To Love a Twin

Chapter 20: The Search Continues

Jack Townsend drove by Madelaine's shop the next morning and noticed it had not yet opened for the day. He immediately felt sick to his stomach, executed a U-turn, and headed back to their apartment building, turning on the lights in the grill and windows of his unmarked car. Arriving at their building, he hopped out and ran up to her apartment, knocking and calling her name.

After getting the manager to open the door, he ran through and saw that it was empty, that her bed had either not been slept in or she'd made it that morning before she left. He wished that he had thought to stop in last night when he got home after his shift. It had been after midnight and her lights had been off, so he'd assumed she'd turned in and had not wanted to disturb her.

A marked police car was waiting for him at Threads n' Needles when he arrived back there. Two uniformed officers were in it; one of them was Luke. They got out of the car when he pulled up, parking haphazardly in the street. Already, the flashing lights had caused a crowd to gather.

"From the first moment we enter the shop," he told the officers, "this is a crime scene. Your job is to keep the crowd back; the forensics people are on their way." Jack paced back and forth while he waited for the forensics team. Why, he wondered, had he let her out of jail? He had worried about this very thing happening. But, when he'd come up with the theory that Kira had been the target, he'd thought she was safe.

"Maybe she just had an appointment or something," suggested Luke.

Finally, the white police van that carried the crime scene forensics team arrived. They began by dusting the door for prints before donning gloves, white coveralls, and protective covering for their heads and shoes. They had to be careful not to contaminate the crime scene, if that is what it turned out to be.

Inside, Jack saw the pile of receipts on the counter, the zippered pouch of cash and checks, and the note. Her purse was on the shelf under the register. The trash can sat at the opening of the counter, a torn plastic bag on top. He pointed and the head of the forensics team nodded. They carefully photographed and then put everything into plastic bags while Jack searched the entire store.

He passed through the blue drape that separated the store from the back storeroom, bathroom, and utility room. He noticed that her coat was gone from its peg in the storeroom. Where would she go, he wondered, taking her coat but not her purse? It was obviously someplace nearby, someplace that she was planning on returning from quickly.

The receipts from the store, her wallet, with identification, money, and credit cards were intact, so robbery was out. He opened the back door and did a sweep of the small back alley. There was no sign of forced entry from either the back or front. The businesses on this block formed a terrace, with all the shops attached. A narrow road along the back allowed access for the town's weekly refuse collection.

"Detective, we'd like to start back here now."

Jack turned and saw one of the crime scene forensic experts standing in the doorway in his white suit. He nodded and walked back out through the store. Outside, he found that the local newspaper had already been alerted.

"Detective Townsend," called out Nicholas Krashen, the reporter for the local paper. "Can you tell us what happened here? Why has the crime scene forensic unit been called out? Has there been another murder?"

"It is too soon to say," answered Jack. "All we know is that the proprietress of this shop did not open as expected and, as of this moment, is missing."

"Isn't it true that Madelaine Benning purchased this store and just opened two days ago?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Is this disappearance being investigated as being linked to her husband's murder and her daughter's disappearance?"

"Well, it seems a bit too coincidental that the three incidents are all random, doesn't it?" Jack snapped. He went to get into his car, but was stopped by a man who called out to him.

"Detective, please, a moment please."

Jack looked to see a young man in a white apron coming toward him. "Yes?" he asked.

"I came down here when I saw the crowd gathering. I heard what you told that reporter. I'm Richard Miner, the new owner of the butcher shop up the street. I saw Mrs. Benning last night."

"You have my attention," said Jack. "Get in the car. We'll drive up to your shop."

Once inside the butcher shop, the man introduced his wife, who had been minding the counter. Then, he began to explain. "My father, brothers and I bought this shop from Mrs. Benning; that's how I know who she is. My Pa is looking to have a chain of shops all through the county so my brothers and I can each have one to run. Anyway, I closed at five last night and spent about a half hour mopping up. Then, I went upstairs for supper with my wife. After eating, I wanted a cigarette and came outside for it. My wife, she doesn't let me smoke in the house, you see. Well, I was standing in the doorway, to stay out of the cold wind, and I saw her, Mrs. Benning, that is, go into the library up on the next block. It must've been about six-fifteen because I finished my cigarette and got back upstairs before six-thirty so I could watch the news."

