by Rick Mofina
“Five-year-old Gabrielle Nunn of San Francisco wasabducted by a man a short time ago while at a birthday party at the Children’sPlayground in Golden Gate Park. The suspect drove away with her in a pickup truck,a battered, dark-colored Ford, late 1970’s, plate beginning with a ‘B’ or ‘E’or ‘8’. We suspect the same man also kidnapped three-year-old Daniel Beckerfrom his father on BART near Balboa Park and are investigating any link to lastyear’s kidnapping and murder of two-year-old Tanita Marie Donner.”
Blazing TV lights accentuated the chief’s green eyes.Speed winders whirred with sporadic camera flashes.
“We have some aspects of Gabrielle Nunn’s abduction wewill make public. A month ago, the Nunns’ blond cocker spaniel pup, Jackson,disappeared from their home in the Sunset. We believe the dog was taken byGabrielle’s kidnapper, who used it today to entice her to go with him.”
“Another vital lead comes from a family who wasvideotaping their outing at Golden Gate Park today when Gabrielle Nunn waslured away. They recorded Gabrielle’s abductor. We’ve enhanced the tape andwill show it to you. We have since produced a composite of the suspect.Everyone will be given copies of the video, the composite, pictures ofGabrielle Nunn, and her dog.”
“We’ve expanded our investigation into these crimes byestablishing a formal task force consisting of the SFPD, FBI, stat, and otheragencies. We have a dedicated tip line for any information on these crimes. Andthe mayor’s office has increased the reward for information leading to anarrest in any or all of the cases to $200,000. Anyone with any informationshould call us.”
The chief nodded to an officer. Suddenly, an enlargedcolor picture of Gabrielle Nunn stared at reporters from the screen overhead.It was one of the Polaroids taken at the party. Gabrielle, eyes bright, andoblivious to the horror looming.
“What a cute child,” said a reporter near Tom Reed.
An angel. That’s whatWilson had called her.
Suddenly the computer enhanced face of Gabrielle’sabductor emerged beside her. A Caucasian, in his late forties, early fifties,bearded, with snakelike strands of blondish hair writhing from under a ballcap. His mouth was like a slit. Large, dark glasses hid his eyes, concealingwhatever force was propelling him to hunt her, take her, and ram another stakeinto San Francisco’s heart.
Seeing his face next to Gabrielle’s was chilling.
Reed examined the composite.
Something was familiar. What was it?
The officers rolled a large monitor and VCR to thefront.
The chief said, “Now, we’ll show you the videotape.The sequence we’ve edited lasts about twenty seconds. We’ve removed the sound,isolated Gabrielle and the suspect with identifying circles.”
It was incredible. A hissing snowstorm filled themonitor before the dark-light strobe revolutions of the carousel appeared andthe abduction of Gabrielle Nunn was carried out, in slow motion.
It was surreal.
Reed took notes.
The footage was blurry, jittery. Gabrielle and herkidnapper were trapped in halos. It was still difficult to discern the manunder the ball cap, glasses, and beard. The tape vibrated, was out of focus.Even in slow motion, his face was indistinct. Then he turned, the cameracaptured his slightly distorted profile. It froze.
The rapid-clicking of the still cameras broke thesilence.
“That’s our best image of Gabrielle’s abductor,” thechief said.
Reed examined the monitor. Something gnawed at him.The screen was glowing with the suspect’s computer composite.
Then the video monitor.
The composite.
The monitor.
He swallowed. Hard.
The man. His beard, his nose, the shape of his head,his build.
Edward Keller.
He resembled Edward Keller, the religious nut from thebereavement group. Reed never forgot the people he clashed with. Keller wasirrational, telling him how he lost his three children in a boating accident.But Reed could not find any news clippings of Keller’s tragedy. Why? Was Kellera liar? An eccentric? Quoting ancient poetry and Scripture, babbling about his“ divine revelation” and his “blessed reunion with his children”.
Didn’t the FBI’s profile say Danny Becker’s kidnapperwas traumatized by a cataclysmic event involving children?
