Eyes of the Innocent

by Christopher Wright

  Chapter 28

  "I didn't want to phone while you were at the clinic," Valdieri said when they returned without Lauren, "but Wendell Harris phoned again. I didn't tell him where you'd gone. Anyway, he wants Matt to phone him as soon as you're back. I asked him about the different file number. He said he enhanced it because the baby was in the shadow. And the missing photo numbers were accidental shots of the sky, and he didn't bother to put them on the memory stick. He sounded genuine enough to me."

  Matt rang the number Wendell had given him, and for once Wendell actually answered. They spoke for a couple of minutes as Matt told him about the abortive visit to the Children of Celestial Light, and their frustration at not being able to persuade the police to carry out a full search of the building, especially the co-called Star Room of Healing.

  He put his finger over the microphone and turned to the eager faces in the room. "Wendell wants to say sorry. He insists he took the photograph outside the commune in good faith, acting on information from a friend that a baby had arrived there unexpectedly. He says if we thought it was Jack, how was he to know it wasn't? Anyway, he's sorry for all the trouble he's caused. He's now in Boston."

  Zoé shook her head. "Why? Wendell has already told us that the family in Boston has an explanation that is innocent. The baby was born in the local hospital."

  "That's what he thought, but now it seems his nosey girlfriend wasn't so clever after all. She got the baby mixed up with another family in the same building. She says the baby with the different eyes definitely wasn't born in the local hospital. He's checked that for himself. Wait, and I'm going to see what else he has to say. Wendell, are you still there?"

  Matt spoke for several minutes, nodding from time to time, and looking at Zoé. He didn't want to raise her hopes, but this news from Wendell sounded more promising than any lead they'd followed so far. He told Wendell he'd phone him back in a few minutes when he'd discussed things with Zoé.

  "Well?" Zoé and Valdieri asked, almost in unison.

  "Wendell doesn't think the Garcia family is so innocent after all. The Garcia's young daughter came home a couple of days ago holding a very small baby. No one around knew the girl was pregnant. Wendell's Ms. Nosey friend got that bit right the first time. The girl's mother said that because her daughter was overweight, the pregnancy didn't show. She disappeared about four weeks ago and came home two days ago. Her father said she had to go to her aunt's in Lexington to have the baby because her aunt is a midwife. And what dad says, goes. He thinks the world of his daughter. Would do anything for her. What do you think?"

  "Come on, Matt, I think we should go there," Zoé said. She was already standing. "Matt, we need to leave immediately."

  "Let's not rush it," he warned. "We've just been through a terrible time at the clinic, especially you. We need to rest."

  "We can rest on the train," Zoé said frantically. "If the father hears that someone has been asking the questions, we need to get there quickly. I thought you wanted Jack safely back as much as I do. Come on, we will go now."

  Valdieri held up a finger of caution. "You have a concern I think, Matt. It would be wise to share it."

  Matt shook his head. "Not really, but we've been saying that we ought not to trust Wendell, whether he's a security guard or still a cop. The lead to Washington turned out to be a dead end, and we've burned our fingers at the Children of Celestial Light, and now at the clinic."

  Zoé caught hold of Matt's arm and started to drag him from the room. "Washington was nothing to do with Wendell. Nor was the clinic. They were both silly ideas of mine. And I was the one who thought the baby in Wendell's photo at the Children of Celestial Light looked like Jack. One of his friends mentioned a baby to him, and of course he had to tell us. It would have been irresponsible if he kept quiet. Me, I am prepared to trust Wendell. Me, I am prepared to trust anyone if it means we get our baby back."

  Eventually Valdieri agreed that it was worth following up the Boston lead, whether it was genuine or nothing more than another test by the police to see what they did about it.

  Matt said they'd only be able to knock on the Garcias' door once. They had a single chance to see the baby. After that, if it was Jack, he'd be hidden away at another address before they could return with the police. Maybe he'd be back with the aunt in Lexington, and they had no idea of her name or where she lived.

  Valdieri reminded them that they were again breaking the conditions that the police had set for their freedom. Simon Urquet had to be notified if they were leaving New York. He shrugged. "I guess this is like the biblical donkey that has fallen in the pit on the Sabbath and needs rescuing," he said with a wry smile. "Go and pack while I check train times on the Internet. Do you have enough money for the fare?"

