by Thomas Perry
Judge Kramer felt like applauding. His finger had been hovering over the FAST FWD button, but he knew that he wouldn’t have let it strike. Either you listened to all of it or you were just another politician in a costume.
Ambrose went on. "All right. Now, Timmy, we have to talk about some unpleasant things, and I’ll try to keep it short. What happened on the afternoon of July twenty-third two years ago?"
"I don’t know."
Schoenfeld prompted. "That was the day when they died."
"Oh," said Timmy. "Mona and I went to the shoe store after school. Usually we came home at three, but that day we didn’t. After we bought the shoes we walked in and everything had changed. I remember Mona opened the door, and then she stopped and went, ’Uh!’ Like that. Then she made me wait outside while she went in alone. She was inside a long time. I thought it was a surprise, and she was telling my parents I was there so they could hide. So I went around to the side of the house and looked in the window. And I saw them." His voice cracked, and the judge could hear that he was trying to keep the sob from coming out of his throat in front of all these strange adults, so it just stayed there, with the muscles clamping it in place. Judge Kramer had heard a lot of testimony that had to be forced out through that kind of throat, so he had become expert.
"They were covered with blood. I never knew so much blood came out of a person. It was everywhere. The walls, the floor. I could see Mona was in the next room on the telephone. Then she hung up and walked into my bedroom. I ran around to that window, and it was broken. All my stuff was gone."
"What do you mean ’stuff’?"
"My toys, my clothes, my books, everything. They stole my stuff. She kept looking around my room and frowning."
"What then?"
"She looked up and saw me. She ran out of the house and grabbed me. She took me to the car and we drove away."
"What did she say about it?"
"She started to say that my parents were called away, but I told her I saw them."
"What did she say then?"
"She said that awful things sometimes happen, and a bunch of stuff about how they wanted me to be safe more than anything. I didn’t hear a lot of it because I was crying and wasn’t really listening."
"Where did she take you?"
"She had a friend. A man. He used to come to the house to pick her up sometimes. She said he was a lawyer. She took me to his house."
"For the record, do you know his name?"
"Dennis."
"Was his last name Morgan?"
"Yes."
"Do you know the name of the street?"
"No. It wasn’t anyplace I ever was before. We drove a long time on a big road, and then at the end there were a lot of turns. By then it was night."
"What happened there?"
"She put me to sleep on the couch, but I could hear them talking in the kitchen."
"What did they say?"
"She told him about my parents. She said it looked like an abuttar."
Abattoir, the judge translated. No wonder Nina Coffey was all over Ambrose. This kid had looked in his own window and seen his parents—or the ones he knew as parents—lying on the floor butchered, and Ambrose was asking him about spankings and dental hygiene. The man was a dangerous idiot.
"What did he say?"
"He said she did the right thing to call the police, and the wrong thing to leave. Then she said a lot of things. She said it looked as though whoever came in wasn’t even looking for them. They were looking for me."
"What made her say that?"
"They broke into my room at a time when I was usually home and my parents weren’t. She said it looked like they tried to make my parents tell them something. And then the only things they took were my stuff, and all the pictures."
"What pictures were those?"
"My father used to take a lot of pictures. Like when we were at the beach ..." Here it comes, thought the judge. The sob forced its way out, and there was a squealing sound, and then the tears came in volume.
"Come on, Timmy," said Nina Coffey. "Let’s go take a break."
Amid the sounds of chairs scraping and feet hitting the floor, Ambrose said redundantly, "Let the record show that we recessed at this point."
There was another click, and the recording began again. "We will continue now. It is six minutes after eleven," said the stenographer.
Ambrose said, "Timmy, I’m sorry to ask so many sad questions."
"It’s okay," said the little voice. There was no conviction behind it.
"You were at the lawyer’s house. They didn’t agree, right?"
"He told her to go to the police. Mona said they would just make me stay in a place where I wouldn’t be safe. They talked for a long time, and I fell asleep."
"What happened when you woke up?"
"The lawyer—Dennis—he was talking on the telephone. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. When he hung up, he and Mona talked some more. He gave her some money. He had a lot of money inside of books on the bookshelf, and some in his pocket. He gave her that too."
"Then what?"
"The phone rang and Dennis answered it, and talked to somebody else. Then we all got in the car and Dennis drove. This time we drove all night and all the next day, almost. Then we got to Jane’s house."
"What is Jane’s full name?"
"I don’t know."
"Where does she live?"
"I don’t know."
"Tell me about her."
"We went to her house. She put us in a room upstairs, and we went to sleep. When I woke up, she made us breakfast. Mona was already awake."
"I mean about Jane. What was she like?"
"I was afraid of her at first."
"Why?"
"She was tall and skinny and had long black hair, and she seemed to listen to people with her eyes."
Ambrose paused. "I see. What did she do?"
"She and Mona talked for a long time. Then I heard her say she would make us disappear."
"Is that why you thought she was scary?"
"No ... maybe."
"How long did you stay with Jane?"
"A long time. I think Mona said it was three weeks, but it seemed like a year. Then we all got in Jane’s car and she drove us to Chicago."
