by Alton Gansky
“The deputy told us the incident happened on the top floor. Maybe the lady was involved and just needs a little time to herself.”
“Maybe.” Karen stood with the mike cable in her hand, mired in one of those moments field reporters often faced: walk away or barge in. She needed a story — a big story to show her skills to the bigger markets. Being timid might be the sure way to spend her entire career at KTOT.
Conflicting thoughts covered her mind like ocean foam on the beach. She watched as Terri Penn moved past the car in Judith Find’s slot, walked another fifty or so feet and slipped into a blue Volkswagen Jetta. The engine started and the car drove slowly away. As soon as it had left the parking lot, Karen said, “Get the camera.”
“I just packed it.”
“Stop complaining, Cindy, and grab the camera. We’re going to interview Ms. Find.”
“But she’s not here.”
“So says her guard dog, but I know when I’m being lied to. She’s here and if she isn’t, something else is afoot. Let’s go find out what it is.”
“Okay, lady, but if you get in a fistfight with some bruising security guard, you’re on your own.”
“You’d probably ask him out.”
“Maybe. At least I’ll know that he has sound judgment.”
The lobby was wide and as ornate as one would expect for a business based on interior design. Sandstone tile complete with fish fossils covered the floor; plants and small trees — real, not silk, Karen determined — filled every corner. A sitting area boasted sofas, heavily cushioned chairs, and tables made from expensive-looking wood. Karen knew nothing of interior design but she was pretty sure this stuff didn’t come from the local furniture store.
A curved reception desk stood at the gateway to the elevators. A twenty-something blonde with just the right amount of makeup on just the right kind of face wearing just the right kind of women’s business attire sat behind the smooth, mahogany desk. She looked a little flushed, something to be expected of a person who had just endured a bomb scare. Learning that it was nothing more than a phone mishap would take some time to seep into the mind and to settle a pounding heart.
Karen approached and offered her biggest smile. “Wow, what a morning,” she said glancing at the name plate on the desk.
“You can say that again.” The receptionist’s voice was clear and lilting. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“Good thing it turned out to be a false alarm.”
The girl knew how to be friendly. “Don’t I know you?”
Good, a viewer. “I’m Karen Rose with KTOT News and this is Cindy Chu, ace camerawoman. You must be Darla Allison. I was told you’d be the first person I would see.”
“That’s it. I’ve seen you on television. It is like so cool to meet you.” She stopped suddenly and reined in her youth speak. “Are you here because of the scare?”
“We did a piece on that, but we have an appointment with Ms. Find. It was set for earlier, but with everything that happened we had to wait.”
“Of course.” She looked at the computer monitor and typed in a name. “I have to verify the appointment. No one is allowed on the top floor without permission.”
“Certainly. I understand. You can’t be too careful these days. We have the same rule at the station.” They didn’t but Karen thought a little common ground might go a long way. She waited as Darla punched in the name. Her fingers flew over the keys — clearly a woman who had done this countless times.
Karen learned a long time ago that time passes slower for the devious. She feared that Terri Penn had canceled the appointment but hoped that she had forgotten in all the excitement. Cindy cleared her throat nervously.
“Here it is.” Darla opened a drawer in front of her and removed a plastic card with a magnetic strip. She swiped it through a device next to the computer monitor that reminded her of a debit card reader in a fast-food joint. Darla watched the screen for a moment then smiled. She handed the plastic card to Karen. “Use the elevator closest to the lobby. Once inside, you’ll see a slot just above the floor buttons. Slip this in face up and remove it. The elevator will take you directly to the executive floor.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”
“It is a pleasure meeting you.” She smiled unveiling a row of perfect teeth that must have cost her parents a fortune.
Ten steps later, Karen and Cindy entered the elevator and watched as the doors closed.
fifteen
Judith’s father had been a big fan of Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa. Hardly a week went by in which she wasn’t exposed to the aggressive rhythms of the big band drummers. She thought of them as she stood at the door waiting for someone to answer the bell. She thought of them because neither man at their best could match the pounding of her heart.
