"I never wanted to have sex with any little kid."
"How about Lisa?"
"Hell no!"
"Did you ever touch her inappropriately?"
"Not on my mother's life!"
"Do you know where Lisa is right now?"
"No."
"Do you know who has her?"
"No way."
"Do you know who took her?"
"It wasn't me, lady."
"Do you know who took her?"
"Oh, hell no."
"Mr.Toms--Isaac--I think that's all for now. But you stay around the house tonight and tomorrow in case there are more. Understand?"
"Yes. Except I gotta hit school tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow. Your aunt needs you around here."
"If you say."
"I do say."
Isaac looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with any of the people who'd been watching and listening.
"What can I do?" he finally asked me.
"About?"
"Can I help find her somehow?"
The detective spoke up. "You can make a list of everyone you've had contact with over the last two days. Names and numbers, please."
"What for?"
"Because I said," McMann replied. Her voice was still even and objective. I admired that. The woman hadn't given any response or signal about how she felt about any of Isaac's answers. She was professional, and that made me feel better, at least momentarily.
People have asked me since that night: weren't you panicked and running in circles crying and screaming? There was one point when suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, the floor fell out from under me again, and the room started spinning. It was like an other-worldly feeling, the thought that Lisa had been taken. I wanted to jump to my feet and run around the house screaming at that moment. But I knew that would do precisely nothing to get my baby back. By every bit of will I had deep down inside, I was forcing myself to remain calm and calculating. I could fall apart later, on my own time. For now, the police needed me, and I was going to take a deep breath and be there for my daughter. Lisa deserved no less.
"All right," McMann said, turning back to me after Isaac had left the room, "Do you have a list of people to call?"
I replied by sliding a piece of notebook paper to McMann. "Eleven people. All family except the last two. They're work friends who should at least be notified I'm not going to be at work tomorrow."
"You said work was busy. But you took off this week when Lisa was hospitalized."
"Yes, she went from bad to much worse in an hour. I called 911, and they took her in. I followed in my car. Regulations--they wouldn't allow me in the EMT truck."
"Sure. Now I know you work for the Laura show. You're the Executive Producer, and you're moving the studios?"
"We're starting the move of Laura Studios from Chicago to L.A. soon now. I'm going to be hammered at work. But now with Lisa, I may have to hand in my resignation. I'm definitely not going to Los Angeles while my baby's missing in Chicago."
"Which brings up a point. There's a chance Lisa isn't even in the Midwest anymore. It happens. I don't want to frighten you any more than you already are, but we've had a series of kiddie grabs where the children were taken out of the country."
"Oh, God, don't tell me that!"
"I'm sorry. I just want you to start thinking much bigger as we go along here."
"I'll try to."
"Good. Now, you make a good living. I think you told me seven figures?"
"With my bonus, I made one-point-five last year. I'll do more this year. For all that matters."
"It might. Whoever took Lisa might have gotten your name off the TV credits for the show. It's been known to happen. We might get a ransom call or letter."
"Oh, my God."
Just then, McMann took a call on her phone. The call went for a minute, so I got up and refilled everyone's coffee cup, including my own. I slowly stirred in half-and-half while the phone call droned on. My thoughts were coming in jagged fragments unrelated from one to the next. I shut my eyes and felt a sudden rush of tears. It couldn't be helped. I pulled out my handkerchief. Just then, Detective McMann reached over and patted me on the back while she was still on the phone. My shoulders shook as the tears flowed.
"So much for staying calm," I said to Officer Rhodes.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "This is the hardest thing any human ever has to go through. I've seen it before."
"Really? How did it turn out?"
"Not good."
My face fell.
The cop continued, "I mean they finally found the little boy and everything. Found his body. God, why am I telling you about that? I'm sorry, Mrs. Sellars. Please forgive my stupidity."
"It's all right."
"Now you know why I'm in a uniform and not in a suit. Mr. Duh."
"It's all right, really," I said with a forced laugh at the man's humor about his brain power.
Just then, the detective put her phone back inside her coat. "Well, the FBI is now on the case. They're reviewing all CCTV at the hospital as we speak."
"Video?"
"Yes, they're studying all the exits from the hospital. They will have everything studied by midnight and get back to us here."
"That's great. So I hold my breath until then?"
"Why do you say that?"
"I mean, wouldn't you? I'm praying we can see the face of who took her. Isn't that what we're doing here?"
"Yes, exactly. That's right."
"I need to call my sister and some other people. They're on the list."
"Please do," said Detective McMann. "How about I start at the bottom with your staff? I can let them know you won't be in until further notice."
"God. I guess that's right. Absolutely then."
While Detective McMann remained at the kitchen table with her phone, I went into the family room, stepped down into the conversation pit, and choose a plush purple couch where I'd make my calls. The numbers were already in the phone. It wouldn't take long.
First up was my oldest sister. That call wouldn't take five minutes. She carefully chose her words as she asked about Isaac and whether the cops had questioned him. I reported that they had and that Isaac had been very cooperative.
