It Only Takes a Moment

by Mary Jane Clark

  “But my information is substantive, Detective. I’m telling you. I do have psychic powers and I’ve helped other police agencies in the past.” She opened her purse, took out a piece of paper, and slid it across the desk. “Here’s a list of other police departments I’ve worked with. You can check with them.”

  Kennedy glanced at the paper, a list of police departments in Pennsylvania. None of the places was familiar to him. He pushed the résumé aside. Grudgingly, he picked up his pen. He had to cover his bases and take this woman’s information, though he already knew how much credence he would give it. “All right,” he said. “Shoot.”

  He went through the motions of taking notes as Stephanie described what she had seen in her dream.

  “Janie’s hands were tied behind her back,” said Stephanie.

  Predictable, thought Kennedy.

  “She was also blindfolded,” said Stephanie.

  Anyone could come up with that, thought Kennedy.

  “And there was paint smeared on her cheeks,” Stephanie finished.

  Original at least, he thought. “Paint? What kind of paint?” he asked.

  “Green,” replied Stephanie. “And it was streaked because Janie had been crying.”

  “All right, Ms. Quick,” said Kennedy as he rose from his chair. “Thank you for coming in. If we need anything else, we’ll be in touch.”

  “Fine,” said Stephanie. “My phone number and e-mail address are on that sheet I gave you. Please don’t ignore me, Detective. I’m telling you, I can help find Janie Blake.”

  Detective Kennedy escorted her to the door. When he got back to his desk, he shook his head as he stuck Stephanie Quick’s paperwork in a folder, not bothering to enter the information into the computer.

  CHAPTER 29

  Eliza was running on adrenaline as she paced the kitchen floor. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and her brain was in overdrive. She kept going over and over what had happened, trying to make sense of it. At the same time, she was worrying about the future, trying to figure out how to get her daughter back. She already had decided, whatever a kidnapper wanted, she would pay. Getting Janie and Mrs. Garcia home safely was worth any price.

  “The phone here is unlisted,” Eliza said. “How will whoever has Janie and Mrs. Garcia be able to reach us?”

  “We have to consider that whoever has Janie could be someone you know,” said Agent Gebhardt. “He or she, or they, could know your phone number. Or, if a stranger has Janie and Mrs. Garcia, he can just ask them for the number, right? Either way, if a kidnapper wants to get in touch with us, he will.”

  Eliza jumped when the phone rang. She checked the identification bar and felt the first inkling of relief she had experienced since the ordeal had begun. Mack was calling from London.

  “It’s all right,” said Eliza. “It’s my…uh…friend. And he’s calling from England, so you can rule him out as a suspect.”

  “Okay,” said Agent Gebhardt. “Answer it, but tell him you can’t stay on the line.”

  Eliza picked up the receiver.

  “My God, Eliza. I just heard.” Mack sounded so close. She so wished he was.

  “Oh, Mack,” she said, feeling tears coming to her eyes at the sound of his voice. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “We’ll get through this, honey. I promise we will.” His tone was adamant and confident. “Tell me everything.”

  “I want to tell you,” said Eliza, “but we have to keep this line open. Call me back on my cell.”

  The rooms upstairs were still being gone over for evidence and the first floor offered no privacy at all. Eliza desperately wanted to talk to Mack without anyone hearing. She took her cell phone and walked out to the backyard.

  She was halfway across the lawn when the phone sounded. She sat on one of the seats of Janie’s swing set and opened the phone.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” he answered.

  For a moment, there was silence, no sound traveling either way over the Atlantic Ocean, as if neither side had the words to convey the enormity of what was happening.

  “I’m coming home,” said Mack. “I’m getting the next plane.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she uttered gratefully. “I need you, Mack. I don’t know if I can get through this. If something happens to Janie…” Her voice cracked and she started to sob, deep, gasping sobs that came from her core—sobs she had been fighting since she realized Janie and Mrs. Garcia were missing.

  It flashed through her mind, the ways Mack had been there for her over the last two years—and the ways he’d come up short. They’d begun as colleagues, grew to be friends, and, eventually, lovers. Mack had been patient with her reticence, understanding that she had been shattered by John’s death and was afraid to offer her heart again.

  Not long after Eliza had surrendered to her feelings for him, KEY News in its infinite wisdom had transferred Mack to London where, in a drunken night of loneliness, Mack had slept with another woman. When Eliza learned of it, courtesy of the KEY gossip mill, she had been inwardly crushed and disillusioned. Outwardly, though, she carried on, terminating their relationship and focusing on Janie and her career.

  Mack had been exceedingly penitent and persistent in letting Eliza know it. Over time, Eliza had come to realize that he really did love her, that the one-night stand was something he profoundly regretted, a terrible mistake. Finally, she had forgiven him, though she had not been sure she would ever be able to forget.

  Yet, as Eliza sat on Janie’s swing, Mack’s sexual indiscretion seemed like nothing in comparison to what she was facing now. Her daughter’s and Mrs. Garcia’s lives were at stake.

  She heard Mack’s voice.

  “Sweetheart, listen to me, honey. Please, listen to me. Janie’s going to be all right. Thinking otherwise will do you absolutely no good and it won’t do Janie any good, either.”

