Fatal Decision

by John Greenwood

  He stops at the top of the stairs, "Maybe some good news." I feel my heart begin to flutter and Michelle's grip on me tighten. "It looks like the school has surveillance footage. We're getting it right now. Maybe we'll be able to see a car or how they left." I feel a twinge of excitement shoot through my body though I was hoping for some better news, but seeing how fast Stanton and Adams run back down the stairs it does give me some hope. Michelle and I head to our bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed. We're not sure what to do. Our son is missing and we can’t do anything except wait. I don't think I can just sit here. I walk over to the window. We live on a fairly quiet cul-de-sac where everyone knows everyone but no one really does anything together unless it’s our annual Fourth of July party where we shut down the road and cook out on grills. It's really a lot of fun and we all promise to do more together each year, but we all get busy with our lives. I see about five or six news vans parked along the curb as well as several police cars both marked and unmarked. There's also a small gathering of people, who I recognize as our neighbors gathered across the street on the Henson’s lawn. They have two boys, one is a little younger than Tommy and the other is a few years older. Last I heard, the older boy was some kind of computer genius. I look back at Michelle. She is crying again; her head is in her hands. The phone keeps ringing. I check the caller ID every time, but they are all from media outlet; so I just let them go to the machine. I need to do something. I walk down to Tommy's room and suddenly stop at the doorway seeing someone in his room.

  "Can I help you?" I ask. There's a man going through Tommy's things.

  "Hi Mr. Smith. I'm Evidence Technician Sanderstrom." He holds out his hand. I give him a light shake. Detective Stanton wanted me to check for anything that might be of use in finding your son." I nod my head and walk out. I head downstairs and don’t see either detective, instead there are four or five uniform police officers standing in our living room. One of them is looking at our phone. I think they say something, but I just nod and head for the kitchen, luckily it is empty. I sit at the bar counter that we recently put in that separates our kitchen from our dining room. It is oak with matching granite counter tops and three comfortable swivel bar stools with backs. It was actually Tommy's idea. I think he saw it in a friend's house. I wish Tommy was seated beside me. I grab a few pretzels that are in a bag on the bar even though I'm not hungry. I actually feel nauseous, but it feels good to be doing something. I can hear the officer's radios screeching away in the next room and every time I hear a voice I try and listen to see if it's about Tommy, but a lot it is code so I just tune it out. I have never dealt with the police, but I have always felt like I trusted them. I just hope they are doing everything possible to try and find him. I suddenly get the idea to go out and begin looking for Tommy myself. I'm not sure where to go or what to even look for. I hope that surveillance video has something useful on it. I slowly walk back into the living room past the officers and head for the garage. As soon as I open the door , I hear them all start yelling at once. The one that was near the phone walks over to me. He appears to be around thirty and very tall, probably at least 6'5”, so I stop.

  "I'm sorry Mr. Smith, but we need you to stay here in case anyone tries to contact you." I guess carrying the keys in my hand was a dead giveaway.

  "I just want to go look for Tommy."

  He nods. "I understand, but we have every available officer looking for him." I slowly turn around and walk back towards the kitchen. As soon as I enter I hear Detective Adams and Stanton coming through the front door. I quickly turn around, my feet slide across the linoleum.

  "Mr. Smith we need you to come look at this picture." I walk towards the two detectives. Adams is holding a large picture on a piece of white paper from a printer. He holds it towards me and I gasp so loudly, Stanton puts his arm on my back.

  "Are you okay?'

  "Does that mean you recognize this guy?" Adams looks at me. I can see his pupils dancing around excitedly. I shake my head no. I feel my body begin to tremble as I continue to stare at the picture. I'm not looking at the man, I don’t recognize him. I'm looking at something else. It's something he is holding.

  "What is it?" Stanton asks.