  Matt explained that Simon Urquet had topped up his card, and they had plenty, even if they had to book into a hotel in Boston. "And we're getting a cab to Penn Street Station. I'm not risking the subway. It said on the radio in our room that the whole subway Line 7 is closed while the Bomb Disposal Unit investigate some suspicious packages. Okay, Zoé, I'm coming." He could see she was starting to panic, and they both had to stay calm for what lay ahead.

  Valdieri said he would have liked to go with them, to give them support, but he wanted to wait for Lauren to return from the clinic. She would be going through a great ordeal with the single mom, and would need a lot of support when she eventually got back. He found a fast train to Boston that left Penn in just under an hour that would get them there mid afternoon.

  They waited in vain for a cab and eventually had to ask Valdieri to phone for one. Every cab seemed to be booked, but one came at last. There were nothing but holdups all the way to Penn Street. The subway was obviously faster, but most people were avoiding the subway and using cabs while the terrorist attack was ongoing.

  "If we have to get the next train, we get the next train," Matt said, trying to sound much calmer than he felt. "The family won't be going anywhere if they've not been tipped off. All we have to do is to phone Wendell when we're half an hour from Boston. He's going to meet us at South Station and take us straight to the Garcias' apartment."

  The line to the ticket office moved quickly but they hadn't reckoned on the security search at the gate. They joined the line and watched their train disappear into the distance. There wouldn't be another for an hour.

  "We'll get something to eat," Matt suggested. "I don't think either of us is hungry, but we ought to eat something."

  While they sat in a lunch bar, all Matt could do was contemplate what lay ahead. Wendell was either a total idiot, or he really had found Jack this time.

  Being forewarned, they arrived at the gate half an hour early to be sure of getting through the bag and body search. Eventually the were able to board the train, to discover that it was a regional train that took four and a half hours to get to Boston, so they wouldn't be arriving until six-thirty.

  An hour into the journey, Zoé started rummaging anxiously through the overnight bag Valdieri had lent them in case they had to stay, which they almost certainly would be doing now. Matt was concerned that Zoé's actions seemed irrational. She appeared to be going through their overnight things time and time again.

  "Have we left something behind?" he asked quietly, well aware of the people sitting around them.

  "I am a bad mother," Zoé said. "I have not brought any clothes for Jack."

  Matt pulled her gently to him, aware of the inquisitive glances from the elderly woman sitting opposite who had been staring at them for some time. She was clearly listening to their conversation. "We can worry about that when we've got him," he said.

  "But we have lost our baby, and now I do not even have his clothes."

  The woman opposite leaned forward. "Did I hear you say you've lost your baby?" she said softly. "It's a terrible thing to lose a baby. Trust me, I know. My first baby was stillborn." She shook her head, then gave a warm smile. "You're both young. Of course you must grieve now, but
you're both healthy and soon you'll be able to plan for the future."

  As Matt predicted, Zoé started to cry, drawing attention from everyone around.

  "It's okay," Matt said. "It's not what you think." Maybe he shouldn't have said that so dismissively. Probably the woman was only trying to be helpful. Now she'd be thinking they'd carelessly lost their baby somewhere and couldn't find him. And in a way, he reflected, she was sort of right.

  The rest of the journey passed with Zoé leaning onto Matt's shoulder dozing on and off, and the woman minding her own business. Matt wanted to explain a little more of the situation, but it would all get complicated. With thirty minutes to go he phoned Wendell who said he was all set to meet them.

  As the train drew into Boston South Station, the woman rose to her feet. Zoé was asleep again, and Matt touched the woman on the arm. "I'm sorry if I was a bit rude," he said. "It's a very complicated situation, and I know you meant well. So thanks for your thoughts." There, job done.

  They exited the train and stood outside South Station waiting for Wendell. Cabs and cars came and went, but there was no sign of the man. Zoé started to cry gently, and Matt wondered if she should perhaps step up her medication. Zoé's tears were drawing a lot of attention, but surely people wouldn't think he had been abusing her. They were standing holding hands like two young lovebirds.

  After ten minutes he got the phone out of his pocket and checked for the second time that there was a signal and no missed calls. "I'm going to phone him," he said.

  "Where are you?" he asked when Wendell picked up.

  "Hey, ever so sorry, Matt. There's a bit of a problem."

  "Go on." He should have expected this. Wendell had been nothing but unreliable.

