“What happened to us?” Teri said.
“I don't know. I guess we changed.”
“It feels like a waste, doesn't it?”
“Sometimes.”
The young woman and the little girl walked by, on their way out. They paused briefly at a rack near the front window, then the bell rang again and the woman held the door open for her daughter.
“Thanks for coming,” Judy said.
The woman smiled.
The door closed.
Judy pulled out a two-piece jacket dress, black with turquoise, and padded shoulders. She held it up, pressed against her body. “What do you think? Too simple?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. I like simple. But I like elegant, too.” She replaced the outfit and nodded to herself, as if she had finally come to a decision of some sort. “How about if I get you some phone numbers and addresses?”
“The old gang?”
“Yeah.”
“You'll never know how much that would be appreciated.”
“Maybe we could throw a reunion one of these days? What do you think? You think anyone would come?”
“It worked for Woodstock.”
Judy smiled. “Yeah, I guess it did, didn't it? I'll be right back. Just give me a second. My address book's on the desk.”
“No rush.” Teri wandered across the room and browsed through a rack of sweat suits, finding a pink shirt with kittens on it and a matching plaid design that went great with gray sweat pants. It came in a medium or a large junior. She took out the large and held it up, thinking it looked better than anything she had bought for herself in a long, long time. The price was a very reasonable thirty-five dollars. It would be the least she could do, she thought, after all the help Judy had offered.
Then her pager went off.
Walt had given it to her this morning on his way out the door. He had picked it up over a year ago, he said, so his clients could get hold of him on the spur of the moment. This was only the second time he had actually used it, though.
Teri glanced down at the strange vibration at her hip. The phone number where Walt was calling from was listed at the top of the black box. It wasn't a familiar number. She turned the pager off, and carried the outfit she had chosen over to the cash register.
Judy came back a moment later with her address book waving in one hand. “I never realized how many of us came up from the Bay Area. Did you know there were almost thirty of us?”
“No,” Teri said, surprised at the number. It had never felt like that large of a group. Now, looking back, she found it rather amazing that they all got along as well as they did. If the years had taught her anything, they had taught her that relationships were infinitely more complicated than you ever imagined they were.
“Listen, Judy, I've got a page. I was wondering if you had a phone I could use?”
“Oh, sure. It's in the back, right around the corner, on your right.” Judy handed her the address book. “Here, why don't you take this with you? There's paper and pencils in the upper right hand drawer of the desk. Go ahead and pull out whatever names and addresses you need.”
“You're a blessing, Judy. And I want that outfit on the counter.”
“You don't have to—”
“I want to. It's a nice outfit, especially the kittens on the shirt.”
In the back, Teri pulled out a chair and sat down at the desk. She dialed the number on the pager, and waited for someone to pick up the other end.
“Walt's Fake and Bake. We fake it, you bake it.”
“You better have something more than that to say.”
“Well, if it isn't little Miss Sunshine.”
“Walt, I thought you were only going to page me if it was something important?”
“This is important. I needed to make sure the pager was working.”
“Well, where are you?”
“In a phone booth across the street from the clinic. Our Dr. Childs, being the true conscientious professional that he is, has been conducting business as usual all morning.”
“Nothing new then, huh?”
“Nope. Sorry. How 'bout on your end?”
Teri picked up the address book and turned it over in her hands. “I'm still at the boutique. Judy's given me a good list of phone numbers, though. I think I'll head back to the apartment and call from there.”
“No more fears about the place being bugged?”
“No, I think you were probably right. They got Gabe. That's who they really wanted.”
“We're going to find him this time, Teri.”
“God, I hope you're right.”
“And it isn't going to take ten years, I promise.”
[93]
Michael slept in late, until almost ten, before he finally talked himself out of bed and into the shower. It was a long time before the water turned warm. The shower was short and perfunctory. Afterward, fully awake, he went across the street to have breakfast at a little coffee shop called Molly's.
On his way, it was everything he could do not to look across the lot at the dark blue Ford. He listened intently for the sound of the engine starting up, and then for the sound of the tires against the blacktop as the car inched its way along just a few short yards behind him. But those sounds never came, and it wasn't until he was sitting in a booth in the coffee shop that the Ford finally pulled out of the motel lot and parked half-a-block down the street, just at the edge of his line of sight.
He knew then, without a doubt, that when the time came, he would have a way of losing them. That little piece of knowledge, like coming out of the doctor's office with the news that it wasn't cancer after all but just a meaningless little cyst, made his breakfast one of the most enjoyable in memory.
He tipped the waitress an extra two dollars, then returned to his motel room, not caring if the dark blue Ford was on his heels or still parked at the curb half-a-block back. He had told himself, nearly promised himself, that today would be the day, but suddenly that didn't seem as urgent as it had just a short time ago. When the time came he would know it and escape would no longer be a problem.
