He stopped and turned. Carly was turned toward him, but her eyes were cast down to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said again. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. There was something contrived, almost theatrical, about it, as if she had studied the signs of contrition and was putting them on.
“I’m not the only one you need to apologize to,” Keller said. He jerked his chin at Marie.
She turned to Marie. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I’m just really wound up about this.” She smiled. “Tammy said you’re a mother. You understand, don’t you?”
Marie gave a different smile back, the smile of one being polite to someone she’d rather be strangling. “Sure,” she said. “And the sooner we get to work, the sooner we get your daughter back. Have you got any pictures of her?”
Carly leaped up. “Of course,” she said, too brightly. She walked over to the television, where a small forest of framed pictures covered the top. She picked one out and handed it, frame and all, to Marie. “That’s her,” she said. “That’s Alyssa.”
Marie studied it for a moment, then handed it to Keller.
It was a standard portrait photograph, the kind available in department stores across the country. The girl in the photo appeared to be about five years old. Like her mother, she was blond and blue-eyed. What ever the photographer had been waving off camera to make the little girl smile, it had obviously delighted her. Her face was scrunched up in the expression of pure, spontaneous joy that adults lose along the way and never seem to regain.
“Pretty,” Keller said.
“She’s my life,” Carly said. Again, the words sounded as if they were being read off a script. But the tears that followed seemed real enough. “Find her. Please, please find her.”
“We’ll try, ma’am,” Marie said. It was a voice Keller hadn’t heard from her since she left the police force, a voice of competence and reassurance. “Tell me about Alyssa’s father,” Marie went on.
“What about him?”
“Where you met, for one thing.”
Carly took a tissue out of a nearly empty box on the coffee table and blew her nose. “I was waitressing at Bennigan’s. He and some of his buddies came in one night. We got to talking. He was young, good-looking, built…” She shrugged. “We hit it off.”
“How long were you together?” Marie asked.
Carly looked away. “We were never really together, not in any kind of boyfriend-girlfriend way. He was gone a lot. He’d give me a call when he was in town. I knew he was in the service, but he never would talk a lot about what he did, so I figured it was some kind of Special Forces deal.”
“Why?” Keller said.
She looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“You make it sound like you weren’t all that close. If you were just fuck buddies, why’d you think his not opening up meant he was Special Ops?”
She reddened slightly at the words. “It was just…something about the way he carried himself. I’ve dated a few guys in the service before, but he was different. Nothing fazed him, nothing rattled him. Like he was above it all.”
“How did he react when you told him you were pregnant?” Marie asked.
“He wasn’t happy about it,” she said. “But I told him I wasn’t going to have an abortion. He didn’t get mad or blow up or anything, he just walked out.” She took another tissue. “He called a few days later, said we’d be taken care of. He was going to arrange an allotment from his pay for support.”
“Did he see much of Alyssa?”
Keller saw the muscles in her jaw clench. “He was gone when she was born. He called me a few days later. I asked him where the hell he’d been.”
“What did he say?”
“He seemed surprised I had even asked the question. Like I said, we didn’t usually talk about where he was or what he did. I told him that all that had changed now, that I had to know I could count on him. He said it couldn’t work like that. I hung up on him.”
Marie looked puzzled. “So he didn’t visit with her?”
Fedder shook her head. “He didn’t call anymore. The checks came, but…no Dave.”
“But you said…” Keller began.
“Oh, he called once, a few days before he took my daughter. He said he’d heard what I was up to, the way I was living, and he wasn’t going to let his daughter grow up in that environment.”
Keller and Marie exchanged glances. “What did he mean by that?” Marie said.
She looked defiant. “Look, I moved on with my life, okay? I’m thirty-five years old. I’m a grown-up. I can live any damn way I please.”
“Was he unhappy about another relationship?”
“I don’t know what the hell he was unhappy about,” she snapped. “And just what did he mean, his daughter? If he’s not going to be there for her…” She was getting wound up. Marie tried to calm her. “Ms. Fedder,” she began.
“Look, are you going to help me find my daughter or are you and this tin soldier here going to cover up for him, like everybody else?”
Keller started to respond. Marie silenced him with a warning glance. “What do you mean, everybody else?” she said.
“I called the JAG office, the Provost Marshal, everybody I could think of. I got nowhere. It was like Dave had ceased to exist.”
“What exactly did they tell you?” Keller asked.
“Nothing,” she responded sullenly.
“So you asked them a question and you got silence back?” Keller said. “Come on. They said something.”
She sighed. “They said that they could neither confirm nor deny the whereabouts of Sergeant David Lundgren.”
Keller nodded. “Sounds familiar.”
She laughed bitterly. “I’ll bet. Bet you’ve said it yourself.”
“Ms. Fedder,” Keller said as he stood up, “when I was in Saudi, my squad and I got separated from our unit. It was late at night, out on the desert. A passing helicopter mistook our Bradley for an enemy tank. The Army killed nine of my men, men I was responsible for. If I hadn’t been outside to take a leak, I’d be dead, too. I still have nightmares about it.” He walked toward the door. “The Army acted like it had never happened, and tried to get me to do the same.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You might want to consider that before making any judgments about me being some sort of tool for the Army.”