  "The thing is, I've run into a spot of bother. If I give you the address, you can go there and wait for me. That will be quicker. I'm sure you want to sort this out as soon as possible. Don't forget, their name is Garcia."

  Matt signaled to Zoé for paper and a pen. He wrote the street and apartment block number down carefully, and repeated it twice to Wendell. Wendell confirmed everything.

  "We'll get a cab," Matt said. "And you'll definitely be outside the block waiting for us?"

  "Just wait by the street entrance. Hey, I'll be there. You can count on it. Let's hope we strike lucky this time."

  The cab driver said he knew the street. It turned out to be in the Back Bay area of Boston. If they were sightseeing, Matt might have paid more attention along the way, but all he wanted was to meet Wendell and knock on the door of the Garcias' apartment. Hopefully the girl would answer it, complete with Jack in her arms. Hopefully.

  The driver stopped by a fire hydrant, took the money, and drove off quickly. Matt looked up at the number on the surprisingly modern apartment building. It was the right one. There was no sign of Wendell.

  "We might have got here too quickly for him," Zoé said.

  "He promised he'd be here."

  "Then I suggest you phone him and ask him where he is".

  Matt rang the number Wendell was using and let the phone ring. And ring. Eventually it went to voicemail. "Where are you, Wendell? Zoé and I are outside the apartment block. We don't want to be hanging around here too long on our own. I thought you were coming straight here. Phone me urgently."

  He rang off and shrugged his shoulders. "No reply."

  Zoé gave a long sigh. "That is what I gathered. So are we just going to stand here?"

  "Yes, until we hear from Wendell."

  "Why? What use is Wendell going to be? We know the apartment number. We will go up there and bang loudly on the door. If we wait much longer everyone will be getting suspicious of us standing out here."

  When Zoé put it like that, it made sense. The longer they waited for Wendell, the more chance there was of something going wrong. And they didn't want to stay in Boston overnight if they could help it. "Let's go up. Get your phone out, Zoé. The apartment is on the third floor. You stay here and make sure no one with a small child comes down in the elevator. See, I'm learning to speak American already."

  "Third floor is two floors up. I got it right at the clinic."

  "Two floors up. Got it. When I'm two floors up you can run up the stairs if the lift ... elevator ... isn't moving."

  This was almost like one of his detective jobs for Ken. No, not really. When he was working for Ken he was trying to sort out somebody else's problems.

  The place smelled of stale food with a background of something more nasty. He'd not heard the elevator moving as he hurried up the dirty stone stairs lit by a single low wattage lamp. He phoned Zoé and she answered immediately. No one had come down in the elevator.

  "Then come up and I'll meet you at the top of the stairs."

  Zoé was breathing heavily when she got to him. She looked exhausted. "Leave the talking to me," he said.

  Only one light was working in the dingy hall, and the apartment door looked in need of paint. "Right, let's do it." He knocked on the door.

  A woman's voice called from inside, and a baby started to cry. Well, at the least Wendell had got that bit right. Adrenaline rose in his stomach as though he was preparing for a fight with the overprotective father. Perhaps it would come to that.

  The gap under the door allowed them to hear the sound of shuffling footsteps. The peephole in the door turned black for a few seconds, followed by the rattle of a chain being put on. The door opened a crack and a face appeared in the gap. "Yes?" a young white woman said anxiously. The fact she was white was promising. Surely Wendell's girlfriend here wouldn't have thought Jack could be black.

  Zoé stood forward, pushing Matt to one side. "Ms. Garcia, we need to see the baby."

  Matt shook his head. He'd not intended to approach this is so full-on.

  "We are from the Bureau of Child Welfare," Zoé explained. "There may be a problem with your baby."

  Matt heard the chain being withdrawn and his instinct was to push the door open. And that's exactly what he did. The young woman jumped back and started screaming. A man's voice from inside the apartment wanted to know what the trouble was.

  A large man, large enough to be a football fullback, came into the cramped hallway. He was a lot older than the girl who'd answered the door, and certainly looked a formidable opponent. This must be her over-protective father who would do anything for his daughter.

  Matt decided to take over. "We just need to see the baby we can hear crying. If it's our baby, we're taking him with us."

  "On whose authority?" the man demanded.

  "Please," Zoé said, "just show us the baby."

  "The hell we will," the man said, already dialing on his cell phone. "Where's your identity?"

  "Who is it, Max?" an older woman called from deep inside.

