It Only Takes a Moment

by Mary Jane Clark

  Annabelle and B.J. got up and started toward the front door. Margo lingered behind and pressed a piece of light blue paper into Eliza’s hand.

  “It’s a prescription,” she said softly. “It will help you relax and sleep. Get it filled and take it if you need it.”

  As Eliza watched the three of them leave, she was filled with gratitude for having friends of this quality rallying around her. Since they had come together just a few months before to investigate the murder of her predecessor on KEY to America, Eliza had marveled at the unique skills each of them had brought to the task.

  Annabelle was one of the strongest producers at KEY News, able to assemble coverage of anything, ranging from space shuttle launches to movie premieres. Her research and organizational skills were extraordinary and her gut instincts were inevitably right on target. Not much got past Annabelle. Yet her capabilities extended well beyond her professional life, as she juggled raising young children and maintaining a loving relationship with her husband. Eliza deeply admired her.

  B.J. was fearless, unafraid to take a chance if that’s what was needed to get the best shot or follow the most promising lead. He had physical strength, was quick to size up situations, and added a valuable male perspective to their team. His cynicism disguised a soft and vulnerable heart. B.J. identified with the underdog, was ferociously loyal, and Eliza knew she could always count on him to watch her back.

  Margo’s years of training and clinical experience in understanding how the mind worked were powerful credentials. She understood human motivations and had laserlike insights. But beneath her professional exterior, Margo was warm, compassionate, and a good friend, always ready to help.

  As they put their heads together again, Eliza prayed they could have the same success. This time, as far as she was concerned, there was far more at stake.

  After her friends were gone, Agent Laggie approached Eliza. “I couldn’t help but hear parts of your conversation with those three,” said Laggie.

  “And?” Eliza asked.

  “I understand that your friends want to help, but we don’t want them getting in the way,” said Laggie.

  “They won’t be in the way,” said Eliza. “They are professional journalists. They know what they’re doing.”

  “Just as long as they don’t jeopardize our investigation,” said Laggie. “I really don’t see them as a hindrance, Agent Laggie. I think they’ll be a tremendous help,” said Eliza. “You needn’t feel threatened by them.”

  The agent’s jaw tensed. “The only way they threaten us is by sticking their noses into things that should be left to law enforcement,” he said. “If your friends are too ambitious and get involved in areas that should be left to us, it could endanger your daughter. Just keep that in mind.”

  CHAPTER 49

  The curtains were drawn and the room was dark except for the sliver of light that streamed in from the hallway through the crack left open at the door to the bedroom. Eliza lay on her side, legs curled up toward her chest. A cup of tea and some toast lay untouched on the table next to the bed.

  She stared into the darkness. She was supposed to be getting some rest, but she couldn’t relax, couldn’t let go, couldn’t erase the new picture of Janie from her mind. The eager, trusting smile on her little girl’s face just before she disappeared made Eliza ache with longing. She wanted Janie back, right here, right now. She yearned to reach out as she had so many times before when Janie had crawled into bed with her, when she’d come in to wake Eliza too early in the morning or wanted to be comforted after a bad dream woke her in the middle of the night.

  Eliza extended her arm out across the coverlet, trying to get herself to imagine that Janie was lying there beside her. But her mind wouldn’t allow her even the most fleeting mercy. Janie was gone and, though she knew she shouldn’t allow her thoughts to wander in such a defeated direction, Eliza realized there was a chance that Janie wasn’t coming back.

  Tears dripped down Eliza’s cheeks onto the linen pillowcase. She lay there, crying, until she heard the footsteps coming up the stairs.

  Oh dear God, let it be good news, or, at least, don’t let it be bad news. Please, no bad news.

  Eliza sat up and turned toward the door as it opened.

  “It’s me, sweetheart.”

  Mack stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders outlined against the light. She reached out to him as he came right to her and took her in his arms.

  “Oh, Mack, thank God you’re here.”

  Eliza buried her face in his chest and held on tightly. Mack stroked her hair and spoke to her softly.

  “It’s going to be all right, Eliza. We’ll find Janie. We’ll get her back.”

  Eliza pulled away and looked into his face. It was lit on one side by the light from the hallway, unreadable on the other. “Will we, Mack?” she asked. “Will we get her back?”

  Both of them knew that Mack couldn’t be sure about what was going to happen to Janie, but he answered with the words Eliza needed to hear.

  “Of course we’ll get her back. You have to believe that, sweetheart. Janie is coming home.”

  They held each other in the semidarkness, Eliza telling Mack all that had been happening, her impressions of the FBI and the police, her anguish at the picture of Janie snapped just before she was taken from camp.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do, Mack, if…”

  “Hey,” he said, crooking his finger under her chin and lifting it. “Let’s not think about the future. Let’s just concentrate on the present. Right here, right now.”

  Eliza nodded. “Okay,” she said. “What I have to do now is go out there and talk to them. They’re camped out, waiting to hear from me. There isn’t a single thing that can help find Janie more than publicity. Assistance from the public could be the key to getting her back.”

  Mack listened, knowing that Eliza was right. “All right,” he said. “You can do it in the morning.”