She was unfazed. “And what about you, Mr. Keller?” she said. “You haven’t judged me?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “It’s a fair point. Tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t call me a whore and I won’t call you one.” He walked out.
Keller waited in the car for another five minutes, until Marie came out. She slid into the driver’s seat. She didn’t look at Keller or start the car. Finally, she said through clenched teeth, “You mind telling me what that was all about?”
Keller looked out the window. “Guess we didn’t hit it off.”
“You didn’t hit it off because you acted like a total jackass. What the hell is the matter with you, Jack?”
“I don’t trust her,” Keller said. “She’s not telling you the whole story.”
Marie shook her head and started the car. “Well, she still wants me on the job, God knows why. I sort of danced around the question of your involvement. From now on, you let me deal with the client, okay? You seem to have lost your people skills.” She began backing the car out of the parking space.
“Suits me,” Keller said.
Marie slammed on the brakes. “So now you’re pissed at me?” She took a moment, then a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. Look, Jack, you didn’t want this job in the first place. Just forget the whole thing.”
He looked at her. “I said I’d help, and I will,” he said. “I’m not trying to back out.”
“If you’re going to be this big a pain in the ass, I don’t need your help,” Marie snapped. She finished backing out, then slammed the car in
to gear. Tires squealed as she sped out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for several minutes. Finally, Marie said, too casually, “You seeing Lucas again anytime soon?”
Keller’s eyes narrowed. “Why, you think I need to see a shrink about this?”
“Well,” Marie said, “something about this situation’s put a bug up your ass. Lucas has helped you a lot. He’s gone to bat for you. And since you won’t talk to me…” Her voice trembled slightly on the last word.
Keller looked out the window. “I’ll call him,” he said after a few moments. “He’s been bugging me about taking him to the beach anyway.”
“When?” Marie said.
“This weekend. First I’ve got to make some calls to Fort Bragg. See if we can get somebody to tell us how to find Lundgren.”
“Where are you going to start?”
“Probably the Provost Marshal. If there’s legal papers to be served, it’s their lookout. After that, I’ll try the Inspector General. What about you?”
“I’m talking this afternoon with the operator of the day care where Alyssa was when Lundgren took her. You want me to drop you at my office?”
“Yeah, that’d be good.” The tension between them had eased, but only slightly. Neither spoke until they had gotten back downtown and Marie pulled up outside the office. “Okay. Let me know what you find out,” Marie said.
“Right,” Keller said as he got out. “See you later.”
“Later,” she said. It wasn’t until she had driven off that he realized she hadn’t asked if he was coming over.
CHAPTER FOUR
“EighteenthAirborneCorpsHeadquartersCompanyOfficeoftheProvostMarshal lCorporalDetwilerspeakingcanIhelpyou?” the female voice on the other end of the line compressed the prescribed greeting down into an unrecognizable blur of words, just like any other Army clerk Keller had ever met.
“Corporal,” he said, “my name is Jackson Keller. I’m attempting to locate a Sergeant David Lundgren regarding his…regarding a legal matter.”
“What sort of legal matter, sir?”
“It involves his daughter.”
“Support matters are handled by an allotment from the soldier’s pay. If you give me his unit designation I can give you the name and number of the officer to contact.”
“It’s not a support matter. It’s about custody.”
“That would be the office of the Judge Advocate General, sir. It would be handled by the JAG office at his unit level. If you give me his unit number, battalion first…”
Keller took a deep breath. He remembered well the first rule of military bureaucracy: What ever the problem is, make it someone else’s responsibility. “I don’t think JAG represents him, Corporal. We believe Sergeant Lundgren kidnapped his daughter.”
The clerk didn’t miss a beat. “That would be Criminal Investigation Division, their number is 555-4976, hold on and I’ll try to connect you.” Keller tried to say something else, but before he could get a word out, there was a click, then silence. Keller waited. A few seconds later, another click and a dial tone. He had been disconnected.
Keller sighed. He doubted that CID would get involved. Just like civilian cops, military police loathed domestic situations. He was convinced that he was going to get nowhere here. Still, he wanted to be able to tell Marie he had tried everything. He dialed the CID number. He waited for the clerk to complete his greeting, then began again. “I’m trying to locate a Sergeant David Lundgren—”
“That case is being handled by Special Agent Wilcox. Please hold.”
Keller was taken aback. What case? he thought to himself.
After a moment, a man’s voice came on the line. “Major Wilcox, can I help you?”
“Major Wilcox,” Keller said. “My name is Jackson Keller. I’m trying to locate—”
“Sergeant David Lundgren, right,” Wilcox said. “May I ask what your relationship is with Sergeant Lundgren, Mr. Keller?”
“I’ve been employed by the lawyer representing the mother of his child. We need to try to find him.”
“Support matters are handled by—”
“It’s not child support, damn it!” Keller snapped. “He’s taken his daughter. There’s a court order for her return.”