His blessed reunion with his children.
Children.
Are you the specter sent to destroy my work?
You can rescue them if you truly believe you can.
Reed found Sydowski among the stone-faced dicks liningthe wall. Should he put him on to Keller? But what if he is wrong? What ifKeller was just a nut, sick with grief, and Reed sicced the police on him.Especially now? Didn’t Dr. Martin say the anniversary of the tragedy wasapproaching, always a difficult time for grieving parents? The last time Reedhad galloped after a hunch, a man committed suicide, and Ann and Zack left him.Reed tapped his pen against his pad. But two children had been stolen.
The chief was taking questions. Reed had missed mostof them, coming out of his thoughts to catch a stunner.
“… you found a bloodied body part in the Sunset andit belonged to Gabrielle. Is that true, Chief?”
The chief was not pleased. “Your information isinaccurate. We found some of Gabrielle’s hair. We believe her abductor cut itto alter her appearance. It is not uncommon in abduction cases.”
“What about the blood?”
“We haven’t determined if it’s the abductor’s orGabrielle’s. And I can’t disclose details on the hair.”
“Chief, what about the stop made on the Golden Gate?”
“False alarm. Somebody who resembled the description.”
“There’s a rumor that a fugitive child-killer fromCanada is a suspect and is under surveillance.”
“We have a number of people we’re checking out. Wehave no Canadian fugitives under surveillance.”
“Did you arrest a suspect and let him go?”
“No. We brought in a few people known to us forquestioning.”
“Do you have any leads on the suspect in the video?”
“None.”
“Any ransom calls, demands, or contact from thekidnapper?”
“Nothing.”
“What about the Becker case, any contact?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you think the children have been murdered? Are youdealing with a serial child-killer?”
“We have no evidence to suggest any homicides. Untilthen, we work on the assumption they are being held somewhere.”
“Why do you think the cases are linked?”
“The similar patterns. Bold, daylight, strangerabduction in each of them. And in the Becker and Nunn cases, the suspect’sdescription is very similar.”
“Any theories on the motive behind the cases?”
The chief turned to FBI Special Agent Merle Rust, whotook the question. ‘Our psychological profile suggests the suspect’s motivationstems from a traumatic event in this life involving children, abuse, atragedy.”
“Sexual abuse?”
“Possibly.”
“Chief, anything linked to cult or Satanicinvolvement? What about a terrorist link to Nathan Becker’s defense contractcomputer research?”
“Nothing on all counts.”
“What do the abducted children have in common? Howdoes this man come to chose Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn?”
“We have had some leads, but we can’t reveal them.Now, before we close here, I just want the people of the Bay Area to know thedangerous situation we’re facing here. Parents should be vigilant with theirfamilies at all times and report anything suspicious. Thank you for coming.”The chief was peppered with questions as he made his way out.
Reed broke from the pack and caught up to Sydowski.“You got a moment, Walt?”
Sydowski led him down the hall until he found an emptyoffice.
“Make it quick.” Sydowski closed the door behind them.
“That footage really the guy?”
“It’s him. We showed it to Danny Becker’s father.”
“It is the same guy in Tanita Marie Donner’s murder?”
“Don’t know.”
“What about the guy you brought in the other day?”
“I told you, he was a shit-rat who gave us a lead tocheck.”
“What’s his name?”
“Can’t tell you. We’re still checking.”
“Do you think Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn aredead?”
“I don’t know.”
“What have you got, Walt? What’ve you really got?”
“Not much. A fuzzy description. Gabrielle’s hair.”
“You think this guy’s going to strike again?”
“Off the record? This entire conversation neverhappened.”
“What conversation?”
“I think he will strike again. We’re trying to trackhim, anticipate his next move. But we’ve got dick to work with.”
Reed nodded, and mulled his next thought.
“I’ve got to go,” Sydowski said.
“Wait, Walt.” Reed swallowed. “What if I recognizethis guy?”