  "Nothing, it's just seeing the guy who took Tommy." I look at the picture again. This time I don’t look at the object and instead concentrate on the man's face. He is strikingly similar to Lawrence, but he is much broader and taller. He looks like a very fit athlete, the kind with muscles rippling through his body. He has dark features and closely cropped hair that is pushed back off his forehead, probably uses hair gel. I'd say he is somewhere in his thirties. The picture is taken outside the school. I recognize the exterior of the building.

  "What is it Sheldon?" Michelle is standing on the bottom step.

  "Can you please come take a look at the picture taken from the surveillance camera Mrs. Smith?" Stanton asks speaking much quieter and gentler. Michelle nods and walks over to the detectives, looks at the picture briefly and shakes her head no. Her eyes are full of tiny red streaks from crying. I watch Stanton thank her; then she immediately heads back upstairs and disappears.

  "So what now?" I ask.

  "We wait. We have the phones ready to go. We both look at the officers in the living room.

  "What if no one calls?"

  "They'll call. Someone went to way too much trouble to get him away from school." Stanton looks back at the photo.

  "We have nothing to offer them. We’re not rich by any means, middle class at best. There are plenty of other people that have a lot more money than we do." I look around our living room. It's well decorated, but it's by no means lavish. The most significant feature is the fifty-inch screen above the fireplace, but it's certainly not enough to bring Tommy back.

  Stanton follows my eyes. "That's what we need to find out. Maybe Tommy has something he wants."

  I shake my head. "He barely gets an allowance."

  "Any drug use?" I stare at Stanton and then shake my head.

  "How about friends into drugs or alcohol or anything?"

  "He's thirteen, Detective. How much could he be into?"

  "I hear you, but after eighteen years on the job I have seen it all." I watch as Adam's nods in agreement.

  "The biggest thing he's into is sneaking a drink of soda or candy when his mom isn’t looking, other than that he's a good kid who's into the normal early teenage stuff." I look behind me as the evidence technician who was in Tommy's room enters the living room.

  "Nothing guys. I even checked his phone." He looks at me. "That was his phone right?" I nod. "I'm heading over to his school next." I watch him exit out the front door.

  "This just doesn't make sense." Stanton grunts and slides his foot along the carpet in frustration. "Can you think of any reason anyone would do this? Any problems at work? With friends? Anything?

  "I shake my head. "There's nothing. Our biggest concern is getting Tommy to school, baseball and his homework, after that and our jobs there's no time for anything else. You know how it is." They both nod in agreement. "Could you get anything off the cameras?"

  "Nothing more than the picture you saw. The footage doesn't go beyond the sidewalk area so we can’t see the parking lot."

  "Can I go try and find him?"

  "What do you mean?" Stanton looks confused.

  "I mean. I can’t sit here and wait all night. I need to find him. I would rather be out looking than waiting."

  "I can only imagine how you feel Mr. Smith but if someone calls, they're going to want to talk to you and that may be our only chance." Stanton gives me a hard look.

  "How long do we wait?"

  I watch his eyes look at the floor. "I don't have an answer for that, but with the Amber Alert and every officer searching for him, I'm hoping it is soon."

  "I'm going out first thing in the morning if we don’t hear anything." I quickly turn around and head upstairs. I think I hear him answer back…something about he would do the same thing if it were
his kid, but I don’t look back. I just keep on walking up the stairs and fall onto Tommy's bed.

