book Read online

  Marshall looked worried. “The kidnapper might not want that.” Hedley took him to a corner away from his wife. “Do you have any money?”

  “We could probably scrape together ten thousand. We’re not rich.”

  “Mr. Howe, I don’t think you’re going to be getting a phone call asking for money.”

  The color drained from Marshall’s face.

  “Do you or your wife have someone who hates you badly enough to do this?” Marshall shook his head. “No, sir.”

  “No jealous lover?”

  Marshall stood straighter. “No. We’re a decent family, ordinary people.” Hedley met his gaze.

  “Why did he take my son?” Marshall asked. “Tell me what you think; I need to know the worst.”

  No, you don’t. He’d get there soon enough, then wish he never had.

  “First of all, I don’t think you should give up hope of your boy walking into one of the stores. Small children can be hard to find, they hide in unexpected places.

  Sammy could have wandered off on his own. He’s been gone for less than two hours. He might not have been spotted in a car if he fell asleep in the back.

  There’s still a chance this is something simple.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  Hedley glanced at Amy Howe. She was rocking her daughter, her eyes unblinking.

  “If someone’s snatched Sammy because his wife’s infertile or maybe recently lost a baby, when he gets home, she’ll probably be terrified, make her husband take the child somewhere, a mall, a police station even, and leave him.”

  “What if the wife wants to keep him?”

  “Neighbors are nosey, they’ll notice. So will friends. You might get away with a newborn for a while, but you can’t hide a chatty three year old.” Hedley paused.

  “Those sorts of people will take good care of Sammy.”

  “Who else might it be?”

  Hedley avoided the question. “He’ll probably turn up safe and sound. Most do, believe me.”

  “Who else?” Marshall asked.

  “It could be a professional job, someone paid to take a boy for a rich, childless couple who’ve tried every other route. They might be specifically looking for a boy with blond hair, blue eyes, age three. Those people are more difficult to trace.”

  “But not impossible?”

  “Never impossible.” How could he tell this poor guy otherwise? Hedley had to believe it, too. Otherwise he might as well give up now.

  “Or he might be a pervert,” Marshall whispered, clenching his fists. “Some child molester might have taken my baby.”

  Registered pedophiles were already under scrutiny.

  “How could someone want to hurt him? He’s just a baby…my son…I love him more than my life….” Marshall began to cry.

  Hedley hesitated. Not everyone would accept gestures of comfort from strangers. He patted Marshall’s back.

  “It’s the least likely option,” Hedley lied. “Don’t think about it. You have to stay positive for your wife’s sake. She’s feeling guilty.”

  “Why did she leave him on his own? A few seconds was too long. She should have taught him not to go with strangers. But she asked a stranger to watch him.

  What was she thinking?”

  “He’s only three years old. He most likely figured a guy who’d given him a toy in McDonald’s, a guy who’d talked to his mother, wasn’t a stranger. It’s no use blaming anyone except the person who took him. Don’t give your wife a hard time about this. She needs you to be strong.”

  Marshall let out a shuddering breath. Hedley patted his back again.

  “Police in every state know of Sammy’s disappearance and the Amber Alert system means it’s not only the police who’re looking. If people spot a kid crying, a kid who seems uneasy, they’ll act. We need to be speaking to local TV, radio stations, and newspapers as quickly as we can.” Marshall nodded. “What can I do?”

  “Plenty. If Sammy doesn’t turn up in the next couple of hours, and remember he might, then have flyers printed with his picture. Get your friends to organize the distribution. There are agencies that can help. Most cases like this are solved within forty-eight hours. Don’t lose hope and go give your wife a hug.” Hedley watched as the parents dissolved in each other’s arms. Officers were on their hands and knees examining the parking lot. Any piece of trash could potentially be useful, particularly if they could match prints to the table where the guy sat. Amy Howe began to cry harder.

