by Dan Walsh
“I can,” she said. “But this is long distance.”
“I’ll get right back to you in a second.” Scott put his hand over the phone. “It’s my parents’ housekeeper calling from DeLand. I guess you guys can go.”
“Okay,” Vic said, “but we’ll be in touch in the morning. I’m going to lay my card down here on the table. You call the number on that card if anything develops. Anything at all.”
“Will do,” Scott said, then turned his focus back to Mamie Lee. “I’m back.”
“I’m just calling to see how you made out today,” she said. “You never called your mama back to let her know. She been worried something fierce all day. Me too, for that matter. Any news about the boys? You find them okay?”
Scott took a deep breath. “Not exactly, Mamie. Colt’s here. He’s okay. But I’ve got some terrible news to tell you about . . . Timmy.” Just saying his name to Mamie brought up a swell of emotion. He could hardly say the next few words. “We don’t know where he is.”
“Oh Lord, no,” Mamie said.
25
The FBI agents had left about an hour and a half ago. Colt was already in bed, but only after Scott and Gina had agreed Scott would stay overnight and sleep in Timmy’s bed, so Colt wouldn’t face the night alone. Under normal circumstances it would have felt awkward having Scott in the house overnight, but right now Gina was too exhausted to care.
At the moment, she was straightening up some things in the kitchen. Scott was in the hall bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting ready to turn in for the night. Rose and her husband, Mike, had called a short while ago to say they were in town, asking if she’d like them to stop by tonight or wait till the morning. That was easy; they would come in the morning. Tonight they’d stay at the Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge, a few blocks north on A1A.
Before that, Scott had made two phone calls: a very difficult one to his mother, and another to some guy at work.
Gina turned off the sink and dried her hands just in time to hear him rinsing his mouth in the bathroom. Her bedroom—their old bedroom—was at the end of the hall, so there was no way to avoid intersecting with him if she wanted to go to bed, which she desperately did. She decided just to get it over with.
He was coming out of the bathroom as she walked by. “Turning in for the night?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m exhausted.”
“Me too,” he said. “But if it’s okay with you, I’m going to stay up for a while yet. I won’t turn the TV on.”
“That’s fine. Mike and Rose said they’ll be over tomorrow morning around nine. They want to make us breakfast.”
“I doubt that I’ll feel like eating,” he said.
“Me neither.” She was about to turn and head for the bedroom, then decided to ask, “How did your mom handle the news?”
“Not good. She didn’t say much, but I could hear her trying not to cry the whole time we talked. Knowing her, she’ll do her best to bottle up her emotions, only let them out in private. Of course, she wanted to know what was being done.”
“I heard what you told her. Makes me so angry. Those two agents seem like fine men. But there are just two of them, Scott. What are we going to do? How will we ever find Timmy unless we get more help? A lot more help.” She didn’t mean to, but she started losing it again. Scott reached for her, to comfort her, and she fell into his strong arms. He didn’t say anything, which was so unlike him. Normally, when she’d get upset—upset enough to cry—he’d immediately start talking her out of it, try to straighten out whatever he imagined was wrong in her thinking.
But tonight, he just held her. After a few moments, she understood why.
He was crying too.
Ten minutes later, Gina was safely behind her closed bedroom door. Scott stopped crying before she did, and when she had finished, he’d simply said softly, “Well, good night.”
She quickly walked through her get-ready-for-bed routine. For a little while, sheer exhaustion kept dark thoughts at bay. Right up until she turned on the lamp on her nightstand and saw a children’s book on the pillow, on the far side of the bed. She’d forgotten about it until then. Last night, Timmy couldn’t sleep, so he’d slipped into her room carrying this book. It was called My Good Shepherd.
“You forgot to read to me tonight,” he’d said. “Colt’s already asleep, but I can’t fall asleep. Can you read this to me?”
“Of course I will. Hop up here and snuggle next to me.” Right then, he seemed more like three years old than six. He fit so comfortably under her arm. She opened the book and started to read. Sometime before she finished, he’d fallen asleep. She closed the book then leaned it up against the pillow and gently carried him back to his room.
Looking at the book now . . . she didn’t want to move it, didn’t want to touch it, didn’t want to do anything to dispel the sweet memory of his presence in that spot last night.
Where was he now? It was way past his bedtime. Was he asleep? Was he safe? Why wasn’t he here, where he belonged? She picked up the book, read the words of the cover aloud. “My Good Shepherd.” Then she had a thought. A bad one. She wasn’t going to say it but decided she might as well. God knew what she was thinking anyway. “But you’re not a very good Shepherd, are you?” she said. “You don’t look after your little lambs like this book says!” She remembered a picture of Jesus carrying a little lost lamb around his shoulders as he walked it back to the safety of the pasture. “It’s just a lie. Just a stupid children’s story!”
She was just about to throw the book across the room, but she stopped.
No, she couldn’t turn her back on God. She was angry with him now, and he may have let this happen to her Timmy, but Jesus was still the only one who could make this nightmare go away. She clutched the book and cried, “Please, Jesus, don’t abandon us. A wolf has stolen my little lamb—your little lamb. Please go after him. Please bring him back. Please . . .”
