Gone After the Wind

Chapter 27: Tyrone Sykes

The Constantia Road where the accident took place was strangely miles from the place where Florence Sykes departed and was last seen. It wasn't as remote and empty as the highway leading up to Redvine. But there were parts on its stretch that was evasive from attention and could very well hide a forged accident. Unpredictable corners and complicated intersections were the leading cause of its bad reputation for drivers and citizens, well-experienced or not.

Consulting the map, she wasn't supposed to be marveling at that highway. Her supposed destination that night was on the south end of Rosegold, ten blocks away from the supermarket and ridiculously far from where the car had been found. Not only was overly suspicious and shocking, but also beneficial to the assumption that she was perhaps abducted in an unmethodical manner. There was some struggle, for sure. Something had forced her to change her course. Something that could have been her survival ticket if the culprit wasn't more clever.

They arrived at the scene faster than intended, after taking several shortcuts and applying a speed barely unacceptable. Three marked police cars were on the side of the highway, and lights and sirens were hushed down, as troopers started to work on the premises and caged up the scene from possible onlookers.

As Cara climbed out of the car, the first thing that captured her attention was the white car slumped on the thick body of a massive tree. The front was smashed as its entire back was compressed like a useless metal, limped and the whole appearance was unrecognizable at a visual examination.

"Judging from its eerie position and the amount of collision, the 'accident' wasn't caused by reckless driving or some hindrance on the way," Agent Rose said, voicing out her immediate reaction. "It was premeditated."

Premeditated is an understatement. A case of deception and trampled hope was the right way to call it.

She took a deep breath, her eyes wandering around the secluded road. A set of red pine stood at the side, sheltering the whole road from the sun and letting the travelers taste its cool air. It looks refreshing during the day but at night, it would be definitely terrifying.

They approached the car and the conversation between the old man and Eric instantly become audible. Just as what was reported, the old man wearing a cap with a vest was the one who found the car and was summoned today to recount the moment he discovered it. He was a truck driver and according to his narration, he was driving by this road to deliver cargo when he stumbled upon the sight of a smashed car. He said it was still smoking when he passed it so he thought the owner might be still there. To his surprise, the seat was empty, only the belongings of the owner were present.

"I didn't call the police right away because I thought the owner was already rescued and it was a crime scene of some sort," the old man continued. "But I fought that back. When I got home, I notified the police of what I found. They promised they'd look into it. I never got any news, though."

"Did you notice anything peculiar when you arrived?" Eric asked, glancing sideways at Cara and Agent Rose.

"Other than that massive dent, no, I can't recall anything that stood out to me," the old man said, rubbing his stubble chin. "But on the ground, I saw a hammer. A steel hammer. I can't describe how it looked like but I'm sure it was there when I left."

Agent Rose looked at Eric. "Where was it now?"

Eric shook his head, disconnecting from their conversation for a while. "Still in there, I presume. The local police didn't respond to the call that was brought to them. It's either they think it was a waste of time or they forgot about it. They left the car here like an open book. So whatever this gentleman found on the night is still there."

"Can we see it now?" Cara asked as she put on her gloves.

"Sure, I'll join you in a bit."

Cara and Agent Rose then separated to inspect either side of the car. The left was her responsibility and right then, she noticed the huge dent in the driver's seat, extending through the back. It was so defined that only a fool would disregard it as secondary damage.

The door on the driver's space was popped open, and the windows were shattered, the tidbits of glass were omnipresent inside. As Cara peeked inside, she realized how the old man's description nailed accuracy.

Florence Sykes' belongings were still indeed there, untouched and covered with rubbles. Stacks of books scattered on the floor, a Gucci bag that was tilted on the front seat, revealing its contents such as her lipstick, wallet, and other necessities of a woman. Beneath the pedals, a squared object caught Cara's eye. It was the victim's cellphone; its screen was broken.

Cara fished out a plastic bag and with cautiousness, bent over to pick it up, gripping the wheel for support. As soon as she got hold of it, she pushed the middle button to revive it. To her surprise, it opened and no password was even required to navigate it.

"Detective, look at this," Agent Rose said from her back.

Cara wheeled around and she found the agent coming close by, carrying a bloody metal hammer. Though the blood had dried up, the color appearing less than vibrant red, it was undoubtedly obvious.

"Should be the object that was used to knock her out," Agent Rose said, signaling for an officer to collect the evidence. "Why, though? Why is there still a need to repel her consciousness after that?"

"For assurance, maybe. Anyway, I just found the victim's cellphone. It looks dysfunctional but the chances of retrieving any information is not yet gone."

Agent Rose gave up the hammer to the officer and joined her, peeking through over her shoulder as she made another attempt to open it again. It went on, and Cara checked the latest activity that the victim performed in her last moments. Two apps appeared. One for navigation, and the other for placing a call.