She couldn’t find the right word to describe the situation: surreal, abstract, confusing, enigmatic. She settled on madness. What better word would convey the nonsensical behavior of flying in a corporate jet from Ontario to Fresno so she could stand on the porch of a 1920s bungalow home to ask questions of whoever lived here about the abduction of a boy? Yup, madness was the word of choice.
“Nice place.” Luke rocked on his heels, his hands behind his back as if waiting in line at a Taco Bell. “Well kept. Someone put a lot of time into this house.”
Small talk, the result of nerves. Apparently he didn’t feel any more at ease than she did.
“Arts and Crafts style if I’m not mistaken.”
“California bungalow. It was a popular style until the Second World War. Should we ring again?”
Luke knocked on the aluminum screen door. It rattled loudly.
“Ease up, Conan. We want them to answer the door, not run out the back.”
“I didn’t knock that hard.”
Judith decided he was right, but it still sounded like he had shaken the foundation. Her nerves were getting the best of her. “Maybe no one is home — ”
The door opened a crack. “Who are you?” A woman’s voice. Judith could see enough gray in the dark hair and wrinkles around the one eye that peered at them through the narrow opening to know that a woman on the north side of prime barred the door. The eye was bloodshot.
“My name is Judith Find and this is Luke Becker. We were hoping we could — ”
“Judith Find? The television lady?”
“I’ve done some television and commercials for our products.”
“I’m not interested in buying anything.” The woman started to close the door.
“We’re not selling anything,” Luke interjected.
“This isn’t a good time.” Again the door began to close.
“We know. That’s why we’re here.” Judith took a quick breath before letting the next words tumble from her mouth. “We’re here about Abel.”
The door closed.
“What now, fearless leader?” Judith asked Luke.
Luke extended his hand to bang on the screen door again, when the sound of the chain lock being unlatched worked its way past the jamb. Slowly the door opened again, this time more than a crack. The woman stood on the other side of the screen. “Do you know where he is?”
“No, ma’am, not yet.” Judith could hear the hurt in her voice. The timbre testified of a throat raw with weeping.
“You’re not with the police. What do you want?”
“Only to help.” Judith hoped her sincerity could make it past the screen. The woman was Judith’s height; her hair mussed and unattended to. She wore a thin pink robe over a flannel gown. Judith could see no makeup and didn’t expect to. Before her stood a woman displaying every sign of depression: lifeless eyes, downturned mouth, slumped posture. The woman was in mourning for the loss of someone dear.
As Judith studied the woman, the woman studied her and did so in a way that made her feel naked before the grieving woman’s eyes.
To his credit, Luke said nothing. Better to let woman bond with woman. Judith appreciated his di
scipline. “May we come in?”
The woman turned and walked into the dark house leaving the door open. Judith looked at Luke who offered only a shrug. Judith pulled open the screen door and stepped in, holding the door just long enough for Luke to take hold of it. Once inside, she closed the door. It seemed the polite thing to do.
The interior showed the same concern for maintenance as the outside. Judith immediately looked at the floor and saw hardwood strips laid in the traditional staggered pattern. Unlike the picture, this flooring was oak and looked original to the house.
The woman had moved to a sofa that looked freshly plucked out of the 1950s. A rocking chair was nearby as well as a love seat that matched the sofa’s flowery upholstery. The home was clean and orderly except the area around the couch. A small, walnut coffee table with turned spindle legs held several dirty glass tumblers, one empty box of tissue and one box that appeared half full. Clumps of wadded white tissue lay on the table and a few on the floor where they had fallen. A bed pillow rested against one arm of the sofa and a wool blanket at the other. The woman had been sleeping here.
“If you don’t know where Abel is and you’re not with the police, then why should I speak with you?”
