Finally, he was making progress. Now if only the records would lead him to Ivy's kidnapper. And to Ivy. Be nice if they led him to the other two babies' whereabouts, too.
He called Grace's phone again. It kicked into voicemail. He hung up. Damn. Still not back. It was getting dark now. Should he drive back out there to see if she'd recaptured the gorillas? LaDyne was with her; surely they'd be okay. Besides, she was probably more than a little peeved with him right now. She had a right to be. He'd checked his rearview plenty of times. How had he missed a reporter tailing him out to Grace's compound?
He couldn't get Brittany Morgan's hopeless expression out of his head. He called the hospital to check on her.
"She was released this morning into the custody of her parents," the nurse in charge told him.
He thought about going to the Morgan house, but he didn't have anything to tell them. Yet. Maybe in two days, he would have. That was something to look forward to; he really wanted to do something for Brittany. For now, he needed to get home and let his dog out.
Mason strolled up to his desk. "Finn, have—"
"Mason," Finn interrupted, suddenly flashing onto an idea. It was only a little thing, but it was something he could do for the girl. "I want you to release Brittany Morgan's computer back to her."
Mason scowled. "I haven't finished analyzing the hard drive."
"Can't you copy the files?"
"You mean make an image of the hard drive?" Mason said in the scornful tone he used for everyone who didn't speak nerdese.
"I'm pretty sure that's what I mean," Finn replied. "I want to return the computer to Brittany. That girl has been hassled enough."
"It'll take awhile, but I'll put it on your desk later tonight."
"Thanks." Something else to look forward to. Tomorrow, he'd take back Brittany's laptop.
Mason splayed a hand on the top of Finn's desk and leaned toward his monitor. "Seen YouTube lately?" he asked.
"Never," Finn told him. He didn't understand why people wasted their free time watching that drivel. "I'm calling it a day." He started to rise from his chair.
"Wait." Mason stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He pulled Finn's keyboard toward him, stretching the connection cord to its maximum length. "You'll want to see this." Mason typed for a second, and the screen switched focus to YouTube. Then he grabbed Finn's mouse and clicked on a link labeled Gorilla Ambush under Videos Being Watched Now. The video began to play.
Finn's stomach dropped. He watched Gumu climb out of a pile of blankets and hurtle down the rope net, beating on his chest—pock! pock! pock!—and baring his teeth. A startled voice shrieked, "Omigod, omigod, omigod!"
Gumu hesitated for only a second at the edge of the netting before he leapt toward the photographer. The video showed only the blurry black leather chest of the male gorilla at that point, with the girl's screams as sound track. Then the black blur moved away and from ground level, the camera recorded Gumu galloping past Sobriski and Grace, then Finn, and finally LaDyne. Neema screeched and turned as Gumu went past, dashing out to run after him, jerking LaDyne off his feet and dragging him for a short distance before the leash was torn from his hand.
The screen went black again, and then words appeared: What do gorillas on the run have to do with the disappearance of Ivy Rose Morgan? The screen paused on a photo of the baby and the date she'd disappeared, with the attribution By FirstAmen, Evansburg, WA. Then it looped back to the beginning and stayed there, on an image of Gumu emerging from his blanket nest.
Finn turned to look at Mason. Now Detectives Melendez and Dawes stood beside the computer tech, as well as a couple of uniforms whose names he couldn't remember. Detective Larson strolled up, late to the party.
Sara Melendez crossed her arms and grinned maliciously. "Got something you want to tell us, Finn?"
"Yeah." He stood up. "My cat is missing, and I'm going home to look for him now." He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and strode quickly from the building.
* * * * * *
At first, Grace could hear the gorillas' excited hoots echoing through the forest over her own harsh breathing and yells of "Neema! Gumu! Neema, come!" But the hooting gradually petered out as Neema and Gumu easily outdistanced her and Josh. They must have run close to a mile. Finally, completely out of breath, she held out a hand to signal a stop. They both stood and panted for a long while, Josh leaning against a Douglas fir, and Grace bent over, her hands on her thighs. Sweat dripped off her face onto the fir needle duff below. She pulled a damp tissue from her pocket to blot it.