Michael set the bolt lock behind him, took up the list of friends and acquaintances he had started yesterday and sat on the edge of the bed. The list had grown nearly two pages long as one lead had taken him to another. By now, though, most of the names had been scratched off. No one in their old circle of friends had a clue as to Teri's possible whereabouts. In fact, no one seemed to have had much contact with her at all over the past five or six years. She had just drifted away, as it had been described to him time and again. Michael understood perfectly well what that was like.
He folded back the top page of the pad and took a long look at the scribbling underneath. As new names had occurred to him, he had added them at the bottom, and as he looked at the list now, he realized most of the added names belonged to people neither he nor Teri had seen in years. These had been their friends back in their college days.
At the top of the list was Peggy Landau.
Michael dialed the number he had found in the phone book, then leaned back against the headboard and listened as the other end of the line rang three times before being picked up.
“Hello?” It was a man's voice.
“Yes. I was wondering if I could speak with Peggy Landau, please.”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Michael Knight. We're old college friends.”
There was a pause on the other end, and as sometimes happens in life, Michael suddenly had a very clear, very intuitive impression of who he was talking to and what had happened. He did not want to believe it for a moment, though, and instead tried to push it out of his mind.
“N-i-g-h-t?” the voice asked.
“With a 'k',” Michael said. “You mind telling me who I'm speaking with?”
“This is Lieutenant Sterns. Can you give me an address and phone number where I can reach you?”
Michael explained that he was from out
of town and that he was currently staying at a motel. Uneasiness squirmed its way into his voice and his throat tightened up as he gave the man the motel's address, the room number, and the telephone number. Then he closed his eyes and asked a question of his own, the words barely audible out of his mouth. “What's this all about, lieutenant?”
“Your friend's had an accident. I'm sorry.”
“She's dead, isn't she?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Why else would you be there, answering the phone?”
“There could be lots of reasons, Mr. Knight. Why did you assume she was dead?”
“Just tell me ... she is, isn't she?”
“Yes. She is. I'm sorry.”
The air emptied out of his lungs as if he had been hit in the gut with a football, and he fell back against the headboard, trying to catch enough air to take another breath.
“Mr. Knight?”
He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
“You want to tell what you were calling about?”
[94]
Walt had known it would be wearisome. That was the nature of the business. Any kind of investigative work requiring a stakeout was going to be wearisome. You had to like cramped spaces and eating on the run and listening to talk radio. You had to live and breathe and sleep on someone else's schedule. Your time was their time. He had always found it to be like that, and this instance was proving to be no exception.
Childs had left the house a little after seven-thirty this morning and had arrived at the clinic just before eight. He had taken a different route this morning, down Fremont and over to El Camino West. And wasn't that an unusual thing for a man to do? Most people tended to stick to their routines. Still, Walt cautioned himself not to read into it.
The car windows were down, a lazy afternoon breeze filtering through.
Walt glanced up from his newspaper, looked at the back door of the clinic, and went back to reading about USAir Flight 427 that had crashed outside of Pittsburgh. It had been a quiet morning at the clinic. Maybe half-a-dozen patients had come through. The last had been a woman who had appeared to be in her early sixties and in fine health. She had left nearly twenty minutes ago and no one else had come or gone since.
It was one-fifteen now.
Walt dropped the paper again, giving debate to the idea of running around the corner and grabbing a hamburger at the Bartel's Drive-Thru. He thought if he hurried he could make it in a little under ten minutes, over and back. But of course, as soon as he rounded the corner, Childs would come bounding out of the clinic, climb into his Buick, and be off and running. Wasn't that the way it always went?
“Come on, doc. Take me to your leader.”
If there was a leader.
The truth of the matter was he had no way of knowing at this point. There was little doubt that Childs was involved somehow. The question was: how big was his role? Was he the guy at the top or some flunky in the middle?
The back door to the clinic slowly swung open.
Walt sat up, feeling an instant surge of adrenaline.
“'Bout time.”
Childs emerged, carrying a briefcase in one hand. It was the same briefcase he had brought from home this morning, and Walt wondered if it meant that the doctor's day at the clinic had officially concluded. Childs crossed the lot and climbed into his Buick.
Walt rolled up the windows.
“Come on, make it worth my while, you turkey.”
He had no idea how worth his while it would actually turn out to be.
[95]
Teri sank back on the couch, feeling tired. Her neck ached. She had slept on it wrong last night and gradually throughout the day it had grown stiffer and stiffer. It didn't help that Gabe had been out there somewhere, on his own, for nearly five days now.
“Uh-huh,” she said, switching the phone from one ear to the other.
She was talking to Peter Brenner, one of the old college gang. She'd had a crush on Peter once, in her sophomore year before she'd met Michael. It had never gone anywhere. Peter had had his eyes on Drew. They were married now, with four children, two boys and two girls. Their first daughter, Kala, as Teri had just learned had become one of the disappeared in April '85, less than a month after Gabe's disappearance. Kala had never returned home.
