Part Three: Chapter Seven: Kidnap and Kill

As soon as he watched the girl’s back disappear down the hallway, he turned and strode down the hallway the other direction, back to his office. He knew that it was kind of old-fashioned, but they still had tapes that we used for evidence - a lot of his coworkers didn’t understand the more modern technology.

Luckily, though, they had a catalog of all the tapes online. They even had security-camera tapes from some of the main stores in the area, like the big K-mart on Main Street, and the Target just down the road.

Sherwood remembered seeing a boy that seemed to fit Nicole’s description in a tape he had watched a few days ago. He hadn’t had time to finish the tape, though. It took him a while, but eventually he found it under all the piles of papers around his office. He pushed it into the VHS player, and an image appeared on the screen.
He didn’t know why, but somehow he just knew that the boy in the video was Ashton Johnson. He didn’t recognize his companion until a few minutes in, though. Ashton Johnson and his older companion turned around to look at something, and the companion faced the camera. Sherwood froze, staring at the screen.
“Damion Corey,” he hissed.
Sherwood knew that Corey had had a hand in Lia’s death. If Corey and Johnson were cohorts, did Johnson have a hand in the girl’s death, too?
He strode over to his computer and sat down in the navy blue office chair. He knew he had access to sources most people didn’t, as chief of police, and decided to put those sources to use. A quick search in birth records on “Ashton Johnson” yielded not a single name, nor did any variation. A search for “Damion Corey” yielded only one result, a black man living in Colorado.
“Okay,” Sherwood said to himself, “so neither of them exist, according to the government.” He sighed and looked around. For the first time in his life, Bruce Sherwood didn’t know what to do. “I can’t tell Nicole,” he said decisively. “At least, not until I find out more.”
He picked up his phone and punched in a few numbers. “Tia, it’s me. C’mere. I’ve got a job for you.” He laid the phone back on its hook and put his head in his hands.
Moments later, a small Hispanic woman pushed open his office door. “Hey,” she said, looking worriedly at Sherwood. “What’s wrong?”
He stood up. “This,” he said tiredly. “This is what’s wrong.” He pressed the “play” button. He and Tia watched the teenager and the older man acting completely normally.
“What’s wrong with that...?” Tia asked curiously.
“You know my case, with the girl Lia, and how her best friend Nicole’s been visiting me occasionally?” Tia nodded. “That man is the man that killed Lia. That boy is Nicole’s boyfriend.”
Tia stared at him, a confused look upon her face. “So Nicole’s boyfriend’s consort killed her best friend?”
“Yep.” He paused. “Tia, you know the records better than anyone else. Would you see what other tapes of these two you can find, and label them ‘Ashton Johnson’ and ‘Damion Corey?’ And bring them to me?”
“Sure, no problem.”

* * *

He heard a knock on the heavy wood door.
“Come in,” Sherwood’s voice came through the wood.
The girl pushed open the door and walked in.
“Nicole!” Sherwood said, surprise in his voice. “Why’re you here?” Nicole shrugged.
“I wanted to see if you had any more information.” As she moved papers off a chair so that she could sit down, her eyes caught on something in the pile. She froze stock still.
“What’s wrong?” the man asked.
She pulled the tape out of the stack. “Damion Corey?”
“I thought I had put all those away... I must have forgotten about that one. I don’t remember seeing that one before,” he mumbled, obviously hiding something. Nicole glared at him, and strode over to the tape player. She shoved the tape in, and sat down as an image appeared on the screen. It flickered, static appearing on the screen, until it focused on the inside of a store.
A man and a boy approached the camera’s location. As soon as they were in focus, the girl’s eyes widened and her breath caught. She stood up and whirled around to face Sherwood. She glared at him with my narrowed ice-blue eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Nicole hissed furiously.
Sherwood didn’t react, though internally he sighed, resigned. “Watch.” He grabbed the remote and turned the volume way up. Obviously fighting hard to keep from losing control, Nicole turned around to watch again. The boy, Ashton - her Ashton, - had stopped the man, Corey, and was gripping his shoulders intensely. Nicole hadn’t lied about his eyes - even on the screen his eyes glowed. The sound quality was pretty bad, but Sherwood and Nicole were able to make out six words:
“Kidnap the instructor. Kill the girl.”