicker rockers, Sam leaned toward Julian and began his story. “There’s this new family on my postal route, see. They moved in about four months ago. A mom, dad and three kids. Two boys go to school and, like normal kids, are out tossing a ball or riding bikes when they get home. The girl, a pretty little tyke, looks out the window until someone inside notices and closes the drapes. I call that odd. Something’s not right. So, I go to my file of missing-children cards and bingo, I see a kid that could be her, only younger. Same hair, same heart-shaped face. If you were me, wouldn’t you call the hotline?”

Julian took a swig from his bottle and rocked back in his chair. “I might remember the last time this happened and take it kinda easy, Pop.”

“Yeah, yeah. That other time was unfortunate. I missed a big clue. That boy was out around town, attending school. I’m smarter now. I’m keeping an eye on this family.”

Julian picked at the label on his beer. “You see any evidence this girl’s being abused?”

“No. But, shouldn’t a five-or six-year-old be in school, or out playing with her brothers? If they are her brothers. She’s blond as blond can be. The boys are dark eyed and dark haired. Dad’s got long black hair. He ties it back like some young fellas do. I’ve only seen the mother once. She has sorta nut-brown hair.”

“The man, does he act sneaky or is he a tough-guy sort?”

“Uh, he’s not real neighborly. Grunts hello if I’m putting mail in his box when he arrives home from work. He’s blue-collar. He always wears jeans and a work shirt and they’re often greasy. A couple of Saturdays I’ve seen him in the driveway shooting hoops with the boys. And they barbecue out back.”

“Sounds like a normal family. He play with all three kids?”

“Their fence is six feet high. I’m not about to give myself away by peeking over it. I’m telling you, Julian. My gut tells me something’s fishy.”

“You’re real close to retirement, Pop.”

“Now you sound like your mom. You think I should turn a blind eye?”

Julian fidgeted. His dad clearly felt the girl didn’t belong to that family. While he’d come here to help his mother talk his dad out of doing something foolish, Julian understood gut feelings. Sometimes acting on them broke a case. Even knowing that his mom wouldn’t appreciate it, he couldn’t help saying, “I could fill in for you on your route the next couple of days. See what I observe. I still have the relief-worker status I got that time you wrecked your back.”

“That’s an idea. I’ll pick up the mail from the station and tell my boss that I hurt my knee but you’re home and can help out. He’ll jump on that. He hates the hassle of requesting a relief person.”

“I remember that. I’d rather go fishing, but surveillance is my forte.” Julian didn’t add that if he could prove that Sam was definitely wrong, Beth could stop worrying.

Rather than take Sam’s postal cart the next day, Julian loaded mail in his bike saddlebags. He took his cell phone along so he could snap pictures from a safe distance. Before heading off, he studied the card with the photo of the missing girl. It was a grainy black-and-white shot. “Pop, this kid was last seen in Anchorage, Alaska, over a year ago. It’s a stretch to think she’d wind up in backwater Georgia. Another thing, don’t kids this age change a lot in a year? I’m thinking of Celeste’s twins. I see them occasionally, but at each visit they look so different I don’t know which twin is which.”

“Their smiles and face shape don’t change.”

Julian had to give give his dad that. He started the Ducati and drove off. Most old-timers on the route knew him and many expressed concern for Sam. Julian stuck to the story about his dad’s bum knee.

His father had told him which house to watch for, so when he got there, Julian took his sweet time sorting out the mail. A few bills addressed to Lee Hackett, some junk circulars. Julian had timed his delivery to coincide with school dismissal. Sure enough, two grade-school-aged boys stopped to admire his motorcycle. Introducing himself, Julian handed them the mail while casually asking their names.

“I’m Toby, he’s Gavin,” the youngest said. “Our dad used to have a blue Harley,” he volunteered.

“Cool. Did he sell it?” Julian asked, gazing into the open, empty garage attached to the side of a small house that sat back off the street.

“I meant our real dad. He died. Uh, maybe Lee had a bike, too. I bet he fixes them. Lee’s a mechanic.”

“Ah…so, Mr. Hackett’s your stepfather?” Julian tucked the rest of the mail back into the saddlebag.

Toby hesitated before saying, “Lee wants to adopt me and Gavin. Mom said it takes money, though. More money than we’ve got.”

The older boy grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him up the drive. “Where’s the old dude who usually brings our mail?” He eyed Julian suspiciously.

“My dad wrenched his knee. The doc wants him to stay off it a couple of days. When I was your age I helped with his route. I’m down from Atlanta on vacation.”

A woman stuck her head out a door opening into the garage. “You boys get inside and change out of your school clothes. Who are you talking to?”

“The mailman’s son,” the eldest boy shouted.

Julian glimpsed a curly-haired girl poking her head out around her mother’s leg. The boys’ backs were turned, so he opened his cell and snapped two photos. By the time the youngest boy turned back, Julian had punched in Josh’s number and wandered back to his bike with the phone at his ear. Toby waved nonchalantly before he and his brother ran into the house.

Josh picked up as Julian casually straddled his bike, giving the appearance of being in no rush to leave. “Hey, son of a gun, I wangled a few days off. I’m staying with the folks, but Mom’s up to her usual tricks. Last night I talked her out of inviting a woman to dinner. Tonight I need an excuse to escape. You and Dawn going to be home later?”

Josh sounded delighted, so the brothers made plans to get together. Julian was stowing his phone when he noticed the girl peering out between the front drapes. He got off two more quick shots before one of her brothers yanked her out of sight and their mother appeared. She stared at Julian, then adjusted the panels. He definitely got the feeling that she didn’t want him hanging around.

He wheeled his bike down the street to the next mailbox, stopping where the woman could see him if she chose to look. And Julian thought maybe she did, so he took his time delivering the mail and making chitchat with neighbors.

He made a point of passing back by the Hackett house on his way home. Luck was with him. A man was pulling into the garage as Julian motored past. He noted the license number on the unremarkable minivan.

The minute he reached his parents’ home, he logged on to a secure Web site and ran the plate through the state system. It checked out okay. The van was licensed to Lee Hackett at that street address. A separate probe didn’t turn up any prior convictions or outstanding warrants for Hackett in Georgia. For kicks, Julian tried Alaska. Nothing showed up there, either.

He found his dad out back weeding. “Pop, can you take another day off? I’d like to do your route in reverse so I hit Hackett’s about the time he gets home from work. One of his sons told me he probably fixes motorcycles. I might be able to start a conversation. So far, though, they seem fine. One of the neighbors told me the girl, Leah, has asthma. That could explain her staying indoors. Or maybe the parents are worried about stranger abductions. Some folks are these days. Or couldn’t they just be antisocial?”

“I suppose.” Sam removed his gardening gloves and walked back to the house with his son. Julian handed back the missing-children card. “Thanks for digging in, son, and for finding out Hackett’s not wanted by the law.”

“No problem. I put out discreet feelers on the mom of the missing girl through a P. I. contact who can access background info on anyone. That report will take a day or so, provided she hasn’t left Alaska. By the way, I’m having dinner with Josh and Dawn tonight. Will you tell Mom? And remind her she doesn’t need to set me up with the woman from her cooking club tomorrow night, either.”

Sam gave a robust laugh. “I told Beth that gal doesn’t have enough spunk for you, son. But your mom’s not gonna rest until you’ve found a wife.”

“Then she won’t rest for a long time.”

His dad’s laughter was slow to die. “What’s that mean? You saying you’ve been in one of those closets?”