“I'm sorry. I'm trying to get this straight in my mind. Where were you and Drew living when Kala disappeared?”
“That was about a year after we first moved to Houston.”
“And you hadn't been back this way?”
“No,” Peter said. “Still haven't. Drew's parents are out here and we've kind of settled in like natives. Except for that Southern drawl, which I think we've both come to envy.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“It has been. Everything except for Kala.”
Teri hadn't told him yet about Gabe, and she wasn't sure she was going to. You never put it completely out of your mind when you lose a child. One way or another, it was always with you. But some days were better than others, and it sounded to her as if Peter and Drew had managed to handle their loss as well as any two people could under the circumstance. She didn't want to pop that bubble. And she didn't want to add any false hopes to it, either.
“You ever see anyone from the old days?” she asked.
“No, not really. Drew and Judy write back and forth, but that's about it.”
“Who's your family doctor?”
“Oh, well, there's someone I guess we still see. It's Childs. You remember him from college?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“He's got a clinic out here.”
“Really?”
“It's a small, general practice that he set up shortly after we arrived.”
“Were you a little surprised to see him out there?”
“Amazed. He said he had some relatives here and had decided the old saying was true: there was no place like home.”
Teri's pager went off, sending a tingling vibration into her hip. She glanced down at it, wondering briefly if something was up or if Walt was just testing her again. She shut it off.
“I've got a call I better take,” she said.
“Sorry you missed Drew. I know she would have loved to talk to you.”
“Well, maybe next time.”
“That would be nice.”
“Peter, one more thing before I go.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you take all your kids to Dr. Childs?”
“Sure do.”
[96]
The phone rang and Walt grabbed it immediately. “Teri?”
“Is everything all right?”
“You'll never guess where I am.”
“Where?”
He turned and looked out across the gateway. A businessman, dressed in a dark blue suit and carrying a briefcase, passed by. He was followed by a couple of teenage boys who stopped at the newsstand across the way and leafed through the current issue of Playboy.
“The airport,” Walt said.
“What are you doing there?”
“Believe it or not, I'm on my way to Chicago.” He shook his head, and glanced down at the ticket in his hand. It was a 3:30 flight to O'Hare. Absently, he tapped the corner of the document against the metal face plate of the phone. “Ever been to Chicago?”
“No.”
“Me, either. Guess there's a first time for everything.”
“What's going on, Walt?”
“I'm not sure exactly.” He glanced across the way at the seating area, where Childs was reading a newspaper and waiting for the boarding call. “Childs knocked off early this afternoon and now he's on his way to Chicago. I just thought I'd go along for the ride, that's all.”
“He's got another clinic in Houston.”
“You're kidding.”
“No. I just got done talking to an old friend of mine. Apparently, Childs followed them out to Houston and set up a clinic there. He's been taking care of their kids, Walt. And their oldest o
ne, a girl by the name of Kala – she's been missing almost as long as Gabe.”
“Christ.”
“I'm beginning to hate this man, Walt.”
“Me, too.”
“He's been stealing children all across the country and for heaven only knows how long he's been getting away with it.” She sounded as if she might break down and cry. There was a long pause, then a deep breath. “We've got to stop him.”
“We will.”
“No, I mean now. We've got to stop him now.”
“Teri, we don't know enough. Not yet.” Walt stuffed the ticket back into his pocket and checked to see if Childs had moved. He hadn't, though he had set the newspaper aside and appeared a little anxious all of a sudden. “We still don't know where he's keeping Gabe.”
“Well, it's got to be somewhere local.”
“Not necessarily. For all we know, he could be holding him anywhere in the country. In Houston or Chicago. Anywhere.”
There was complete silence on the other end.
“Teri?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, clearly unhappy.
“Hey, listen to me. I know this is hard, but you've got to hang in there. We're getting closer to him. I'm telling you, his time's running out, and sooner or later he's going to lead us right to Gabe. But you've got to be patient.”
“I've been patient.”
“I know you have, but you've got to be more patient. You understand? If we spook him now, we're risking our only connection to Gabe, and I know that's not what you want.”
“Of course not.”
“Then hang in with me, all right?”
“I will.”
“Good.” He glanced across the boarding area and noticed that Childs was standing in line now. It was still twenty minutes to take-off. “They're starting to board. I better get going. Are you gonna be all right?”
“Yeah, I'll be fine.”
“Okay.” He pulled the ticket back out of his pocket, searching for something else to say, something that might help her to hang in there a little longer. But what was there to say? She had been going through this roller coaster of a nightmare for ten long years now. She knew the turns, the ups and downs, and far better than him, she knew how to keep herself on track. “Oh, there is one last thing.”
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