Richard Boyle was not the kind of man young girls dreamed about marrying one day. But Sarah had married him anyway. And they had two children and more fights than Ali and Foreman combined. And gradually, what little love there had been between them—if any at all—had worn away completely, leaving nothing more than a raw and mutual hatred.
From love to hate.
From family to kidnapping.
Jesus.
Walt closed the file and carried it into the living room where the filing cabinet sat in the corner. He had been on the case for nearly a year now and his trip to the Bay Area had been as close as he had come to putting it to rest. He was going to have to start all over now. And Sarah Richards was going to have to carry on awhile longer without her children.
It was always the innocent, it seemed, who suffered the most.
He closed the filing cabinet and grabbed his keys off the counter. A little luck with the traffic lights, and he could still make it to the plaza a couple of minutes ahead of Teri.
[61]
“FBI?” Teri inquired, only partially comprehending what was happening.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Did Walt send you? Walter Travis?”
“Would you come with us, please?”
She glanced back at the two men—who had caught up with them now—wondering if this was everything it appeared to be. Appearances could be deceiving; her last foster mother had liked to say. But it felt right, and maybe more than that, Teri was tired of running, tired of hiding. Maybe this was going to be the end of it.
“Please, Mrs. Knight, we don't want you exposed any longer than necessary.” The agent tucked his badge back into his jacket, and smiled. “We have a car waiting for you. If you'll just follow me.”
Gabe looked up with concern. “Mom?”
“It's okay,” she said.
They followed the agents up the steps and across the square in front of City Hall. At the far end, on First Street, three cars were parked at the curb. The engines were already running. One of the agents opened the back door and assisted Teri into the middle car. Gabe sat in front, the driver on one side, another agent on the other. All three cars pulled away from the curb in perfect formation.
“Where are we going?” Teri asked.
“Where you'll be safe,” answered the agent to her left.
“Someone'll have to tell Walt.”
“It's been handled.”
“Is he going to meet us there?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Oh, that's good to know.”
“I'm sure it is.”
She glanced out the window at the scenery rushing by. They were heading north, through the downtown section, past the Farmers Market and the Prescott Pavilion and McKinley Park. She watched an old woman dressed in rags, pushing a shopping cart down the street, and a Yellow Cab without a fare pass in the opposite direction.
“Where did you say we were going?”
“Somewhere safe, ma'am.”
“And where did you say that was?”
“I didn't.”
An almost spontaneous unease swept through her. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. She sat forward in her seat and studied the car in front. It was a late model Ford, black, like the others, carrying California plates. There appeared to be two men riding in the vehicle, both in the front seat.
Why don't they have government plates? she wondered.
She turned and studied the car bringing up the rear, and suddenly it became all too clear to her. These weren't government cars. And these weren't FBI agents. And they sure as hell weren't here to make sure that she and Gabe were kept safe. This all came rushing at her in a wave of realization. And the clincher, if she had needed such a thing, had been this: Mitch was driving the follow-up car.
“Oh, my God.”
The man sitting to her left stared out the window, unimpressed, no reaction one way or the other. The man to her right, however, turned and grinned.
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Knight.”
“This is kidnapping, you know. You're taking us against our will.”
“Do you know there's a warrant out for your arrest? It seems after your little accident at the mall the other day, you forgot to go back and get your car. The cops are looking for you. How's that for ironic?”
“You'll never get away with this.”
“Yes, we will. That's the whole point.”
The car turned west on Grove Street and made its way through an old section of town where there were a number of abandoned commercial properties for lease or sale. Teri glanced back to see if Mitch was still trailing behind. He was.
“Why are you doing this? What do you want with us?” A surge of panic rose like bile at the back of her throat. She swallowed it back, knowing it would soon come up again.
“Just settle down and relax, Mrs. Knight. No one's going to hurt you.”
“Then why don't you let us go?”
“Sorry, can't do that.”
She made an abrupt and feeble lunge across the man's lap at the door handle. He caught her short and easily shoved her back into the seat, making little effort to be gentle about it. For several days to come, her arms were going to be showing dull, discolored bruises as an aftereffect.
“Stay put, Mrs. Knight.”
“Let us out!”
In the front seat, the car phone rang, and the driver picked it up. There was a short pause before he answered, “She's a little hysterical at the moment.” Then another pause, before the driver called over the seat, “He wants to know if you think we should sedate her.”
“How much further?”
“Another five miles or so.”
“Nah, she'll be all right.”
It was the idea that there were only five miles left that suddenly sent her panic out of control. Teri lunged for the door again. The man pushed her back even more forcefully than before, and she struck out at him with her left hand, dragging her nails across the left side of his face and drawing blood. He let out a groan, and grabbed her wrists.
Teri screamed, and lashed out with her feet.
“Mom!”