"What did she do then?"
"She stayed for a day or two, and then one morning I woke up and she was gone."
"Was Mona surprised?"
"No. Mona acted like it was normal, and didn’t talk about her again. Mona and I lived in Chicago after that. Mona was Diana Johnson, and I was her son. She wanted me to be Andrew, but I didn’t like it, so I got to stay Tim."
"How did you live?"
"Like people do."
"I mean, did Mona have a job—did she go to work?"
"Yes. While I was in school."
"They called you Tim Johnson at school?"
"Yes."
"When did you start—what grade?"
"Kindergarten. I had already been in kindergarten, so it was the second time."
"And you’re in the second grade now?"
"Yes."
"Were you afraid in Chicago?"
"At first I was. It was different. I was afraid the bad people would get Mona, and then I would be all alone. But after a while I made some friends, and got used to it, and I didn’t think about that part much anymore. I was sad sometimes."
"And Mona pretended to be your mother for over two years?"
"I guess so."
"What else did she do? Did she still see anybody you knew from Washington?"
"No. She used to talk on the phone a lot."
"To whom? Jane?"
"No. Dennis."
"Did you ever hear what she said?"
"Once in a while, but it wasn’t really okay. She would go in her bedroom and talk to him. Sometimes she would tell me what she said."
"Then a little over a week ago something changed, didn’t it?"
"Yes. Everything."
"You found out who you were, didn’t you?"
"Yes."
"Excuse me, Mr. Ambrose." It was Schoenfeld’s resonant voice again. "Maybe we should let Timmy tell us exactly what happened in his own words from here on. I believe you’ve done an admirable job in laying the groundwork, but now we’re in new territory, and I have no objection to letting Mr. Phillips speak freely and tell us whatever he can that will aid in the possible prosecutions." Of course not, thought the judge. Schoenfeld could be magnanimous. He had already established that Timmy was Mr. Phillips, and nothing else that anyone said or did from there on was of any consequence for Schoenfeld.
"Thank you," said Ambrose. "Timmy, tell us what happened."
"I came home from school, and Mona was there, and so was Dennis the lawyer, and so was Jane. Dennis said he had spent two years trying to figure out why anyone would want to hurt my parents and me, and now he knew."
"This was in Chicago?"
"Yeah," said Timmy. "He told me that when my mother died they had special doctors look at her, and that she had never been to the hospital to have a baby. He said he got to look at a copy of the birth certificate they had at my school, and it wasn’t real. He said I wasn’t adopted. They just drew a picture of a birth certificate and said it was mine. He said that the reason they did that was because they loved me very much and had always wanted a little boy."
Judge Kramer stopped the tape and backed it up to listen to the last exchange again. It was a hell of a way to explain a kidnapping. In spite of everything, he had to admire Dennis Morgan. After what he had seen, this little boy was going to be an annuity for the psychiatrists for the next fifty years. There was no reason to make it worse.
The tape kept running. "Then he told you about your other parents?"
"Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. They died when I was one."
"And your grandma?"
"I knew about her already, but I didn’t know she had died like all my parents. She had been dead for three years."
"Did Mr. Morgan tell you that she had left you some money?"
"Yeah. He said that when Mr. and Mrs. Phillips died she put all the family money in a big pot and said it could only go to me. And when I was gone she hired a company to take care of the money and keep looking for me forever."
"Did she say what they were called?"
"Trusty."
Judge Kramer prayed that Ambrose wasn’t about to drag an eight-year-old on a field trip through a morass of legal terminology. What could the child possibly know about trustees and executors?
"What happened last week to change that? Did he tell you?"
"He said that the Trusty had gotten tired of looking and waiting, and they were going to say I wasn’t alive anymore. So he called Jane again."
"I’m very curious about this Jane. I understand about Mona. She was your nanny, and she loved you. The lawyer, Mr. Morgan, was a very close friend of Mona’s, right?"
"Yeah. They were going to get married when the people came and got my parents. Then they couldn’t because we’d get caught. That was why he looked so hard to find out where I was really supposed to be—so Mona could go back to being Mona and marry him."
"But why was Jane doing it? Did she know your parents?"
"No. Mona had to tell her about them that time when we went to her house. Mona thought they worked for the government, so the people who hurt them must be spies. It took Jane a long time to find out that my parents didn’t work for the government."
"Then Jane was Mona’s friend?"
"I don’t think so. Dennis was the one who called her."
Judge Kramer could image the F.B.I. agent. He was going to make his career sorting all this out. Not the least interesting question was why a prominent Washington defense attorney had the telephone number of a woman who made people disappear. They would be going over the record of Morgan’s former clients right now to see if there were any on their Most Wanted List.
Even Ambrose seemed to sense that he had crossed the trail of an unfamiliar creature. "The lawyer knew her?" he repeated. "Did he pay her?"
"No. Dennis said he tried, but she had decided that so many people loved me that I must be a fine boy."
"Hmmmm ..."
Judge Kramer had a vision of Ambrose’s raised eyebrows, as he had seen them during cross-examinations.