When she could talk again, she said, "This is a total disaster."
Josh wiped his forehead with his hand and then dried his fingers on his shirt sleeve. "Ya think?" he said.
She straightened, worked some saliva around her parched tongue, and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Yogurt!" she shouted. "Candy! Candy! Candy!"
Josh's eyes widened and his lips twitched as if he were about to laugh, then he joined in. "Banana!" he yelled. "Juice!"
They waited. There was no sound, except for a woodpecker drumming high overhead. They both tried again, but had no better results.
"Damn it!" Grace whined.
"I'll see your damn and raise it to double-damn," Josh countered. He glanced at the sky beyond the treetops. "I suppose you've noticed that it's getting dark."
Grace grimaced. "Hard not to. I also just noticed that while we're leaving a trail—" she pointed to the disturbed duff that marked the path behind them—"we're no longer following one." They both surveyed the ground at their feet. Surely the gorillas, on four feet, would leave at least as much of a mark than two humans had.
"Triple damn," he said. "Plans, boss?"
She surveyed the surroundings. Nothing but the tall straight trunks of firs and hemlocks for as far as she could see. What thoughts were coursing through Neema's and Gumu's minds right now? It was hard to guess. Wahoo—free at last? More likely, it was just Run! Run! Run! Gorilla panic took awhile to stop once it got rolling. How far would they go? Would they be able to find their way back home? Wild gorillas probably would. But gorillas that had spent their lives in pens and buildings? What would they do if they encountered a cougar or a bear? Or a rattlesnake? What if they reached the interstate? Oh god, she couldn't let her imagination go there.
"I'm sorry," Josh said.
She glanced at him, surprised. "What do you have to be sorry about?"
"Obviously, I didn't close the lock all the way on the barn enclosure."
"That padlock's always been hard to close; I've accidentally done the same thing a dozen times. That intruder opened the gate."
"I couldn't hold onto Neema." He held up his right hand—a deep red groove cut through the palm.
"Nobody could, Josh. She could toss both us around like rag dolls anytime she wanted." She sighed. "The collar and leash were always more of a behavior reminder than real control." She checked the sky overhead again. "C'mon. We'd better get back while we can still see our own path. With luck, Neema and Gumu will find their own way home."
They trudged back in the growing darkness, neither one wanting to talk about what they'd do if the gorillas did not come back on their own.
It was nearly eight o'clock and fully dark when they arrived back at the compound, hungry, thirsty, and gorilla-less. Three cars awaited them, surrounded by a small cluster of people, most of whom appeared to be local college students. Clearly the damn intruder had leaked Grace's address as well as the video.
"Yikes," Josh said. The group turned toward them. A flash went off on a camera.
Grace wearily waded into their midst. "Get off this property. You are trespassing."
More flashes went off.
"Why have you been keeping gorillas out here?" a male voice asked.
A young woman came out of the barn enclosure, a camera slung around her neck. "Where are the gorillas?" she shouted.
"Dr. McKenna asked you all to leave," Josh reminded the audience.
>
"But why are you keeping gorillas out here?" the male voice asked again.
Now that her eyes had recovered after the flashes, she could see it was a nice looking young man who held out an audio recorder. "The gorillas belong to the University of Washington," she told them, although she hated saying those words aloud. "They are part of a language research project."
"Teaching them English?" a woman asked.
Ignoring that, Grace said, "Now my two lowland gorillas are lost in the woods. They don't know this area, and they will be terrified. If anyone sees them, please call me." She gritted her teeth and recited her cell phone number.
"Wild gorillas loose in the woods?" another young woman asked. "Are they dangerous?"
"No," Josh said. "But they're scared. If you see them, don't approach them. Call Dr. McKenna."
"Now please leave," Grace said.