The man to her left, the one who had earlier seemed so disinterested, suddenly wrapped his hands around Teri's arms just above the elbow. “I've got her,” he said, his voice straining under the effort.
The driver glanced distractedly over his shoulder. “Christ, just sedate her, will you!”
It was at that moment that Gabe made a grab for the steering wheel. He managed to get both hands wrapped around one side, the driver trying to fight him off and keep an eye on the road at the same time. The car swerved sharply to the right, went up onto the curb, barely missed a light pole, and struck a mail box before swerving back into the street again.
Gabe held on, one hand directly over the other, knuckles white.
Teri had been tossed to the floor. She found herself sprawled across the feet of the man on her right. When she looked up, she could see where he had hit his head against the roof. He was bleeding badly now. His eyes glazed over. A trail of blood chartered new territory down the side of his face. He slumped forward, unconscious.
The car cut across both lanes, sideswiped a pickup truck parked at the far curb, then swung back again.
From somewhere behind, the sound of a horn blared.
Teri fought to keep her breath as the man slumped forward the last few inches and finally collapsed on top of her. And then, like a roller coaster ride at Great America or Six Flags Magic Mountain, the car did something that felt strangely like a corkscrew. The hood and left front end slammed against the pavement and the car exploded into the air...
... the outside world rolled all the way over, a full hundred and eighty degrees...
... time both expanded and contracted...
... sky blue went flying past the side window...
... the right side of the car touched down and took off again...
... and finally, the Ford came to an exhausted landing, u
pside-down on its roof.
It swayed from side-to-side a moment, creaking and moaning, sounding as if it were animate and somehow in agony. When it finally came to rest, the only sound left was a soft chorus of weakened voices.
Teri found herself with her knees braced against the man's chest. He was still unconscious and still breathing, though shallowly. She sat up, feeling a bit woozy, and discovered a trail of blood running down the side of her face. She wiped it away and raised herself up, struggling to regain her bearings. The Ford shifted slightly, and she could see the sidewalk rise and fall like a wave just outside the window. Broken shards of glass littered the inside, gathered in puddles here and there where the roof had formed convenient pockets. Someone in the front seat moaned.
“Gabe?”
“Mom?”
“Are you all right?”
“I hurt my arm.”
She found him huddled in a corner near the dashboard on the passenger side. He was curled into a ball, his arm bent at an odd angle and held gingerly against his body. It was clearly broken.
The driver, who had used his seat belt, was strapped in and hanging upside-down. The roof had collapsed against the top of his head. He was semiconscious by all appearances, bleeding heavily from several lacerations. The other man hung half-in/half-out of the passenger side window, his seat belt in a clump next to the reading light. On a glance, Teri thought he was probably dead.
“Can you move?”
Gabe nodded, tears in his eyes. “But it hurts.”
“I know, honey. But you've got to try.”
The windshield had blown out completely, which may have explained the scattering of glass shards everywhere. Gabe sat up, keeping his injured arm as immobile as possible. He looked at her, his eyes dark and lost.
“Come on, take my hand.”
He reached out in unmistakable pain.
Their fingers touched.
“That's it. Keep your eyes on me, all right?”
Teri helped him over the mangled legs of the dead man, trying to occupy his attention as much as possible. After that, he seemed to take on a strength of his own. Ahead of her, he ducked and went through the gap created by the missing windshield, crawling and still managing to keep the pressure off his bad arm somehow. Teri followed a step behind, unaware of the gash she had opened in her right leg as she dragged it across a shard of glass sticking out of the window frame.
The hood of the car swayed upside down a foot or so off the ground, smoke billowing out from both sides. A sliver of daylight crept in through an opening up ahead on the right. Gabe had already crawled out and disappeared. She could hear him calling to her now.
“I'm coming,” she said. She slid on her belly, feeling the heat of the pavement against the palms of her hands, and when she emerged on the other side, it was into the warm face of sunlight. The feeling of freedom, which was as powerful and as exhilarating as anything she had ever felt, lasted only seconds.
Mitch was standing over her.
“Put her in my car.”
“How about the boy?”
“No, keep them separate.”
The man aided Teri out from beneath the vehicle, pulled her to her feet, wordlessly, then took her by the arm to another car and placed her inside. He set the locks. She slumped back into the seat, trapped all over again.
A small crowd had gathered around the outer edges of the accident, curious and uncertain about what was happening. For a few brief moments, she held out the hope that maybe she still had a chance here, that maybe someone would realize what was going on and step forward to help. But the one time a middle-aged man did step forward, he was met by one of Mitch's men, who flashed a badge. The man quickly backed off.
Mitch climbed into the driver's seat. Another man opened the door and climbed into the back with Teri. She felt a trickle of blood slide down her forehead and over the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes. Things were beginning to float now, dipping in and out of clarity.