  He didn’t think Sammy’s parents had anything to do with the child’s disappearance, but he couldn’t discount the possibility. No one had specifically remembered the boy in the restaurant. What stood out was Amy Howe screaming. Had Sammy ever been there? Was he dead before Amy had gone to McDonald’s? Holding parents under suspicion came as a further shock to already traumatized people and often ruined the relationship between them and those trying to find their child.

  A forensic team was en route to the Howes’ home. They’d go through everything; moving furniture, vacuuming, scraping, culturing. Luminol would reveal traces of blood no human eye could see. It wasn’t uncommon for a parent who’d accidentally killed their child to pretend they’d been abducted. The Howes’ neighbors and friends would be interviewed about what kind of parents they were and the Howes’ would be asked questions no parent should ever have to listen to, let alone answer. Hedley knew, whether the parents were guilty or not, they’d moved straight to hell.

  “A ring,” Amy suddenly shouted.

  Marshall beckoned Hedley over.

  “He wore a ring,” she said. “A plain gold wedding ring, but it was shiny, new.”

  “Maybe it was someone who just got married,” her husband added.

  It was a long shot.

  ***

  The child woke Kate, tugging at her arm.

  “I need to go potty.”

  Kate’s head swam. She struggled in quicksand. “We have to stop.”

  “I need to go,” the boy said again, kicking his feet.

  “Jack!”

  “Okay, okay.”

  He pulled off the road and got out to open Kate’s door. She hurried to unfasten the harness and helped the child down from the car. Out of the temperature controlled comfort of the vehicle, they both shivered. It was dark, the sky clear of clouds and full of stars.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” He clung to Kate’s leg.

  “We’re not near a bathroom. You can go here. It’s okay,” she said.

  “It’s dark. I want to go to the bathroom.”

  “We’ll take a leak together.” Jack held out his hand. The child took it without hesitation, and he and Jack walked off a little way from the car. Had he left the keys in the ignition? But she couldn’t leave without the boy. Her mind was flat, as though the effort of continually grinding through her fears had worn away her ability to hope.

  With everyone back in the vehicle, Jack opened the cooler. “Want something to eat, Tommy?”

  “My name’s Sammy.”

  “There’s cookies, chips, soda.” Jack held out a packet of chips.

  “Can we go show Mommy my new T-shirt?”

  “You’ve got a new mommy now. Your old mommy was sick, so Kate’s going to be your new mommy and I’m going to be your new daddy. You’ve got a new name too—Tommy—like Tommy Lee Jones, you heard of him?” The child shook his head, his eyes clouded in confusion.

  “How about Tom Hanks?”

  He shook his head.

  “Tom Cruise?”

  Kate didn’t miss the sharper tone and neither did the boy. He nodded and Jack smiled. She opened a carton of apple juice and helped the boy take a drink.

  “If Mommy’s sick, what about Daddy?”

  “He’s sick, too,” Jack said. “They didn’t want you to get sick so they asked us to look after you for a while.”

  “Grandpa—”

  “All your family’s sick,” Jack snapped. “All of them. They’ll probably die and—”


  “Jack!”

  He turned his gaze on her. “Families get sick. They die. It happens.”

  “I’ve drunk all my juice.”

  “Good boy.” Jack smiled at Kate and she shuddered.

  ***

  Jack woke as dawn broke. He stepped from the car and stretched, reaching to rub out the kinks in his neck. He opened the rear door and shook Kate awake. She came to with a start. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and her face looked different for a moment, relaxed—until she saw him. He didn’t care. Pretty soon, she’d look whatever way he wanted her to look. Jack cut her free and pulled her out.

  She almost fell. The drugs he’d given her would be washing around in her system for a while. He handed her a bottle of water and had to take it back to open it. Jack saw her gaze move between the gold ring on her finger and the one on his.

  “You may not remember, but we are married, darlin’.”

  “How could we be married if I don’t remember the ceremony?”

  “I think you’ll find that Las Vegas is pretty much a blur to you, but you said yes.”