"Did you see her come out?" asked Jack.

"No, I didn't. She must've come out after I went back inside."

"Did you see anyone else?"

"Well, just as I came outside, I saw that guy who works there, the one who needs the crutches to get around. Actually I heard him. His crutches were making this clicking noise on the pavement, so I looked up the street and saw him up the block. He turned into Boots."

"Thank you," Jack said. He left the butcher shop and got back into his car and used the radio to call Luke, telling him to meet him at the library. There was something about the sight of that uniform that rattled most people just enough to get them to betray, by look, tone, or stance, things they'd rather keep hidden. Jack noticed that the reference desk in the center of the library was being staffed by an elderly woman.

Jack and Luke approached the woman and showed their identification. The lady seemed flustered and identified herself as Florence Hastings.

Mrs. Hastings," said Jack, "were you working in the library last night?"

"Oh, no, Detective. I am a retired school teacher. I am only a volunteer here at the library. Mr. Lockslip asks me to fill in if he has to be away. He called me this morning and told me he was ill, so I'm going to provide reference services today. I have to admit, though, I wish they hadn't gotten rid of the old card catalog. This computer is giving me a headache. Is there something wrong, Detective?"

Jack explained that they were investigating Madelaine's disappearance.

"Oh, not Madelaine too," said Mrs. Hastings. "I know her. She was in my literature class at the high school. I was so sad when she dropped out to care for her mother. Well, I hope she is found safe. Joyce and Carol at the circulation desk would have been here last night. They are both full-time employees."

Jack and Luke thanked her and walked to the circulation desk, where they interviewed the two women. When they'd finished, Jack sent Luke back to the station to run a check with the telephone company on all calls made from Madelaine's shop the previous evening.

* * * * *

Kira sat at her table, wearing the skirt she'd worn the day she'd been taken and a roughly made top she'd fashioned from the towels Whack-Job had provided. She was continuing with the jumper she was making him. She had to get it done. She had to force herself to concentrate. She wanted to lie in the bed and cry over her mother's death, but that wouldn't get the jumper done. It was her last chance. She had to block the sound of that gun from her mind, the sight of her mother's body, there on the floor, dead. She'd go mad if she didn't. She had to keep her hands steady and her resolve strong. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on George, imagining him coming through that door, holding her in his arms.

She knew that it usually took about two to three weeks to make herself a jumper, but that was having only limited time to work on it because she had to work in her father's shop so much of the time and make sure the flat had been kept clean and dinner was cooked. If she could knit for eighteen hours a day, she could have it done in about a week, compensating for the larger size. The embroidery would add another four or five days to the equation.

She wondered where he was. He had never come back the previous night, and she knew it was past time for the library to be open. Her throat still hurt like hell and her nose was red from having had to use toilet paper to wipe it. She was popping the aspirin to keep the fever at bay, but she had a bad cough that often made her have to stop knitting. She had to keep up her strength.

She carefully placed her knitting on the bed and retrieved the breakfast he had brought her yesterday from the refrigerator. She had enough to get her by several days: a couple bottles of milk, butter, bread, several bottles of drinking water, yogurt, and a bowl of fresh fruit on the table. She had several tins of soup and a nearly full jar of peanut butter as well. Since that first day of hunger and darkness, she had made a habit of asking for more food than she actually required, hiding what she could in the bathroom, just in case he went off the deep end again and tried starving her.

Kira opened the sack and forced herself to eat, but the food brought no relief from her grief.

* * * * *

Nathan was sitting in the kitchen of his home studying a catalog. He had a sore throat and a cough. He had probably caught Kira's cold. He looked at the pretty models in the magazine wearing lingerie and nightwear. He liked to imagine Kira wearing the silky things for him. He smiled as he picked up the telephone and called the number on the catalog and ordered her several nightgowns with expedited delivery. He would surprise her with them for Christmas, and she would forget all about that little accident with her mother. He giggled as he ordered one that was totally see-through. He would make her wear it for their first night together.

