by Dan Walsh
“Round trip?”
“No, one way.”
Vic sighed. “I don’t suppose someone from your office could go check this out for us? We’ve got about a dozen of these leads to check out already, and they’re from all over the state.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “This is an FBI investigation, right?”
“It is, but—”
“Then you’d have to talk with the sheriff about that, or one of his deputies. They’re not here in the office at the moment. We’re just a small operation here, so I don’t know how they’ll feel about that.”
“Ma’am, I can appreciate that. We’re pretty shorthanded up here ourselves, especially with all this stuff going on with Cuba and Russia.”
“That doesn’t seem to be affecting us all that much down here,” she said. “We’re a bit overwhelmed just dealing with regular stuff going wrong.”
“I understand,” Vic said. “But we’re talking about a little boy here. We don’t know what kind of danger he’s in. This guy just took him. Lured him with some comic books when his older brother was in the bathroom. This happened on Monday, and no one’s seen or heard from him since.”
“That’s a terrible thing,” she said.
“And see, he can’t be in all these places. We’ve got over a dozen leads, and if my partner and I have to spend hours and hours, or several days, driving all over the state, just to see if we’ve got the right little boy to start with, we could lose him for good. But if someone from your office can drive out there with his picture from that newspaper—probably take you all of twenty minutes—we can make sure we’re not wasting all our time chasing phantoms.”
“I see what you’re saying.”
“We don’t care who gets the credit on this,” Vic said. “We just want to return this little boy to his mom and dad.”
“Well, I’ll definitely explain all this to the sheriff. In fact, I happen to know one of our deputies is only about a ten-minute drive from where this man and little boy are supposed to be.”
“Now you’re talking,” Vic said. “Can you call him for me and see what he says?”
“Yeah, I can do that. Let me call this deputy here. I won’t call you back unless he says he can’t do it for some reason. If he can, I’ll call you back after he takes a drive out there.”
“That’ll be great. I appreciate that so much. What did you say your name was?”
“It’s Beth.”
“Well, you’ve been a great help, Beth. My name’s Vic, Victor Hammond. When you call back, you can ask for me or my partner, Nate Winters.”
“Will do, Agent Hammond.”
They hung up and Vic looked up at Nate, who was smiling.
“That worked out pretty good,” Nate said.
“Yes, it did. If she follows through.”
“I guess that’s our strategy then,” Nate said. “Work with the locals, see if we can usher in a new era of cooperation.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I’m sure you’ll get some resistance, but just work the angle that we’re talking about a little boy here. Most of these folks are probably parents.”
“Got it.”
“You start working your stack, and I’ll go through mine.”
“I’m on it.”
“And Nate . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Be extra nice, and if you can talk to a woman in these places—”
“I’m with you, Vic.”
40
Gina had tried to shake the gloomy feeling hanging over her all afternoon but with no success. Rose was doing her best to get Gina’s mind onto other things, but every conversation, every stray thought always found its way back to one thing . . . where was her little boy? Where was Timmy?
Every few minutes, no matter what else was going on in the room, Gina’s eyes locked on to the telephone, as if willing it to ring. Why hadn’t anyone called? Not a single reporter from the newspapers or the television news. And they had received no updates from the FBI. Didn’t anyone care?
“I know what we can do, Gina.”
Gina’s eyes shifted from the telephone to Rose. “What?”
“Why don’t we start dinner? It’s almost time, anyway.”
“I guess we could.”
Just then, the telephone rang. Gina was about to pick it up after the second ring when Scott came rushing in from the backyard. He, Mike, and Colt had been throwing a baseball back and forth. She was glad, for Scott’s sake but especially for Colt. She didn’t know what Scott and Colt had talked about on their walk earlier, but it had definitely done Colt some good.
The phone rang a third time. Scott was standing over it. “Do you want to get it?”
“You can,” Gina said.
Scott picked it up, said hello, and listened a moment. “Oh, hi, Agent Hammond. Okay, Vic. So glad you called. Any news on Timmy?”
Please say yes, Gina thought. She looked at Scott’s face, his eyes especially. He was nodding his head every few moments, as if pleased at what he was hearing.
“Well, that’s something, anyway,” he said. “Are there any you’ve followed up on that seemed strong enough to warrant you and Nate driving out there to see for yourselves?”
His eyebrows narrowed at whatever Vic said to that.
“I see. Yeah, that makes sense.”
I see what? Gina thought. What makes sense?