“We’re trying to help,” Judith said.
“How can you help? You sell furniture or something, don’t you?”
“Interior products,” Judith corrected. “But I’m not here because of my business. We’re trying to find Abel.”
“Are you with them?” She spat out the last word like a person spits out a rancid piece of meat.
“Who do you mean?”
“You know.”
“Ma’am,” Luke began, “we’re not with anybody but ourselves. All we want to do is ask a few questions.”
“Then how do you know about Abel? He’s special. The world doesn’t know about him. You must be with them. What did you do with my boy?” Tears flooded her eyes and she reached for a tissue. It struck Judith as a well-practiced motion.
Judith spoke in low tones. “Ma’am … I’m sorry, I don’t know what to call you.”
She examined Judith through wet eyes. Events had almost crushed the woman but she still showed the signs of a mother’s strength. “You really are her, aren’t you? The lady I see in the television commercials.”
“Yes, ma’am. I really am Judith Find. What’s your name?” Judith recalled the computer document that listed the abducted boy’s name as Abel Palek, but she had a feeling that this woman was not the boy’s mother. She certainly didn’t have his purple eyes.
“Ida Palek. My husband is … was, Ed Palek.”
“Was?”
“He died two weeks ago. I buried him two days before … before …” The stern shell she had been showing gave way.
Judith and Luke exchanged glances. It communicated well enough. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Palek.” Husband dies and two days later an abduction takes place in your home. Judith felt sick but she knew what to do: she let the woman cry. When her Allen died, she did her share of weeping. There were days when she thought she’d be crying the rest of her life, but time changed that. Now she hurt without the tears.
Judith reached out and touched Ida’s knee. “I lost a husband. I know it hurts.”
“You’re not going to tell me that the hurt will go away, are you? Everyone kept saying that. ‘Give it time,’ my friends said, ‘then things will get better. The hurt will stop.’ I don’t believe them.”
“I wouldn’t tell you that.” She leaned back. “The pain changes. It becomes manageable. Life resumes, but there will always be the pain of the loss.”
Ida dabbed at her eyes. “How did your husband die?”
“Aneurism on the descending aorta. It gave way. One minute Allen was alive; the next he was dead in his office. The doctors said, short of having him on the operating table at the time of the event, nothing could be done.”
Ida nodded in understanding. “Coronary. Ed went to bed one night and never woke up.”
Mist invaded Judith’s eyes. She had told the truth about the pain never fully going away.
A few moments later, Ida spoke. “I don’t know what to do, what to think, who to trust. I’m afraid to leave my home in case Abel returns.”
“And the police have no leads?” Luke asked.
“Police? I can’t call the police. They warned me not to. I know what those people are like.”
“What people, Ida?” Judith waited. Ida’s head lowered.
“I can’t talk to you about it. I’m not supposed to discuss it with anyone. That was part of the deal.”
“Excuse me for being blunt, Mrs. Palek,” Luke said, inching to the edge of his seat. “It seems to me they broke the deal when they took Abel.”
“Do you think they will hurt him?” Judith asked.
“No. I don’t think so. He’s too important. Too expensive.”
“Expensive?”
She blanched. “I’ve said too much. If you don’t know where he is, you shouldn’t be here.”
“You had better tell her,” Luke said.
“Tell me what?”
Judith took a breath. “I don’t know how to explain this, but this morning both Luke and I received a message saying that we should find Abel … and that he might be in danger.”
Judith thought Ida would melt into the pattern of the sofa. “I still don’t understand. Why you? Who called? Do they know where Abel is?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. We were told not to go to the police; that doing so might end anger Abel’s life. So we haven’t. Later we received some computer files — Luke, let me have the printouts.”
“They’re in the rental car. I’ll have to go get them.” Luke rose and hustled out the front door.
“Is he your new husband?” Ida wondered.
Judith almost laughed. “No. We just met this morning.”