"She was using GPS?" Agent Rose wondered. "That's strange, isn't it? For a woman who lived in the heart of the city for years, that would be ridiculous."

Cara remained silent and still while exploring the cellphone, particularly on the navigation app that had snatched her focus away. She traced the last location Florence Sykes had input, and surprisingly, it was her address. She blinked, exiting the page and looking at the history again. But with every try, the results came out just the same.

Still her address.

She fell back inside the faculty of her mind for a minute. She explored her thoughts, about the possible reason that forced a woman in distress to use this kind of app and typed in her address. Tapping the phone, she looked up at the car, ignoring Agent Rose's curious look.

Then it her.

Eyes widening, whole body freezing swiftly as one distinct thought passed through like a meteor, she zoomed out the map on the app and pointed to the highlighted locations that could still lead up to her address. One was this highway. "No, she didn't use it because she needed the assistance to make it home. The unsub didn't also lead her to be here. Her trip changed intentionally because she thought it was the right action to do so. To outsmart someone. Should I say, her stalker? She knew she was being followed. So at the risk of misleading the mysterious man, she strayed from her direct course, possibly hoping that the man would stop if he get tired. He didn't, though. Or that's what she thought. "

"Realizing Florence had sensed his presence, the culprit improvised. Came up with a plan to stop her from escaping by running into her, thus we know now as an accident..." Agent Rose trailed off and Cara knew what was next.

Sensing the uncanny feeling of the misfortune that this place had witnessed, she closed her eyes, welcoming its open arms as the blurred images started to become vivid. Screeches of tires rang loudly. Bright flashing of headlights. Then a collision. "He found a way to crash into Florence just as she crossed over the intersection. She was unaware of what was going to happen. She may have thought she won. But before she knew it, she was being thrown to the tree."

"That explains that disturbing dent."

Cara swallowed hard, flicking her eyes open. Her throat felt like an oasis. "To silence her, he struck her with that."

"Maybe the last person who had a talk with her might give us some clues," Agent Rose suggested and Cara shifted her attention to the cell phone, turning to the call logs.

"There was a last name here called Davis. It wasn't her husband, I suppose," Cara said, scrolling to the other calls. "Punched under archive contacts so... probably a lover."

Before Cara could press the button to call the number, they saw Eric shuffling towards them, his excitement was oozing through his body language.

"They reviewed the CCTV footage from the parking lot at the supermarket," he said, his voice shaking. "And then they caught something from the time-lapse. A green truck followed her just after minutes she drove away. It was the same one that they had found tailing her passing the bridge."

--

"THE CAMERA may be faulty but it managed to capture the license plate of the truck. I'm not sure if the numbers were legit, though. You can see for yourselves," said Carlson—the officer who handled the retrieval of CCTV footage—as he operated the manual control of the monitors, magically transitioning the footage, delivering the pack of audience behind him to some days in the past.

Standing behind him was Cara who was like a hawk observing every move of its prey, waiting the footage to reveal the never before seen of Florence Syke's last moments with great interest, not letting any single detail escape her vision. Though staring at the monitor for longer than fifteen minutes—almost unblinking—had already stung her eyes and could even impair them, she couldn't tear away, take a break, and only resume reviewing once the interesting part comes in. The scenes were just too riveting, it was a struggle to think of anything else unrelated to the activity.

From the time Florence Sykes entered the parking lot, found a spot to rest her car, and disappeared inside the market at six in the evening up to the exact time she was done shopping and could be seen walking back in the car, they've viewed all of these parts in both speeds up and slowed version. Despite the grainy substance of the footage and black-and-white color, it was easy to detect the culprit from the least hundred people strolling around the mall that night because not once did he leave the frame and he was always within the same area as her.

Though he maintained a not-so-suspicious distance whenever Florence walked and stopped in a*****e, projecting a cliche trick employed by almost all sorts of criminals that didn't want to raise alarms on the victim. His acting was poor and surly, though. Unconvincing and yet terrifying at the same time.

"There he goes," Carlson said, pointing to the hooded figure man—wearing a black hoodie and pants—sprinting towards a pick-up truck parked two cars away from the victim's white car, as soon as Florence Sykes slammed the door of her car. When she pulled off, he didn't accelerate first. Cara's eyes narrowed when he waited for another car to get in between, before he tailed behind, disappearing from the frame as though nothing had happened.

Carlson pressed the playback button, rewinding the video, and paused it as the plate number of the car miraculously showed off. He zoomed in and the number was revealed.

"Bingo," Carlson said merrily, hitting the pause button rather dramatically and looking around him smugly.

"Take note of that," Eric said, rising up from his seat beside Carlson. "We'll send it right away back at the station and see the name of that fucker."

Carlson nodded, scribbling the number on a pad of paper, and stood up, as well, joining Eric as he placed a call to the station. Left alone with the paused video and the manuals were Agent Rose and Cara who were both silent as the two men behind them excitedly register the number. Agent Rose leaned back, crossing her arms, and glanced at Cara.

