by Rick Mofina
All he ever wanted in this world was to be a reporter.The dream of a kid from Big Sky Country. His dad used to bring him a newspapersix days a week, The Great Falls Tribune. He’d spread it open on theliving room floor and read the news to his mother. When he was eleven, hestarted his first Trib route. Trudging through the snow, shivering inthe rain, or sweating under the prairie sun with that canvas bag, nearly blackwith newsprint, slung over his shoulder like a harness. Dad had knotted thestrap so the bag hung just so, like an extension of himself. He would read thepaper as he delivered it, dreaming of seeing his stories in print. He had fortycustomers and every day, by the time he emptied his bag, he’d have read theday’s entire edition.
Life’s daily dramas enthralled him. He became a newsaddict and an expert on current affairs. In high school, he graduated from newspaperboy to cub reporter, writing stories for the school paper. He was accepted intoJ-School at the University of Missouri, where he met Ann, a business major withbig brown eyes and a smile that knocked him out. She was from Berkeley andwanted children and her own shop to sell the children’s clothes she woulddesign and make herself. That was a secret, she told him.
He wanted a family, too, but he wanted to establishhis career first and maybe write books, the last part was a secret. If you talkabout writing books, you’d never do it.
They were married after graduation. A few weeks later,he got a job with AP in San Francisco. Ann was happy to move back to the BayArea, where she would be near her mother. And Reed was determined to provehimself in San Francisco. He hustled for AP, breaking a story about the RussianMafia. He was short listed for a Pulitzer, but lost out. The San FranciscoStar then offered him a job as a crime reporter at twice his salary.
Ann got an administrative post at one of SanFrancisco’s hospitals, at night, she worked on her business plan and clothingdesigns. He traveled constantly, worked long hours and was rarely home. Theyears passed. Starting a family seemed impossible.
Then boom. Ann was pregnant. He was stunned.Unprepared. She had forgotten her pills when they vacationed in Las Vegas. Hehinted that she’d done it purposely. Not true, she said. They didn’t want toargue. In the following months, they retreated, withdrew into themselves. Annwelcomed the coming of a baby, Reed braced for it.
When he witnessed the birth of their son, he felt adegree of love he never know existed. But soon, he grappled with his ownmortality. It frightened him, overwhelmed him with the realization that he hadlittle time in his life for accomplishments. He was a father. He feared hewould fail fatherhood. He compensated the only way he knew: by striving throughhis job to leave Zach a legacy as a man who had made his mark. Someone Zachcould be proud of. Consequently, the Star became his mistress andfamily. It seemed Ann and Zach became people he appreciated only when needed.They shared the groceries and the furniture. On the surface, he was like anyother young husband and father. In truth, he only gave of himself when it wasconvenient. It was cute how Zach imitated him and wanted to be a reporter, justlike his daddy. It was reassuring how Ann understood that he never had time forthem. But something was crumbling, little by little, day by day. Reed was blindto what had happened, oblivious to Ann’s achievement of single-handedly gettingher small shop of the ground while raising Zach alone. He had become a strangerforcing them to survive without him.
His fuckup last year on Tanita Marie Donner’s murderbrought it all to the surface. He had deceived himself about priorities. Whathe invested every day in the pursuit of vainglory could be had by anyone forfifty cents. But the price exacted from his family and himself wasincalculable. Now he was alone in his room with everything he had thoughtvaluable: his awards, his jobs, himself, and a pile of newspapers threateningto spill across the floor.
How could he have been so stupid?
What had he done to Ann? To Zach? He was so sorry. Hehad to call them. Had to tell them. Right now. He heard the chink of glass ashe rose to go to the phone and nearly fell down. It was three-thirty in themorning. He was drunk. Forget it. Staggering to bed, he noticed the MetroUniversity envelope sticking from his jacket pocket. Scanning the latter aboutDr. Martin’s bereavement research, he scoffed and tossed it. Then he sawanother envelope in his jacket, from the photo department. The borrowedsnapshot of Danny Raphael Becker. Someone had slipped it in his pocket with anote suggesting he return it to the Beckers in person. He looked at it for along time. Well, this was one story he wouldn’t be fucking up. Tenderly, hepropped up Danny’s picture on the mantel next to the little framed photographof his son, Zach.