"Did anybody say anything else about her?"
"Dennis. He said that from then on we had to do everything that Jane said, exactly. It didn’t matter what anybody else said, we should listen to her."
"So she was the boss."
"He said that he had done everything he could to find out things, but the only way to solve this was to walk into court and surprise everybody and say who I was. He said the bad people knew I must be alive, so they would be expecting me to come. Jane was the one who knew how to get us past them."
"So you all took an airplane to California?"
"No. Jane said we had to drive all the way or the bad people might see us. Every day we got a new car. She would go to a place where they rented them, and then drive all day and then leave it and rent another one. Then we were in California."
"What then? Did you stay in a hotel?"
"No. Jane said that if people were after me, they would be watching hotels near the courthouse, because they would be expecting us to do that. So we went to the courthouse right away."
"What time was it?"
"About dinnertime. Jane opened the lock on an office and we stayed there all night. I fell asleep on a couch."
"What happened when you woke up?"
"I heard Dennis come into the office. He had been out in the building by himself. He said they had pulled a trick on us, and now we had to go to a different building. So we ran out and got into our car and drove again. Jane said on the way that it didn’t feel right."
"Did she say anything else?"
"She asked Dennis if there was any way of doing this besides actually showing up in court. Could we call and ask for a delay or something. He said that he didn’t know who was honest and who wasn’t. A phone call wouldn’t stop the case for sure, but it would tell the bad guys I was coming for sure. Then he said if they fooled the judge they could do something that day, right away. I don’t know what. Jane drove for a long time without saying anything. Then she said, ’Is there any way to know what’s in the building?’ "
"What did she mean by that?"
"She said, ’We want to fade in. If Timmy’s the only boy in the crowd, we’re in trouble.’ She said something about adoption and custody."
"I see," said Ambrose. "Did Mr. Morgan know the answer?"
"We stopped at a phone booth and he looked in the book and made a call. He came back and got into the car and made Jane scoot over, so he could drive. He said he and Mona would be getting a divorce before they got married, and Jane would carry his briefcase like she was their lawyer. But we would go to Courtroom 22 on the fifth floor instead."
"Did Jane agree?"
"At first. But then we got near the courthouse, and Jane said two men in a car were following us. They kept coming faster and faster, and then they tried to get in front of us, and they bumped the car."
"What did Mr. Morgan do?"
"He got all nervous, and kept trying to go fast and keep the car straight. Jane said to him, ’Well? What’s it going to be?’ and he said, ’I can’t get them into the building. It’s got to be me.’ He was scared. He looked pale and sick and sweaty."
"And Jane?"
"She was quiet. He drove to the parking lot and stopped. Mona kissed him, and Jane yanked me out the door and we started running."
"Did you see what Mr. Morgan did after you were out of the car?"
"I heard this loud bang, and I turned around and it looked like what he had done was go backwards into the other car. One of the men jumped out and started hitting him. He tried to fight but he wasn’t good at it. And the other man got out of the car and ran after us, so Dennis tried to tackle him, b
ut the man kicked him, and the first one grabbed him around the neck. I didn’t see any more because Jane and Mona and I were running and I tripped, but Jane held my hand and kept me from falling. We ran up the steps."
"Did anyone try to stop you?"
"There was a man on the other side of the glass door, and he saw us and put his foot against it so it wouldn’t open. Jane didn’t stop. She let go of me and hit it with her shoulder and stuck her purse in it when it opened a little. The man put his arm there to push the purse out, but as soon as his arm was in there she jerked the purse out by the strap and shut the door on his arm. When he pulled the handle to get his arm out, she pushed the door into his face and we ran on."
"Anybody else?"
"There were men right by the elevator, and they started coming toward us. We ran up the stairs. I counted four flights, but there was a door and it only had a two on it. We ran through it, and when we passed the elevator Jane pushed the button and ran to another staircase, and we got up to the third floor. We got to the fourth floor, and we heard a door below us slam open against the wall, and some men were running up after us. Mona was breathing hard and then she was crying too. She touched my arm at the top of the next landing and said, ’This is my stop. Keep going. I love you, Timmy.’ "
"What did Jane say?"
"Nothing. She just looked at her, and then we ran up to the fifth floor. Just when we got to the top, I looked back and saw Mona on the stairs. She was holding on to both railings and kicking at these men. I saw one of them reaching out like he was trying to hug her. But right then, the door that said five swung open right in front of us. It was one of the men that was by the elevator. He looked surprised, and Jane just punched him and kept going."
"She hit him in the jaw?" The judge could sense Ambrose’s raised eyebrow again.
"No. In the neck. Then we were on the fifth floor, and we ran down this long hallway. When we got to the comer I could see ’TWENTY TO THIRTY’ painted on the wall with an arrow pointing to the left, but the door we had used to get there opened up again and three big men were running after us. Jane jerked me around the comer and said, ’Run to the room that says twenty-two. Don’t stop for anybody until you’re right in the front where the judge sits, and yell, "I’m Timothy Phillips."’ I tried to say something, but she said, ’Don’t talk, just run.’"