"Shouldn't the police be notified?" the audio guy asked.
"Why were Detective Finn and Judge Sobriski here?"
"What does this have to do with Ivy Rose Morgan?"
"Go home." Josh waved his arms as if he could scatter them like chickens.
Grace turned toward the study trailer. "I'm going to call the Sheriff to report trespassers right now. C'mon, Josh."
By the time they reached the trailer door, the cars were leaving. But within a minute, Grace's cell phone started ringing with calls about gorillas on the loose. She answered each one with "Did you see the gorillas?" and hung up when the caller said No.
"Should we call the Sheriff?" Josh asked.
"Think they'd help search for gorillas?"
"Maybe Fish and Wildlife Service?" he suggested.
She could see game officers now, patrolling the area with rifles. Not all would be loaded with tranquilizer darts. "If Gumu and Neema don't come home by morning," she told him. "Then we'll call for help."
Josh came in with her long enough to pour her a big glass of wine. "You can take the first phone calls while I grab a quick shower and something to eat. I'll be back to relieve you in half an hour."
The door slammed behind him. Outside, she heard him call, "Neema! Gumu! Yogurt! Banana!"
Grace saw that Finn had called her cell phone twice. Halfway through his message about keeping the video off the television station, her cell beeped the call waiting signal. KEBR News, the caller ID flashed. She carried the cell phone and the glass of wine to her personal trailer and curled up in the corner of the sofa.
It was going to be a long night.
* * * * * *
By the time Finn returned to his house, Cargo had made a puddle in the kitchen. Finn was grateful the dog had spared the carpet. Lok was still MIA. Kee patrolled the doors, begging to be let out into the dark yard.
"No way." Finn scooped the cat up. "At least not by yourself." He went out onto the deck and sat in a chair for a few minutes, calling Lok and listening to the hum of insects and the occasional cry of some nocturnal bird from the surrounding woods. He scratched Kee under the chin while keeping a firm hold on the squirming cat. Neither of them was happy about the situation, and Kee eventually dug his claws into Finn's thigh.
"Stop that!" He stood up, tucked the cat under his arm, and went back into the house. "You never know what's out there," he told Kee. "Could be something that wants to eat you. Could even be gorillas."
He couldn't bring himself to try Grace again, or to watch the late news. He drank two beers and went to bed. Kee slept on his spare pillow.
Chapter 22
Seventeen days after Ivy disappears
By morning, everyone in the area knew that two gorillas were on the loose in the county. Half the residents were out traipsing through the countryside, hoping to catch a glimpse of wild apes careening through the Cascade foothills. The Sheriff called in the Fish and Wildlife capture experts.
"Never dealt with gorillas before," their spokesman said on camera. "But we've got gear we use to capture mountain lions and bears. We'll figure something out."
Grace sat watching events unfold on television with Matt by her side on the couch. The kittens Snow and Nest bounced around them on the floor, attacking Neema's toys and each other. Matt had been with her for nearly two hours, fidgeting, but hanging in there. It was an awkward situation. They barely knew each other, but there was definitely an attraction between them. They were both heavily invested in bringing the gorillas home and salvaging their professional reputations. She knew Matt felt guilty for getting her into this mess, but then, he hadn't, really. She called the tip line; she provided the only lead in his case. Or actually, Neema had. Neema, his only witness, who was out there, lost in the forest.
Grace had no faith in the capture experts. "Half the time these guys injure the animals so badly during a capture that the animals have to be killed," she told Matt.
"At least Josh is there," Matt pointed to Josh on the screen. He climbed into a Jeep with a couple of uniforms.
She saw way too many guns among the crowd on the screen. "Josh can't be everywhere," she moaned. "He can't stop the trigger-happy volunteer who shoots when Gumu panics and rushes him."
The TV station manager remained true to her promise not to air the video, but the reporters kept referring to an 'anonymous YouTube video' that showed gorillas escaping from a compound in the county.
"Want me to subpoena the user record from YouTube?" Matt asked.