She couldn’t think of anything more to say. She lay back on her pillow and pulled the book close.
He hadn’t been following a preconceived plan, but a plan was coming together just the same. It was almost as if the Man Upstairs was helping him, things were going so smoothly. August hated having to threaten the boy to keep him in line, but it couldn’t be helped. He was sure after a few days of settling in, he would quiet down and begin to mind. Wouldn’t do to start using the wooden paddle on Bobby so soon. But he’d do it if he had to.
He leaned his ear up against the closed door. Sounded like the boy had finally gone to sleep. Must’ve been all that walking and the excitement of being in a new place. August was pretty tired too. For a while, it seemed like he’d never get home. Or else his legs would fall off first.
But it had to be done this way. Couldn’t take a chance of riding the bus all the way home. The police would be asking questions before long. So he got out two stops early. Then they took a cab. Couldn’t ride the cab all the way home, either, so he had the driver drop him off three miles away. Lots of walking after a long day. A long, emotionally draining day.
But tomorrow promised better. They had made it back, safe and sound. And Bobby was back in his bedroom, where he belonged.
26
Gina had awakened the next day feeling mostly numb and confused. She’d decided to spend a little extra time preparing herself to face life beyond her bedroom, remembering that Scott was in the house now and that Mike and Rose would be coming by to make breakfast.
They did come, right on time.
The greeting had been difficult but not as traumatic as Gina had imagined. She was just too exhausted to produce the proper amount of grief and tears for the occasion. She was sure her tank would fill back up again before long. Her sister and brother-in-law had put the whole breakfast together, and as they ate, they did their best not to dwell on the two overwhelming topics hanging in the air: Timmy’s kidnapping and nuclear annihilation.
It was oddly comforting just to be able to make it through a pl
ate of scrambled eggs and bacon. She let Mike and Rose carry most of the conversation during breakfast. That sensation of normalcy didn’t last long, however. As promised, Special Agent Hammond had called to verify there had been no phone calls or other developments since he’d left the house. Scott had taken the call, assuring him there had not. After he’d gotten off the phone, Scott had asked Colt to go get dressed and brush his teeth, so he could brief them on the call.
“So what did he say, Scott?” Mike asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gina and Rose were still sitting around the dinette table.
“He said he and his partner Nate had discussed the situation with their supervisor. Everyone agreed that if the kidnapper has not made contact by 1:00 p.m. today, they’ll start handling this as an abduction case, not a standard kidnapping.”
“By standard, you mean asking for ransom money,” Mike said. Scott nodded. “So what’s that mean exactly?”
“It means they’ll release Timmy’s picture and the artist’s rendering of the kidnapper to the press. We should see the story start to appear in the late afternoon and early evening newspapers throughout the state.”
“Well,” Rose said, “at least that’s some progress.”
“I wish they’d just do that now,” Gina said. “We don’t have any money. It’s obvious what kind of kidnapping this is.”
“I’m with you, hon,” Scott said. “But they’ve gotta follow protocol.”
Gina wondered if the “hon” was an unintended slip or if Scott was trying to keep their separation hidden from Mike and Rose. He must know Mike and Rose already knew the truth.
“He did ask something I didn’t know the answer to,” Scott said. He looked at Gina. “Vic asked us to think about whether we’d be open to answering a few questions from reporters once the story breaks. He thought it was a good idea. It could help to generate interest and sympathy from people, hearing from us. Might make them work harder at searching for Timmy or reporting suspicious things to the authorities.”
“Then we should do it,” Gina said. “We should do anything that might help, even a little.”
“But he also said reporters can be pretty aggressive going after stories, ask really insensitive questions, get pushy. Depending on how big the story gets. He thought this whole Cuba thing might cut down on some of that, because it’s such a big story by itself.”
Gina noticed Colt had walked in from the hallway and stood next to his Uncle Mike. Mike put his arm around Colt’s shoulder. “I’ve got an idea. I saw them do this on a kidnapping case last year in South Carolina. After the child’s parents made a public appeal, most of the rest of what the family had to say came through a family spokesman. I could do that for you guys, if things started getting crazy. Answer the phones, take questions from reporters.”
Scott walked farther into the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee. “I appreciate that, Mike. Especially if you’ll do that for Gina when I’m not here. But I think when I am here, I can handle it. I’ve actually been dealing with the local press a good bit with my new job at GE. Nothing like this, but—”
“I’d really appreciate that, Mike,” Gina said. “If things do get kind of crazy. But I really want to talk to people if it will help find Timmy. I’ll go nuts if all I do is sit here.”
“Well,” Rose said, “let’s just wait and see what happens. We just want you both to know—you too, Colt—that we’re here for you. Mike took the whole rest of the week off and we reserved our motel room through the weekend. So let us handle anything we can while we’re here.”
“I hope Timmy is back long before the weekend,” Gina said.
“If the world will still be here by the weekend,” Mike said quietly.
Rose shot him a look.
