Eyes of the Innocent

by Christopher Wright

  ***

  Matt's cell phone rang just after 8:00 the next morning, but at first he didn't realize it was his phone because the ringtone was new to him.

  "Answer it," Zoé said urgently, sitting up in bed. "It might be some news from the police."

  The phone was in the front pocket of the old jeans Valdieri had loaned him. Zoé tutted impatiently while he got out of bed and fished for it.

  "It's Wendell with news," he whispered to Zoé. "That was quick."

  Zoé came closer, trying to listen. Matt lifted the phone away from his ear so that they could both hear.

  "Hey," Wendell said, "I may have some great news for you both. Only don't go holding your breath."

  "Go on," Matt said, trying to disguise his excitement. He didn't want Zoé thinking baby Jack was coming home any time soon.

  "I'm on my way up to Boston," Wendell said. "I could have a reliable lead."

  "Boston? What sort of lead. Are you working with the police?"

  "Hey, no, no, not really."

  "What does that mean exactly?" Matt demanded. Then he realized. "Are you working with the press?"

  "Hey, no, man. I've been talking to an old girlfriend up there. She's only just seen it on the news about the kidnap. She phoned me to see if I knew anything about it. We got talking. She said it's a funny thing, but yesterday afternoon a little kid turned up suddenly in the apartment block opposite her place. What do you think?"

  Zoé was pulling a face of despair. "He is talking the nonsense," she whispered.

  "And?" Matt asked. Zoé was probably right. He couldn't see what all the excitement was about.

  "Well, my friend's been over, and the kid's got one blue and one green eye."

  Matt's sighed and shook his head. "Wendell, there are currently hundreds, maybe thousands of kids with eyes like that in America. It's called heterochromia. And I suppose this kid is a baby?"

  "Better than that. This kid is only a few weeks old, according to the neighbors. And the baby has dark hair sticking out at the front like in the photo you gave me."

  "You're not in Boston yet, Wendell. So who's been speaking to the neighbors?"

  "I told you, I know this woman who just happens to be a bit nosey. She didn't hear about your baby going missing at the time, but she was fascinated because she knew the girl a bit, but didn't know she was pregnant. So Ms. Nosey starts wondering where the baby came from, seeing it's not brand new. And then she sees it on the news, and it all comes out."

  "Didn't the girl look pregnant?" Matt asked, recalling Wendell's earlier conversation about babies suddenly appearing.

  "Hey, my friend says she was big which is why didn't know she was pregnant. Sometimes happens with very big people, she says."

  Zoé who was listening in, nodded, so that sort of made sense.

  "Seems she's already has one kid. Don't have the details."

  "Perhaps she's adopted it," Matt suggested. "Zoé mentioned that possibility."

  "Not according to Ms. Nosey. Her pop's been telling the neighbors it's her own. Anyway, as I said, I'm on my way to Boston now. You guys will need to be there with me to identify the baby, of course. Hey, let me warn you now. She lives with her pop, and he's very protective. And listen to this. The pop is friends with a struck-off surgeon. I don't know what he knows about eyes, but the scoop is that he was struck off for illegal abortions. So I imagine he knows how to use a knife if the eye needs to come out. He's not likely to let you just walk in and look at the baby. You're a PI, so hey, I'm sure you'll come up with something. So when are you coming?"

  "You need to tell the police in Boston. It's not our job to chase that up."

  "And suppose the police start asking questions at the door. If they're suspicious, they go away and get a search warrant. And abracadabra, the kid isn't there when they come back. You two don't need a search warrant. Just push your way in and see the baby as soon as they open the door."

  In a way that sounded good. "How do we get there?" Matt asked. "I don't want you rushing in and messing things up on your own. You're right, if the police alert them they'll do a runner."

  "Hey, yes, got it. Get the train to Boston. You can be here in less than four hours. I'll pick you up at Boston South if you let me know when. Four hours. Get it? Her pop could easily have got from New York to Boston in time for my friend to see the baby arrive home."

  Zoé shook her head. And she looked really anxious. She beckoned to Matt to put his finger on the mic. "Tell Wendell we will call him back shortly," she whispered.

  "No," Matt insisted, "we need to get to Boston quickly, before anything happens to baby Jack." He brought the phone back to his mouth. "Hold on there, Wendell. A small problem here. Give us ten minutes and I'll get back to you." He finished the call and turned to Zoé. "So what is the problem."

  "It is Wendell. You have to ask yourself, Matt, why any man would turn up in Central Park, know who we are, and suddenly he thinks he has found Jack in a city miles north of here. You are the detective. So why are you not suspicious?"

  "Maybe because Wendell was suspicious of us at first. Remember how he questioned us to make sure we weren't involved in the kidnap? If anyone has a reason to be suspicious, it's him. Get some clothes on, Zoé, and we'll go down and ask Valdieri what he thinks."

  Valdieri looked serious when he had heard about Wendell's theory. "I didn't hear your conversation with Wendell Harris," he said, "but I have to agree with Zoé that things have moved remarkably quickly."

  "So what do you suggest?" Matt said, trying to sound patient, while everything inside his head was screaming at him to get on the next train to Boston. If the protective father could do it in four hours, so could they. He repeated the conversation with Wendell, including the news of the over-protective father

  Stephen Valdieri took a deep breath. "I think Wendell Harris should share his suspicions with the Boston police when he gets there. Anyway, remember you both have to stay here in New York."

  Zoé stood up, sounding unexpectedly calm. "I am the mother of baby Jack, and the feeling of my gut is that Jack is somewhere closer than Boston for us to find him. Call it the instinct of a mother, but I am convinced he is still alive."

  "So we do nothing?" Matt said in exasperation.