"Did he tell them about--about his conviction for sexual assault."
"You mean the rape charge? He did. I feel like someone grossly misled me about that. I thought it was domestic violence when we talked about him living here. I asked about domestic violence and you said yes."
"Well, it was domestic violence too. But they dismissed that when he said he was guilty of sexual assault. It was all very confusing."
I wasn't confused. But I finally let it go. It was neither the time nor the place to push the issue. So I backed off. But my sister--her voice quavering--sounded terribly upset. I considered the situation and decided that I'd be nervous and scared if my son, with a prior conviction for rape, had been in the vicinity of a young girl who'd disappeared. I understood and tried without much enthusiasm to put my sister's mind at ease.
Several more calls, short and sweet. And then came the most difficult call, the call to Mark's parents. They were happily involved with Lisa, even attending the adoption hearing in court. After that, they made a practice out of showing up at least once a week to spend an afternoon or a night or a weekend day with their granddaughter. They had come to the hospital every day while she was ill and would spend hours just sitting and watching her with me. I loved them but still could hardly stand to look at my father-in-law, so much of Mark's face was visible there. And his mother's eyes were his own eyes. So it was hard, but I knew how important grandparents were, especially to kids in a single-parent household.
It was like turning hounds loose on those poor people to have to tell them their granddaughter had been abducted from the hospital. They cried and settled down then cried again, all the while asking how they could help. I didn't want them in my home just then so I asked them to si
t tight, please. I promised updates twice a day and said I would be the one calling so they would know what I knew. Mark's father was weeping when we hung up. Charlie Sellars was not the type of man who would cry openly. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. Later, however, I wondered if maybe he hadn’t overreacted to the news. I thought it odd but pushed it from my mind.
Mark’s mother was resolute and angry at whoever had kidnapped their grandchild. Given the opportunity, I had no doubt the woman would have shot the kidnapper. She had a temper and had always had a penchant for lashing out at those who wronged her. She was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, and because of that, she was just too much for me to handle right then. I could not allow her to hear about Isaac’s criminal history, that much was clear.
Then my mother-in-law said, in a very calm voice, "Call me when they catch him. I promise I will see that he never does this again."
I let it slide. I was too tired and too distraught to do anything else but let it slide.
Still, I had no doubt that Rebecca Sellars would shoot first and ask questions later.
4
At around two in the morning, the FBI called. The CCTV videos were inconclusive. Computerized face matching was going on as we spoke. McMann hung up from the call and explained it all to me. The FBI gathered together all the video of all hospital entrances and exits between pertinent hours and studied the faces of the people coming and going. The agents looked closely at bundles and packages they might be carrying as well. This was done with eyeballs, and it was done with computers, she explained. They were thorough like the FBI is always thorough. So far, nothing--that was about how far we'd gotten.
Early the morning after the abduction, I heard McMann call the Missouri District Attorney who had prosecuted my nephew, Isaac. She put the call on speakerphone.
"This is Golden Robinson. My secretary said this was a Chicago detective?"
"Yes, this is Detective Kendra McMann, CPD. I'm calling reference one Isaac Toms. I am told you prosecuted him awhile back."
"I did. Good old Isaac. Anyway, how can I help?"
"What was the result of his case?"
"He pled no contest to second-degree statutory rape. That's intercourse with a person under seventeen years."
"Where the actor is over--"
"Right, where the actor was twenty-one or older."
"How old was the vic?"
"Let's see. She was fifteen. They had been dating for several months without her parents knowing. Then she became pregnant. Evidently, her folks found out, and she told her dad that Toms had raped her."
"The parents believed this? Even after she's dating the guy for several months?"
"Well, the grand jury believed it. She made an excellent witness, as I recall. She was honor roll, 4-H, band, student government--all the things grand juries love in a kid."
"Been there, done that, for sure. So the original charge was what?"
"First degree. Which we didn't have. I wanted a plea to second and got it."
"Now here's what I'm actually calling about," said McMann. "Did Isaac Toms ever display any predilection toward much younger girls? Was there ever any talk about that?
"Here are my case notes. Yes, the notes reflect that our victim's younger sister once spent an entire day away with Toms without her parents' consent."
"Good grief! What happened?"
"Our assault counselor questioned the child, did the play dolls, but it was all inconclusive. No charges ever filed or even considered, actually."
"How old was this girl?"
"Four.
Long silence. McMann looked at me, and I met her gaze. This stuff was all new to me, and I realized it made him a person of interest. McMann thanked the DA and hung up the phone.
"Well?" she looked at me.
"I didn't know. Nobody had told me that."
"In all fairness, neither Isaac nor your sister might even have known the little girl was questioned for possible abuse. So maybe that's why you haven't been told."
"My sister's pretty aggressive about these things. I'm pretty sure she would have had a face-to-face with the victim's parents before it was all over. I'd be surprised if they didn't mention to her that Isaac took off with their four-year-old for a whole day."
"Very possible, if that's your sister's M.O."