  “No, I…”

  Jack smiled as he watched her struggle to remember.

  “I hit my head,” she said.

  “You fell in the tub. You were probably concussed. Didn’t spoil our wedding night, though.” He took hold of her waist and pulled her toward him, bringing her hips against his. “You were crazy for me. You’re real noisy when you come. Shouting my name, telling me to fuck you harder. I thought you’d wake the neighbors.”

  She tried to pull away, but he kept her in his arms.

  “You moan and give these little cries and get this red flush across the top of your breasts. Real cute. So don’t try and fake it because I’ll know.” He bent his head to kiss her and she turned her face away. Jack’s hand flew up and grabbed her jaw, twisting her back to face him. “We’re married now, Kate. We’re a family.

  You obey me.”

  She nodded. Jack released her jaw. Prints from his fingers stayed on her skin.

  “Wake the boy. Give him some juice.”

  Kate leaned into the car. “Wake up, sweetheart.” He opened his eyes and looked around. Kate took a carton of apple juice from the cooler, pressed in the straw and held it to his lips.

  “It’s cold. Where’s my mommy?”

  Jack sighed. “We’re your mommy and daddy.” The boy sucked harder at the carton, then pushed it away and closed his eyes.

  Kate turned to Jack. “Let us go. Leave us here or let us out of the car at the next town or gas station. I won’t say anything.”

  “Like I’d believe that.”

  “I promise. Please, Jack, please let us go.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, I don’t get it. Why are you doing this? You’ve killed a man, kidnapped a child. You could get the death penalty.”

  “We killed the man. We took the child. I go down, so do you. Anyway, Tommy is our child. Our son. We can’t go to prison for taking something that belongs to us.”

  Kate’s shoulders slumped.

  He pushed her back against the car and lifted her chin. “I’m not lying. Why would I lie?”

  “My baby died,” Kate said.

  “Don’t keep saying that. You were ill. You lost a lot of blood. Your parents decided it was better for you to believe the baby died. That way you could have your old life back. Your mother told me everything. Why would she lie? Look at him, Kate. How can you turn your back on him? He looks like us.” Kate glanced behind her. Tommy slept again. He was perfect, so beautiful. “We don’t know anything about him. How can we look after him?”

  “We can learn.”

  Kate shook her head. “My baby died.”

  Jack’s eyes darkened. “No, he didn’t, but he nearly did and it was your fucking fault. Susan told me you didn’t take care of yourself when you were pregnant. You tried to pretend it wasn’t true. You wore tight clothes and didn’t eat. You were anemic and the baby was underweight. You could have both died.”

  “He died,” Kate whispered.

  “No.” Jack mashed her face against the window. “He’s alive. Susan should have told you the truth. They tried to protect you, but they were wrong. Our baby was given up for adoption. I traced him to Las Vegas. Now he’s back with his real mom and dad. This is the way it should be.”

  “He’s been living for over three years with people he believes are his parents.

  It’s not fair to do this, to him or to them.”

  “What about us, Kate? What about being fair to us?”

  “What us?”

  Jack sank his fingers into her upper arm. “Look at him. He looks like you. He has your eyes, my nose. He’s the image of me when I was his age. His lips are like yours. Don’t you see that?” He squeezed harder.

  “Yes,” Kate whimpered.

  ***

  “Bert, look at this,” Martha Audubon called.

  Her husband came out of the motel bathroom, rubbing his hands on a towel.

  “There’s been a little boy snatched this lunchtime from a shopping plaza not far from here.”

  “Those poor parents.” Bert shook his head. He stood behind his new wife and listened to the rest of the broadcast.

  “Take down the number,” Martha said.

  Bert grabbed the pen and pad from next to the telephone. “What are you thinking?”

  “That young man who said he’d bought his wife a personalized number plate.

  He didn’t put it on.”

  “Well, maybe he wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “He had blond hair, he was tall and he had a new wedding ring.”