  Chapter 3

  I watch the sun finally start to rise through our living room windows. Michelle's head is resting on my shoulder. Her eyes are glassy from worry and lack of sleep. We have spent the night on about the fourth or fifth step on our staircase. Our house is built with the main entrance opening into the living room directly across from the staircase. We decided to spend the night here, so we could hear if there was any news about Tommy. We heard nothing. The two detectives left a few hours ago; probably to go home and try to get some sleep before taking on another long and challenging day. From what I understand, this kind of thing doesn’t happen too often in this area. It has occurred before, so they know the procedures to follow. We live in a small community in Northern Virginia far enough away from the confusion of Washington, DC, but close enough to enjoy some of the events happening in the vicinity of a major city. I'm not really sure how we ended up here, but I got out of the military and Michelle was interning in DC, so we both just decided to stay and make the best of it. Now some twenty years later we’re still here with our only child missing and apparently not a clue to where he has gone or who took him. I really thought someone would at least recognize the man that took Tommy. They must have showed his picture a thousand times on the TV last night alongside Tommy's, but not one call or sighting from anyone. Our phone has been ringing all night long, but it has been one media agency after another. One of the police officers was assigned to answer our calls and he has been deflecting them all night long. I did answer one call on my iPhone from Randy, our CEO to let him know the status of Tommy. He said they would be there for me and if I needed anything to let him know. I didn’t ask him about the server situation. It seems so unimportant now. In fact, everything else does as well. We can see the TV from where we are sitting. They had it tuned to one of the local stations and all night they kept broadcasting local and national news stories that any other time I would have been glued to the TV for, but last night I just closed my eyes. After a while, I couldn’t even watch the stories about Tommy without getting myself more upset. I feel Michelle's grip tighten on me as the front door opens. Detective Stanton and Adams enter. They both look tired. They are wearing different clothes, so hopefully they at least went home for a little while. They speak to the officers who were in our house last night and shake their heads. Stanton looks at us and walks over to the bottom of the steps.

  "Sorry guys, we didn’t get anything last night. We are back on it today and hopefully we'll have better luck today, now that the pictures are out there." He looks at us more closely. I can see the bags under his eyes. "Why don’t you guys try and get something to eat?" We both shake our heads. Michelle immediately stands up and runs up the stairs. I hear her go into the bathroom and begin to vomit. I stand up slowly stretching my shoulder where she had her head all night. It is a little stiff. I walk down the steps and step into the living room. There are three officers seated on the chairs. One of them is looking directly at our phone.

  "Why aren’t they calling?"

  Detective Stanton looks at me and then the phone. "Sometimes they like to wait until they feel they are in a secure enough place. It usually happens within twenty-four hours."

  I nod. "Isn’t there anything else we can do?"

  "I wish there was, but without an ID on the guy or a car there's not too much we can do except search and wait for something to come up." He looks down at the floor.

  "What's the success rate on these usually?"

  "It all depends. There all different. Once we figure out the motivation here we should be able to get a grip on this."

  "It's true though the more time that goes by the less of a chance right?" I look directly into his dark brown eyes.

  He slowly nods his head. "That's usually true in missing person's cases, but this is different. I mean someone came in and got Tommy to voluntarily go somewhere with him."

  "I don't understand that." I think back to the photograph of what was in the man's hand. "He knows better than that."

  "Remember what I told you. He could have told him something happened to you or your wife and he had to go."

  "But why would someone want him to go with them?" I hear Michelle coughing upstairs.

  "That's what we need to find out. I’m planning on going back to the school and talk to that secretary and everyone in that office to see if they noticed anything else. By the way, they cancelled school today."

  "I'm going to head out and search for him myself. I can’t stay here anymore." I start to back away from him.

  "I can’t tell you not to, but I wish you would stay here in case they try and call. I'll talk to Mike and see if he can forward your calls to your cell." He looks at the officer seated near our phone."