ELEVEN
The phone jangled. Half asleep, Reed grabbed it.
“You up Reed?”
“No.”
Silence. Reed squeezed the receiver. “Who the hell isthis?”
The caller sighed “You sober, Reed?”
Myron Benson’s voice rattled him out of drowsiness.Since the fuckup, the metro editor no longer acknowledged Reed in the newsroom.Why was he calling? Bored tormenting him with probation? Did he reach adecision on Reed’s fate? Reed hadn’t seen today’s paper. Did he screw up? Wasthat it? Was Benson going to fire him now?
“What do you want?”
“Read your story today. Good job getting the father.”
Reed waited for the “but”
“I want you to cover the Becker press conferencetoday.”
Reed sat up. “Duggan told me last night you pulled meoff the story”
“Changed my mind. For now, you will now be involved inour coverage. I want to see where this abduction thing is going.”
“Well, I have a few theories.”
“Shove ‘em up your ass. I want solid reporting.Understand?”
“I understand.” That you’re a fucking prick.
“I also want a feature on Dr. Martin’s bereavementresearch at the university. I read her letter. Tie it in with the Becker case.”
“Right”
“And Reed, any incompetence will be noted.”
Like pulling wings off of flies. You loving thisBenson?
Quit moping and do something about it, he decided aftershaving and dressing. He had under an hour before the press conference. No timefor breakfast. He snatched two bananas to eat on the way. Remembering to grabthe snapshot of Danny Becker from the mantel brought him face-to-face with Ann,Zach, and his own guilt.
Quit moping. Do something.
He checked his watch
He punched the number, it had been weeks since theyhad talked. What if she called a lawyer? How would he begin? I love you andZach more than anything and I want us back together. He now realized he may bewrong and was ready to admit it.
It rang twice.
“Hello?” Ann’s mother said.
“Hello, Doris.”
“Oh, hello Tom.” No Malice. Doris was not aninterfering mother-in-law. She was always pleasant to him.
“I see you been busy.” Doris was a faithful Starreader.
“Yes.” Not knowing what to say, he said, “I hopeyou’re well.”
“I’m fine, Tom. And you.”
:Me?” He saw the empty Jack Daniel’s bottle. “I’mokay.”
“It’s so terribly sad, don’t you think?”
Was she referring to the kidnapping, or her daughter’smarriage to him? She continued. “That little boy, Danny Becker. His mother andfather must be sick with worry.”
“I’m sure they are.”
The extension clicked.
“Tom…?”
Ann’s voice was balm to him. For he accepted that hecould have been wrong and wanted to tell her. She and Zach were his life. Heknew he could not live without them and he wanted to tell her. But he didn’t.
All he managed was, “Hi Ann.”
“Hi. How are you doing?”
“Well, I’ve been better. How are you doing?”
“We’re fine.”
“Do you guys need anything?”
“Nothing.”
“How’s the car running?”
“The transmission feels f
unny.”
“It was starting to slip just before you…” Hestopped himself before saying: just before you left me. “Take it to Otto’s. Thewarranty’s still good.”
“Okay.”
“Want me to make the appointment?”
“I’ll do it.”
A few awkward seconds passed.
“I read your story today about this horrible kidnapping.If anything ever Zach…”
“They’re going hard on the investigation. I’m headingto a press conference. Ann, I want to see you, to talk about things.”
“It’s Zach, isn’t it?”
Zach? He was puzzled. “Why do you say that?”
“I thought he might have called you. He’s been havingnightmares.” Her voice became a whisper. “He misses you.”
“He misses me?”
Reed seethed with conflicting emotions. What did youexpect, Ann? You paint me as some evil leper because I enjoy my job. You yankhim out of the only home he’s known, take him away from his friends, hisneighborhood. He’s probably scared to death of this kidnapping shit. He’s gotto get up at five-thirty every morning now to be driven across the goddamnedbay to school. He’s had to miss soccer, which he lives for. You throw hislittle world into a goddamn blender. He misses what you took him away from: hishome.