He looked out the window and saw a dark blue car out front. He felt his stomach clench as he saw that detective get out and approach his door. He closed his eyes and practiced breathing normally as he waited for the doorbell to ring. When it did, he got up and slowly made his way to answer it.

"Mr. Lockslip," said Jack, "Would you be willing to answer some questions?"

"Is there something wrong at the library?" he asked, his voice raspy.

"No, Madelaine Benning, the wife of the butcher who was killed and the mother of the girl who was kidnapped two months ago, is missing. She was seen coming into your library last night around six-fifteen. The women who work your circulation desk both said they noticed her, having recognized her from when her husband was killed. Where were you at that time? Your staff said that they could not find you between six and six-forty."

"I began feeling sick, so I'd taken a run up to Boots to buy some aspirin," he said. "That's why I'm home today. I called in sick. Then, I went to my office in the basement to take the pills and grab my coat because it was so near closing time. I closed the library, saw my employees off, made a last check of the building and walked home, as always. This is absolutely terrible. Do you think we have a serial killer in our midst?"

"If we do, he seems to only be going after people named Benning, and we seem to be fresh out of them now."

"Well then, it seems that this person has some vendetta against that family. Mr. Benning wasn't a very nice person, you know. I once saw him shake his wife and, when his daughter tried to get him to stop, he slapped her. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if his temper got him in trouble with someone he couldn't beat up." Nate's discourse was cut off by a coughing fit. "Sorry," he said, when it was done. "Like you said before, though, perhaps I read too many of the true crime dramas in my library."

Jack looked around at the house. It was cluttered with books. They were piled on the floor, on the coffee table, everywhere.

Nathan followed the detective's eyes. He smiled. "Every job has its little perks, Detective Townsend. You get to park in no parking zones, and I don't have to pay late fines at the library. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm really not well. Have you any other questions?"

* * * * *

Instead of going directly to the Muggle police station, Luke Apparated to the Burrow to update the Weasley Family about Madelaine Benning's disappearance.

Molly answered the door and saw Luke's grave face and immediately assumed the worst. "No, you...you've found...it isn't Kira, is it? George told me he knew she was still alive."

"No, it's not Kira," answered Luke, stepping inside. "There's been another disappearance. Her mother is missing. She hasn't been seen since about six-thirty last night."

George, Harry, and Merkel were standing just inside, listening. Ginny, who was home from Hogwarts for the Christmas break, was coming down the stairs. George and Harry were exhausted; they'd spent the night invisibly searching an entire street of homes, looking for Kira. George cursed.

"Any clues?" he asked.

"She closed her shop, began to clean up. Then, she suddenly decided she needed to go to the library. She left her purse in the shop. She was seen going into the library by the new butcher. The women who work the circulation desk both noticed her. They said she came in, walked around the library like she was looking for something, then left. They saw her go down the steps of the lobby at six-twenty."

"So, she was seen going in, seen leaving. She must have been taken between the library and her shop," said George.

"That's what is being assumed," said Luke. "Once again, I can find no evidence of magic being used in this case either."

"If that librarian guy wasn't on crutches, I'd think he was behind it all," said Ginny. "He's really creepy."

* * * * *

Later that day, the group of elderly ladies who were known as the River Otter Bird Watchers Club was tramping through the nearby nature preserve seeking the winter nests of the Brent Goose when they heard a scream from the bank of the river. They hurried over to where one of their members stood, looking down in horror at the river, where a body was floating, shrouded in plastic. It had gotten snagged by a tree that had fallen into the shallows. Luckily, one of the ladies had a mobile telephone that actually worked this far out in the preserve. They all stood, shocked, their normally excited and jolly temperaments subdued in the face of death as they waited for the police to arrive.

Jack Townsend got the call from the Alfington Police Department saying that they thought they found his missing woman. Alfington was a truly tiny hamlet several miles from Ottery St. Catchpole, downriver. He sped out there, arriving at the tiny station in less than ten minutes. The village was not really set up to handle a murder. They had moved the body to their small morgue and had called Jack, having gotten the fax about his newest missing person case. Then, they had called Exeter, Devon's county town, who was sending a team from their coroner's office to pick up the body.