  I nod and head upstairs to check on Michelle. I find her kneeling beside the toilet, her face full of tears and anguish. I grab a towel and wipe her mouth clean. "We'll find him Michelle I promise. I'm going to look for him right now." I'm not sure where I’m going, but at least it's better than waiting around for nothing to happen, though I don't tell her that. "Why don’t you go lie down? They're going to patch our phone to my cell in case he calls." She just nods. I lead her to our room and place her on the bed. I stand and watch over her for a minute until her eyes close. I quickly walk back down the stairs. Both detectives are gone, so I head towards the garage and stop when I hear Mike ask me for my phone. I hand him my iPhone. He has short brown hair and a face that should be used on a recruitment poster for the police. The guy just looks about as much like an officer if there is one. I don’t think he could ever go undercover. He has a face like Clint Eastwood and a military posture that immediately tells someone he's a cop. He hands me back my phone and tells me I'm all set. I quickly walk out the door and turn the ignition on my Chevy Tahoe. I stop for a second and close my eyes seeing Tommy's glove and bat lying in the back seat. I start yelling "please let me find him…please," so loudly that I see the door going into the house open and an officer looks out at me. I wave him off and back out and down the small driveway. As soon as I reach the road, I see the news vehicles and reporters trying to get my attention. I recognize some of them, but I just keep on driving and ignoring them until they're out of sight behind me. I make sure no one is following me when I pull onto the main road out of our community. I'm not sure where to go, but somehow the truck takes me to the ball field Tommy's team plays on. It's empty now except for a group of Canadian Geese milling about. They ignore my truck as it kicks up dirt and dust from the parking area. I park along the first base line of the field we were supposed to play at last night. I'm one of the coaches. I wonder if they even played. I step out and walk over to the bleachers and climb up to the top row. It's so quiet. I try to imagine Tommy standing out there at third base fielding grounders when everything just hits me all at once. I can't stop crying and shaking. My face is full of tears and I can’t feel anything in my body. I'm not sure how long I stay like this, but I jump to the sound of my iPhone ringing. I quickly answer it and say hello without even thinking; it's probably another news organization.

  "Hello." I say. I don't hear any response. "Hello…hello. I'm here." No response. I begin to wonder if they tried to forward the call and it didn't work. I wonder if our only chance was just lost because of technology. I start screaming "Hello” over and over and finally I hear a click. I immediately start to dial our home number when I see the same call come in again. I look at the screen and it says "private" again. I wonder if that's how they forward the calls. I feel every bone in my body tremble with anxiety as I answer the phone.

  "Hello." I say as calmly as possible.

  "Hello Sheldon." A voice answers. It's one I'm not familiar with. I don’t think it's either of the detectives.

  "Who is this?" I feel myself becoming agitated. I'm waiting for the voice to identify itself as a reporter.

  "It's me of course." I can’t tell anythin
g about the person speaking. It's a male, but he has one of those voices that defies all ages, sizes and races. "Are you missing anything?"

  "Is this about Tommy?" I'm out of breath.

  "I asked are you missing anything. Simple question I should say."

  "If this is about Tommy, please tell me he is okay."

  "Apparently you're not listening to my question Sheldon." There is a long pause and I want to scream. "Let's try this one more time or I'll hang up. Are you missing anything?"

  "Yes." I yell into the phone, "My son. Where the hell is he?"

  "Such anger for a sophisticated man like yourself." He is quietly laughing. "I may have what you're looking for indeed."

  "Is he okay? Let me talk to him." I am squeezing the phone so hard my knuckles are turning white.

  "Slow down, first things first. Why don’t you sit up first? You're all hunched over there on those bleachers." I immediately stand up and begin looking around. "Relax. You’re not going to be able to find me."

  "Where's Tommy? Tell me where Tommy is." I'm looking in every direction.

  "First of all, sit back down." I want to throw the phone. "I need you to do a couple of things for me first."

  "What are you talking about? Do you have my son?"

  "We'll get to that matter in a moment Sheldon. First I need you to agree to do a couple of things first."

  I don’t say anything for a minute. I'm wondering if Mike, the police officer is monitoring this call. "No let's talk about Tommy now." I yell. I hope they're tracing this right now. I'm waiting for Stanton to show up.

  "I thought you might respond like this, so here's the deal. You do the little favor I ask of you and I'll let you see what I have that is yours." He pauses. "Also, stop looking for me or for your little detective friends they have no idea we are talking. I believe they are only monitoring your home phone. This call will not exist after we disconnect."