While Everyone Was Sleeping

by Donald Collins

  “Ha! How do you like that?” Susan chortled. “I don’t even know who I’m sleeping with anymore.”

  Danski returned his attention to the newspaper picture. “If you’re right and this really is Matthew, it means he didn’t take Jake out of state or worse, out of the country as we feared. He’s still local, possibly somewhere in the Metropolitan area.”

  “So, what are you going to do now, Detective? Are you going to find the photographer and ask him about the picture? His name’s right there under the picture.”

  Danski almost laughed. “That wouldn’t do any good, Susan. The photographer was focused on Todd Frazier and the ball. He wasn’t interested in the fans. He wouldn’t remember the people in the stands even if his own mother was sitting in the first row.”

  “Matthew might have season tickets.”

  “On a handyman’s income I doubt it,” Danski said. “More than likely that game was the only one he went to all season.”

  Danski called the Mets’ security department and learned that there were no season tickets in the name of Matthew Adams or Adam Matthews. He was told that after the first few innings fans come down from the cheap seats and take whatever is open in the lower level. Danski assumed that was how Matthew scored such prime seats.

  “I’m really disappointed,” Susan said as she fell into her leather recliner and buried her face in her hands. “I was so sure this picture would help. There must be something you can do with this information?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Danski said. “The Mets are in the middle of a ten-day home-stand. Gregory and I could go to next Sunday’s game and keep an eye out for Matthew.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful!” Susan responded.

  “Our chances of spotting him would be improved greatly if you came with us, of course. If he’s there you’d be more likely to recognize him than we would. Are you up for it?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I can’t wait to go. It would be fabulous to see him there and to reach out and snatch Jake away from him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  11:45 Sunday Morning

  Susan was waiting on the sidewalk when Danski and Litchfield pulled up in front of her apartment building. She was wearing light blue shorts, a navy short-sleeve top and an apprehensive look. “I’m so nervous,” she said after climbing into the back seat behind Litchfield. “Five years is a long time, especially for someone as young as Jake. I’m afraid I won’t be able to recognize him.” She inched to the center of the seat to catch a glimpse in the rear-view.

  “Don’t worry you look fine,” Danski told her. “If he’s there I’m sure you’ll recognize him. I’m worried that Matthew will recognize you and leave before we spot him.”

  “Yeah, if he’s there,” Susan said. She pinched her lips together and then nodded with a new look of confidence and optimism. “I’m sure I’ll be able to pick him out. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “That’s it,” Danski said. “Think positive.”

  “Relax and hope for the best,” Litchfield told her.

  “At this hour we shouldn’t hit much traffic when we reach Northern Boulevard,” Danski said as he glanced into his side-view mirror and merged with the late Sunday morning traffic and headed for the Ed Koch Bridge. *

  “If we’re lucky we should get to Citi Field early enough to see the pre-game activities,” Litchfield said as they got into the extreme left lane. “I just wish Sandra and Gavin were with us. I promised Gavin I’d take him to a Mets game this season.”

  “You’ve still got time,” Danski said. “The season’s not over yet.”

  “It is for the Mets I’m afraid,” Litchfield said and then laughed. “I’ve probably been to a hundred Mets’ games in my life, but I’ve never gotten there in time for batting practice.”

  “I really don’t care about batting practice,” Susan said impatiently. “I prayed and prayed all last night and this morning, too, that Matthew and Jake will be there and I’ll finally have Jake back.”

  “Keep your fingers crossed,” Danski said. “It’s a long shot, but if Matthew and Jake are there it will have been worth sitting in the blazing sun for four hours if we’re able to get Jake back.”

  Northern Boulevard traffic was light, just as Danski had hoped. They arrived an hour and a half before game-time. He pulled into the area reserved for police and emergency vehicles. All three got out and headed for the gates. Danski and Litchfield held up their gold shields and identified themselves before heading to the third-base side on the lower level. When they reached a concession stand Danski stopped. “Are you a Mets’ fan?” he asked Susan.

  “Not really,” she answered. “I’m not any kind of fan, actually.”

  “You are now,” he said as he took a Mets’ cap from the large display and handed the vendor a twenty. “Here, put this on,” he told her. “We need you incognito. If Matthew is here, we don’t want him to see you before you see him. Your sunglasses and this hat should prevent him from recognizing you.”

  Susan glanced around anxiously looking for Matthew as she adjusted the rear clip on the hat to fit her head. When she found the right hole in the plastic back-strap she pulled her long blond hair through the opening while Danski called over a security officer and once again identified himself.

  “We’re here on official police business. It’s been cleared by Jim Burroughs. He told us to go to Section 124 and have one of his men find him when we got here.”

  The officer tapped a number into his phone pad and waited. After a brief conversation he led Susan and the detectives to three prime seats along the third base line.

  “Who’s Jim Burroughs?” Litchfield asked as they got comfortable and watched the pre-game workouts and batting practice and enjoyed their hot dogs and beverages.

  “He’s the head of security here,” Danski answered. “He retired out of Manhattan North Robbery Unit.”