  “No,” said Eliza. “I’ve got to do it tonight so I’ll run on the ten and eleven o’clock local news programs, and we’ll get more exposure on all the network shows in the morning. I have to do it now, for Janie’s sake.”

  Eliza was blinded by the powerful spotlights that beamed at her as she came out of the front door of her home. She held her hand up in front of her face to block the glare as she walked down the path to the driveway. Flashbulbs popped and cameras whirred while the crush of reporters and videographers jockeyed for position near the bank of microphones.

  The harsh white light drained the color from Eliza’s already pale face and highlighted her red-rimmed eyes. At the last moment, she had run a comb through her tousled hair and had applied some lip gloss. The normally immaculately groomed and fashionably dressed anchorwoman stood before the microphones wearing a pink T-shirt and white jeans, looking every bit the vulnerable and anguished mother. Mack stood guard beside her.

  “First of all, I want to thank every one of you for all you are doing to help us find Janie and Mrs. Garcia,” Eliza said softly. “Your efforts in getting the word out can make the difference because somebody has seen something or will see something that will lead us to the people who have them. What you report will make the public aware of what they should be looking for.”

  A reporter yelled, “Can you speak up a little, Eliza?”

  Eliza nodded and cleared her throat before continuing. “Most important, I want to say this. Janie, I love you, sweetheart, and we are coming to get you. I promise, baby. We’re coming.”

  Eliza felt Mack reassuringly squeeze her arm.

  “To whoever has Janie and Mrs. Garcia, I beg you. Please let them go.” Eliza paused, feeling herself ready to break down. She took several deep breaths to steady herself. “And to all of you who are watching this: If you have seen anything at all, if you know anything at all that you think could help us find my daughter and Carmen Garcia, please, come forward. Call your local police or your local FBI office or call the Find Janie hotline number. Jan
ie is just a little girl and I know she must be very confused and frightened right now. She needs to be home with the people who love her.”

  Eliza turned and walked back to the house, unable to answer the barrage of reporters’ questions that followed her.

  CHAPTER 50

  Mike was dozing on the couch in the living room when Annabelle let herself into their Greenwich Village apartment. She put down her bag and keys and went to her husband, finding a place to perch on the edge of the sofa. She leaned over and kissed him as he slept.

  He opened his eyes.

  Annabelle smiled down at him. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she said.

  Mike ran his hands through his cropped hair as he sat up. “Any news?” he asked.

  Annabelle shook her head. “No word, no ransom demand. Just a hellish waiting game.”

  “How’s Eliza?” Mike asked.

  “Hanging on,” said Annabelle. “How I don’t know. If I were in her shoes, I’d be locked up in a padded room already. Thank God our kids are safe, Mike.”

  “Who’d want to take them?” Mike asked, breaking the tension.

  Annabelle smiled. “How are they?”

  “Sleeping now, like little angels.”

  Annabelle got up from the sofa and went to the twins’ bedroom. We really have to get a bigger place soon, she thought. Soon, they’ll be too old to be sharing a room, a girl and a boy wanting separate spaces. Annabelle had no idea how they were going to afford a three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan—and Brooklyn was getting more expensive by the day.

  Kissing Tara and Thomas on the forehead as they slept, Annabelle was struck by the way her heart filled with the simple gesture. The feel of their soft skin, the sound of their rhythmic breathing, the smell of their freshly shampooed hair gave her such a deep sense of peace and well-being. She tried to imagine how Eliza was feeling, knowing that her only child wasn’t sleeping in her own bed and wasn’t with the people who loved her.

  What was happening to Janie right now? What could they be doing to her?

  “I can’t watch anymore,” said Mike as he switched off the eleven o’clock news. The show had been almost entirely about Janie Blake’s disappearance. Eliza had been featured prominently, pleading for the return of her daughter and Carmen Garcia. “And you should come to bed, Annabelle, and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “In a bit,” she said. “I just want to do a little research online.”

  “Don’t be too long, honey. You have to get up early, too.” He kissed her on the mouth. “I love you,” he said.

  As she searched the Internet, going to various Web sites that gave names and addresses for convicted sex offenders, Annabelle was overwhelmed by the number of names listed as living within a fifty-mile radius of Camp Musquapsink, a circle that included parts of New York state, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. She quickly realized that this was not going to be something that could be easily investigated. She and B.J. couldn’t go from house to house, from town to town, checking on pedophiles. A job like that required a coordinated effort by law enforcement. Besides, so far, there was no real evidence pointing to the involvement of a child molester.

  Before turning off the computer for the night, she printed out the list of names and addresses anyway.

  CHAPTER 51

  The concrete floor was cold and hard, but Mrs. Garcia had no other choice but to sit on it. It was either that or stand up, but she was much too tired and much too scared to use the energy necessary to hold herself erect. She wasn’t certain how long she had been imprisoned belowground, but she was pretty sure that, mercifully, she had fallen asleep for a little while.