Jack was led into the small morgue where the body was lying on a metal table. The chief constable, one of only two that comprised the whole of the Alfington police force, pulled back the sheet. Jack's heart dropped when he saw Madelaine's face. Her eyes were open, staring ahead with an aspect of surprise and fear. He turned away as he fought to control his emotions. "It's her," he whispered.

The constable said that she had been shot in the chest, and that it looked as though death had been instantaneous. The formal autopsy would be conducted in Exeter, and all the physical evidence, her clothing, and the materials in which she'd been wrapped, would be turned over to their forensics team.

Jack barely listened. He already knew everything the constable was saying. Why, he wondered, had he allowed himself to become personally involved with her? You'd think, by now, he'd have learned. At first he'd thought her a murderer. Then, once he had seen how devastated she'd been over losing her daughter, he'd felt badly about his rush to judgment.

In just two months, he'd seen her change from a sad, silent mouse into a warm and gracious woman who never took any kindness shown to her for granted. It was like she was truly surprised and grateful that anyone cared enough to seek out her company. When he'd kissed her--had it just been two nights ago--she had touched her lips as if nobody had ever kissed her before.

He reached behind and felt for her hand through the sheet. He silently promised her that he'd never give up until he found both Kira and the person who'd done this.

By the time Jack arrived back at his office, the record of telephone calls from the sewing store was on his desk. There had been three calls to various supply houses in London and Scotland and one, at 6:10, to the library. Why had she gone to the library? She hadn't bothered to check out anything. Had she wanted to read some of the news articles about Kira? Had she been lured there by someone who had come into the shop?

It was making him crazy, knowing it was probably someone he saw on the street, maybe even every day. He went over it and over it in his mind, remembering what the librarian had said about Mr. Benning being nasty. Maybe Jack needed to go back to the beginning, to re-examine all the evidence. There was no such thing as a perfect crime. This killer had to have slipped up somewhere. But first, he would have to go tell the Weasley Family that they had found her body.

His telephone rang. It was the desk sergeant saying that the Weasley Family was there and they wanted to speak with him. He sighed and told him to send them in.

Mrs. Weasley entered the office first, followed by Mr. Weasley and George. Ignoring Jack's outstretched hand and invitation to be seated, she leaned over his desk and began yelling at him. "What is this I hear? Now you have managed to lose Madelaine as well? Haven't you Muggles any sense? You...you should have been having her watched! I have half a mind to..."

"Molly, please, sit down and let the man answer," said Arthur.

Jack looked at the three of them, miserable, wishing he didn't have to tell them. What the hell was a Muggle, he wondered? "Madelaine Benning's body was found downriver, near Alfington, three hours ago," he said. "She'd been shot. The crime scene investigation unit from Exeter picked up her body and I'm awaiting results of the autopsy and the tests of other physical evidence."

Molly had grown quite fond of Kira's mother during the weeks they had worked side by side answering the calls to the Find Kira Line. She began crying and Arthur handed her his handkerchief.

"We have to find Kira," said George. "She is still alive out there somewhere, being held by this psychopath."

"This seems to be a person who sees little value in life," said Jack. "I'm going to have the river dragged...."

"Again?" yelled George. "Stop wasting time! She is alive! Send Luke out. Let him question every last man in this town. He'll find the killer, he'll find Kira."

"We can't just pull every person in for questioning," argued Jack. "They have rights, including the right to not talk to the police. And Luke is just one man. He has no more power than I do."

"Screw their rights," said George. "Mum, Dad, come on. We have to take this into our own hands." George turned around and stormed out of Jack's office, Molly and Arthur following.

As Jack got up to follow them out, he heard what sounded like gunfire in the hall. He drew his own gun, wondering if some nut had decided to shoot up the police station. But by the time he made it into the hall, it was empty. The Weasleys had just...vanished.

George and his parents arrived back at the Burrow and quickly apprised Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Merkel about Madelaine's body having been found.

"All right," said Harry. "The only anomaly here is that we know he hasn't killed Kira. That begs us to ask why, right?"

"Yes, why would anyone kidnap Kira?" asked Ginny. "Maybe it's some person who can't have a baby and they saw her, so obviously pregnant, on the street and decided to kidnap her so they can steal the baby?"

