by Loy Holder
“There’s some root beer in there.” Joe smiled. “I know you like that. I’ll get you some brew later. Sit down, and I’ll put food on your plate. I have some interesting news to share.”
Ron grabbed a can of root beer and sat at the table. “What’s the news?”
“Well, I was in the Jet last night and heard that Liz is dancing at the Stardust in Las Vegas on weekends.” As he put the food on the table, Joe glanced at Ron.
“Yeah…well, good for her.” Ron was stone-faced. “She’s great at it. Too bad you missed her, but she’s not your type.” He chuckled, shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, and reached for a drumstick.
Joe shook his head. “What’s that supposed to mean? I wasn’t there to make a pass. I was curious to see why you’re always so pissed at her.”
The homemade bread was still warm, and Ron sliced off an end cut. He paused before taking a large bite. “Like I said, too bad you missed her.”
“Man, she’s working a lot of hours.” Joe took a bite of chicken, his eyebrows raised. “You sending her any child support?”
“With what?” Ron gave a cynical laugh. “I don’t have that kind of money.” Ron tore off another piece of bread. “What’s with all the questions?”
Joe studied Ron, not liking his attitude. “Well you’ve been here for a while. You’d have money if you were working. You got any good leads for a job?”
Ron took a drink of root beer, set the can down on the table with a hard clink, and paused for a second. His face lit up as if he’d just had a great idea. “Yeah, I do. I was afraid to ask, but do you think I could borrow your truck? I want to apply for this office job in downtown Sacramento tomorrow morning.”
Joe scratched his head. “Why don’t you use the motorcycle?”
“Geez, you’ve been busting my chops ever since I sat down here. C’mon man. I want to dress up a little, you know, look the part, and besides, it’s cold early in the morning. I have to be there at seven in the morning.”
Joe was suspicious. “What office downtown?”
“Well, it’s not exactly an office. It’s one of those small, neighborhood grocery stores, a clerk job. My girlfriend put in a good word for me.”
“OK, but don’t be gone all day. I need to haul some stuff to the dump.” Against his better judgment, Joe reached in his pants pocket and handed Ron the keys.
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” Ron smiled and stood. “Great dinner. I think I’ll take a shower, read for a while, and turn in early. See ya about noon tomorrow.” Ron was humming “Heartbreak Hotel” as he walked out of the kitchen and didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
Leaving the kitchen, he’d managed to hide his anger. So…the bitch is shaking her ass in a high-class joint, making the big bucks. All she cares about is money and attention. I’m gonna give her a scare and tear up her hot-shot world like she destroyed my life. Joe had some camping equipment in the truck bed. Ron would pick up some ice and food on the way.
A few hours later, Ron heard loud snoring coming from the other bedroom. That was his cue. He sneaked out the back door without a sound, checked what was in the camping gear, pushed the truck down the driveway, and took off on his mission. Since it was just a little after ten, he was able to find a store open. He bought food, ice, sodas, lots of beer, and a two bottles of Jack Daniels.
He turned the truck lights off as he quietly drove up the graveled lane and parked in front of Josie’s house. All the lights were out. He was sure the kids would be staying at Josie’s with Liz out of town. He sat for a minute and finished off another bottle of beer to quiet his nerves. He’d show Liz what was important in life. He crept silently around the outside of the house, peeking in windows, and found the bedroom where Ronnie and Regina were sleeping. It was going to be easy, because the window was open slightly. He removed the screen, opened the window, and climbed inside.
“Shh, be quiet,” he whispered when Ronnie sat up with a start. “It’s OK, son. We’re going camping. Come on, get up, and put on some warm clothes.”
“Did Mom say it’s OK?” Ronnie asked.
Whispering, he held a finger across his lips, “Oh, she’s off having fun in Las Vegas. She won’t mind.”
Ronnie frowned for a few seconds and then his face lit up, and he whispered, like his dad, “In a tent?”
“Right; now hurry and get dressed.”
