Identity

            by Emily Gee

 

            “This is 911, what is your emergency?”

            “M—my daughter…she’s GONE!”

            “Miss? I need you to give me your name and address, and we’ll send someone right over.”

            “Maria Brighton, 3004 Carnegie, Cleveland Ohio.  Please hurry…oh God…please hurry!”

            “Hang in there Ms. Brighton there’s a team on their way as we speak.  I just need a few pieces of information about your daughter for the record, her name, date of birth, hair color, height and weight.”

            “Yes, of course.  Her name is Bailey, Bailey Brighton.  She was born Dec.7^th 1988 so she’s six years old, she has dyed pink hair.  Is there anything else you need?” 

            “No miss that should be all for now police should arrive shortly.  I wish you the best of luck.”

···

            The Robinsons lived high up in the hills of Berkeley, CA.  Tucked away between tall trees, windy roads, and fog was how they liked to live now.  Privacy was the key to a sturdy and safe home according to Mrs. Robinson, who’d only given one reason for moving from their nice house in the Elmwood on College Avenue.  “It’s just not the right place to raise a child.  Our daughter needs a healthy and safe growing environment.  The hills are calmer, quieter, and more appealing for us…as parents.”

 

            Their daughter Kyra Robinson was eight years old with short brown hair and pierced ears.  Because of her parents being over protective, they’d hired a private tutor to come to their house everyday and give Kyra schooling.  She wasn’t allowed out of the house by herself ever, had no friends her own age, and rarely found her parents friends of interest.  She looked forward to her once a week outing with her parents.  Every Sunday night at 10:00 pm, they drove to downtown Berkeley and parked on a side street near the Bart station.  They walked along Shattuck, Mrs. Robinson holding Kyra’s right and Mr. Robinson holding her left, as if a security escort. 

 It had been like this every Sunday night for the past two years.  Down at the tracks they met two of her parent’s business partners.  They were a nice couple and always had funny stories to tell Kyra about her parents when they were younger.  Kyra had once asked her parents why they always had to meet in a BART station and no at their own home.  The only answer given had been that this place was safe and private.  It was a very secret business her parents were involved with.  During her parents business meeting she liked to look at the different train maps, schedules, and tunnels.  However, for one reason or another she had a more ambitious agenda in her mind than just admiring the colors of the map and the detailed architecture of the solid cement tunnels.  She was studying, memorizing, remembering, carefully observing, carefully noting every color, every direction, every connection that went through this station.  She had a knack for memorization, visual memorization.  She’d discovered with her tutor that with about 15 minutes of concentrated visual studying on vocabulary words, she could describe every word no problem.  It was much the same way with the train map, though slightly more difficult due to the fact of multiple station names, colors, and different directions to keep track of.  Never the less she’d succeeded in creating an exact replica of half the map by now.  Every Sunday night after leaving the station she’d go home and piece together the new information she’d extracted continuing her red and green lines according to her memory. 

            Private detective Rob Etta had been working on this case for a year now.  The case had brought him all the way to Berkeley, CA where he was tracking a young girl who’d been kidnapped in Ohio.  A few months earlier, he’d figured out this key fact after looking at security tapes from airports in Ohio and without a moments hesitation had informed Maria Brighton, the woman who hired him, and jumped on a plane.  However, he’d lost track of the trio after following them here and had just learned of a new lead a week ago from Berkeley BART police who’d been told to keep a look out for “suspicious couples with a young girl.”  They’d informed him of a couple and their young girl who came to the station every Sunday night and met the same two people near the tracks.  The police were already looking into the case for suspected drug dealing, but had been told to hold on busting them until Mr. Etta checked the trio out.  He’d made the choice to go undercover as a homeless man in the BART station and spend time watching them to figure out if it was young Bailey Brighton. 

