…
On an active missing children case nobody took a Sunday off. The Operation Missing war room was full, not a single empty seat. Twelve FBI agents, six detectives from Denver PD and local townships, plus Deck, Brett, Sammy Aikens, and SAIC Brian Mimoa.
The investigation board was also full. Color copies of the twenty missing kids were taped to one side. Names had been written in black marker beneath the ones who’d been ID’d. The other side of the board displayed a flow chart with Adama’s and Evelyn’s names circled at the top, John and Margaret beneath theirs, followed by Manello and his most recent DL photo. Mile High Pool Cleaning, Blue Waters, and the owner of Blue Waters, Arthur Constantino, had been written off to the side.
The old black-and-white clock on the wall read noon. Evan was surprised he hadn’t received a scathing text response from Marlie about being late. Not that he could blame her if he had. The day had just gotten away from him.
Sammy had let Crystal out of her crate and brought her into the conference room where she lay in a corner, her pointed white ears twitching as she listened to the chatter. In a less than subtle effort to impress, Blue strutted around the long oval table for what had to be the third time before lying down next to the other dog. His dog was so in love it wasn’t funny. He didn’t want to think what Blue would do when Crystal was adopted. Probably mope around like a teenage boy who’d gotten dumped for the first time.
“Let’s get started.” Evan made his way to the board. Last night, he’d given Brian a quick update on everything that had gone down yesterday, but the rest of the teams needed to hear it.
For the next five minutes, he summarized events at the farmers market, followed by his theory that the camp was located two hours away in Wyoming.
Sammy held up a pen. “You asked for a lookup on that vendor. She has a prior for possession with intent to distribute, but that was before recreational marijuana was legalized. No arrests since then.”
“Thanks, Sammy.” Evan added the vendor’s name to the board. “Any luck with the video cameras at the market?”
“Some, but nothing conclusive,” one of the Denver cops said. “Stand by. I’ll cue it up.” An image flickered on the screen on the other side of the room. “The cameras in front of the strip mall shops don’t show anything. Too many tents in the way. One of the city pole cams caught this.”
They watched as a man wearing a red shirt and the woman with him walked through the parked cars to a truck with wood side rails. Their backs were to the camera.
“Here’s the problem.” The cop pointed to the screen. Just when the camera would have picked up the rear tag of the truck, another vehicle pulled up behind it, blocking the license plate.
Another dead end.
“What do you think about those names, Adama and Evelyn?” Deck sat back, crossing his arms. “Sounds like Adam and Eve.”
“Sounds cultish,” Brett said.
“Which is kinda what this camp is,” Evan agreed. Didn’t take a world class investigator to know those weren’t their real names, either. “Sammy, can you run a geographical survey check for properties in southern Wyoming, about two hours from the market heading north on I-25? I’m not sure what we’re looking for exactly or how big the camp is. There could be marijuana fields, so it might be larger than a typical residential plot. Look for something with white houses and large metal buildings.”
“You got it.” Sammy made a note on her pad.
“Where are we at with Manello’s email account?” Evan asked Brett.
“We served that warrant on the email service provider,” Brett said. “And the AUSA tacked on a letter of urgency. As soon as we get a response, you’ll be my first call.”
“Good. So far, all the evidence indicates Manello is just the wrangler of this operation, reeling in the kids and getting them to the camp. My bet is he’s taking orders from either John and Margaret, or Evelyn and Adama. Maybe he sends them the photos for approval.” With any luck, that locked email account would lead them straight to the ringleaders. “What about social media accounts?”
Sammy flipped to another page on her pad. “Manello has accounts on Facebook and TikTok. He’s following a few kids in both places.”
“If he’s trolling for kids online, that might explain why two of the recently missing kids’ families didn’t have pools.” He looked at Deck. “Let’s put together an affidavit for warrants on Facebook and TikTok ASAP.”
“You got it.” Deck made a note on his pad.
Tony held up his hand. “There are kids playing baseball in one of the photos we pulled from Manello’s computer. We’re trying to identify the park.”
“Then he’s definitely trolling for kids organically. Parks, playgrounds, maybe shopping malls.” Speaking of malls, at this point he was so late for hooking up with Marlie and Noah, they’d have to put off the shopping spree, which would piss off Marlie again. “Sammy, did you get a response from DOL on Manello’s employment history?”
She nodded. “The only employer he ever worked for is his own company, Mile High Pool Cleaning. He’s the sole owner and the only employee.”
“Didn’t you say Manello started that company five years ago?” he asked, looking at Deck, who nodded. “Who did he work for before he started Mile High?”
“No one,” Sammy said. “At least, no one DOL has a record for.”
Then he was missing something. Manello had to be working somewhere before he started Mile High Pool Cleaning. “Were you able to interview Arthur Constantino, the owner of Blue Waters?” he asked Deck.
Deck shook his head. “We tried. He wasn’t home, and both his neighbors said the same thing, that he’s on vacay with his wife in Greece. He won’t be back until sometime next week.”