  “Fabulous!” Litchfield said. “We couldn’t ask him to do more than this for us. Now, if Matthew and Jake show up everything will be perfect.”

  Four and a half hours later the game ended with the Mets losing by a score of four to one, leaving the bases loaded as Yoenis Cespedes flied out to shallow right field.

  “I’m so disappointed that Matthew wasn’t here,” Susan said as they headed back to the car.

  “The odds were really against him showing up. We knew that coming in, but it was something we had to do just the same,” Danski told her. “We have to get right back on the trail tomorrow morning.”

  “We just learned something else about Adams,” Litchfield said.

  “You mean that he’s a Mets’ fan?” Danski asked.

  “No,” Litchfield said and laughed. “That he’s not dumb enough to sit in the brutal sun on two consecutive Sunday afternoons.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After leaving Susan in front of her apartment building and then dropping Litchfield off at his home in Richmond Hill, Danski stopped at a supermarket on Northern Boulevard in Flushing. Between the trip to Florida to pick up Guzman and following up leads on the Whitlock case he hadn’t had a chance to restock his kitchen.

  He had just finished putting the canned goods in his pantry and the cold products in his refrigerator when his phone rang.

  “This is Otto Fischer. You’ve got to get over here right away, Detective. Susan is up on the roof and she says she’s gonna jump. She looks serious, too. I’m afraid she means it this time.”

  “What do you mean this time?” Danski asked. “Has she done this before?”

  “Yeah, once, right after Jake disappeared. Fortunately, I was there and I was able to talk her out of it. But she’s not listening to me this time. I’m afraid she means it.”

  “I’m on my way,” Danski said. He called Litchfield as he raced through the streets in his department cruiser. When Gregory didn’t pick up, he left a message on his answering machine relaying Otto’s call. “Susan’s on the roof of her building threatening to jump. I’m o
n my way there now. I’ll let you know when I know more.”

  As he exited the Ed Koch Bridge eight blocks from Susan’s building, he called Fischer. “What’s the condition there?”

  “No change, Fischer answered.

  “Hold tight,” Danski told him. “I’m only a few blocks away.”

  Minutes later he pulled to a screeching stop in front of Susan’s building. He got out quickly and raced across the sidewalk. Once inside the building he rushed through the lobby and pressed the elevator call-button over and over until the chime finally sounded and the doors opened.

  With a cool breeze coming off the East River, the temperature had dropped into the mid-sixties when he stepped out onto the blacktop roof. Susan stood precariously near the edge of the roof, weeping. A dozen feet away Otto Fischer watched hopelessly.

  “Go away,” Susan shouted when Danski called out her name. “I’ve had enough heartache and disappointment,” she moaned. “I can’t take any more of it.”

  “Please, come down, Susan. You don’t want to do this. You have too much to live for.”

  “Oh yeah? What do I have to live for?” she sobbed.

  “You’re still young and attractive. You’ve got a career and many friends who care about you. And if things go right, you’ll soon have Jake back with you.”

  “We can’t be sure that will ever happen,” Susan argued.

  “We’re making progress,” Danski said. “We learn a little bit more every day.” He told her that they learned the reason Adams kidnapped Jake. “Adams lost his son Jason to diabetes and he snatched his other son away from you. He expected Jake to take his place.”

  When she didn’t respond he continued. “Don’t give up hope, Susan. You’ve got to think positive. Think what would happen if you took your life. Gregory and I might as well close the case right now and forget about finding Jake if you’re not planning on being here anymore. What good would it do to find him? Who would we bring him to if you’re gone? Matthew and his wife will be put in prison, as they so rightly deserve, and that means Jake will be put into foster care. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.”

  Susan buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Danski stepped closer and took her hand to help her down from the ledge and then held her shivering body close to his. “Please, don’t ever do that again,” he told her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “We need to talk,” Danski said.

  Susan lip quivered as she stared into his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

  “You can change or go get a sweater from your apartment,” he told her in the elevator. “Then we’ll go out and get something to eat while we talk. It’s Sunday night but I’m sure we’ll find a place open somewhere.”

  Danski called Litchfield as he waited for Susan to change. “I got your message,” Gregory said. “What’s the condition now? Is Susan all right?”

  “Yes, I talked her down from the ledge. I really thought she was going to jump, but fortunately she listened to reason. She’s at a very low point in her life.”

  “Yes, I realize that,” Gregory said. “Obviously she needs professional help.”

  “Today was a major setback for her. Not seeing Matthew at Citi Field hit her harder than I realized.”

  “Be careful,” Litchfield warned. “You’re a detective, not a psychiatrist. This is a job for a trained professional. You should have called this in and had ESU over there when you got Otto’s call, instead of taking it on yourself to talk her down off the ledge.”

  “Yes, I realize that,” Danski admitted.

  “We thought she accepted today’s disappointment in stride, but apparently we were wrong about that,” Litchfield said. “This turn of events makes me suspect she may be on medication. If she is that might explain the mood swings we’ve noticed since we took over the case, as well as the contradictory statements and lapses in memory she’s exhibited.”