There was a pause. “You mean to tell me he might have a child with him?”
“You mean you aren’t—” Realization struck Keller like a hammer between the eyes. “Holy shit,” he said. “The Army really doesn’t know where he is, do they?”
“Where did you say you were, Mr. Keller?” Wilcox said.
“I didn’t,” Keller said and snapped the cell phone shut.
He tried to call Marie. He got the message saying she was either unavailable or had left the calling area. He fumbled for a moment for his wallet, then pulled out Tamara Healy’s business card. He worked his way though a receptionist and a paralegal before being allowed to leave a message on her voice mail.
“It’s Jack Keller,” he said. “They’re not stonewalling you. The Army doesn’t know where Lundgren is. They’ve got CID looking for him. And that…I don’t have to tell you, that’s weird.” He hung up.
***
Wilcox put down the phone. He took a moment to look again through the Lundgren case file. Finally he realized he was just stalling for time to avoid making the next call. He sighed. He hated having to report to anyone else. It was especially rankling when it was a civilian.
Still, orders were orders. He picked up the phone and dialed. It was answered after one ring. “Gerritsen.”
“This is Major Wilcox at Fort Bragg,” he said. “I was just contacted by a Jackson Keller. He said he was looking for Lundgren.”
“Did he say why?” Gerritsen asked.
Wilcox could see Gerritsen in his mind’s eye. The preppy-boy good looks, the dark glasses…He shook a pair of Rolaids out of the plastic bottle on his desk. “He said he worked for an attorney. There’s a custody case going on. Lundgren’s apparently the father.”
“Right,” Gerritsen said.
“You knew about that,” Wilcox said.
“We did, yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“We didn’t think it was important at the time,” Gerritsen said.
“And what about now?” Wilcox asked. “Is it important now?”
“It may be,” Gerritsen said.
“Thanks for sharing all this information with me,” Wilcox said. The irony was lost on Gerritsen. Most irony was.
“Thank you for calling, Agent Wilcox.” Gerritsen placed just enough stress on the word “agent” to let Wilcox know he was only humoring him by using the title. “We’ll check this out and get back to you.”
Wilcox hung up without responding. He popped the Rolaids into his mouth and went to shake another out of the bottle. It was empty. Time to buy more.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marie felt like she had gone through the looking glass when the day-care director introduced herself as Miss Melanie. It was also on her office door. She was a short, plump brunette, with red cheeks and a perpetually sunny smile that never left her face even when talking about the taking of one of her charges. The perpetual singsong quality of her voice never changed, either. It was as if spending day after day with children had destroyed her ability to converse normally with adults.
They were sitting in Miss Melanie’s office just off the main playroom of the Tiny Tots Daycare Center. The office was minuscule, barely a cubicle. Every wall was covered with chaotic children’s drawings of unidentifiable subjects. It was just after lunch and the children lay on thin mats laid out in rows on the linoleum floor. Miss Melanie had left the door open to keep an eye on the playroom.
“We’re a little shorthanded today,” she said with her sweetly grating voice.
“Miss…ah, ma’am,” Marie said, “I know this may be a bad time for me to just drop in…”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, hon,” Miss Melanie said, leaning forward to pat Marie on the knee. “
It’s nap time, so we can set and have a nice talk.”
“Did you know that Alyssa’s mother and father were having domestic problems?”
“Oh, no, dear,” Miss Melanie said. “Nothing like that.”
“Her mother ever say anything to you about being afraid her father was going to take her?”
“No, no,” Miss Melanie said. “If she’d said anything like that, we’d have wrote it down in the book up front. So the staff would know to keep a lookout. No, ma’am, she never told us.”
“Can you tell me what happened the day Alyssa was taken?”
Miss Melanie never lost her smile. “Well, shug, I’d like to. But the folks from the insurance said we’d best not talk to nobody about it. You know how them lawyers are.”
Marie was taken aback. “You mean someone threatened a lawsuit?”
“No. Not yet at least. But, you know. Lawyers.”
“Yeah,” Marie said. “Lawyers.” She stood up. “Thanks again,” she said.
“Anytime, shug,” Miss Melanie beamed up at her.
Marie made her way through the rows of children lined up on the floor. A few gazed up at her curiously. None of them were asleep.
As Marie stepped out the front door, she noticed a young black woman leaning against the side of the pre-fabricated metal building that housed the day-care center. She was smoking a cigarette. The woman eyed Marie suspiciously as she walked over.
“Hey,” Marie said.
“Hey,” was the reluctant reply.
“My name’s Marie Jones,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m a private investigator. Mind if I talk to you a moment?”
The woman ignored the extended hand. “It about Alyssa Fedder, I don’t know nothing.”
“You don’t know anything, or you’ve been told you don’t know anything?”
The woman gave Marie a look of amused contempt. “They any difference?”
“Not to me, I guess.”
“Damn right,” the young woman said. She took a short, abrupt pull on her cigarette. “Already one of us lost her job over this. An’ that ole bitch in there ain’t bothered to replace her.”
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