Chapter 23: The Lead

Detective McCree sipped his coffee and stared blankly at the letter open on his desk. After three weeks of separation, Cynthia had decided the marriage was over and that the next logical step was a divorce. She didn't want the house she wrote, just her personal belongings and an agreeable settlement. An agreeable settlement? McCree pondered. Whatever that means. He guzzled down the rest of his coffee and let out an acidic belch.

Thomas didn't tell his parents how serious things had become. They knew about the separation; it would be too difficult to keep from them even if he wanted to. Last Sunday at dinner, he avoided all questions about when there would be a reconciliation. His mom assured him that she would come around.

"Just give her some time and space," his sister suggested.

Thomas's father didn't have much to say on the subject. He just shook his head and patted Thomas on the back. His way of showing his son support.

McCree's name was called three times before he was woken from his daze.

"Detective McCree? Hello? Detective? Hey McCree, are you hearing me?"

"Uh, yeah, yes. Sorry. What is it, Sergeant?"

"There's a Tino Orlando downstairs asking to see you. Can I tell him to come up?

The name didn't initially register with McCree.

"Tino? The missing girl's brother?" he said with uncertainty.

"That's the one. Yes," the Sergeant confirmed. "Can I send him up?"

"Okay, sure. Did he say why he is here?" McCree asked.

"Only that he said he has something urgent to show you."

McCree nodded and gestured his approval. Then he got up from his desk to greet Tino at the top of the stairs.

Tino sprinted up the stairs two at a time and immediately handed Detective McCree the note he found.

"Detective, hello. This was left in our mailbox last night." Tino gasped.

McCree read the note and held out his arm signaling for Tino to make his way over to his desk.

Tino continued, "I didn't show my mom or anyone. I ran right outside the minute I saw it placed in the mailbox."

"Slow down Tino. What did you see exactly?"

McCree located a pen and pad and nodded his head for Tino to begin.

"Last night, about 8:30, I was watching t.v. My mom was working, and I was alone in the living room. I don't remember why, but I got up and looked out the front window. Our mailbox is at the end of the driveway, it's a pretty good distance from the house. I saw a girl walk up to the mailbox and put something inside. I didn't think that much about it at first. I figured she was going around putting flyers or something in everyone's mailbox, people do that sometimes to promote a business or give coupons."

McCree nodded and continued writing.

"But what was weird is that she only put a piece of paper in our mailbox. After she closed the door to the mailbox, she walked away and cut through the neighbor's yard across the street. So, I went outside to see what was left and that's what I found." Tino pointed at the note opened on McCree's desk.

McCree stopped writing and read the note for a second time.

"Did you happen to recognize the girl?"

"I think so. I think it was Stacey's friend Debbie. But I am not positive. She was wearing a sweater with the hood up."

McCree wrote down Tino's statement. He remembered Debbie from the list he was given weeks earlier. Detective Tremount interviewed her and the other girls, while he talked with the boys.

"Okay. Anything else?" McCree asked.

"Yes. She knows something. Debbie, she must know something."

"Like what exactly?" McCree was curious to know what Tino was thinking.

"Like she is either helping my sister stay hidden or she knows where she is, or both" Tino claimed.

"And what makes you so sure she is helping Stacey?"

"Because she covered for her before. They all did."

"I see. Well, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I can't tell you how important it is that you came to me immediately."

"Are you going to call her in?" Tino asked.

"Leave this to me. And Tino, please do not contact this young lady personally, okay?"

"Okay. I understand. Please, please Detective if you learn anything about my sister, you have to tell me. I am doing everything I can to help my mother. I didn't show her the note because I didn't want to give her hope unless I know for sure Stacey is okay."

"You are a very mature kid. Excuse me, I mean young man, Tino. I promise you I will follow this lead. And if this note turns up information about Stacey, I will let you and your family know as soon as I am able."

McCree shook Tino's hand and walked him to the stairs. He knew Tino was the man of the house and admired how he was protecting his mother. However, he was still a teenager, and teenagers often did stupid things.

McCree thought one more confirmation was necessary.

"Tino? I have your word you won't tell anyone about the note, right?"

"Not a word. I swear. I wouldn't want to screw up the investigation," Tino assured him.

McCree watched Tino head down the stairs before returning to his desk.

A stack of folders were piled together haphazardly on the floor next to McCree's rolling chair. He placed the stack on his desk and thumbed through them and removed the one labeled, Orlando Missing. The detective opened the folder and took out the list of seven names.

Deborah LaCata. What can you tell me? McCree contemplated.

The detective looked at his watch, 9:28 am. Last time he met her at the school. This time he thought a station visit would be better suited. It was Saturday, chances are that she would be at home, maybe even still sleeping. He called Deborah's home.

"Hello?" A man answered cheerfully.

"Hello. Good morning, Mr. LaCata?"

"Yes. This is him. How may I help you?"

McCree cleared his throat. "This is Detective Thomas McCree with the Mohegan Lake PD. I am interested in speaking with your daughter Deborah again."

"Again? I see. What is this..."

"I spoke, my partner and I spoke that is, with Deborah and her friends soon after their friend Stacey Orlando went missing. I have some additional questions for her. And I would like her to come to the station today to talk."

"Debbie has been fighting the flu most of the week. She's been out of school the last few days actually. I will need to see if she is up to leaving the house."

Her father sounded guarded, which McCree expected. He had dealt with parents of teens before, and it was always the same.

"Of course, I understand. I'm sorry she isn't feeling well. It won't be a long conversation. I really think she could be helpful. And I am sure she would want to help her friend if she could."

"I am sure she would. What time did you want her there?"

"Let's say 2:00. Does that seem reasonable?"

"It does," Mr. LaCata said slowly.

Both men said their respectful good-byes and hung up. However, what neither knew was that they weren't the only ones on the call.