"That would be a crime of opportunity," said Merkel. "This was planned. Her father was killed and her mother framed. For what purpose? To bring Kira back to Ottery St. Catchpole. It seems obvious that we can assume that. We're assuming she was taken by force. But, what if she knew the kidnapper? What if she went off with him willingly?"

"But she told me that she was more or less a social reject here in town because of her father's bad reputation. She really didn't have any friends growing up," said George. "Just me and Fred, really."

"Well, we can't just keep going from building to building looking for her. Ottery St. Catchpole may be a small town, but it still has over twelve thousand residents. We need to find a way to narrow it down," said Merkel.

"I remember talking to her about school at the flat once," said Hermione. "She told me that she had wanted to go on to college, but her father wouldn't allow it. He wanted her to work in the shop. This is just a wild guess, but maybe it's a teacher? What if one of her teachers was obsessed with her or something? I mean, she is really pretty. And let's be honest here. She was, at least when she first came here, kind of passive, not willing to stand up for herself. Look how easily she let Percy run her off. Some men, well, they really like that in a girl, you know? It makes them feel powerful."

"But then, why kidnap and kill Madelaine?" asked Molly.

"Maybe he did it to punish Kira for something? Disobedience? Who knows how this psycho's mind works?" said Harry.

"All right then," said Ron. "We'll start with the teachers at the school. First we have to find out who they are though."

"We'll start with the high school teachers," said Hermione. "I'll go to the library and get their names from the yearbooks. The library probably has them. If not, Harry can get their names by getting into the school using his Invisibility Cloak. We'll only need the male teachers. Then, we get them in their homes at night and question them, under Veritaserum, of course. Mrs. Weasley, would you be willing to help me make a nice large cauldron full of it?"

"At this point, I'd help you come up with a hundred new Unforgivable Curses, Hermione," said Molly.

"Just remember to Obliviate them after they've answered your questions," said Arthur. "I hope the Ministry won't get their knickers in a twist over this."

"Kingsley has told me that we can do anything we need to do to find her," said Harry. "I'll send an owl off to Sam Jorkins. He took a couple days off to spend up in Hogsmeade with Verity."

"All right then," said George. "Tomorrow we start narrowing down the suspects."

Ron placed his hand on George's shoulder. "Are you all right, George?" he asked. "If Hermione is right, then this guy, he..."

"He's a sexual pervert," said George. "I've already realized that, Ron. I just hope that her pregnancy might serve as some barrier to his sick fantasies."

* * * * *

The next night, Harry and George walked down the street until they found the address on the list. So far, they'd entered the homes of the headmaster, the choral instructor, and the football coach. They'd entered invisibly and stunned the Muggles inside. Then, they'd drugged the faculty members with the small vials of Veritaserum that Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had brewed.

So far, they had only heard the headmaster say that Kira had been a wonderful student and lament the fact that her father had put the brakes on her attending college. The choral master had remembered Kira as a quiet girl who had not participated in any music classes. He doubted he'd said ten words to her during her years in the school. The football coach, however, had smiled lecherously at the mention of Kira's name and began to drool as he'd related, in great detail, his admiration of her figure as he'd watched her run around the gymnasium each week. Harry had had to restrain George from Cruciatussing him into the next century. They did make sure to search his home rather more thoroughly than they had the others.

"It's nearly dawn," said Harry. "This'll have to be our last go for the night. Maybe Ron and Hermione had better luck with the math teachers or Merkel and Sam found a mad science teacher."

George nodded, but stared at the house of the lecherous football coach. "You don't think any of our teachers ever thought about any Hogwarts students that way, do ya'?" he asked.

"Well, you know, I always did suspect McGonagall was hot for Ron," said Harry dryly.

"Hope Hermione doesn't suspect," said George, with mock seriousness. "It wouldn't be pretty."

Harry laughed, grateful that, for a moment, he'd had a glimpse of the old George.

"Ah, a moment of levity. We haven't had that in a while, have we?" George asked wryly.

"We will again," said Harry. "And Kira will be there to laugh with us. So, are you ready to question the school janitor?"

"Yeah," said George. "Let's get this over with."