  "Hold on, Maureen," the man shouted back into the apartment. "Two people here to take our daughter's kid away." He turned to Matt and Zoé. "You two have another think coming. I'm phoning the cops."

  That took Matt by surprise. If the family had stolen baby Jack, they were hardly likely to involve the police. Or was it a game of bluff. "Good. We'll wait here until they come."

  The man pushed Matt back into Zoé, and they both stumbled out of the door with Zoé falling onto the ground. Before Matt could say anything in protest the door slammed shut.

  Matt helped Zoé to her feet, and she seemed to have suffered no physical harm. "What is it that do we do now?" she asked.

  "We stay here and wait for the police. I'm sure that man's already phoned them. He was talking to them when he slammed the door on us."

  Ten minutes later a siren outside and the clatter of feet on the stairs told Matt that the police had arrived. A male and a female officer came along the hallway. The male officer positioned himself so as to block any possibility of escape and the female officer knocked on the door.

  "Police," she called. "Open up, Mr. Garcia."

  Matt took some comfort from the fact they'd got the right name, which meant this was the
right apartment. But there was still no sign of Wendell Harris. Mr. Garcia opened the door cautiously.

  "It's these two," he said. "They say they're from Child Welfare and they've come to take our daughter's kid. I don't believe them. They're child snatchers. Everyone's heard of bogus Child Welfare workers coming to snatch children."

  The female officer turned to Matt. "Child Welfare? Let's see some identity."

  "There's been a misunderstanding," Matt explained. "We're not from Child Welfare."

  The officer turned to Mr. Garcia. "Do you know these two?"

  "Never seen them before. They said they've come to take the kid."

  The male officer came closer, still guarding the escape route. "Okay, let's see some identity. You don't sound American, for starters."

  "Probably some international child smuggling gang," Mr. Garcia suggested.

  The officer didn't seem to be buying that, although he was clearly suspicious.

  "Our baby was kidnapped in New York, in Central Park," Zoé explained, sounding surprisingly rational. "My husband and I have good reason to believe that this man's daughter has him in this apartment. We have it on authority that is good that there is a very young baby here. If it is our baby, then we will take him with us. And you can arrest these people."

  Male and female officer looked at each other. The woman shrugged and turned to Mr. Garcia whose wife, presumably it was his wife, had now come to the door. She shook her head. "Our daughter doesn't have a baby."

  "Your daughter came to the door and we could hear a baby crying in the background," Matt said.

  "That's a lie," Mrs. Garcia said. "Our daughter's kid is four years old, and there's no way you're taking him away."

  "Then you won't mind us having a look at the baby we heard crying," Matt said. He turned to the two officers who were standing uncertainly now. "Our baby has one blue eye and one green eye."

  "If he is our baby," Zoé said, "I will know him anyway, even if his eyes they are closed."

  "I've told you, our daughter doesn't have a baby," Mrs. Garcia snapped.

  At that moment they could hear a baby starting to cry. "There," Mrs. Garcia said, "you've gone and disturbed him. We've been trying to get him off to sleep for the past hour. I hope you're satisfied."

  "That is our baby," Zoé shouted.

  "Oh no it's not. We're babysitting him for a neighbor. I refuse to give any of you entry. So you can all friggin' clear off."

  Matt looked questioningly at Zoé. He didn't have the mother's instinct to recognize one cry from another. He noticed Zoé looked uncertain.

  The police officer put his foot to prevent the door being closed, and asked Matt and Zoé their names. Then he turned to the irate residents. "Mr. and Mrs. Garcia, we can clear this up very quickly. My partner will take Mrs. Rider into the apartment and she can see the baby. Whether the baby belongs to your daughter or a neighbor is not important. Surely you can have no objection to that."

  A quick discussion between the Garcias produced a reluctant decision to allow Zoé and the female officer to carry out a check.

  Matt pulled Zoé aside and whispered to her, "Make sure you check everywhere. There may be more than one baby."

  Mrs. Garcia obviously overheard. "Well there ain't," she snapped. "We ain't running a friggin' nursery."

  Matt stood back, and noticed that the officer still stood guard against any possibility of escape.

  The crying continued as Zoé was led inside. Three minutes later she was out, shaking her head. Matt didn't even need to ask.

  The woman officer apologized to the Garcias for the disturbance, and told them they were taking Mr. and Mrs. Rider to the precinct for interview. Matt felt devastated. Where on earth was Wendell Harris when they needed him?