Scott continued to listen a few minutes more, then said, “Vic, listen . . . if you need us to do some of this, we’re willing. I don’t care how far we have to drive. And we don’t need any time to get ready. I can hop in the car right now, if you need me to.”
“I’ll go too,” Gina said. Whatever it was, she didn’t care.
Scott looked at her, smiled, but didn’t respond. “I understand, Vic. But you said it yourself, most of the other agents are off on other assignments. If we did this, we wouldn’t actually confront anyone. We’d stay out of sight and just call you or Nate from a nearby pay phone.”
What is he talking about?
“I understand. Just keep it in mind. We’ll do anything. I mean anything. Thanks for the call. And for everything you guys are doing.” He hung up.
By this point, Mike and Colt had come in and joined Gina and Rose in a half circle around Scott. “So what did he say?” Gina asked.
“He said they’ve actually gotten quite a few phone calls about Timmy from all over the state, and two from southern Georgia.”
“Really?” Gina said.
“Yeah, they’re coming from police offices and sheriff departments. People who’ve seen the stories in the newspapers, calling in. Over fifteen so far.”
Fifteen, that sounded good.
“But he said only a few actually sounded promising. They’re waiting on some callbacks from the local sheriffs to see if he and Nate should drive out to these places and check them out themselves. The problem is, the promising ones are in different parts of the state, several hours away.”
“That’s what you were talking about,” she said, “about you and me driving to some of these places ourselves.”
“He’s not keen on that idea right now. For all sorts of reasons. But you heard me tell him to keep it in mind. He said he would, and that he’d give us another update call in the morning.”
Well, at least there was some progress. More than they had all day. Really, in the last two days.
The phone rang again, startling everyone because they were all still standing around it. Scott picked it up again. “Hello?” The look on his face instantly became sour. “Oh, hi, Mr. Finch.”
She knew that name. It was Scott’s new boss at GE. She wondered how long it would last, Scott’s newfound devotion to his family.
“C’mon, Colt,” Mike said. “Let’s go finish our game of catch.”
Rose said she’d get started on dinner. Gina backed up and sat on the edge of the sofa. She wanted to hear how Scott would handle this.
“Hey, Scott, any news on your boy?”
“Actually, I just got off the phone with the FBI.”
“Really? Anything significant?”
“Not really sure. Could be. They’re getting all kinds of calls all over the state from the story running in the newspapers. People thinking they’ve seen Timmy with this guy. But the FBI agent is pretty sure most of these are false alarms. They’re going to check into them anyway. We only need one to be the right one.”
“That’s right,” Finch said. He hemmed and hawed a few moments.
Scott figured whatever he said next was probably the real reason he’d called.
“Say, Scott, I just got off the phone with Mark Mitchell over at the Castaway. He said you hadn’t been over there at all today. Did I misunderstand something? I thought we had agreed that you’d be splitting your time between there and home today, making sure everything is all set for this weekend. Mark’s definitely sounding overwhelmed on his own.”
“I guess there has been some misunderstanding, Mr. Finch.” Scott took a deep breath. He had already resolved to say what he was about to say next, but still, he felt the tension quickly building inside him. “I never said that I’d do that. You suggested that, and I said I wasn’t sure. And I said, as clearly as I could, my place at a time like this is here at home. I know the Expo’s important. It’s a great PR opportunity for GE. But with all due respect, sir, it doesn’t even come close to the serious situation I’m dealing with here at home.”
“But Scott, aren’t you just pretty much sitting around there all day? You’re not actually out driving around searching for your son, right? I would’ve thought doing a little work might help ease the tension. You know, get your mind off things.”
Yeah, Scott thought, that’s what you really care about, easing the tension in my life. “It might, Mr. Finch. But that’s not the real issue. The real issue is, my presence here in the house is a comfort to my wife and my other son, Colt. They need me here. More than GE needs me down at the Castaway, getting ready for this Expo.”
“Now, listen, Scott—”
“No, Mr. Finch, you need to listen. I didn’t mean for this to happen, and I certainly didn’t want something like this to happen. But it has. And in a way, it’s opened my eyes to some things I wasn’t seeing very clearly before.” He looked over at Gina sitting on the couch. He couldn’t read the expression on her face.
“What are you saying, Scott?”
“I’m saying you better find someone else to take my place down there at the Castaway.”
“But there isn’t time.”
