It Only Takes a Moment

by Mary Jane Clark

  There was no signature, but the box and the order form were stamped with the name and address of a bakery in a town Joe knew was about an hour outside Manhattan.

  He read the letter again.

  Be comforted in knowing your pain is helping someone else. Stay home and take care of your baby as you should.

  Joe didn’t like the feeling he got from this one.

  When he got back to his office, Joe called Eliza’s assistant.

  “Paige, it’s Joe Connelly. We’ve got a package downstairs, a package of baked goods. Were you expecting anything like that for Eliza?”

  “Not that I know of, Joe.”

  He read her the letter.

  “Ugh, creepy,” said Paige.

  Joe gave her the information on the bakery. “Ever gotten cookies before from this place or ever heard of it?” he asked.

  “No, it doesn’t sound familiar,” said Paige. “But let me write down the name of the bakery again. I’ll check in my files and get back to you.”

  “Marzipan Bakery,” said Joe. “M-A-R-Z-I-P-A-N.”

  CHAPTER 67

  After polishing all the glass cases and wiping all the counters, Rhonda methodically went shelf by shelf, removing the stale cookies, cakes, and pies. Next, she made a list of treats that needed to be replaced by the baker who would come in overnight and bake the goodies to be sold the next day. Finally, she closed out the cash register and deposited the contents in the zippered bag that the owner would take to the bank. She stashed the bag in the designated spot where the owner would find it when he came in tonight after the bakery was closed.

  Rhonda took off her apron and stopped in the tiny bathroom at the back of the kitchen to wash her hands, reapply her lipstick, and run a comb through her hair. She knew that Dave was waiting for her and would be eager for her to get home and take over. But she wanted to make a stop at Wal-Mart first.

  She drove the few miles to the store and found a spot in the crowded parking lot. As she walked in, Rhonda was conscious of the security cameras that were aimed at her and everyone else who walked into the place. But she had nothing to hide. She was just a mother coming in to buy things for her child.

  In the children’s section, some of the summer clothing was already on sale. Rhonda found a cute pair of baby-doll pajamas, pale blue, which would bring out the blue in Janie’s eyes. She also selected a pair of yellow flip-flops. In the toy department, she picked out a few coloring books and a large box of crayons. Rhonda opened the carton and was delighted with all the vibrant shades. Surely, Janie would be pleased, too.

  At the end of the long aisle, a display caught Rhonda’s attention. Hanging from a fake palm tree was a variety of stuffed monkeys. There was one that looked just like the monkey that Janie had held in one of the magazine articles, the monkey Janie called Zippy.

  Rhonda slipped the toy from the tree and proceeded to the checkout counter, excited that she was bringing home something that would please the child. Having Zippy with her again would surely make Janie happy.

  CHAPTER 68

  She didn’t hear the bell the first two times it rang. The third chime cut through the din. Isabelle turned off the vacuum cleaner and answered the door.

  “I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said when she saw the policeman standing on the stoop.

  “Is your brother around?” he asked, looking over Isabelle’s shoulder, trying to see inside the house.

  “No, he’s out.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “Don’t know that, either.”

  “Would it be all right if I came in and took a look around?”

  Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “Do you have a search warrant?”

  The officer looked uncomfortable. “No.”

  Isabelle shrugged and held up her palms. “Sorry.”

  “All right, have it your way,” said the cop. “But you know, when you don’t cooperate voluntarily, it doesn’t look good. It looks like you have something to hide.”

  “We don’t have anything to hide,” said Isabelle. “Not a damn thing. But because Eliza Blake’s daughter is missing, you guys are automatically looking at every convicted sex offender as a suspect. I know how it works.”

  “Then you know I’ll be back,” said the policeman as he turned to leave.

  Isabelle called after him, “When are you guys going to stop persecuting him? He did his time, he’s paid his debt to society. Give him a break.”

  “Once a pedophile, always a pedophile,” said the policeman. “They don’t change.”

  “Yeah, but they can work hard to control themselves,” Isabelle said vehemently. “That’s what Hughie is trying to do and it doesn’t help when you guys are always harassing him.”

  “You went where?” Isabelle stared incredulously at her brother.

  Hughie didn’t look up from the project he was working on.

  “Have you lost your mind, Hughie? What were you thinking? Going up to Camp Musquapsink was incredibly stupid. You know how dangerous it was to go back there. A cop was already here. What do you think would happen if he knew you were peering through the fence at the camp today?”

  He put down the scissors and looked with remorse at his sister. “I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “There are so many of the kind I like there.”

  “Like booze to an alcoholic,” Isabelle muttered as she sat next to her brother at the kitchen table.

  “What did you say?” asked Hughie.

  “Nothing. But, Hughie, you can’t go back there again. Understand?”

  “Um-hmm.”

  She took hold of her brother’s arm and stared into his eyes. “Promise, Hughie. You’ve got to promise me you won’t go back to the camp again.”

  “I promise I’ll try, Isabelle.” He picked up the scissors again and started cutting.