She looked puzzled. “Yet you’ve teamed up to find a boy you don’t know?” The mask of puzzlement turned to suspicion.
“I know it’s too much to believe. I hardly believe it myself.” Judith decided not to reveal the rest of the incentive — keeping a secret hidden she long believed was dead.
Luke felt a sense of relief as he stepped from the house and onto the porch. The house seemed oppressive, dark, and truth be told, he didn’t know how to deal with weeping women. It wasn’t that he had a heart of coal, he told himself, but that he was born a male and most men found tear-bearing women a frightening mystery.
Wasting no time, Luke descended the few steps that bridged the distance from walkway to porch deck, walked to the curb where he had parked the rental, popped the trunk, and removed his laptop bag, slipping the strap over his shoulder.
As he pushed the trunk of the sedan closed, a movement caught his eye. Ida Palek’s home rested in a cozy, tree-lined neighborhood, a gentrified community manicured and maintained less and less by an aging population and more and more by young, double-income families trying to get a foothold in the housing market by buying older homes.
The curbs were clear of parked cars except one two houses down and across the street. Glare on the windshield masked the occupant, but Luke could see that someone sat behind the wheel. He wasn’t sure what motion had grabbed his attention, but Luke knew it was some kind of movement, like a man quickly setting something down.
Luke looked at Ida’s house then back to the car — a straight line of sight. While some men might deny their neuroses, Luke embraced his. A long train of possibilities rumbled through his mind. None of them good. Had he been listening to them? Following them? Was he waiting for back up?
Of course, he may be a part-time father picking up a child for his share of custody. Then again …
Luke decided to take a chance. Readjusting the strap of the computer bag, he stepped into the street and marched to the car, his eyes glued to the driver.
Every step seemed a mile’s journey, but Luke pressed on against the tide of fear that urged him to flee. After five steps
down the street he could better see the man: sandy, short-clipped hair, square jaw, weasel eyes. The last part was a prejudged opinion of Luke’s, who already knew he didn’t like the guy in the car.
The driver’s side window was open and Luke approached like he had no cares. The man shuffled things on the seat as Luke neared, clearly hiding something.
“Excuse me, pal.” Luke stepped as close to the door as possible to prevent the man from opening it. He laid a hand over the slot that held the retracted window placing his hand on the door lock. He pressed the lock down. “I’m here visiting my Aunt Ida and I want to take her someplace special for dinner, but since this is my first time to Fresno, I don’t know where the good places are. Can you recommend a spot?”
Luke looked past the man and saw a large, aluminum case on the passenger seat, the kind used to hold electronic or camera equipment. This guy wasn’t waiting for his child.
“Sorry. I don’t eat out much.” His voice was an octave higher than Luke expected. The man wore a tan sport coat over a black colorless shirt. Luke took note of the large bulge on the left side. The guy was packing.
“Really? Dining out is one of life’s great pleasures. Sure you don’t have a favorite restaurant?”
“Beat it, buddy. I told you I don’t eat out.”
Luke took a step back and raised his hands as if surrendering. “Okay, okay. Take it easy. It’s only a question.”
Turning, Luke walked away, his back to the man in the car. With every step, his spine tingled like spiders had taken up residence just under his skin. Luke waited for the burning sensation of being shot in the back. It never came. He trotted up the stairs and back into the house.
Closing the door, he raised a finger to his lips. A television rested on the far wall of the living room opposite the sofa. He turned it on and raised the volume.
“What are you doing?” Judith asked.
Again, Luke raised a finger to his lips. He crossed the room, placed his mouth by Judith’s ear, and said, “We have to go — right now.”
sixteen
Ida was confused and frightened. Judith couldn’t blame her. A pair of strangers had come to her home and in less than twenty minutes insisted that she flee with them out the back door. At first, she insisted on getting dressed, but Luke insisted that any delay could be disastrous. Two minutes later, Ida had shown them the back door which they used.