  "No, we do not do nothing, if that makes the sense," Zoé said. "Yes, I agree we will phone Wendell Harris now, and we tell him to use the local gendarmes, the local police, in Boston."

  Matt frowned. "So what do we do here? I'm not prepared to sit around all day waiting for the police to contact us."

  "You are right, we have to do something just to keep our marbles. Is that an expression English?"

  "Sounds good," Valdieri said. "You'll be pleased to know that I've already been in touch with my contact in the Vatican for Senator Harding's phone number. For his home, not his office. I'm expecting to hear back from him very soon now."

  "And then I will phone his home," Zoé said calmly. "If Mrs. Harding will speak to me, I will tell her about baby Jack being kidnapped, and that he has heterochromia. If her baby is ill I am sure she will be ready to share. It is what mothers do."

  "No, Zoé, Melanie only told us about that in confidence. Maybe the baby only had a cold when Melanie's aunt saw him."

  "Maybe he had retinoblastoma and was cured," Zoé said. "Melanie said Mrs. Harding was worried about his health. We need to know where she took him. If another clinic cured him, then maybe that is where we should be taking baby Jack."

  "If we get him back." Matt felt sick for even thinking it, let alone saying it. "You know what I mean. Of course we're going to get him back."

  He shook his head in despair. Zoé had become fixated on the Senator's baby, and somehow in her mind the heterochromia had turned to retinoblastoma. Surely she knew that thousands, millions, of babies had heterochromia, and probably lots of them were ill for all sorts of reasons. All mothers were concerned for their child's health. Well, most of them. Zoé, certainly. "I want to go to Boston. Why on ear
th do you think Senator Harding's baby has retinoblastoma? Melanie didn't say anything about it. She just said the baby isn't very strong. Not the same thing at all."

  "Yes she did," Zoé insisted. "She may not have said it in so many words. It is what I think she meant."

  "If I'm not to be seen to interfere," Valdieri said, "I think you both have a valid point. Matt, you can use my computer to find the train times to Boston, while Zoé and I wait to hear from my contact about the Senator's home phone number. Once Zoé has spoken to Mrs. Harding, and if her baby is fine, we can put that one away and concentrate on Boston."

  While Valdieri was speaking to him, he became conscious of Zoé talking on her new cell phone, and she was mentioning Florian again. Clearly this had nothing to do with Senator Harding. Zoé realized he was listening, and turned away. Almost immediately she said au revoir, made a kissing sound and ended the call.

  She looked embarrassed. "What?"

  "Where you just phoning Florian?"

  "Non, ma mère. I have just been telling my parents about Jack. They want to be kept up to date on the search."

  "And I suppose your mother is still blaming me."

  "Of course she is. But do not worry, Matt, I made it clear that it is not your fault. My mother said if I had married Florian this would not have happened."

  A disturbing thought flashed into his mind. "Your parents aren't coming here, are they?"

  Zoé shrugged. She put a comforting arm around Matt's waist. "No, Matt, I do not think my parents will be coming here. If I know them, they will be on their way to Clermont-Ferrand to light enough candles in the cathedral to set the place on fire. And Florian, he is most definitely not coming."

  "Let's hope you're right. About your parents and Florian, I mean. I'm okay about the candles."

  "Have you let your mother and father know?" Zoé asked.

  "Not yet. I've not heard from my mother in years. I think she's somewhere in Spain with a man. My father hasn't even been to see our baby, so I can't think he'd be worried to know Jack's missing. I don't know, maybe I'll try and contact him."

  Stephen Valdieri had been using his phone. He ended the call and smiled. "I have good news. A friend, well, someone I know, has access to the Capitol Hill book of personal details, including home addresses and phone numbers. But please don't ask me who or how. Matt, do you have any train times yet?"

  He shook his head. "Sorry, I got diverted. Before we do anything else, I think it would be good if one of us could phone Senator Harding's home, explain about us and our baby, and see if we can speak to the Senator's wife." He was going to add, And then we can concentrate on finding Jack, but he managed to keep quiet.

  Valdieri showed Zoé the piece of paper on which he'd written the Senator's home address and phone number. "It would be best if you did it, Zoé. Mrs. Harding is more likely to take a call from you rather than from a man. If that's alright, I'll dial the number for you on the office phone."

  Zoé shook her head. "If the cell phone you have given me cannot be traced, I will use that. We will put money on the card to pay for every call we make."

  While Valdieri said that was not necessary, Zoé dialed the number and held the phone away from her ear far enough for Matt to hear as well. A young sounding woman answered the phone.

  Zoé took a deep breath. "May I speak to Mrs. Harding please?"

  "This is Joyce Harding. Who's calling?"

  "I'm phoning from the medical center about your baby."

  Matt hoped Zoé had thought this through. He remembered how in France she'd pretended to be a pharmacist to get information. It seemed she was doing something similar again. No wonder she wanted a phone that couldn't be traced. Surely it would have been better to state the real reason for calling.

  "I have already told you not to call me again."

  "I am sorry, Mrs. Harding," Zoé said, "but this is most important. I have a few questions to ask about your baby's health, that is all." She paused, and a look of panic spread across her face as she let the phone fall to the floor.

  Stephen Valdieri caught hold of Zoé's arm before she could join her phone on the carpet. "You'd better sit down," he said, leading her to a couch.

  "What's the matter?" Matt asked. Zoé had seemed to be getting over her depression, but it was hardly surprising if she felt faint. They were both undergoing a terrible strain.

  "It is Jack. It is our baby," Zoé said.

  Matt sat down beside her and took her shaking body in his arms. "It's all right, it's all right," he said. "We're going to find Jack. That's a promise. That's why we're going to see Wendell Harris in Boston."

  Zoé was taking deep breaths and risking hyperventilation. "Our baby he is not in Boston. He is in Washington."