The Stolen (2008) Read online

  “You want Daniel to get used to living in a normal

  home,” I said.

  “Best for him to get used to a real home again,” Shelly

  said, nodding.

  A man entered the room. He looked weary but happy.

  He was a slightly paunchy man with a receding hairline

  and deep bags under his eyes.

  “You must be Henry,” he said, offering his hand.

  “Randall Linwood.”

  “Mr. Linwood,” I said. “Thanks so much for having me.

  I’m grateful for you letting me into your home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Parker. With so many vultures circling

  us since Daniel’s return, it’s good to have someone we feel

  we can trust handling the story. Shelly and I have done our

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  homework on you and your newspaper. I think we’re all

  in good hands.”

  “You are, sir. I ask for nothing but the truth, and I give

  nothing but my word.” Shelly smiled at this, flicked at her

  eye as though wiping away a nonexistent tear.

  “Anyway, I have to get back to the office. I wanted to

  be here to meet the senator, but if I miss any more time,

  Daniel’ll have to eat Spaghetti O’s for the next few weeks.

  Pleasure to meet you, Henry.”

  “Likewise, sir.”

  When Randy Linwood left, I heard a brief scuffle come

  from another room. Looking through the doorway, I saw

  two pairs of eyes peering at me from between the slats on

  a staircase. Just as quickly as they appeared, the legs they

  were attached to ran back up the stairs, whispers following.

  “James and Tasha,” Shelly said, brushing a strand of

  hair from her face, the red still there. “They’re not really

  sure how to deal with all of this. We’re so happy, but all

  this…attention, it’s not what they’re used to. They deal

  with it in their own way.”

  “I can’t imagine going through what you’ve been through.

  But I have to say, Mrs. Linwood, you’re handling it well.”

  “I’d say thank you, but it’s not on purpose.”

  “Have the police been helpful?”

  “Oh, my, incredibly so. I actually thought it’d be much

  worse, but they’ve barely spent more than half an hour here

  since Danny came back. In fact, when the senator came,

  that’s the first time I saw more than two of them at the

  same time.” I found that strange, but allowed Shelly to

  continue. She paused for a moment, said softly, “We’re just

  so glad to have Daniel back. It’s like, a wave crashing over

  you when you’re ready to burst into flame. I can’t explain

  it. All I know is I love him now more than I ever did.”

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  Jason Pinter

  Without thinking, my hand went to my briefcase and I

  started to unlatch it. My eyes snapped back to Shelly, a

  sheepish grin on my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d kind of like to keep the tape

  recorder running, if you don’t mind. Things like that, what

  you just said, they’d add a lot to the story. I don’t want the

  piece to be just about Daniel and how his return has

  affected him, but what it’s meant to your family. How it

  affects you, your husband, your other children.” Shelly

  smiled, nodded once. I took out the recorder, raised my

  eyebrows, clicked it on.

  “Are you recording now?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “So this will go in your interview?”

  I laughed. “Not everything. Not what you just said,

  only if it relates to Daniel and your family.”

  “Can you print swear words?” she asked.

  “Uh…no.”

  “Okay, I curse sometimes and I don’t want Daniel to

  get embarrassed by his potty-mouthed mother.”

  I smiled at her.

  Behind Shelly, I noticed a row of photographs lining a

  gray shelf. Inside the frames were pictures of the Linwood

  family. Most of the photos had just four people in them.

  Shelly, Randy, James and Tasha. Two pictures had been

  placed in front of the others. One was of all five Linwoods:

  Randy, Shelly, Tasha, James and Daniel. It looked like a

  photo from a Christmas card, all five bundled in warm

  sweaters, posed on a couch with smiles as big as they could

  muster.

  “The last photo we took as a family,” Shelly said.

  “Tasha was only a year old.”

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  “It’s beautiful,” I said. Then I looked at the photo next

  to it.

  The picture was of their daughter, Tasha, when she was

  just a child, maybe one or two years old. Tasha wasn’t facing

  the camera. Her head and body were turned away, short

  blond hair caught in the wind. There was nothing particularly

  photogenic about the pic, nothing that seemed extraordinary.

  “Tasha’s birthday,” Shelly was quick to point out.

  “There was a leak in the basement. We lost so many photo

  albums. This is the only one we could save. Not the best

  shot, but it’s what’s in it that matters. She’s just so carefree.”

  I smiled back at her. “Should we get Daniel?”

  Shelly bit her lip, then relaxed. “Have a seat. I’ll be right

  back.”

  I sat down on the couch. An oak coffee table separated

  me from a chair where I assumed Daniel would sit. The

  couch was dark brown, microfiber, half a dozen stains of

  varying color and size spattered about. A silver robot

  peeked out from beside the television set, and a few stray

  doll hairs were tucked between the cushions. The

  Linwoods’ living room was well worn, well used. The

  photos on the mantel didn’t look like they were placed

  there for Senator Talbot. I could tell from the dust patterns

  and slightly faded wood surrounding them that they were

  barely ever moved. That photo of Tasha, though, captivated my interest. It just seemed so out of place.

