I ever tell you about that homemade wine he used to make down in the cellar? It’s so funny Linda, because we could always tell when he’d been in that cellar, because he’d always have a big grin on that face of his when he came into the room.”
Linda’s sister interrupts, very excited. “Linda, Linda, didn’t you say you were working on a case involving Ashley Pond?”
Linda feels her heart beating more quickly. “Is there some news?”
“Look! They’re talking about her on TV.”
A female reporter is shown speaking into a handheld microphone with the Newell Creek Apartments clearly visible in the background.
“Ashley Pond disappeared from this location exactly two months ago. And incredibly, a second teenaged girl has also disappeared from the same location under similar circumstances. Miranda Gaddis, a friend and classmate of Ashley’s, disappeared this morning from the Newell Creek Apartments on her way to the school bus stop, the exact stop Ashley was headed for when she went missing on January 9. Police sources say she may have run away, or she may have met with foul play. But as of now, they have no witnesses and no crime scene.”
As she stares up at the screen, Linda feels sadness and guilt ripple through her. Another girl missing means that the chance that Ashley will return is next to nothing. It means that she was most likely taken—it means that Linda had failed, and a little girl has paid the price. Aghast, the PI begins weeping softly while her puzzled mother tries her best to understand why her daughter’s upset. “Linda, what’s the matter with you?”
Linda lapses into a muttering monologue as she rocks her head back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks. A nearby nurse hears her and rushes in to offer comfort. “No, no, no. Oh God! No. Not Miranda, too. It’s crazy. I just met her. She was so alert and perky. I’ve got to get back to work! Oh this could have been so different. If I had really worked on the Ashley Pond case, I might have prevented this. She was so lovely, so spunky. Maria asked me for help, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Now I am. A third girl is not going to disappear if there’s anything in the world that I can do to prevent it.”
On March 8, 2002, at about 5:30 PM, Oregon City Detective Greg Fryett receives a telephone call from his boss, Lieutenant Jarvis. “You won’t believe this Greg, but a second juvenile girl has turned up missing at the Newell Creek apartments. We need you to take charge. Valenzuela-Garcia has been handling Ashley Pond’s case, so you’ll coordinate with her. Both girls live at the same apartment house, so you’d better get over there and see what you can find out.”
Fryett brings in every available reserve officer to do extensive canvassing of the entire apartment complex. While his assistants ring doorbells, Fryett interviews the latest missing girl’s mother, Michelle Duffey.
With her other children sitting nearby, Michelle tries to explain the unexplainable. “I don’t think Miranda would leave. She’s friends with Ashley Pond and she was very upset over Ashley’s disappearance. My oldest daughter had been staying with the dance team coach. My youngest daughter was here this morning though. She left for school at about 7:10 on the early bus, the one that arrives at about 7:20. Then I was at home alone with Miranda until I left for work at 7:30. The last thing I heard when I left was Miranda locking the door behind me. I heard the clicking of the deadbolt. Then I went to work and I got back home about 2:15 in time to be here when my younger girl arrives, usually about 2:20.”
At the conclusion of his interview with Duffey, Fryett searches the apartment for signs of forced entry but doesn’t find any. His conclusion? It appears as though Miranda Gaddis left the apartment on her own with her books and backpack. He also determines there had been no caller ID phone calls recorded.
Fryett visits with every occupant of Building 1, the building that contains the Gaddis unit, but the interviews prove fruitless. Nobody has seen anything suspicious.
By this time, rain is falling steadily and Fryett, accompanied by Sergeant Lisa Nunes, trudges up the hill to the school bus stop. A lone residence nearby attracts the detective’s attention. It’s the only single family house in the apartment dominated neighborhood.
Night has fallen, but his curiosity prods him to survey the place. They walk through overgrown grass and notice a run-down shed near the rear of the half-acre yard. In the darkness they make their way to the front door and knock. A moment later the door swiftly swings open revealing a five-foot-eleven-inch, white male in his late thirties who throws his arms high in the air. With a broad smile he attempts to charm the policemen when he shouts, “I give up, officers. Take me away.”
Fryett is not amused. “Another neighborhood girl is missing. Fourteen hours have elapsed. She’s thirteen-years-old and her name is Miranda Gaddis. May we come in?”
The man opens his front door and gestures for them to enter. Fryett notices a young girl sitting on a nearby couch. He explains to the man, “We’re looking for any information about Miranda. Have you seen her?”
The man plays with his reddish mustache then shakes his head. “The last fourteen hours? No, I certainly haven’t seen her. But I do know her. She’s a friend of my daughter Mallori.”
The detective opens his notebook and removes the cap from his ballpoint with his teeth. “Can I have your name?”
The smiling man shrugs. “Sure. Ward, Ward Weaver III.”
“Mr. Weaver, is that child on the couch your daughter?”
“Yes she is. Her name is Mallori and like I said, she is friends with Miranda and Ashley.”
“Would you mind if I had a word with her?”
“No, not at all. Mallori, come over here. The officer wants to ask you some questions.”
Mallori obeys and soon is standing next to her dad. Fryett smiles before he asks, “Can you tell me what your day was like today, Mallori?”
“Sure, well, I didn’t go to school today, because I was sick.”
“What time did you get up? Was your dad still here then?”
“I didn’t sleep here last night. I slept at my mom’s. I haven’t been here all day.”
“So you weren’t in school today?”
“There was only a half day of school anyway, so I didn’t go.”
“You haven’t seen Miranda?”
“No, I sure didn’t. I saw her yesterday, but I wasn’t even around to see her today.”
“Your dad says she’s friends with you; is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Does she visit you here in the house?”
“Sure, we hang out here sometimes.”
“Mr. Weaver, let me ask you something. Did Miranda come to your house this morning looking for Mallori?”
Weaver