“What about Josie?”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be nice to wake her. She’s old and needs her sleep. I’ll leave her a note, OK?” Ronnie nodded and started putting on his jeans.
Regina woke and saw Ron. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, smiling and rubbing her eyes. “What’re you doing?”
“Regina, be quiet,” Ron said in a whisper as he reached for her sweater and jeans.
“Why?” Regina said in her normal voice, frowning and pushing her blond curls from her eyes.
Ron put his finger against her lips. “Shh, it’s a secret. We’re going camping, so get dressed.”
Regina had trouble with the zipper in her jeans, so Ron was helping her when Ronnie said in a loud whisper, “Hey, Dad, I’m ready.”
He looked at Ronnie. “Good. OK, let’s go, kids.” He grabbed Ronnie’s hand, picked Regina up with his free arm, and slipped out the front door. In his haste, he’d forgotten about shoes and socks for Regina. He settled the kids in the cab of the truck, Regina in the middle with her doll, and Ronnie next to the door.
Before Ron turned the ignition, he reached under the seat for his fifth of Jack Daniels and took a long drink.
* * *
Chapter twenty-five
A patch of sun on Josie’s far bedroom wall told her it was close to seven in the morning, time to get the children up. She eased out of bed, slipped on her robe, and headed for the children’s room. Seconds later, Frank heard her scream, “They’re gone!”
“What! What’s happened?” Frank shouted.
“The children, they’re gone!” Josie yelled back. “Oh my God, Frank, they’re gone!
Frank coughed. “I’m coming, Josie.” When he got to the bedroom, he said, “My God, Josie, the window’s wide open.” He poked his head out the open window. “Look. The screen is leaning against the side of the house.”
Josie shouted as he reached to close the window, “Don’t touch anything. We need to call the sheriff. Oh my God. Liz is going to be frantic. I’ve got to call her, too.”
They went to the kitchen, and Josie dialed the phone. She watched Frank make coffee. His hands were shaking, just like hers, and she tightened her grip on the receiver. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she had trouble explaining to the dispatcher, between sobs, what had happened.
After she hung up, she calmed down a little bit. “They’ll be here in a minute, Frank. I can’t believe we didn’t hear anything. I feel terrible. I’ll bet it was Liz’s no-good ex-husband. How’d he get the children out the window?”
“You don’t know it was him. Let’s take a look.” Josie followed Frank into the living room, and he pointed. “Hey, it’s one of Regina’s slippers on the floor. He took the children out the front door.”
Josie warned, “Don’t touch that slipper or the door. We’ll just point it out when the deputies get here. Oh, dear God, if anything happens to those children, I’ll never forgive myself. I got to call Liz.”
A moment later, Josie came back to the living room, wringing her hands. “I can’t get ahold of Liz. She must have left for the airport already.” She jostled Frank’s arm. “Come on. We’d better get dressed before the police get here.” While they dressed, Josie pulled herself together.
Two sheriff deputies arrived within twenty minutes. Josie followed Frank to the front door and Frank used his shirttail to open the door and let the deputies in. The taller one spoke first. “Good morning, folks. I’m Deputy Doug Forrester, and this is my partner, Deputy Mike Duncan. Can I get your names, and then you can tell me what has happened here?”
She managed a
weak smile. “I’m Josie James and”—she gestured toward Frank—“this is my better half, Frank. We were shocked to wake up and find our neighbor’s two kids missing. I’ll tell you what I know, and Frank can fill in the blanks if I miss something.” She gave the deputies a description of what happened that morning and pointed out the girl’s slipper on the floor by the front door.
When Doug finished questioning Josie, he turned to Frank. “Mr. James, do you have anything you’d like to add?” Doug had a patient manner and waited for him to respond.
Frank took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, she’s covered it pretty well.”
“OK, we’re going to look around a little, and then we’ll have a few more questions. Is that all right?” Doug was getting some items out of his bag as he waited for an answer.