  I placed the tape recorder on the coffee table; better to

  keep it in plain sight than unnerve Daniel by taking it out

  after he’d settled down. I breathed easy. Waited.

  I heard Shelly say, “Come on, sweetheart,” and into the

  room stepped a young boy. He was a little over five feet

  tall, with dark, tousled hair and hazel eyes. Those eyes

  appeared less curious than slightly fearful, as though he

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  was being led through a curtain into somewhere unknown.

  His cheeks bore a few freckles that surely got him teased

  as a kid, but in ten years would make him look cute, even

  handsome. His limbs were gangly, face thin. I remembered my growth spurt at about the same age, thinking I’d

  end up being eight feet tall and starting at center for the

  Lakers. Of course neither happened. For a moment I

  believed Daniel’s tentativeness was directed toward me,

  but then I realized that there was a gap of nearly five years

  in this boy’s memory. He wasn’t just feeling me out, but

  his whole life.

  Shelly kept her hands on his shoulders, gentle but

  muscles tensed, as though he could topple over
at any

  moment and shatter. Daniel’s only hesitation was in his

  gait, otherwise he looked like a regular boy, ready to lose

  himself in too much homework, too many video games,

  and the dreams of years he had yet to know.

  “Hey, Daniel,” I said, standing up slightly, trying to

  make him relax. “I’m Henry. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Danny,” he said. “Just Danny.” No hesitation there. I

  saw a frown glimmer across Shelly’s face, but she said

  nothing.

  “Danny,” I said. “Well, Danny, thanks for letting me talk

  to you.” His nod said he wasn’t quite as happy as me.

  He smiled tentatively, sat down in a wicker-backed

  chair across the table from me. “Could I have a soda?” he

  said to Shelly. She was up and heading to the kitchen

  before the question was finished. When she’d disappeared,

  he looked at the tape recorder. “Is that thing on?”

  “Yeah, it is. See that red light?” He nodded. “That

  means it’s on.”

  “So it’s recording what I’m saying right now?”

  “That’s right.”

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  “Okay. Shit.” I looked up at him. Danny had a mischievous grin on his face, slightly red with embarrassment.

  “Sorry, just wanted to, you know…”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “That won’t be in your story, will it?”

  “Nah. I’ll keep the uncensored version for my

  personal files.”

  Shelly came back in carrying a tray with a glass of soda,

  another glass of water and a plate of assorted vegetables.

  Danny and I shared a smirk. Then I noticed what else was

  on the tray: a gauze pad, a bottle of what appeared to be

  rubbing alcohol, a cylindrical tube the size of a pen and a vial.

  Shelly noticed me looking at this and said, “Daniel,

  sorry, Danny has diabetes. I thought it’d be good to give

  him his insulin before you got started.”

  “Fine with me,” I said. “Danny?”

  He nodded. Shelly said, “We did your arm this morning,

  right? Let’s go with your leg.”

  Danny rolled up his right pant leg, exposing his calf.

  Shelly inserted the vial into the pen until it clicked. Then

  she unscrewed the cap from the rubbing alcohol, tipping

  just enough onto the gauze pad to wet it. She rubbed the

  pad on Danny’s calf until it shone. Then she took the pen,

  pressed it against his skin and depressed the plunge. Danny

  winced slightly.

  Shelly removed the pen, wiped down Danny’s leg with

  a towel, then took the materials back into the kitchen.

  Danny rolled down his pant leg as Shelly returned.

  “Sucks,” he said. “Dr. Petrovsky says I have to take it

  three times a day.”

  “Petrovsky?” I said.

  “Dmitri Petrovsky. He’s Daniel’s pediatrician,” Shelly

  answered.

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  I nodded. “You should listen to your doctor. This

  medicine helps to keep you healthy,” I told Danny.

  “Still sucks.”

  “Do you mind if I stay during the, the interview?” she

  asked.

  “Not at all. If it makes Danny more comfortable, I’d

  prefer it.”

  “Honey,” she said, “do you mind if Mommy stays?”

  “No, I don’t mind if Mommy stays.” “Mommy” came

  out with a slightly sarcastic bent. I smiled. I kind of liked

  Danny Linwood.

  Shelly, satisfied, nestled into a love seat, holding a lace

  throw pillow on her lap.

  “So, Danny,” I said, “how are things going here? Are

  you having a hard time adjusting?” He shrugged. “I need

  a little more than that, buddy.”

  “It’s okay, I guess. I’m supposed to start school in two

  weeks, but I don’t really want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know anybody. They’re all going to think I’m

  some sort of freak.”