Hold everything.
He was wrong. Only a fool would blame Ann. Blameyourself, Reed.
“I miss both of you,” he said.
“Then why haven’t you come to him?”
“When you moved to Berkeley I took it to mean that youdidn’t want to see me. I swear that’s what I thought you wanted. I had to fightthe urge to see you. I used to park down the street from your mother’s house,hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”
“You did?”
“I don’t know what the rules are, Ann.”
“Zach came home from school one day, asking about youand when we were going to stop being mad and all move back home.”
“He cuts through the crap, doesn’t he?”
They both chuckled faintly, leaving Zach’s questionalone.
“Ann, I want to get together. I have some things Iwant to say.”
“Well, Zach’s been waiting to visit you at the paper.Why don’t we drop by and have lunch sometime this week?”
“It’s a date. Do you think he wants to talk to me fora bit?”
“Sure, just a minute.”
Ann put the receiver down. A few seconds later Tomheard the pounding of Zach’s sneakers approaching the phone.
“Dad?”
Reed felt something in his throat. “You being good,Zach?”
“Yup.”
“Are you being nice to Grandma?”
“Yup.” Then he whispered, “I even remember to leavethe toilet seat down after I go to the bathroom.”
“Wonderful.”
“Dad, are we going to move back home?”
“We’re working on it. We’re working on it, okay?”
“Dad, you want us all to move back home, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Me, too. Mom does, too. I heard her telling Grandma.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. Anything you want to talkabout?”
“That little boy that got kidnapped yesterday, I sawhis picture in your paper. Is that boy dead?”
“Nobody knows. The police are working real hard on thecase.”
“But the police are going to catch the kidnapper,right? They’re going to catch him before he takes more kids, right, Dad?”
Reed ran his hand over his face. “Zach, your motherand I love you, more than you ever know. Do you hear me, son?”
“I guess.” His voice was weak.
“And it’s all right to be a little nervous and extracareful to always not to talk to strangers. But Zach, don’t go crazy in yourhead over it. Don’t confuse it with what’s happening with us. Okay? Mom and Iare working on moving back together.”
“But when, Dad? I want to go home….” Zach’s voicebroke into a gut-wrenching plea that nearly winded Reed.
“I don’t know when, son.’
Zack was crying softly.
“Zack, it’s all right to be sad. I’m sad, too. But youhave to be strong and patient for Mom and me. Can you do it?”
“Uh-huh, I’ll try.”
“we’ll do everything we can. Now, I promise I willtalk to you again real soon.” Reed looked at his watch. “Tell Mom I will callher. Now I have to go, son.”
Reed hung up and hurried to his Comet.
TWELVE
Danny Becker woke up afraid and hungry. This strange place smelled bad, likeanimal cages at the zoo. His mouth tasted funny. “Dad!” Danny waited. Nothing.“Mommy! Where are you?”
Danny listened. Still nothing.
Something was wrong. He had his shoes on. Mommy neverlet him sleep in bed with his shoes on. His breathing quickened. He was soscared, sitting here on the smelly old mattress. The room was lit by a naked,dim bulb casting long shadows on the concrete walls. One tiny window had barson the inside. Newspapers covered the glass. Danny noticed a cup of milk, plateof cookies and a sandwich on the floor.
He cried as he ate. The sandwich was peanut butter andjam. Not nice like Mommy makes. The jam was dripping off the sides. The cookieswere cream cookies, the fat ones. He remembered being on the subway with Daddywhen he got bumped out the door and fell. He was lifted up from behind by handsthat were strong like Daddy’s. But they weren’t Daddy’s. They held him funny.At first Danny thought it as a game because they were going somewhat fast. Butwhen the person carrying him stumbled, he said a bad word. Danny tried toscream, but a stinky wet cloth smothered his face.
Danny had to pee. He replaced a half-eaten cookie onthe plate, stood up, and looked around. He had to find the bathroom. He went tothe door, reached up, gripped the knob, and turned.