Frank spoke, “Yes, that’s fine. Excuse the mess though. Those kids, bless ’em, leave a trail behind them.” Frank motioned to the deputies. “You might want to start in the kids’ bedroom.”
Josie watched Mike place Regina’s slipper in a plastic bag. Mike smiled and looked at her. “Looks like the suspect took the children out the front door.” Josie stood with Frank. and they followed the deputies around. They watched as the deputies made notes of what was missing and dusted for fingerprints throughout the house.
Doug reached for his pen and notebook and turned to the couple, “Do either of you have any idea who might have done this?”
Eyes still red from crying earlier, Josie answered, “I certainly do. It had to be the children’s father. I think he just got out of jail, and the children’s mother has a restraining order against him. It was the boy’s birthday last Thursday. When the father pulled up in front of the house on a motorcycle, the mother threatened to call you guys, so he took off like a bat out of hell, and threw up rocks and gravel all the way out to the street.” Mike went out the front door to investigate while Doug continued asking questions.
Doug spoke softly to Josie, “Did you happen to get the license plate on the motorcycle?”
“No, I was distracted by the flying rocks and gravel,” Josie answered, rubbing her aching forehead.
“Where’s the mother now?”
“She works out of town on the weekend, but she’ll be flying into the Sacramento airport from Las Vegas around noon today. She lives in the white house at the end of the lane.”
“Do you happen to have her flight number?”
“No, but there’s only one flight coming in from Las Vegas at eleven thirty today.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Sure. She’s fair skinned, blond curly hair, blue eyes, tall, and slender.”
“What’s her name, and what’s the father’s name?”
“Her name is Liz Harmon, and the father’s name is Ron Harmon.”
“What are the children’s names?”
“Ronnie. He just turned five, and Regina, his sister, is three.
“Do you have any idea where the father may be living?”
Josie shook her head. “No idea, but Liz might know.”
“Can you think of any other information that might be helpful?”
There was a catch in Josie’s voice, and she paused to clear her throat. “Only that Ron is an abuser and an alcoholic. I’m scared he might hurt the children. I pray you find them soon,” Josie pleaded with sad eyes, and her face crumpled into deep furrows.
Mike came back into the house and showed Doug several Polaroid pictures. “Looks like someone recently parked a large truck on the lawn in front of the house. Could be our suspect.”
Doug, nodded to his partner. “Good tread pattern. That’ll be useful when we find the truck.” He turned back to Josie and said, “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll go to the Criminal Identification and Investigation building in Sacramento and see what the fingerprint experts can tell us. At eleven, we’ll run out to the airport, meet Mrs. Harmon’s flight, and take it from there.”
Josie’s anxiety lessened with Doug’s smile. “We’ll do everything we can to find the children and bring them home safely.” She shook their hands as they got ready to leave, and Doug said, “We have your phone number, and we’ll call if we need anything more.”
Josie watched from the front door as Mike and Doug pulled away in their squad car.
* * *
Chapter twenty-six
Her stage fright disappearing, Liz walked to the center of the stage and faced the audience. “Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen. I’m Liz Harmon. How’re you doing tonight?” She smiled and held her arms out to the audience.
A few people clapped half-heartedly, and one man yelled, “Good. Let’s see what you got there, blondie.”
She was determined not to let their flat response unnerve her. She grinned and said, “OK, it’s showtime.” The band started playing “Let’s Get It On,” but the sound and tempo were wrong. She winked at the audience held up a finger, and said, “One moment, please.” She walked toward the orchestra pit and shouted, “Hey, Jeb, turn up the volume and speed up the tempo like this.” She snapped her fingers for the timing she wanted.
In seconds, the volume and beat were perfect and as she danced, the band instruments, particularly the drums, the guitar, and saxophone, accentuated her moves. The band made her better. By the dinner break, she was having the time of her life, and she owned the audience.
At intermission, Bud found her in the break room laughing and talking with the band like they were old friends. As he approached their table, he was smiling like he’d just won the lottery. “You guys were terrific together; better than I anticipated. God, Liz, you were amazing. The crowd loved you.”