  “I know,” she wailed. “I know.”

  “Eliza, cry now, and get it out. It’s probably good to do that. But you have to have faith, sweetheart. You have to try to stay positive.”

  She couldn’t answer him. Eliza rocked back and forth on the swing, tears running down her cheeks, her body shaking. She couldn’t catch her breath and she couldn’t get herself to stop crying; nor could she see the photographer who was on the other side of the hedges, the telephoto lens of his camera pointed right at her.

  CHAPTER 30

  “Can’t you get that kid to stop hiccupping?”

  “She’s afraid,” said Mrs. Garcia as she turned her head in the direction of the man’s voice. She had her arm around Janie’s shoulders as they sat huddled together on the mattress. Mrs. Garcia had lain awake all night and listened as Janie hiccupped softly and sporadically as she drifted in and out of sleep. Once Janie awoke, the hiccupping had increased again.

  “Well, she’s driving me crazy.” The man bent down and brought his face close to Janie’s. “Cut it out, little girl. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll cut it out right now.”

  From behind her blindfold, Janie felt the meanness and anger in the man’s voice. She hiccupped again, more deeply this time.

  “Damn it, kid. What did I just say?”

  Janie pulled back, afraid that she was going to get another slap across the face.

  “Please, señor, leave her alone,” pleaded Mrs. Garcia. “She can’t help it. She is very scared of you. That makes her do this. If you make her more scared, she’ll only do it more.”

  They listened to the sound of the man’s footsteps as he paced the room, muttering to himself.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Janie said softly.

  “Again?” asked the man. “You just went.”

  “I have to go again.”

  “Where are your manners, little girl? You have to ask me nicely. ‘May I go to the bathroom, Daddy.’”

  “You’re not my daddy,” Janie said firmly.

  The man bent down to her again and she could feel the hea
t of his breath as he spoke. “You’d better get used to it, little girl. Until further notice, I am your daddy.”

  The kidnapper covered his head with the mask before taking off Mrs. Garcia’s and Janie’s blindfolds and untying their hands. Unaccustomed to the light, both of them rubbed their eyes.

  “Now remember,” he said as he led them to the bathroom, “I can hear everything you say or do in there so don’t try anything funny.” He patted the microphone still attached to Mrs. Garcia’s blouse. “Do what you have to do and get back out here.”

  While Janie sat, Mrs. Garcia checked out the room in the light of day. The space was clean but small, with barely enough room for a toilet, a tiny sink, and a shower stall. The floor was linoleum and the bat-and-board walls were painted white. Above the toilet was a window. Mrs. Garcia realized the room was at ground level as she leaned over to look out.

  “Ay, Dios mio,” she said softly. “Where are we?”

  “Never mind where you are,” said the gruff voice coming from the other side of the door. “Finish up and get back out here.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Lisa Nichols sang along to her new Bon Jovi CD as she rode to camp. That she was late for work didn’t bother her. The night she’d just had was well worth a disapproving look from the camp director, a dock in pay, or even dismissal for her tardiness.

  She was completely unaware that, when she didn’t answer her cell phone, deputies from the sheriff’s office had gone to her parents’ house, the address listed on her Camp Musquapsink personnel form. The parents were under the impression that Lisa was sleeping over at her girlfriend’s house, but a phone call to the friend determined that Lisa wasn’t there. After some pressuring, the friend admitted to promising Lisa that she would serve as an alibi while Lisa slept over at her boyfriend’s apartment. Neither the girlfriend nor Lisa’s angry parents knew the young man’s address or cell phone number.

  As her car neared the entrance of the camp, Lisa saw the news vans and police vehicles gathered on the road. Her first thought was that something could have happened to one of the kids; her second thought was relief that she couldn’t have had anything to do with it since she hadn’t even been there yet this morning. She slowed and came to a stop when she reached the gate.

  “ID please, miss,” ordered the officer standing guard.

  Lisa rifled through her purse, found her wallet, and pulled out her college identification card. She handed it to the officer, who perused it and handed it back to her.

  “The witness just arrived,” the officer said into the radio attached to his shirt.

  Looking up at him from her open window, Lisa’s face expressed her puzzlement. “Witness? Witness to what?” she asked.

  “Go directly to the reception office, miss.” The officer waved Lisa on.

  Outside the main building, a few uniformed officers awaited her arrival. As Lisa got out of the car and walked toward them, one of the officers broke off from the group and escorted her inside the building. Holly Taylor was standing at the front desk, a grave expression on her pale face. Even scarier was the fact that Lisa’s parents were standing beside her boss. Her father was glowering; her mother looked like she had been crying.

  “Lisa, these people have some questions to ask you,” said her father in the controlled voice he used when he was truly angry. “They’re with the FBI.”

  Introductions were made.

  “What kind of questions?” Lisa asked worriedly.

  “Janie Blake never came home after camp yesterday,” said one of the agents. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Lisa swallowed. “I know her maid came and signed her out yesterday, before lunch. Janie was really excited.”

  One of the other agents was taking notes. “So, give us a description of exactly what Janie Blake looked like the last time you saw her,” he said.