Sydowski’s face grew into astonished anger. “Don’tfuck with me!” He stabbed Reed’s chest with a finger. “Has this fucker beencalling you?”
“No. No. Nothing like that.”
“What are you talking about, then?”
“His beard. He looks like someone I met once, but I’mnot sure.”
“You’re not sure.” Sydowski bristled. “Let me tell yousomething. If you know this guy, if you have any information about him, thenyou better tell me now.”
“Well, it’s just-“
Sydowski held a warning finger under Reed’s nose.“Because if you are sitting on information just for the sake of a goddamnstory, we’ll come after you harder than we did on Donner. And this time I’ll beleading the fucking charge.”
“He just looked familiar, vaguely familiar. Likesomebody I may have met once, but I just can’t place him.” Reed lied and backedoff.
“His description fits any one of about two hundred andfifty thousand men in the Bay Area.”
“I was just trying to get some background on theinvestigation. This is such a huge story.”
Sydowski shook his head incredulously, his facereddening. “You’re wasting my time. We’ve got a child murder and two stolenchildren and to you guys it’s just a game, just a huge story.”
Sydowski was seething. “It’s so easy for the press,isn’t it? You get us up there, hit us with questions that make you look asinineno matter how we answer. You do your stories and you go home. Not us. We haveto find this fucker, have to breathe, eat and sleep with what he’s done and maydo again. It gets personal for us, so don’t come around me playing yoursmart-ass give-and-take games.”
“We’re affected by this as much as you.”
“Ever see a murdered baby’s corpse? You know what thatdoes to you? You ever have to escort a mother to the morgue to identify therotting remains of her two-year-old daughter? Then hold her as she cries sohard you swear she’s breaking apart in your arms?”
Sydowski’s eyes were glistening. “Do you know thisasshole, Tom?”
“I guess not.”
“All right. Then unless you got something substantialto tell m, don’t bother me any more.” Sydowski left the room.
Reed went to the window and stared at the city.
THIRTY-NINE
The San Francisco Star’s afternoon meeting broke and weekend editor Blake MacCrimmon carriedhis note-filled yellow legal pad across the newsroom.
The city’s psychopath had stolen another child.
MacCrimmon had called in six reporters on overtime forthe story. The Star was coming out with a huge package-MacCrimmon hadcleared four inside pages. Deadline was two hours away, but that was not thesource of his unease. It was the story. When he saw the shaky footage ofGabrielle Nunn’s abduction, his skin stung; something that hadn’t happened tohim since he covered Vietnam. He had four grandchildren who lived near GoldenGate Park. He stopped at Tom Reed’s desk.
“Your story is going to be our main news hit on front.Lead off with something like: ‘Fears that a serial killer is stalking childrenafter a man abducted a five-year-old girl Saturday, days after a three-year-oldboy was kidnapped.”
“How long can I run with it?”
“Forty, fifty inches. Put the footage of the bad guyup high.”
“No problem.”
“I’ve got Molly camped out on the Nunns’ doorsteptonight, in case of a ransom call, or the family talks to the press. We’ll sendthe night guy to relieve her later.”
“What else have we got going?”
“A Jack Thorne column. It captures the mood: nervousparents keeping their children close, city sharing the Beckers’ and Nunns’anguish. Color on Gabrielle, her family, the dog connection, the suspect’spsych profile, a summary of the three cases, that sort of thing.” MacCrimmonadjusted his glasses. “Anything you think we should add?”
Reed noticed a back issue nearby with his feature onthe bereavement group. Again, he thought of Edward Keller. Maybe he should tellMacCrimmon about his hunch, ask to be freed to quietly investigate Keller. Thenagain, maybe not.
“You have something on your mind, Tom?”
“No. Sounds like a solid package.”
“Story’s drawing global interest. Other papers inBritain, Japan, and Canada are sending staff here.” MacCrimmon checked hiswatch, then patted Reed’s shoulder. “Better get busy.”
Reed’s story came together smoothly. After proofingit, he sent it to MacGrimmon’s computer desk.