"Well, that was entertaining," Agent Rose commented. "I didn't expect we'd be having an ID that fast."

Cara didn't respond, staring blankly at the paused video, trying to make out of the doubt that took refuge in her mind so she could discard it away. It felt unjust that she couldn't share the same relief and triumph they have with the results. Knowing they had now full possession of incriminating evidence powerful enough to issue a warrant of arrest to someone, she should be singing praises. Tearful, even. Because the key to solving the nightmare has, at last, stopped running away and revealed itself. This battle will be over. And the life she had lost would be accessible again.

But, no. She couldn't. As much as she'd force herself to be enthusiastic, she knew the mask will fall off eventually. Something was bugging her. Grumbling deep in her chest she was demanding to be acknowledged. She knew she shouldn't doubt the credibility of evidence, particularly if it was beyond accurate by any means.

Ignoring the crippling anxiety in her stomach, she hastily pulled the chair and sat on it, taking control of the manuals and pressing several buttons altogether. The video played, and rewound for several minutes, back to the second the culprit first showed up inside the mall. She rewound it again and played it, eyes blinking and noting the slight indifference it bore to the first time her eyes laid on that scene. Her eyes narrowed and her heart thumped.

I knew it.

"What is it?" Agent Rose asked curiously, leaning forward.

"Something's just not right," Cara answered, feeling determined now that her doubt could be justified. Could be. She pointed to the screen. "Did you see how he emerged from nowhere? He popped behind like he knew she would be in that boutique. There was no indication that he followed her from the entrance. He was there, all the time. Maybe even before Florence Sykes decided to be there."

"And that's confusing, because of what?"

"I don't really know but... it's just a bit odd." Cara winced at the lack of reasons to defend her claim. "If we would consider his previous tactics, I don't see him tailing Florence so conspicuous and daring. Won't that be a bit suspicious, even for the victim who looked so naive? Add that to the uncertainty that his truck was green."

Agent Rose nodded, not entirely convinced nor intrigued. "What do you suggest, then?"

"That we're looking at the wrong guy," Cara admitted without hesitation. "Could be just another weirdo who was turned down or who was wronged by the victim. It's not the first time the victims dealt with such eccentric men, right?"

Agent Rose tilted her head. "I see your point. But how can you be that certain to tell we're about to doom the wrong suspect?"

"First, that sudden arrival," Cara started. "I know how our guy likes to sniff through the prospect's activities. He likes to be around them. To be included. He had been successful at hiding his identity because not once did he become too indiscreet. Remember how he stalked Sandy Hupman? He stayed outside and endured the small corners of his awful truck just to monitor her. I think he was contented with having to watch them from afar. Not follow their every move." She turned to the monitor. "The behavior of this guy... didn't suit the profile we've established. He was... edgy and clueless. Like he was trying to catch her to do something... I don't know, outrageous."

"Mm-hmm. Like a husband waiting for an affair to unfold?" Agent Rose's eyebrow shot up.

"Exactly. He was hiding but he wasn't even trying that much. He may be scared that she might recognize him in the process of tailing her but you can clearly see that he also didn't give a crap if she did. That only suggests that our victim knew this man personally. Maybe her husband, or someone with that she had bad blood before. Whatever his reason for staying in the shadows, it could have originated from personal problems. Not from the sick pleasure of hanging our victim, torturing her in the vilest way, and creating her as a marionette."

Agent Rose stared at her with a blank expression. Cara fidgeted, reconsidering the theory she laid out, frantically examining its content for an error that could be the reason for the agent's lack of reaction. Perhaps I've overassessed it. I couldn't accept it, that's why my little brain was eager to come up with—

"So the unsub wasn't in the supermarket?" Agent Rose asked, the corner of her lips lifting as a glowing smile appeared on it.

Cara blinked, taken aback. But she shrugged the awe away. "Could be. But it's too early to be certain. Besides, we haven't yet checked the cameras from the crossover bridges. Until then, these thoughts would remain as theory."

"I thought so," Agent Rose replied, her eyes glowing with fascination. "That's very impressive, Detective. You have indeed great observation."

Cara didn't what to say, unfazed by the compliments as she was.

"We got the name of the owner," Eric suddenly appeared in between, making Cara and Agent Rose shift their attention to him. "It was Tyron Sykes, the husband of the victim. He was already at the station. Hollan and his team picked him up at their residence when he admitted that he stalked the victim. He's being interrogated as we speak."

Cara and Agent Rose shared a meaningful look. Agent Rose nodded and straightened her composure. Cara withdrew a sigh, her gaze going back to the monitor. Even if she was glad that one of her theories had turned out correct, she couldn't still find a way to cheer herself or consider it an achievement. Especially when she was certain the real killer was still out there.