Colt spoke up for the first time. “You don’t think they’ll find Timmy before the weekend?”
“We hope they do,” Scott said. “Once they put his picture in the paper, all kinds of people will be looking for him. Somebody’s bound to see a man with a little boy that’s not his.”
“They’re gonna put Timmy’s picture in the paper?” Colt didn’t look too happy about that.
“Well, yeah, son. I forgot you were in the bathroom when I said it.”
“When?”
“Might be today, in time for the—”
“Today?”
“Yeah, but not until the evening edition,” Scott said. “But this is a good thing, son. The more people who know about it, the more help we’ll get finding your little brother. Right?”
Colt’s shoulders slumped. “I guess.”
Gina could tell having Colt with them through all this was going to be a problem. She just wanted Timmy back and life to return to normal, but they weren’t there now, and they needed to be able to talk about “adult” things with Mike and Rose. But she could see the pain on Colt’s face. He felt totally to blame for what happened, and as they talked, she could see him sink further into a pit of guilt. For him, the more people found about the kidnapping, the more people would blame him.
Mike seemed to pick up on this. He turned and bent down to Colt’s level. “Hey, Colt, how would you like to come back and check out our motel room? It’s right on the beach.”
“Which one is it?” Colt asked.
“The Howard Johnson’s. It’s even got a swimming pool. Maybe we can go for a swim.”
“I think the water might be too cold,” Colt said.
“Well, we can see. If it is, we can take a walk on the beach, maybe build a sand castle. Or we could get some ice cream. Howard Johnson’s makes the best. Would you like that?”
Colt nodded.
“You want to come with us, Scott?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should stick around by the phone, so Gina and Rose can visit.”
“We’ll visit better if you go,” Gina said. “You and I both know the kidnapper isn’t going to call here, and reporters won’t start calling till the story breaks. Why don’t you spend time with your son?”
Scott gave her a look, like that last remark stung a little. She meant for it to sting. Why wasn’t he the one picking up on how Colt was doing, thinking up something to take his mind off things? Mike, on the other hand, was wonderful. He’d already taken off the entire week.
She wasn’t even sure Scott would stick to his promise and take off the rest of today.
27
The guys were gone, leaving Gina and Rose alone in the house. Rose had insisted Gina let her clean up the kitchen. Gina pulled rank as the older sister, telling her “no chance.” Besides, Gina could use the distraction.
They had chatted mostly about lighter things as they worked. Gina had filled Rose in on her job at the insurance firm. Rose seemed to find it fascinating; she hadn’t worked outside the home since she had gotten married. Even then, it was just as a cashier in a grocery store.
As they talked, Gina got a sense both of them were stalling, avoiding bigger topics. When they were done cleaning, Gina suggested they take their last cup of coffee to the patio out back. It was such a beautiful October morning.
“Don’t you need to stay by the phone?” Rose asked.
“We’ve got the windows open, we can hear it fine out here as long as we leave the radio off. You don’t have any desire to hear what everyone’s saying about the world blowing to bits, do you?”
Rose poured her coffee. “Not really. It doesn’t seem real to me anyway.”
Gina poured her coffee too, then pulled the plug on the percolator. “Me neither. I suppose I’d care about it more if my life wasn’t so upside down right now.”
Rose walked toward the patio door. “Right out here?”
“Right out there.” As she stepped through the doorway, Gina inhaled the crisp sea air. “If we’re quiet enough, you can hear the waves breaking on the beach from here.”
“Really?”
“It’s only about a block away,” Gina said.
They sat in the patio chairs and listened a few momen
ts.
Rose looked across the yard. “I’d forgotten about your cactus bushes over there along the back fence. They’ve gotten so much bigger.”
“I guess they have. Scott never messes with them. He tried once, when we first moved in. That was all it took.”
“You know,” Rose said, “I think those are the only cactus plants I’ve seen in Florida.”
“Maybe the previous owner of this house came from out West,” Gina said. “They seem to grow well here.” She took another sip of coffee. “Okay, Rose, how about you just ask me the questions you’re dying to ask me? Probably starting with, ‘How come you and Scott are separated, and how come you never told me?’”
Rose offered a sheepish grin. “I guess those are good ones to start with. I’m sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about that. And I didn’t want to add any more to your stress. We don’t really talk at that level anymore since I moved to Georgia, and long distance is so expensive.”
“I know,” Gina said. “And that’s really why I didn’t tell you. That and the fact that the real reason we’re not together is so painful . . . and humiliating.”
Rose’s face grew instantly serious. “It’s not because . . . he cheated on you, is it?”
Tears welled up in Gina’s eyes as she nodded.
“No . . .”
Gina nodded again.
“When did this happen?”
“Last Christmas, at an office Christmas party.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“I wish I didn’t have to.”
“How did you find out?”
“I walked in on them.”
Rose’s face turned to shock. “Oh Gina, no.”
“Well, it’s not like they were . . . you know, doing that. But they were making out. Scott and this young redhead.”
“Oh Gina, I’m so sorry. It’s so hard to believe Scott would do something like that.”