  “They do know you, Daniel,” Shelly interrupted. “You

  started out in grade school with most of them. Like Cliffy

  Willis, remember Cliffy? Or Ashley Whitney?”

  I listened.

  “No, Mommy, I don’t remember Cliffy. Or Ashley. I

  don’t remember anyone.”

  “Mrs. Linwood?” I said. She looked at me. Nodded.

  Got it. She held the pillow tighter.

  “Danny, tell me about the day you came home. You

  came to this house, knocked on the door.” Danny nodded.

  “Can you tell me what happened right before that?”

  Danny shifted in his chair. “I remember lying down,

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  then suddenly waking up. I was on the ground, like I’d

  fallen asleep or something. I recognized where I was.”

  “And where was that?”

  “Doubleday Field,” Danny said. “I played peewee

  baseball there.”

  “What position?”

  “Third base.”

  “Like A-Rod,” I said.

  “No, he’s a shortstop for the Rangers.”

  I was about to disagree, when I remembered that in

  Danny’s mind, he was correct. The year Danny disappeared, Rodriguez hadn’t yet become a Yankee, hadn’t

  yet changed positions. I wondered how much else of

  Danny Linwood’s world had changed unbeknownst to

  him.

  “What happened then?”

  “I remember hearing a siren. Like a police car or an ambulance. And then I just started walking home.”

  “You knew how to get home?”

  “Yeah, I used to walk home every day with…” Danny

  searched for the rest of his sentence.

  “Cliffy Willis and his mother,” Shelly offered quietly.

  Danny looked at her angrily, then the reaction slipped

  away.

  “Where did you walk?” I asked.

  “Home,” he said. “Past the corner store and that brick

  wall with the graffiti of the boy that got shot a long time

  ago. I got scared for a second when I saw the police car

  pull up at the field I just left, but I didn’t think I did

  anything wrong so I just went home.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “No. Maybe a little tired, s’all. The doctors said they

  found something in my system, dia-something.”

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  “Diazepam,” I said. “It’s a drug used to sedate. The police

  report said it was administered a few hours before you woke

  up. When you woke up, that’s when it wore off.” I said this

  as much to Shelly as Daniel. “I’m sorry, keep going.”

  “So, anyway, I walked home, knocked on the door. James

  opened it. I knew it was James, but he was, like, three feet

  taller than I remembered. And all of a sudden everyone is

  squishing the life out of me. Mom, Dad, Tasha, my brothers.”

  I saw Shelly smile, the pillow gripped tight in her arms.

  “Brothers?” I said.

  “James,” he said, “my brother.”

  “Right,” I continued. “Do you know how long you

  were gone?”

  “Mom says almost five years.”

  “Does it feel like you’ve been gone a long time?”

  “Not really
,” Danny said. “I mean, it’s hard when I, like,

  go to do something and can’t do it. Like there used to be

  a radiator in my room where I could turn up the heat, but

  now we have these electronic-control things. And I don’t

  recognize anything on TV, which sucks. All of a sudden

  my brothers and sister are, like, old.” I felt a strange mental

  tugging sensation. Something Danny had said triggered it,

  but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  “Danny, I know the police have probably asked you

  these questions already, but did you have any enemies at

  school? On the team? Someone you were scared of?” He

  shook his head vehemently.

  “I remember breaking up with my girlfriend once and

  she got mad and cried, that’s it.”

  “You had a girlfriend?” Shelly said. “When was this?”

  “Mom, come on,” he said.

  “What, you can tell the whole world but you can’t

  tell me?”

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  Danny looked at me, his eyes pleading. I smiled at him.

  Six-year-old Danny Linwood with a girlfriend. I wondered

  if she’d missed him, or even understood what had happened.

  “Mrs. Linwood. Shelly,” I said, looking at Danny from

  the corner of my eye. “I need to be able to talk to your son

  with his full concentration. I know this is hard and you have

  a lot to catch up on with Danny, but I need this to do my job.”

  “Your job.” She sneered. “My job is my son.”

  “I know that. All I want to do is tell the truth about your

  boy. Trust me, I don’t want to upset your family at all.”

  “Mom…” Danny said softly. This was likely the first

  chance Danny had had to talk about what happened, and

  it seemed to even be a bit cathartic for him.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Henry, please.”

  “Thank you,” I said politely. “Danny, what was the last

  thing you remember before you woke up on that field?”

  “I remember being at baseball practice,” he said. “I

  don’t know if that’s the last thing that happened. But I

  remember Mike Bursaw got hit in the knee by a line drive

  and was crying, and Coach was going to send him to the

  nurse but Mike wouldn’t let him. And I remember

  watching the Yankees on TV and my dad saying Jason

  Giambi couldn’t get a hit to save his life, which is weird

  because he used to be so good. I mean, I had his poster on

  my wall, and every night I’d tell it to go three-for-four with

  a home run. I noticed the poster wasn’t on my wall