  “They’re going to come back, Hughie. The cops will come back,” said Isabelle. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Eventually, maybe,” said Hughie. “But unless they have something we don’t know about, they aren’t going to get a warrant and they won’t be able to come inside. There’s no probable cause here. I’ve been careful.”

  Isabelle watched Hughie while he continued to cut. His tongue stuck out slightly over his lip as he concentrated. “Why do you have to do that, Hughie? Why can’t you act your age?”

  “Don’t you think a little girl would like these?” asked Hughie as he held up the paper dolls he had fashioned.

  Resigned, Isabelle got up from the table. “I’m going out for a while,” she said. “If you need me, call me on my cell.”

  She left as her brother gathered up his paper dolls and went into the bedroom.

  CHAPTER 69

  “We’ve got something. We’ve got a lead.”

  Eliza hovered over the FBI command desk, listening intently to every word passing between Agents Gebhardt and Laggie. “A customer at the Burger King in Frankfort, Kentucky, saw a child matching Janie’s description in the front seat of a black van with a dented back door in the parking lot. The guy took a picture with his cell phone and wrote down the license plate number before the van drove away.”

  “So what happens now?” asked Eliza, taking Mack’s hand and squeezing it.

  “We find out who owns that van and track it down. The Kentucky State Police are all over it.”

  Eliza went to the telephone to share the first hopeful news they’d received with Maria, but there was no answer at the Rochas home.

  CHAPTER 70

  It was awfully quiet in there.

  The man opened the door to see what was going on inside the room. Janie lay on the mattress, the blindfold tied around her eyes, her mouth open as she breathed softly and rhythmically. An occasional hiccup jolted her little body.

  He walked over to the bed to get a closer look. Those knees of hers were red and angry-looking. Pus had star
ted to coat the scrapes and cuts. He reached out to touch Janie’s face. Her cheeks and forehead were hot to the touch.

  He closed the door quietly. Wondering if an infection had set in, he decided he should probably get something at the pharmacy before she really got sick. The last thing they needed was a kid with a raging fever, or worse. Now would be the time to go, while she was asleep.

  Since the episode yesterday when the old lady had helped the kid out the window to run away, he’d nailed sheets of plywood over the windows in the bedroom and bathroom. Once he locked the door to the room, there was no way for Janie to escape.

  Cursing the kid for putting him in this situation in the first place, he got into the Jeep and drove the fifteen miles on curving country roads into town, finding a parking space in front of the drugstore. Inside, he picked up a shopping basket and filled it with gauze pads, cotton balls, witch hazel, antiseptic ointment, and some children’s aspirin. He decided to throw in a thermometer as well.

  At the checkout counter, the cashier emptied the items from the basket and rang each one up. “Did you find everything you need?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” the man grunted. “Actually, do you have anything for hiccups?”

  The cashier looked up. “We have some things in aisle three, but I don’t know how well any of them work. I hear there’s no cure for hiccups.”

  “Screw it then,” said the man. “Why waste the money?”

  He threw some bills down on the counter, waited for his change, and left quickly.

  While he was driving back, his cell phone sounded.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “Oh, that’s good. She needs that. What are you doing?”

  “I’m driving back from the drugstore.”

  “You left her alone?”

  “Don’t worry. She’s not going anywhere. I made sure of that.”

  “What did you go to the drugstore for?”

  “To get stuff for her knees.”

  “They’re worse?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Worry about what you have to do. Did you send the ransom demand yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked with exasperation.

  “The money isn’t the issue here,” she pleaded. “It’s never been about the money. I think we could be making a big mistake in asking for a ransom.”

  “We’ve been over this again and again. If we want to get away with this, we have to ask for a ransom so it looks like that’s our motive for taking her. Nobody says we have to pick it up. That oughta really confuse the FBI.”

  CHAPTER 71

  Mack made a call to Range Bullock, alerting him to the FBI lead in Kentucky.

  “I don’t know if you want to send our own crews or let our affiliates cover it if the cops find Janie,” said Mack. “But Eliza and I want to make sure that KEY News has the best coverage. I didn’t tell the feds I was going to call you.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Mack,” said the president of the news division. “I’ll get the wheels rolling.”

  “I wish I could be there when they catch this lowlife,” Mack muttered. “I’d wring his neck and rip him a new one while I was at it.”

  “That’s why it’s a good idea for you not to be there,” said Range. “Besides, Eliza needs you to be with her. How is she, anyway?”

  “Most of the time, she’s putting up a brave front, but this is killing her, Range. Eliza is strong, but this is beyond what anyone should have to bear. Let’s hope this Kentucky lead is the answer, because I don’t know how much more she can take.”

  CHAPTER 72

  Once Mack arrived to support Eliza and act as a “family” spokesman and liaison with the press, Annabelle was able to focus on producing. She’d spent the day making phone calls, researching other kidnappings and law enforcement procedure, and devouring every new wire service story about the Janie Blake case.

