Justice for Lindsey-Chapter 4

The following week, business was strong. Carron was so busy planning the fall promotions for the store that she had not given any thought to the recent break-in.  However, all of that changed with a single phone call she received from a Sergeant Ferguson.  It came at ten a.m. on Friday morning.  Carron would never forget that call.

          She was in her office going over some preliminary sketches with a client for an order. Carron had just finished confirming the order, and the client had barely left, when the office phone rang.

• 

• 

          “The Silver Turtle; this is Carron Maitland.  How may I help you?” she asked.

          “Miss Maitland, this is Sergeant Ferguson down at the precinct. I have some good news and bad news.  I believe that early last week you had a break-in at your store.  Is that correct?”

          “Yes, it is, Sergeant.” Carron said.

          “The good news is we caught the perpetrator.  His fingerprints were on file and there was actually a warrant out for his arrest,” Sergeant Ferguson said.

          “That’s great news,” said Carron.  “However, if that is the good news, what is the bad news?” she asked.

           “I understand the police took all of your employees’ fingerprints and your fingerprints as well.  Is that correct?”

          “Why, yes, it is Sergeant,” she said. “Is there a problem?”

          “I’m not sure,” he told her. “There might be some kind of mix-up or problem with your prints.  Could you come down to the precinct sometime this afternoon?  I really don’t want to get into it over the phone.”

          “Of course.  I can be there around two o’clock,” Carron told him.

          “That will be fine, Miss Maitland.  I’ll see you then.”

          For the rest of the day, Carron was on pins and needles wondering what the problem was with her fingerprints.  She knew she had not committed any crimes.  Maybe someone had stolen her identity.  Perhaps the prints were smudged and they hadn’t been able to get a good reading on them.  She wanted to confide in someone her concerns, but decided against it.  It was probably just some clerical error, so she finally took a wait-and-see attitude.

          Carron entered the precinct at exactly two o’clock.  She found Sergeant Ferguson on duty at the desk. “Sergeant Ferguson, I’m Carron Maitland.  I have an appointment to see you about my fingerprints.”

          “Yes, I’m glad you could come in,” he told her.  “If you will follow me, Lieutenant Cooper will be handling your case.”

          “My case?  I thought there was just a problem with my prints,” Carron said.

          Sergeant Ferguson gave her a quick answer.  “As I said, Lieutenant Cooper will be taking care of it.  His office is in the back so, if you will just follow me, he can answer all of your questions.”

          Carron reluctantly followed the sergeant. This fingerprint business was becoming more complicated by the minute.

          They stopped in front of an office that had Lieutenant Ronny Cooper printed on the door. Since the door was ajar, she tapped on it and went in.  Carron judged the lieutenant to be in his late forties.  The gray was starting to be quite pronounced at his temples and he was carrying a few extra pounds around his middle.  As she entered, he stood up.  He was a tall man and dwarfed her five foot frame.

          “Excuse me, I am Carron Maitland and was told I was to see you,”  Carron said.

          “Miss Maitland, I am Lieutenant Cooper.  Won’t you please sit down?” he said as he motioned to a chair facing his desk.

          Carron took a seat in one of the well-worn-leather chairs the lieutenant had pointed to.  At this point she was not sure what to say so waited for the lieutenant to begin.

          “As I understand it, Miss Maitland, you had a break in at your store last week and your fingerprints were taken.  Is that correct?” he asked.

          “Yes, it is,” she said. “The officer in charge took all of the store employees’ prints, including mine.  It took him quite a while to do this.”

          “I see,” the lieutenant said without looking up.  “I took the liberty to check into your background.  You are the sole owner of the store.  Is that also correct?”

          “Yes, it is Lieutenant; however, before you ask any more questions, could you tell me what this is all about?” Carron asked.  “I was under the impression there was a problem with my fingerprints.  That’s why I’m here; to find out what the problem is.”

          The lieutenant looked directly at her and said, “I don’t know any other way to ask you this but to get directly to the point.  Have you ever lived anywhere besides Chicago?”

          “I was born in England and lived there with my parents until I was ten.  At that time, we moved to Chicago on a permanent basis.  My grandfather had just passed away and my father was in charge of running Maitland Industries.  I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with my fingerprints,”  Carron said.

          Carron’s heart was racing as she listened to him explain.

          “You may not know this, but when your prints were checked they were not only checked against known prints in Illinois but were also checked against prints the FBI has.  There was no problem with the state report but the FBI report is another matter.”

          “What do you mean by ‘another matter’?”  she asked, trying to keep the concern she felt out of her voice.

          “It seems your prints are a possible match to prints the FBI has on record,” he said.

          “That’s impossible!”  Carron said with indignation.   “I have never had my fingerprints taken before.”

          “Maybe so, Miss Maitland,” he said, “but the prints you had taken last week  are a possible match to those of a three-year old little girl from Michigan.  She went missing and was presumed dead twenty-five years ago.”

          Carron could not believe what she was hearing.  She was certain all color must have drained from her face.  She tried to remain calm as she faced the lieutenant and spoke in a well-controlled voice.

          “You’re kidding right?  That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.  I can assure you, Lieutenant, I am not that little girl.  I have seen my birth certificate; I used it to get a passport.   As I said, I was born in England on September 16^th almost thirty years ago.  I clearly remember living in England, going to school there, visiting my grandparents in Chicago, why I even remember my fourth birthday.  We had come to Chicago to celebrate it with my grandparents.  Surely, the FBI has made some type of mistake,” she said.