“Ah, the band made me look good.” Liz winked at Jeb.
Jeb glanced at Bud and chuckled. “I was expecting bump and grind, but she can actually dance.” He smiled at Liz. “I’ll take you up on your idea of rehearsing, Liz.”
On Sunday, Liz and the band rehearsed for a couple of hours before the show. They improved their program by including Karen, at the piano, singing “Summertime,” while Liz did a slow, sultry routine. They also practiced a few fast numbers to get the tempo and accompaniment at its dramatic best.
The rehearsing paid off, and it was evident by the end of the night that the show was a success. Liz and the band were invited to celebrate at an after-show party in Bud’s room. The room was spectacular, with a view of the Vegas lights, two master-bedroom suites, and a huge living space with a bar and a full-service kitchen. The party was catered with an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables, crab, shrimp, caviar, and lots of booze.
When Liz walked into the room, she was the center of attention, and she loved it. In that moment, she forgot her children and her life in Sacramento. She was a star.
After two hours, a little food, and a few gin-and-tonics, she was tipsy and exhausted. She said her good-byes and went to her room and her bed. It was four in the morning, so two hours of sleep was the most she’d get before the alarm went off.
During her Monday-morning flight home, Liz tried to catch another hour of sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her arms and legs ached, her head pounded, and her stomach was queasy. She stared out the window at the checkerboard terrain below. Why would anyone drink themselves into this condition? Never again.
At eleven, a stewardess came to her seat and leaned toward her. “Excuse me, Mrs. Harmon. The pilot asked me to give this to you.” She handed Liz a written message from the pilot. It read, “Mrs. Harmon, two Sacramento sheriff deputies are meeting you at the bottom of the ramp as you deplane. It is urgent. The plane is on schedule to land at eleven thirty.”
After reading the note, she looked up at the stewardess, full of panic. “Why? Is it my kids?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harmon. I don’t know.”
“Can I talk to the pilot?”
“No, passengers are not allowed to talk with the pilot. Besides, he’s busy preparing to land the plane.”
“Oh my God. Uh…I’m going to be sick.” Liz
fumbled for the airsick bag, held it over her mouth, and heaved. Pieces of last night’s indulgence stung her throat and the lining of her nose.
“I’ll be right back with a cold towel,” the stewardess said, as she gingerly took the bag from Liz and rushed to the galley of the plane.
Trying to calm herself, Liz laid her head against the headrest. Her mind was racing. Something was wrong, and she prayed that nothing had happened to her children. The stewardess came back with a cold, moist towel and Liz wiped her face and pressed the towel to her forehead. “You need to fasten your seat belt now, Mrs. Harmon. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you.” As the stewardess turned to leave, Liz handed her the towel and turned to look out the window. The plane hit the ground in a bumpy landing. When the seat belt light was turned off, she stood and reached for her carry-on and purse. As she moved toward the exit, her knees went weak with the fear of what the deputies might tell her.
When she stepped through the exit of the plane onto the ramp, she looked down and waved at the two deputies to get their attention. They met her at the bottom step, and one asked, “Mrs. Harmon?”
“Yes, please! What is it? Are my children OK? It was a chilly March morning, but there were beads of perspiration on Liz’s forehead, and her hand was shaking as she shielded her bloodshot eyes from the sun.
“That’s why we’re here, ma’am. I’m Deputy Doug Forrester and this,” pointing to his partner, “is Deputy Mike Duncan. We answered a call at seven this morning from a Mr. and Mrs. James that two children in their care, Ronnie and Regina Harmon, had been abducted from a bedroom in their home and—”
Liz fell to her knees and screamed, “No, oh Jesus, no!” Her face blanched and she sobbed.
Doug reached for her arm. “Here, let me help you up. We need some information from you regarding Ron Harmon.” He turned to his partner. “Go find her some water, and I’ll help her inside the airport where we can sit and talk.”