"It is. She doesn't leave stones unturned, particularly when her kids are concerned."
"So here's what we have. Your nephew got a fifteen-year-old pregnant when he was twenty-one. What twenty-one-year-old male wants to get it on with a fifteen-year-old?"
"A sexual deviant," I said.
"That's my thinking. Of course, we have no proof of deviant behavior, just--"
"The hell we don't. Screwing a fifteen-year-old is deviant behavior in my book."
My own words hit me like a freight train. Lisa was missing. She was female. She would eventually catch some man's eye. Maybe even at her present age. My mind veered off. I couldn't deal with that line of thinking any further. I needed to change the subject or get up and run out of the room or scream at the top of my lungs for a full minute. Whatever, I needed to pass this fear out of me.
But I couldn't see how to do that. It was just starting to settle over me, the whole rape scenario that's always lurking. Men rape. Men--probably--had my daughter and were going to demand money for her. There was nothing else for me to do just then except pray.
"So what do we do with this info about Isaac?"
"I think I'm going to need to have a much more extensive conversation with him. Right now he's a person of interest."
"Poor Isaac."
"Poor Isaac? Why's that?"
"I mean if he's--"
"Melissa, let's get something right up front. If this grown man had anything to do with your daughter's disappearance he's not poor Isaac anymore. Until we know for sure he's clean he's not poor Isaac. Can we agree on that?"
"Yes."
"And while we're on the topic, do you have any other family members I need to be concerned about?"
"No."
"What about your husband?"
“I thought I told you.”
“Probably you did.”
“My husband died in Afghanistan. I haven’t remarried.”
"Any buddies of his ever come around?"
"Never."
"What about other men? Have you been active?"
"That's a one-hundred-percent ‘no.' Never even thought of anyone else."
"Have any men put a move on you? Asked for your phone number? Slipped you a card and said to call them?"
"Not one."
"I know you work for a hugely popular TV show that's seen around the world. Is there anyone from that part of your life who has shown extra interest in you from the norm? Any admirers or followers of Laura?"
"Sure, I mean we get all kinds of crazy emails and telegrams and letters with pictures of men's privates--everyone gets that stuff. But none has singled me out. If they single out Laura, she has a team of ex-FBI agents who investigate all that stuff coming her way. The deviant pictures, the threats, the marriage proposals. These guys keep track of all of that."
"What's the name of their company?"
"XFBI."
"Ex as in ex-wife?"
"No, just the letter 'X' followed by FBI."
"Oh, XFBI."
"Yes, they're worldwide. I deal with them regularly on my security tasking."
"You're in charge of security?"
"Maybe I haven't been clear. I'm in charge of everything. I'm the executive producer. The buck stops with me. As well as the deviants, crazies, Casanovas, weirdos--I get them all."
"So XFBI is on the payroll?"
"Sure. All hit shows use someone like them."
"Did not know. Okay. If I asked you, 'Melissa, who do you think might have taken Lisa?' what would your answer be?"
"Some crazy sicko. Only a sicko would take a very ill girl from her hospital bed and run off with her."
"Well, you've made a big thing out of Isaac and maybe rightly so. He's the only one."
"Fine. We'll definitely interview him much more thoroughly and retrace his steps yesterday and last night."
"Question, Detective McMann. Would it make any sense for me to call in XFBI at this point and ask them to help?"
"It wouldn't hurt on down the road--if we get that far. But for right now I'd prefer not to have any potential witnesses or leads messed up. Please give me at least the first forty-eight hours and then we'll talk."
"All right."
I decided then and there that in forty-eight hours I would call Klamath, my contact at XFBI, unless I had Lisa back.
5
Reports were called into the command HQ in my kitchen all morning. However, each call was even more of a letdown than the last, as far as I was concerned. This was because each call was negative, a zero, a goose-egg. Nothing about Lisa's abduction was known even twelve hours later.
Nothing the CPD and FBI tried had turned up offered even a whiff of information about a little girl being kidnapped from her hospital bed. The nurses at the nurses' station had seen someone wheeled by headed to radiology--they had assumed. When pressed, they admitted they didn't actually know they were going to radiology. They might even have been sneaking out of the hospital, they added when they were questioned the second time around.
Detective McMann knew the procedures at most hospitals, so none of what was being reported back was a huge surprise. For example, people who come to take patients to radiology wear scrubs and athletic shoes. This only happens when a doctor orders radiology, but, as far as the nurses are concerned on the floor, who was being taken where was really not their concern. Patient movement was all just too much to keep track of, so it wasn't part of their job description.
"Let's consider what we do know," the detective said to me just after the sun peeked over the horizon. "One, it's clear to me that someone has been watching you."
"That infuriates me. But you're right. How else would they know when to snatch my baby?"
"Exactly. They were watching, and that means they were nearby. Maybe one of them was even a nurse or some other hospital employee. Even someone just wearing the garb to make it look like they were an employee handling a routine matter in case anyone should stop them and ask."
The Empty Place at the Table Page 3
