Page 35 of Survivor
Chapter Twenty-Six
Frank
Annoyance and confusion had Frank on guard when they walked back into the room. Thankfully, the images were no longer littering the table and were safely tucked away in the file folder, where they’d stay as long as Taylor was in the room. Taylor was in pain; he could feel it radiating off his body in waves. If only he could whisk them away, back to Martha’s Vineyard where everything was comfortable and safe, with no reminders of the past and what Taylor had lost.
“You okay, Taylor?” Caleb asked, walking over and clapping him on the back. He looked at Frank questioningly and Frank nodded, as did Taylor.
“Okay.” Davis rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go over what I’ve uncovered since I took on the case.”
It was then that Frank noticed Rory was gone. “Where’s Landers?”
“I thought it best that he sit this one out. He’ll still be shadowing you, but from the sidelines as he should have from the start,” Davis told them. He turned to look at Frank, his expression severe. “I can file a formal complaint if you like, Officer Moore.”
“No, no, I’d rather just move on and let it go. I don’t think he’s a bad guy or that he entered into any kind of a relationship with me with malicious intent.” And he truly didn’t. Seeing the look on Rory’s face when he and Taylor held hands, comforting one another, was almost as shocking as learning every damn thing else he’d told Frank was a lie. Rory would have to live with the consequences of his actions and that was punishment enough as far as Frank was concerned.
Davis considered that for a moment before agreeing with him, motioning for them to take a seat at the table. There were several boxes Frank hadn’t noticed when they’d first returned from the bathroom sitting on the far end of the table. “These are the files from the homicide detective that worked the original case for two years. As soon as I was approved to reopen the case, I had those files pulled and did a thorough read-through along with the case notes you two gave me copies of.” He tapped the top of one of the boxes.
Lifting the lid off a different box, Davis pulled out a thick folder and walked over to where they sat and placed a piece of paper in front of each of them, a grainy black and white photo of a woman with a bundle in her arms smiling up at them. Taylor gasped, fingers hovering over the image. “Is that…”
The woman was younger, her eyes bright, but there was no mistaking it; Taylor was looking at the face of his mother. “It’s Emily and Taylor, right?” Frank asked, though he was certain he already knew the answer.
“Right you are.” Davis pulled another sheet from the file and handed it to Frank. “I went back and found the original story that ran on the news and in the papers in 1993.”
The second image was cleaner, crisper, and showed a much younger Emily, clad in a red dress, holding a baby wrapped in a light blue blanket, smiling at the camera. A man’s arm was draped around her, hand with a gold band resting on her hip, but the rest of his body was cut out of the image. Taylor read the article out loud, his voice wavering.
Bangor Daily News, February 1993–MISSING–Melissa and George Taylor, missing since December, last seen at Hannaford Supermarket on December 19th. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this young mother and her son, please call…
Taylor sniffled, looking up at the Sergeant standing beside him. “What…what is this?”
Davis pulled another piece of paper from his magic file and Frank wanted to clobber him, snatch the folder from his hands, and dump it out on the table. He refrained for the moment. Caleb began reading the names, thank fuck, because Frank couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Taylor. “Mother, Melissa Dawn Cassidy Taylor. Father, Keith Landry Taylor. But Taylor’s name is backward though, it’s Taylor George and not George Taylor.”
“No, the birth certificate is accurate. I spoke to a lovely woman at the Bangor health department that assured me the child born to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor was, in fact, named George, first name, Taylor was the last name.” Davis pointed out some notes he’d scribbled on the side of the sheet of paper.
Frank looked up at Davis, not liking the look on the man’s face. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
Davis nodded, finally taking a seat at the table and setting the folder that still held god-only-knew-what down beside him. “I ran an image from a family photo of the Langfords through facial rec and got a hit; that’s how I found the article in the Bangor newspaper. So I decided to run a check on the names Emily and Sean Langford, and found death certificates for an Emily Langford and a Sean Langford in November of 1992.”
“Jesus Christ, what the hell were Taylor’s parents mixed up in?” Caleb sighed. “And why the hell was none of this uncovered in 2005?”
Taylor winced and Frank held him tighter, turning to glare at his partner. “Dammit, Knight!”
“Shit, sorry.” Caleb held his hands in the air.
Davis cleared his throat and waited for them to give him their undivided attention. “As far as what the parents were involved in, I can’t answer that. Not yet at least. I’m confident that the woman you knew to be Emily Langford was actually Melissa Taylor; I’d bet my career on it. Once I get the fingerprints your ME took the night of the murders, I can run those to verify what I suspect is true.” Davis opened his folder of knowledge and grabbed the various sheets, placing them back inside and closing it. “As for what happened ten years ago during the investigation, again, I can’t say for certain.”
“I’m sensing there is abutthere,” Caleb prodded.
Rand sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “From what I’ve read in the original reports, the investigation simply stalled out. There wasn’t much evidence to go on, and Taylor couldn’t give any additional information about what took place in that house the night of the murders. And, if you think about it, the internet and social media weren’t utilized as an investigative tool back then the way they are now. The information I’ve found simply slipped through the cracks, for lack of a better analogy.”
“Fuck.” Taylor rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Are there any more surprises hiding in that box, Davis?”
When the man didn’t respond right away, Frank begrudgingly moved his eyes from Taylor to the Sergeant. The look of trepidation he saw didn’t bode well. “When I found the missing persons article, I searched the area and found a Peggy Cassidy. Melissa was her cousin. I’m hoping to video chat with her sometime tomorrow. If not then, one day this week. If I have to fly out to Bangor, by God, I will.”
Taylor’s body shook and Frank pulled him close, hoping to calm him with his touch. “So, I may well have a family out there; is that what you’re saying?” Taylor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
Enough was enough; his man was in pain and he was going to put an end to the rigmarole. “Cut the bullshit and formalities Rand—your gut, what is it telling you?” Frank prompted.