Reed massaged his neck and looked at Molly Wilson’sempty chair. Tomorrow was going to be another long day with follow-up stories.The mayor was holding a don’t-worry-the-city-is-safe press conference.Exhausted but satisfied, Reed considered leaving to get some sleep, butadrenaline was still coursing through his system. Something hideous had hit thecity and he was part of it, secretly experiencing the macabre thrill everycrime reporter knew, loathed, and would never truly comprehended. From Salinasto Ukiah, wherever the Star went, people would devour his work, gasp andshake their heads-in office towers, restaurants, airports, malls, schools andkitchens.
Reed knew this and it excited him. It always did.
Reed checked his watch. It was not that late. He shouldcall Ann and Zach just to hear their voices. They hadn’t been together sincetheir lunch in Berkeley. Reed smiles at how Zach was giddy with the good news.
“Soooo?” Zach’s eyes ping-ponged between his parentsas he sucked up the last of his strawberry shake. “What’s taking so long?”
“What are you talking about?” Reed said.
“Us getting back together. I told Gordie we’re movingback.”
Reed exchanged a glance and a smile with Ann.
“We haven’t heard back from Mr. Tilley,” she said.
“You mean the Okie guy who’s renting our house withhis wife?”
“Watch your manners, Zach.” Reed said.
“The nice businessman from Tulsa.”
“It’s going to take some time for Mr. Tilley toarrange to find another place before we can move in,” Ann said.
“A couple of months at least,” Reed added.
“A couple of months? Well okay.” Zach burped. “Excuseme.”
“And you are going with me on my business trip toChicago,” Ann said.
They were putting the pieces back together. Once theyreturned to their house, regrouped as a family, he would request a leave andtake a crack at his novel and they would put what had happened behind them. Itwas all they could do. For the rest of their lunch, he stole glances at Ann andZach, loving them and wondering if the fractures would ever fade. That was afew days ago.
Tilley told them moving out of their house wouldn’t bea problem. He was supposed to get back to Ann with a date.
Reed picked up the phone to call her, but it was late.Zach was likely asleep. He snapped
off his computer, slipped on his jacket, andwaved to the night desk. Leaving the newsroom, he decided to call Ann and Zachtomorrow. Maybe they’d get together after their shift. He could put somedistance between himself and the story.
Reed would be in his lonely bed and asleep withinforty-five minutes, and without the help of Jack Daniel’s. He hadn’t touchedthe booze for five nights now. He did it by focusing on his priorities. Ann andZach. That’s all he had to do, he told himself, stopping at the bank ofreporters’ mail slots, where he found something in his box. What’s this? Anancient Star article taken from a microfilmed back issue with a notefrom Lillian Freeman, the newsroom librarian. The article was short. No byline.The head was:
THREE S.F. CHILDREN DROWN IN BOATING ACCIDENT
There was a note with the article:
“Tom: I know you wanted this a long time ago but Ijust found it. Apparently this happened twenty years ago, not ten. Hence thedelay. We had little on it. You could check the Chron and the Exam.I left some material marked for you in the reading corner. Hope it still helps.Lillian.”
Reed read the story of how Edward Keller’s childrendrowned in the Pacific. He was transfixed. He got a steaming mug of blackcoffee and headed for the newsroom library.
FORTY
Two hours after she had given an emotional news conference on her front lawn, Nancy Nunnwas in her bedroom, sedated. Turgeon was still on the phone. Sydowski set hiscoffee aside, as he steadied himself to see Gabrielle’s brother, Ryan, aftersomebody told him the eight-year-old had questions.
Ryan was downstairs with Nancy Nunn’s friend WendySloane and her daughters, Charlotte and Elaine. The family room had therequisite paneling and indoor-outdoor carpeting. A small bar with three swivelstools stood empty at one end, with a Giants’ pennant and a neon beer signglowing from the wall behind it. Closed tonight. There was a well-worn couchand loveseat set before a big-screen TV. It was a room where a family couldsnuggle up in front of a movie, or play monopoly, or laugh, or be happy, oranything safe and mundane.