"What's the point?" Grace ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Had she combed it since yesterday? Her eyes felt like they were full of sand. "I just don't know what to do," she whined.
He patted her on the forearm. "Did you stay up all night?"
She nodded. "More or less. I took a sleeping bag out into the yard in case they came back. I dozed once in awhile, on top of the picnic table."
The phone buzzed again. Grace picked it up and checked the ID. "Oh lord, it's the University." She stared at the ringing phone for a moment longer. Hell, how much worse could it get? She swallowed hard, then answered, "Dr. McKenna."
"Dr. McKenna, this is Norman Childers from the University Facilities Department. I'm in charge of all physical inventory owned by the university. We've just become aware of the situation in Evansburg. Is it true your two gorillas have escaped?"
There seemed to be little point in explaining that Gumu had been let out of his pen by a trespasser. She said simply, "Yes." She stood up, the phone still held to her ear.
"Those gorillas are valuable property."
"Actually, they are valuable beings," she said.
A brief silence ensued. He was probably debating what to say next. "You were entrusted with their care."
"I've cared for them for almost nine years," she reminded him.
"Do the gorillas actually have something to do with this missing baby case?"
"Yes." She wasn't going to explain the complex witness situation to some bean counter.
"Please keep us posted on the situation." He hung up.
"What was that about?" Matt asked.
"My boss wanted to make sure I was suffering appropriately," she said.
"I could vouch for that if you need a witness," he told her.
The phone buzzed in her hand. McKenna, Maureen. "Mom," she answered.
"I got your email," her mother said. "How are you holding up? Is there any news?"
"As well as I can," Grace told her. "As for news—I lost half my grant money, my job might be next, and the gorillas are still lost out there." She bit her lip, struggling not to cry like a little girl.
"You could always come back to the Bay area. I know you could get a job teaching at one of the community colleges; get a chance to use your education."
This was a common theme with her parents. They were both full professors; they'd never understood how Grace could do research with animals. A teaching job did sound good right now, clean and safe and easy.
"But what would I do with the gorillas?" she asked.
Her mother didn't respond. They'd had this conversation a hun
dred times. There was never an easy answer to that question. It hung in the ether between them, even more unbearable now because Grace knew that Maureen McKenna was thinking, maybe even wishing, that the gorillas might soon disappear forever from her daughter's life.
"Well," her mother finally said, "Just remember that coming home is always an option, Gracie."
Grace put the phone on the end table and plopped back down on the couch. She caught herself rubbing the scar on her lip. Matt was watching. Why couldn't she break that habit? She lowered her hand. "Cleft palate repair," she told him. "I had multiple surgeries; I didn't learn to talk properly until I was five."
"That explains the sign language."
"You got it," she told him.
A helicopter cruised low over the compound for the third time, its rotor blades thundering through the flimsy trailer walls. Matt stepped outside to study it, and she followed. Medium-sized, plain black. Probably a rental. Could be a news crew or Fish and Wildlife personnel inside.
"They're like buzzards," Matt remarked.
Like raptors hovering in the sky. Yes. Why hadn't she thought of the opportunity before? She stepped off the tiny porch, waving to the chopper. "Hey!" She galloped to the center of the yard, yelling, "Hey!" and pointing alternately to the helicopter and to the ground. "Come down!" she shouted. "Land!"
She could barely hear her own words over the whop-whop-whop of the blades. After a few seconds, Matt pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Bringing it to his ear, he shouted, "Detective Finn."
Then he trotted to her, holding out the phone. "The chopper pilot. For you."
"I want a ride," she shouted into the phone. She gestured to the ground again and backed away from the open space. Finn followed. She cupped her hands around the phone to shield it from the surrounding noise. "Please land."
To her amazement, the helicopter descended. The Forest Service ranger inside agreed to take her to help spot the gorillas. She piled in. In a cloud of blowing grit and thundering racket, they took off. As they headed for the forest, she saw Matt slide into his car.
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