  “You could be right,” Danski said. “Uh oh, she’s coming out of her bedroom now. It looks like she’s ready to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Watch yourself,” Litchfield said. “Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Danski and Susan found a small, dimly-lit restaurant on Second Avenue open. It was one neither of them had ever noticed before. “Relax,” Danski told her after a waiter took their orders and hurried off to the kitchen. He reached across the table and patted her hand. “Take in a deep breath and release it slowly. Then I want you to tell me what’s going on and what you’re thinking.”

  Susan nodded and forced a smile. “I know you and Gregory are trying your best to find Jake, but it all seems so hopeless and futile. My life has been turned totally upside-down and I know it will never be the same again. Even if I got Jake back I couldn’t expect things to be the same as they were five years ago.”

  “No, of course not, Danski responded. “Not right away. I’m glad you’re able to understand that. When we get him back, it will take time for the two of you to become comfortable with one another again.” He squeezed her hand and then released it. “But you’ll overcome that. There’s nothing stronger than a mother’s love.”

  “You seem very confident you’ll find Jake. Does your partner share your optimism?”

  Danski smiled. “Gregory is more pragmatic than I am. I’m fueled by pure emotion, passion and determination, whereas he’s more level-headed and sensible in his approach to things. He’s trying just as hard as I am to find Jake, but he’s more inclined to accept whatever happens.”

  Susan smiled for the first time all night. “That doesn’t really answer my question, but it lets me know a little more about you.”

  After dinner Danski had a Heinekens, his first of the day. Susan had a vodka-tonic. She said it was her first drink too.

  “How about desert?” Danski asked. “I saw strawberry cheese cake on the menu.”

  Susan shook her head and patted her stomach. “Thank you, I’m full; I couldn’t eat another thing.”

  When they got back to her apartment building Danski escorted Susan to the elevator. He turned to leave when the chimes sounded, but she reached out and took his hand. He did not resist.

  “Did you mean it when you said I was attractive?” she asked sounding like an insecure teenager as they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind them.

  Danski stood facing her, but quickly looked away. “I’ve put myself in a very uncomfortable position here,” he said avoiding her question when he faced her again.

  She squeezed his hand and rested her head against his chest. “Please stay with me tonight,” she said barely louder than a whisper.

  “We both know that wouldn’t be right,” Danski responded. He meant what he said, but the attraction was too strong to resist.

  ***

  He woke just before dawn the next morning. He held his breath as he glanced to his right and saw Susan still naked and sleeping contently. Scenes from the night before came to him gradually. He had enjoyed making love to Susan and was sure she felt the same way. She had told him she hadn’t had sex in more than five years and he believed her. He justified what he had done by telling himself that they were both adults, but he realized he had crossed the line as a detective. He pushed the covers away and hurried off to the shower. Susan was awake when he got back to the bedroom. She held her finger to her lips letting him know there was no need to apologize – they were both guilty and there was nothing either of them could do about it now.

  “I’ve still got enough time to go home for a quick shave and put on some fresh clothes,” he told her.

  “I can’t stay in bed, either,” Susan said as she let her feet drop to the floor and stood. “Francine will be here in less than an hour.”

  He dressed quickly and left. As he merged with the eastbound traffic on the Ed Koch Bridge, he visualized what he had written on the eraser board back at the office and tried to determine what he needed to add or remove. Susan’s
storage area was no longer in question, nor was her failed marriage. Add to that the fact that Martin was still alive. The storage barrels in the basement of her building was another dead-end, as was the hope that Jake could be located by using diabetes demographics or the rolls of New York’s public school system. He would remove those items from the board when he got to the office and replace them with Susan’s news that Matthew was Jake’s real father and she recognized him in a Daily News photo at Citi Field.

  He realized the tactics he and Gregory had been using were not working. He needed to find a way to draw Matthew Adams out of hiding. A few possibilities came to mind as he approached the Silvercup Studios, and the final leg of the bridge. He missed the aroma of baked bread that used to hit his senses full blast when he reached that exact spot on the bridge years ago, before the bread company vacated the premises and a major television and motion picture studio took over the location. When he reached Thompson Avenue where the bridge came to an end, he suddenly remembered his daughter Brittany saying she wanted them to be Facebook friends. He remembered her disappointment when he told her he didn’t have a computer or have any idea what Facebook was all about.

  “I’m sorry, Brittany. But I haven’t got the time or interest in playing computer games.”

  He realized it was the wrong thing to say, but it was an honest answer and he hoped she gave him credit for that much anyway.

  “You’re really behind the times, Dad. It’s not a game. Everybody’s on Facebook these days.”

  Her last comment made him think. If everyone was on Facebook like she said, then maybe Matthew was, too. Maybe Facebook was the answer to finding him. If he was still working as a handyman, he was probably busy all day and would be too tired to go to Facebook in the evening, even if he had an interest in the nation’s latest craze. At almost ten years of age Jake wasn’t likely to be involved with Facebook either. But Matthew’s wife Audrey might have the time and inclination. It was another shot-in-the-dark, but Danski was willing to spend the time pursuing it. He smiled and nodded. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.