  When she considered her situation, when she thought about Janie or about the threat the monster had made against her own family, Mrs. Garcia trembled with fear and hopelessness. And the thought of what he might do to her if he came back terrified her. There was nothing she could do, buried alive, the good Lord and the monster only knew where. So, to save her sanity, she tried to conjure up what it had been like to sleep in her own bed, with the comfort of her clean cotton sheets and soft quilt. She tried to imagine the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the real smell she inhaled. This place was dank and musty.

  She huddled with her back uncomfortably pressed against a set of wooden shelves. She reached out in the darkness and felt a smooth, rounded surface. Her fingers closed around it and she recognized it as a glass jar. There were others beside it on the shelf.

  Her body ached, her throat was sore. She cried out anyway.

  “Help. Please, is anyone up there? ¡Auxilio, soccoro, ayúdenme, por favor!”

  The walls of the root cellar closed around her voice as if to snuff it out. She prayed and strained to hear a response, but no one answered her.

  WEDNESDAY JULY 23

  CHAPTER 52

  ELIZA BLAKE SUSPECT IN DAUGHTER’S DISAPPEARANCE!

  The Mole’s blaring front-page headline crowned a color picture of Eliza sobbing as she sat on a child’s swing in her backyard. Inside, the accompanying article stated that the FBI considered Eliza a suspect in Janie’s abduction.

  “Son of a bitch,” said B.J. D’Elia when Annabelle showed him the celebrity gossip magazine. He grabbed the publication from Annabelle and marched across the road to where the reporter who had written the article stood drinking a cup of coffee. He thrust the paper in the guy’s face.

  “Where the hell do you get off writing this kind of trash?” B.J. shouted.

  The reporter shrugged.

  “You lying bastard,” said B.J., his face reddening. “I should rip your head off for writing lies like this.”

  “Hey, big shot, those aren’t lies.”

  “The hell they’re not,” said B.J. “And when this thing is over, I’m going to make sure Eliza and KEY News sue your ass for libel.”

  “Be my guest, but they won’t win,” said the reporter smugly. “Because we have the tape to prove that every word of that story is true.”

  B.J. flinched.

  “That’s right, buddy,” said the reporter. “The FBI is looking at your precious Eliza. The feds suspect she may not be the mother-of-the-year she has everybody thinking she is.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Rhonda woke up early. As she came out of the bedroom, Dave was just coming in the front door of the apartment.

  “How was work?” she asked, giving him a peck on the cheek.

  “All right,” Dave answered.

  Rhonda studied her husband’s face. His coloring wasn’t good and he looked exhausted. She was afraid she was expecting too much from him. He worked all night, then grabbed only a few hours of sleep before taking over the child-care duties. While she wished she could be home to take care of Janie during the daylight hours, they needed both salaries to make ends meet. So she went to the bakery during the day. She got to spend evenings with Janie but also got to sleep while Janie slept. Dave, on the other hand, was continually sleep deprived.

  “Let me make you some breakfast,” said Rhonda.

  “No thanks,” answered Dave. “I just want to crawl into bed.”

  He went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

  Rhonda walked into the living room and turned on the television, keeping the volume low so as not to wake Janie. She went into the adjoining galley kitchen, filled the kettle with water, and put it on the stove to boil. Then she took a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. As she cracked the eggshells on the side of a mixing bowl, she heard the words coming from the TV. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she went back to the living room and sat down to watch and listen more closely.

  Eliza Blake was on the screen. Rhonda almost didn’t recognize her. The woman didn’t look like herself. She was even paler and more washed out than Dave. Eliza stared into the camera, glassy-eyed, while she spoke.

  “She needs to be home with the people who love her.”

  Troubled, Rhonda switched off the set. What was Eliza Blake talking about? Janie was
already home with people who loved her.

  CHAPTER 54

  Katharine stood in the kitchen doorway. “Linus Nazareth is on the phone, honey.”

  Eliza took the phone from her mother-in-law and held it to her ear. “I just wanted to check and see how you’re holding up, Eliza.”

  “Oh, thanks, Linus. All right, I guess.”

  “I could kill those lousy bastards for writing that trash.”

  “What trash?” Eliza asked.

  There was silence on the line.

  “Linus?”

  “Forget it.”

  “What trash, Linus?”

  “All right, you’re going to hear it sooner or later. It’s the Mole. That rag is saying the FBI is looking at you as a suspect. But that really isn’t a big deal. Everybody knows that the people closest to the victim are always viewed as suspects first. Nobody is going to take what the Mole says seriously and think that you could actually be in on Janie’s abduction.”

  “As if this nightmare isn’t bad enough, now it’s getting worse?” Eliza asked, her voice going higher.

  The other people in the kitchen stopped what they were doing and looked at Eliza.

  “I don’t believe this is happening,” groaned Eliza as she sat in a chair.

  “You know what I think?” The executive producer of KEY to America didn’t wait for an answer. “I think you should come on the show and talk about it all. Get your side of the story out there.”

  “What side of the story, Linus? There aren’t two sides. There’s only one. My daughter and a woman I care very much about are missing and I want them back.”

  “You know what I mean, Eliza. Come on. Let Margo Gonzalez interview you and the people at home will see what a loving mother you are and that you could never hurt your kid.”