  Lisa spoke slowly and deliberately. “She was wearing her camp uniform, the Musquapsink T-shirt and the navy shorts, and she had a construction-paper band around her head with a big yellow feather attached to the back…and she had stripes of green paint on her cheeks. It was Native American Day.”

  The first agent resumed his questions. “And what did her caretaker say when she came in to get her?”

  Lisa tried to remember. “Nothing, really. I was collating some papers and I think she asked me what I was doing.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I think she said something about Janie’s mother meeting them at home with a surprise. That’s it. Then she just signed the log and they left.”

  “Did you check her signature?”

  Lisa’s face reddened. “No, I guess I didn’t,” she said softly.

  CHAPTER 32

  To escape the bustle and tension inside the house, Eliza and Annabelle went out to the patio. Annabelle carried a yellow legal pad that she placed on the white wrought-iron table as they sat down.

  “I’ve been looking around on the Internet, Eliza, and there are some things we should be doing.” Annabelle was taking on the functions she knew well as a producer: researching, planning, and organizing. “The FBI and the police are doing their jobs, but we have to do ours. Someone may have seen Janie or will come forward with information that will help us find her. We have to get the word out there.”

  Eliza took a deep breath, considering what Annabelle was saying. She thought about some of the missing-children cases that had gotten heavy media attention. Tragically, having the coverage didn’t necessarily mean there was a happy ending to the story. How many times had she read the copy from the teleprompter and informed the nation that a missing child had been found alive? On the other hand, how many times had she told the audience that a missing child had turned up dead or never turned up at all? She knew she could ask somebody in the KEY News research department to find out the statistics on the resolution of missing-children cases, but she had a feeling that the answers would terrify her even more than she already was.

  Annabelle was staring at her. “Eliza?”

  “I brought this on myself,” Eliza whispered.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You did not.”

  “Yes, I did. Exposing Janie this way, doing all those interviews, letting all those stories be done and pictures be taken, leaving her open to some sick individual who would abduct her for whatever twisted reason. Oh, God. I might as well have given them instructions on how to get at her. Anyone could know where we live, anyone who wanted to could figure out our schedules, where she would be. This is my fault.”

  Annabelle reached forward and wrapped her arms around her friend. “It’s going to be all right, Eliza. It will be. It has to be.”

  Eliza tried hard to think clearly. If media exposure had put them in this position, media exposure might be able to bring Janie back home. Annabelle was right. Besides, what other choice did she have? This was the fight of her life and she would do everything possible to get her little girl back.

  “All right,” she said with determination. “What are we going to do?”

  Annabelle consulted her notes. “We’re going to get a designated hotline number set up where people can call in with information,” she said. “And we’ll set up a Web site: www.findjanie.org, or something like that. The guys at KEYNews.com can help us with that. And, of course, they’ll post information on the KEY News Web site as well. I’m sure there will be millions of hits on KEYNews.com because that will probably be the first place on the Internet people will go to find out what’s happening.”

  “Shouldn’t we include Mrs. Garcia’s name in the Web address?” asked Eliza.

  “We need something that people will remember easily. ‘Find Janie and Carmen’ doesn’t cut it,” said Annabelle.

  Eliza smiled in spite of herself at Annabelle’s matter-of-factness. But as she tried to listen intently to Annabelle, Eliza’s mind kept wandering to thoughts of Janie. Where was she? What was she thinking? She must be terrified and unable to understand why anyone would take her away from her
secure little world.

  Please, God, Eliza prayed. Let her be safe. Please, just let whoever took her call and ask for money. I’ll pay whatever they ask if I can just have Janie back, healthy and unharmed.

  Annabelle was continuing to talk as she checked off the items written on the pad.

  “You have a fax machine, right?”

  “Yes, in the den,” Eliza said, trying to sound positive.

  “Good,” said Annabelle. “We’ll need it to issue press advisories. And I’ll need some good pictures of Janie, and Mrs. Garcia, too, if you have any. We have to get missing-child flyers made. We can get volunteers to post them around here…and we can offer the flyers on our Web site so that people out of the area can download them.”

  Eliza nodded. “I already gave the police a picture for TRAK, the Technology to Recover Abducted Kids, and it was sent out to various state law enforcement agencies. Wait a minute,” she said as she got up. She went inside the house and came back with a silver frame. “How’s this?” she asked as she handed it to Annabelle.

  Annabelle looked at the picture. Janie smiled broadly as Mrs. Garcia stood behind her, wrapping the child in a towel.

  “Sweet,” Annabelle remarked.

  “It was taken on the Fourth of July,” said Eliza. “We swam and had a barbecue that afternoon before we went over to Ridgewood for the fireworks. Janie was so excited. She loves fireworks. That was less than three weeks ago.” Eliza’s voice trailed off.

  “All right, we’ll use this,” said Annabelle, trying to pull her friend out of a reverie that wasn’t going to help her. “Here’s the hardest part, Eliza. It’s time to go and talk to the vultures out there. You have to look into the cameras and tell Janie that you love her and that you are coming to get her. You have to beg whoever has her to give her back, and you have to ask the public to help you find her.”