It opened.
The hallway was dark. A shaft of light from a TVilluminated a stairway, and distinct, rhythmic squeak-creak sounds camefrom above.
Sniffling, Danny tiptoed up the stairs. He heard abark. A little blond dog waited for him at the top of the stairs.
It was brighter on the next floor and the bathroom wasnear the stairs. Danny entered and left the door open so it would be known hewas doing the right thing. The dog waited for him at the door. He was friendlyand licked Danny’s hand.
The TV and the squeak-creak grew louder asDanny entered the living room.
“…here’s the pitch; it’s a slider inside. Strike!”
Fifty thousand fans at Dodger Stadium roared. Dannyturned and took in the room. It was barren. Torn rags and soiled sheets andtowels covered the windows. No Mommy. No Daddy.
The walls were filthy. A large table, cluttered with abig computer, papers and maps was pushed to a corner.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
“…the Giants are looking good here in LosAngeles…”
Baseball. The TV was on a tall stand in the middle ofthe room.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
A strange man faced the set, rocking back and forth ina rocking chair. His back was turned to Danny.
“I want my mommy and daddy,” Danny said.
The stranger ignored him.
“…but so far they’re giving L.A. a drubbingtoday…”
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
Strewn on the floor beside the man were newspapers.Seeing something familiar. Danny inched closer.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
Danny saw his own picture in one paper. He saw Daddy’spicture too-he looked worried and sad. Danny shuddered.
Who was that man in the rocking chair? He took half astep backward.
“Home field isn’t helping the Dodgers, Frank…Excuseme, Billy. We’re going to the network’s San Francisco affiliate for an updateon the kidnapping of Danny Becker.”
Danny’s mouth dropped when he heard his name. His eyeswere rived to the set. What was happening?
A man on the TV said, “Good af
ternoon. I am PeterMcDermid with an EyeWitness News special update.” Danny blinked, staring athimself on TV.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
“Three-year-old Danny Raphael Becker was kidnapped…”
What is kidnapped?
“…from his father yesterday while they were ridinghome on San Francisco’s Bay Area Transit System subway from a baseball game atOakland’s Alameda County Coliseum. It is believed a man abducted the boy fromthe Balboa Park BART Station. Danny is still missing. Police say his family hasreceived no ransom calls and that they have no suspects, no useful descriptionof Danny’s abductor. Today they are intensifying their investigation. Onehundred additional police and one thousand volunteers are helping in the searchfor Danny. He is the only child of Nathan and Magdalene Becker.”
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
The picture of a little girl appeared beside Danny’s.He knew her. It was the girl he saw on the subway. The one who never smiled.
“A disturbing aspect in Danny’s case is that ithappened nearly one year later, and in almost exactly the same area wheretwo-year-old Tanita Marie Donner was taken from her home. She was murderedthree days later in Golden Gate Park.”
Murdered? Is that when you are dead? Is that murdered?
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
“An unprecedented investigation involving the FBI andSan Francisco police has yet to find Tanita’s killer. Police refuse to say ifTanita Donner’s murder and Danny Becker’s abduction are linked. But EyeWitnessNews has learned the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit, expert in profiling serialcriminals, is again assisting.”
“There has been an outpouring of support for theBeckers. We go now to a news conference called by Nathan and Magdalene Becker.EyeWitness News reporter Jennie Duffy is there. Jeannie, give us a sense of theimpact the Becker abduction has had.”
Jennie Duffy stood before a row of TV cameras. Beyondthem, a table with a small mountain of microphones and portable tape recordersrose before two empty chairs.
“Peter, the people I’ve talked to are horrified. Theabduction of Danny Becker is every parent’s nightmare. They say this kind ofthing isn’t supposed to happen in their neighborhood. It’s something thathappens in the movies, but not here. They’re taking precautions. Neighborhoodwatch parties are being formed, children are not allowed anywhere alone, andstrangers are regarded with suspicion. A blanket of fear has fallen over SanFrancisco.”