  Over and over, she read that, most often, a child was abducted by someone who was close to or at least knew the child. In Eliza’s case, Annabelle suspected there was a very wide field of suspects because so many people with whom Eliza had never even spoken, had never even met, knew her or felt they did.

  Annabelle was aware of the fact that Eliza got mail from viewers, some laudatory, some critical. Letters came in with comments about the clothes she wore and the way her hair was styled. Men wrote in that they’d love to date her, women said Eliza felt like a friend. She got letters asking for donations, and requests for speaking engagements at charity events and college graduations. People wanted to know what her hobbies were, what she liked to eat, and where her favorite place to vacation was.

  Undoubtedly, there must be some letters that Eliza got from people wanting to know about Janie, thought Annabelle. She picked up the phone, called Eliza’s assistant, and explained what was on her mind.

  “Sure, she’s gotten letters asking about Janie,” said Paige. “Most of them are pretty benign. But any that seem the least bit threatening or creepy, I send down to Joe Connelly in security.”

  “Joe, this is Annabelle Murphy. I’m a KTA producer,” she reminded him.

  “Sure, Annabelle. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m calling about the abduction.”

  “Yes?” Joe’s tone turned wary.

  “I was hoping that you’d talk to me about any threatening letters or calls Eliza has received, ones that you might be concerned about, or think could be related to this.”

  “You should know I can’t do that, Annabelle.”

  “Can you tell me if law enforcement is investigating anything in that regard?”

  “They’d be remiss if they weren’t, wouldn’t they?” asked Joe.

  “Yeah, you’d think that would be a no-brainer, wouldn’t you? But I just wanted to check,” said Annabelle. “We had something that we beat the FBI to the punch on last night, a picture of Janie taken at camp just a little while before she was abducted. I’m not criticizing them, but they certainly aren’t infallible, are they?”

  There was a momentary pause on the line before the security chief answered. “Off the record?” asked Joe.

  “I’d rather not, but if it has to be.”

  “It has to be,” said Joe firmly. “No using this information on the broadcasts unless it comes from the FBI. But, yes, they’ve been looking at some correspondence that’s come in.”

  “Anything in particular?” Annabelle tried.

  “Uh-uh, Annabelle. Nice try, but I’m not going to bite,” said Joe. “Even if I did give you some letters, you don’t have the wherewithal to track down a postmark or analyze handwriting. Those are jobs for the FBI.”

  Joe was right. Annabelle didn’t have the ability to figure out who had sent anonymous letters to Eliza. Yet Annabelle didn’t want to give up. She was desperate for something to do to help her friend.

  Forget the phone. She went down to Eliza’s office to speak with her assistant in person.

  “You’ve got to help me out, Paige.”

  “With what?”

  “I just spoke with Joe Connelly and he’s not giving anything up,” said Annabelle as she sat and crossed her legs. “He admitted there’s been some questionable correspondence that has come in for Eliza, but that’s all he would say. What help is that?”

  “What do you need, Annabelle?”

  “I need something specific, something we can look into,” said Annabelle. “A name, a place, something we can investigate in hopes that it leads us to Janie.”

  “And the elements for a good story,” said Paige.

  “That, too,” Annabelle admitted. “But that’s not my first concern.”

  “I know it’s not,” said Paige. She glanced down at her notepad. She had jotted down the name of the bakery where the cookies and the creepy letter had come from. “I do have something,” she said. “But you can never say you got it from me, Annabelle. I want to keep my job and don’t
want to lose anybody’s trust.”

  “You’ve got my word,” said Annabelle. “I promise. Nobody will ever know where I got the information.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Eliza and Mack, along with Katharine and Paul Blake, sat around the kitchen table. Conversation was minimal. They were waiting, listening for a phone to ring.

  A square of lasagna lay untouched on Eliza’s plate. “Try to eat something, dear,” urged Katharine. “Susan’s lasagna is delicious.”

  Eliza picked up her fork and then laid it down again. “I’m really not hungry,” she said.

  “Eat anyway,” said Katharine. “You need fuel to keep up your energy. If you get sick or collapse, what good will that do Janie?”

  Putting some food in her mouth, Eliza chewed slowly, not tasting it. She was thinking about Janie and calculating how far it was to Kentucky and how long it would take to get to her daughter. Eliza had wanted to get on a plane as soon as she heard the news about the black van and possible “Janie spotting” at the fast-food restaurant, but the FBI agents had persuaded her not to do it. Nobody knew where the vehicle could be traveling and, until it was actually found, it made no sense for Eliza to fly anywhere.

  A ringing sound cut the silence and Eliza jumped to her feet. Mack followed her into the den, where Agent Laggie held the phone to his ear.

  With her hands clasped beneath her chin and feeling that she would burst, Eliza forced herself to remain quiet until the agent ended the call.

  “Well? Please, tell me they’ve found her,” Eliza begged. “Please.”

  “They’ve traced the tags,” said Laggie. “The van belongs to a guy in Versailles, Kentucky. The state police and agents from our Cincinnati field office are on their way to his house now.”