          “To tell you the truth, Miss Maitland, I too am skeptical of the FBI report,” the lieutenant told her.  “That is why we are going to redo your fingerprints and resubmit them.  I am sure it is some type of clerical error.  As you said, the officer was a bit overwhelmed that day.  If you will come with me, I will personally take your prints.”

          Carron followed Lieutenant Cooper to an outer room where he did redo her prints.  As before, her prints were taken digitally.  The lieutenant was very careful to make sure each finger had a very clear print.   As she was leaving, he apologized for any inconvenience the first report had caused.

          “That’s alright Lieutenant,” Carron assured him.  “I know mistakes are made.  I hope when I hear from you again it will be for good news.  Thank you again for redoing the fingerprints.  I hope the FBI did not contact the family of that little girl.  It would be terrible if they thought she had resurfaced after twenty-five years.”

          Carron left the precinct feeling relieved and much better than when she had entered.  The lieutenant had not made a big deal of the mix-up so she wrote it off as just another interesting event in her life.

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          By the time Carron left the precinct, it was four o’clock.  When she got home one of the voice-messages she had missed was from her Aunt Bethany.  Carron quickly pulled up Berwick’s number on her cell and was happy her aunt was the one to answer the phone.

          “This is Bethany Maitland.  How may I help you?”

          “Aunt Bethany, it’s Carron.  I see that you wanted me to call.  Is anything wrong?”

          “The only thing wrong is that we haven’t seen you for over a month.  How about coming out to dinner this Sunday.  Your Uncle Mark has some wonderful T-bones he is just dying to grill.”

          “I’d really like that,” Carron said.  “What time would you like me to get there?”

          “Why don’t you come sometime before noon.  That will give us plenty of time to chat and catch up,” her aunt said.

          “I look forward to it.  I’ll see you around noon then,”  Carron said.

          After she ended the call, she realized she had agreed to meet Phillip at 6:30 for dinner.  Carron had reluctantly accepted the invitation, as she was beginning to feel Phillip was not the man for her. The problem was, she was pretty sure that Phillip thought otherwise.

          As Carron showered and dressed, she thought about her relationship with Phillip. Carron had met Phillip Stillman through a mutual acquaintance at a summer picnic two years ago.  Being a broker, and soon discovering Carron had a lot of wealth, Phillip’s first instinct had been to try and sell Carron some stock. 

• 

• 

          They had met again at another outing and this time his conservation had all centered-on Carron and what she did.  He was pleasant enough and quite good looking so, when he asked Carron to go to dinner one day, she had agreed.  Somehow, without her realizing it, they had become a couple.  Phillip’s blond hair, blue eyes and six foot tanned and toned physique complimented her petite frame.  He really was quite handsome.  However, Carron could not seem to commit to the relationship in the way Phillip would have liked.  He was an enjoyable companion but somehow, she could not bring herself to say she really loved him.   Lately, it had become more of an obligation to go out with him than something she looked forward to.  She felt she was living a lie and knew it wasn‘t fair to Phillip. 

          He had called earlier to say he couldn’t pick her up so Carron called a cab to take her to the restaurant.  She arrived right at six-thirty and Phillip was waiting out front for her.  It irritated the hell out of her when he gave her the once over.  She knew it wasn’t meant to be complimentary.  He was assessing her look to see how many compliments it would bring him.  It was always this way when they went anywhere together. Knowing this, she had taken special care with her look tonight.  She was wearing a very nice navy blue cocktail dress with an intricate lace yoke and wore matching navy blue pumps. She had chosen the sterling silver handmade necklace and earrings she had purchased from a buyer online. She knew Phillip would approve of the look.

          When they entered the restaurant, the Maître d told them their table was ready.  Tonight, Carron let Phillip order for her. Throughout dinner,  conversation was light, so over dessert Carron recounted the story of her fingerprint fiasco. Carron tried to make light of the situation but Phillip thought Carron should be a little more concerned.

          “Oh, Phillip, lighten up,” she told him.  “I’ve never had my fingerprints taken before.  You know it was probably just a clerical mistake.  It has been taken care of.  Don’t be so serious.” 

          Carron and Phillip stayed for another half hour having coffee.  It was well after ten o’clock when they left the restaurant.  Talk was sparse on the ride to Carron’s condo.  When they arrived, she was fortunate Phillip had an early morning conference call with an oversees client, so excused himself from staying past the obligatory kiss at the door.  For that, Carron was very thankful.  She was tired and looking forward to jumping into bed as soon as she could.

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          It was four in the morning when Carron woke with a start.  She sat straight up in bed.  She had been awakened by her own voice calling out for her mother.  Carron couldn’t believe it.  She hadn’t had that dream since she was a child. The dream was always the same.  She was a little girl.  She and Uncle Elliot had just come in the front door of the mansion.  She heard her mother scream and turned to see her falling down the stairs.  She would cry out “Mommy, Mommy” and then wake up.  Her mother would be by her side within minutes to assure her it was just a bad dream.  Carron would always say how real it was and her mother would always say, “But Carron, I’m right here and I’m fine, so you see, it has to be a bad dream.”  Her mother would stay with her until she fell back into a peaceful sleep.  But now, her mother was gone and there was no one to sit with her. 

          Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, Carron got up, put a pot of coffee on to perk and decided to take a look at the final sketches she had made for the angel she was making for Sarah’s parents.  She could at least get some work done on her design. Soon, she was immersed in her drawings and the dream was forgotten.