  “Martha, that description could fit a whole bunch of people.” He waggled his ring finger in front of her nose.

  “Bert Audubon, you may be tall, you may have the ring but I only have your word for it that your hair was blond and you’re way past your twenties.” He chuckled.

  “I’m going to call and tell them.”

  Martha knew he thought she was wasting her time but she did it anyway. They were flying home that night. She wanted to help.

  It wasn’t her fault that the information recorded from the newlywed octogenarian hailing from Kansas was incorrectly entered as the Home Sweet Home motel in Kansas City.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jeannie had another bad night and was still wide awake at two. Last month, she’d invited Kate to celebrate Thanksgiving with her. Kate said she’d buy the food and Jeannie would cook, but now Thanksgiving was here and Kate wasn’t.

  As far as Jeannie knew, Kate didn’t have family to look out for her. Jeannie had a daughter, Laura, who lived in San Diego. She didn’t see her often, but at least she had someone who cared. Kate only had Jeannie. She wished she could convince herself Kate was fine, but during her sleepless night, she’d imagined Kate lying hurt, and Jeannie could no longer sit back and do nothing.

  After breakfast, she took a taxi to the station house. Detective Foster wasn’t there, so she waited.

  Two painful arthritic hours passed before someone called her name.

  “Mrs. Lawrence?”

  Jeannie struggled to her feet, her knees creaking.

  “I’m Detective Foster. Sorry to keep you waiting. Come on through.” Foster was older than she’d imagined, in his late forties, gray hair, tall with a kind smile. She didn’t think he was married. No wife would let her husband leave the house with his collar in that state. He opened the door of a small, drab room and gestured her inside.

  “Flo, be an angel and bring us coffee,” he called to a passing redhead.

  “Tea for me, if you can manage it,” Jeannie said. “One sugar.” She settled herself on another plastic folding chair and winced.

  “Can I get you something more comfortable to sit on?”

  “I’m fine.” She’d be stiff all day, but she didn’t want to waste time. “I want to fill out a missing person’s report about my next door neighbor.”
>
  “It should really be her next of kin.”

  “She doesn’t have any. Her parents are dead.” Detective Foster pulled a form from his folder and picked up a pen. “Okay. Her name.”

  “Kate Evans.”

  “Kate, Katherine, Kathleen?”

  Jeannie realized she didn’t know. “Just Kate.”

  “Age?”

  “Twenty. I’m not exactly sure of her date of birth, but I know it’s sometime in April.”

  “Address? Place of employment?”

  Jeannie related them and added, “She’s working to save money for college.”

  “Description?”

  “Tall, about 5’9, beautiful long brown hair, brown eyes. She’s slim. Wears dark rimmed glasses, she’s nearsighted.”

  “Any scars, distinguishing marks?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.”

  Flo came in with a tray and put it on the table. “Sorry, no tea.” Jeannie sipped the coffee. It was terrible. The TV programs got that right.

  “How long have you known her?” Detective Foster asked.

  “Four months.”

  She told him Kate had no relatives. Her parents died just before she moved in.

  There was no boyfriend either, because Kate told her she had a nasty experience a few years ago, which made her cautious about men.

  Detective Foster’s ears pricked up at that. “What sort of nasty experience?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t press her.” Jeannie worked on the assumption Kate would have told her if she’d wanted to.

  “Was she depressed?”

  “She wasn’t the suicidal type, detective. I tried calling the hospitals, but they won’t tell me anything.”

  “I can check. How about medication?”

  “Not that I know of,” Jeannie said.

  “Friends?”

  “At the library perhaps, but they didn’t come to her apartment. She doesn’t seem to make friends easily. It takes her a long while to trust people. Even me.

  She was careful. Safety conscious. I think she only just managed to get by on her salary. Our apartment building is in a good area. That was important to Kate.

  Living somewhere safe meant more than having money to go out and enjoy herself.”