            He’d known it was her from the moment the trio walked into the station on that first Sunday night.  He’d seen right through the disguise attempts of pierced ears and brown hair.  He’d kept the photo that Ms. Brighton had given him of Bailey and checked to make sure it was her.  There was something puzzling about seeing the three of them together though.  If he hadn’t known it was Bailey, he’d of thought the three were actually a family.  The “mom” smiling adoringly at “her” daughter, and the daughter willingly holding her mother and father’s hands.  In fact, he thought the three looked very happy together, and had to remind himself every week that it had to be an act.  Every Sunday the three came in and met two others near the tracks.  After the four adults had discussed privately for about twenty minutes leaving Bailey off to herself, they would call her over and give her a present.  Always a small package wrapped in what looked to Etta like old Christmas wrap, she would return the offering by giving them a sealed envelope.   This is what the police believed to be the suspicious drug hand off. 

            Over the past week, Etta had been developing an extraction plan.  He couldn’t have the police just barge into the station and expect to come out with Bailey alive.  He was pretty sure one or both of the couples carried a gun and wasn’t sure how trigger-happy they’d be under pressure.  Everything had been tactfully planned out to the last second to make sure Bailey came out safe. 

            The detective was stationed as usual off to the side of the gate with a perfect view of people getting off the escalator, as well as the far end of the tracks and platform.  At exactly 10:10 the trio entered the station, slid their tickets through and continued down to the tracks.  Etta sat, calm and in character on the outside, yet with the quick sharp mind of a cheetah watching it’s prey and his heart beating fast on the inside. He’d wished there’d been some way of notifying Bailey, or Kyra as he heard the couple calling her of the extraction plan, but any attempt could have compromised the mission.  Taking a deep breath he looked at his clock again, it read 10:30 pm.  By now the police would have detained the two present givers.  This left him and the two police stationed under cover on the platform to do their job.  At 10:3 the detective made his way sneaky as a cat down the stairs and on to the platform where he had a good view of Bailey’s kidnappers who were quietly discussing the absence of their acquaintances.  Bailey as usual was off to the side of them studying the map, a safe distance away.  Suddenly the whole station went black.   Detective Etta, following the glow and dark tape along the platform rushed forward to find Bailey.  He could hear the other two cops rushing towards the couple.  He found Bailey, and despite her screams and confusion picked her up and ran her back up the stairs.  The lights flashed on, it was 10:42.  Mission completed.

            Back at the police station Bailey sat in a chair shaking and crying uncontrollably.  No matter how much anyone tried to comfort her, or make her understand that she’d be going back to her real parents, she was dreadfully upset.  “I want my mommy!  What’d you do to her?!”  her screams rang through the police station.  Meanwhile the Robinsons were awaiting DNA results that Detective Etta had mandated to prove, despite the cries of both Bailey and the Robinsons that she was not their child. 

            “Oh my Lord!” a voice broke through the police station.  Ms. Brighton stood in the door way of the police station.  “Bailey? Darling? Is that you baby?”  Bailey looked at the woman.  She looked vaguely familiar, and this scared Bailey.  Her mind flashed back to a time she’d tried to forget.  She heard screams, her screams, her four year old voice terrified, her hands grabbing for something to hold onto as she was swept away.  She got up out of the chair and started backing away cautiously until she ran into the detective, tears still rolling down her face.  Ms. Brighton reached out and pulled Bailey in close.  “Detective, may we go?  I’d just like to be with my daughter, she’s had quite a rough day.”  She sounded rushed, slightly nervous. 

            “We just need clearance from the lab that Bailey’s DNA doesn’t match her kidnappers Ms. Brighton then you are free to go.”  He smiled at her, but she wasn’t smiling back.        The girl had stopped struggling away from Ms. Brighton’s tough grip and stood, her face white with fear. 

            “Well…um…while we wait Mr. Etta do you think you could get Bailey a cup of water?”

            “Oh, yes of course.”  He turned to grab a cup and heard a scream.  He turned around but they were out the door.  Before he could realize what happened a hand caught touched him on his shoulder.  It was the lab info.

            “Sir there’s something you should know.  The girl’s DNA, it matches the couple’s in custody.  Sir…the Robinson’s… she really is their daughter.”