“What did you do with my son?”
“He'll be fine.”
“But his arm—”
“We'll make sure it's taken care of.”
Mitch glanced over the seat, first at Teri, then at the man beside her. “Everything under control back there?”
“No problems.”
The car pulled slowly around the accident, and she could see the smoke still spewing out from beneath the overturned vehicle. A black river of oil and gasoline flowed aimlessly across the street and into the gutter. The pungent odor was nearly smothering.
The forward car remained parked at the curb. As they passed by, she saw Gabe in the back seat, between two men. He was crying. He looked up, streaks running down his cheeks. I love you, Teri mouthed. He took a swipe at his tears, then the car turned the corner and he disappeared from sight.
Teri sank back into the seat.
Almost absently, she felt the prick of a needle enter her arm. She didn't care anymore. What was the use? The car rounded another corner, then another. She began to lose all bearing of where they were.
It didn't matter.
She had already lost the only person who mattered to her.
Buildings rolled by, monotonously, facelessly.
The motion of the vehicle rocked her gently in its arms.
Somewhere in the distance a siren sang out a sad and lonely song.
Teri closed her eyes.
[62]
Apparently there had been an accident somewhere on Grove Street. Traffic had been detoured over to Old 44, across to Sweetwater, then back to Market. It had been stop-and-go for nearly three miles before Walt was finally able to slip onto a back street and work his way over to the City Hall parking lot.
He was nearly fifteen minutes late by the time he arrived at the plaza.
Teri and the boy were nowhere to be found.
The plaza, which was usually teeming with office workers from the surrounding government buildings during the lunch hour, was completely empty now. Walt sat on the edge of the fountain, the soft, whispery sound of the water at his back. He checked his watch, then checked it again a minute or two later.
This didn't feel right.
They should have been here ahead of him, waiting.
This didn't feel right at all.
Two women came strolling down the steps, side by side, chatting between themselves. One was in her mid-fifties, the first hint of gray highlighting the sweep of hair over her right ear. Her eyeglasses were thick bifocals. The other woman was younger, maybe in her late thirties. She was wearing a dark gray overcoat and had her purse inside, slung over her shoulder.
Walt approached them. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you might have seen a woman and her son here earlier?”
The younger woman shook her head. “Sorry. This is the first chance we've had all day to get out of the office.”
The older woman eyed him with suspicion.
Walt nodded and started away. “Thanks anyway.”
He spent another forty-five minutes at the fountain, pacing on and off, wondering if he had been unclear when he had told Teri what time to meet him. His greatest fear, of course, was that something terrible had happened and that it might not have happened had he been here on time.
Eventually, he decided the best thing to do was to head back to the apartment and wait for another call.
Maybe they had missed the bus.
Or maybe they had gotten caught in traffic like he had.
Or maybe they had simply stopped off somewhere.
There were a thousand possibilities, a thousand things that might have gone wrong. Most of them were perfectly innocent. It was the others, though, that Walt didn't want to think about. It was the others he feared the most.
[63]
When Teri woke, she found herself in an alleyway between a Wells Fargo Bank building and an old abandoned bar that had once been called The Brewery. The sun had gone down. Twilight had given way to nightfall. The alley was a patch quilt of shad
ow and light, of faint outlines and buried figures.
She pushed the cardboard boxes off and sat up against the side of the brick building. Her mouth was dry, her throat a little raw, and she could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. The pain was on the right side of her head, just above her ear. It hadn't started to throb yet, but she was familiar with these things and she knew it wouldn't be long before it did.
The alleyway was littered with garbage, mostly scraps of cardboard and old food wrappers that had somehow escaped the dumpsters at the far end. A swirl of cool night air kicked up. She watched a newspaper flap its wings and fly past her. She could hear the rush of air past her ears, and somewhere far away there was the soft drone of traffic, people coming and going, never knowing there was a woman in the back of this alley who had lost her way.
Except she had lost more than that.
Teri had lost her son.
She tried to stand up, felt woozy, and fell back again. The world wasn't exactly spinning, but it was doing a fairly decent interpretation of both ends of a teeter-totter. Perspiration broke out across her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, and tried to swallow a deep breath. Whatever they had injected her with, the breath felt as if it were part of a miserable winter cold, scratching and kicking, trying to hold on as long as possible.
She was going to have to be patient; that was all.
Just patient.
The cool night air turned cooler.
Teri closed her eyes and tried to regain both her presence of mind and a little strength. Nausea was stirring inside her belly like a bubbling witch's brew, hot and sour and frightening. The headache began to throb full force, pounding against the inside of her temples.
This one's going to be a migraine, she thought.
Her stomach lurched. She bent forward, and the lunch she had eaten hours before came up with a vengeance. When it was done, she slumped back against the brick work and closed her eyes.
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