“Of course there’s time. This is Wednesday. It doesn’t start until Friday afternoon. There were four other guys interviewing for my job. Pick the second guy you had in mind, call him tonight, and tell him you’ll give him the job, but he’s got to be able to start right away, a baptism by fire, so to speak. Mark can bring him up to speed, and if he’s got a good head on his shoulders and some decent communication skills, he should do fine. This kind of job isn’t exactly rocket science.”
“Scott, you know if I do that, we’re not just talking about the Expo here. You’ll be walking away from this job for good.”
“Oh, I know that. But I also know the Apollo program has barely started, and from some of the material I prepared for my talks at the Expo, I know GE plans to hire over a thousand more engineers right here in Daytona over the next few years.”
“You’re gonna go back to engineering?”
“I am. I plan to become just an eight-to-five desk grunt from now on. Do my job right and stay out of trouble.”
“You won’t move up into management that way. That’s not where the real money is.”
“I know.” Scott surprised himself at how little he cared. “I’m really sorry to put you on the spot like this, sir. But I don’t see any way around it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go back outside and finish a game of catch with my son.”
He hung up, nodded briefly at Gina, then headed out the back door.
41
Mamie Lee did her best to join in the singing, but it was so hard. They were even singing one of her favorites just now, “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.” The lyrics fit her situation like a glove, and that’s what made it so hard. Every part of this song was like someone had put a magnifying glass over her troubled soul. The biggest challenge was singing the glory hallelujahs after each verse.
She didn’t feel any glory or hallelujah going on inside. Just the part about all her troubles and sorrow.
Sitting next to her at Union Baptist Church was her best friend, Etta Mae, belting it out with the best of them. Almost like she was glowing with that happy look on her face, wearing her bright white dress and big white hat. Mamie continued to sing, glad this was likely going to be the last song before the minister had everyone sit down.
She wanted to sit down now.
One thing she noticed was that nobody else in the congregation seemed down or too concerned about the world coming to an end. Since the president broke the news two nights ago, it seemed like things between the US and Russia had only gotten worse. It was hard for her to even listen to Mr. Harrison’s conversation at the dinner table tonight, before she’d left to go home and get ready for church.
But here at the church, it was like nothing was going on at all outside these four walls. At least not anything they needed to be concerned about. God was still on his throne, the devil was still on the run, and Christ had still won the victory.
But she couldn’t break through to feel any of this joy. She supposed she could if, like everyone else in here, the only thing she had to fret over was the world coming to an end. That happened, and they’d all meet Jesus together in the air. Nothing too wrong with that. But how could she be happy knowing little Timmy was gone? Mister Scott and Miss Gina must be sick with worry and fear by now. Two whole days and not a word of news about him. Didn’t know if he was safe. Didn’t know if he was alive or dead. Didn’t know what this wicked man took him for or what he planned to do.
The weight of it all proved to be too much. She sat right down on the edge of her pew, put her arms up on the back of the pew in front, and laid her head down. In no time at all, the tears came.
A moment later she felt the warm hand of Etta Mae resting on her shoulder. A moment after that, the singing stopped and she heard everyone take their seats. She lifted her head up and sat back in the pew.
“You poor thing,” Etta Mae said and handed her a clean hanky. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
Mamie wiped her eyes and whispered a thank-you. She looked toward the front in time to see the choir taking their seats and their minister, Rev. Ralph Owens, coming to the pulpit. To her surprise, the first thing he did was to hold up the newspaper, the local section with Timmy’s picture and the sketch of the kidnapper on front. Then he said, “Folks, before we go any further in our service tonight, there’s something pretty important we need to tend to first. How many of you have read this story in the paper over the last few days, about this little boy who was kidnapped?”
Mamie looked around. Almost every hand was raised.
“And how many of you,” he continued, “noticed our sister Mamie Lee not doing too well tonight?”
Mamie noticed all the hands nearby were raised and a few others scattered throughout the church.
“Well, y’all know Mamie is a dear sister. Been in this church since she was a little girl. Way before I got here. And I been here quite a few years. I can honestly say, though I know she’s faced a world of troubles in her life before this, tonight is the first time I’ve ever seen her so low she wasn’t able to finish singing a hymn.”
Tears welled up in Mamie’s eyes again.
“I’m sure the reason is, Mamie’s directly connected to the little boy in this story. If you’ve read it, the story doesn’t say how, but I’ll let Mamie come up here a moment and explain. Think you can do that, Sister Mamie?”
Mamie nodded. She hadn’t been expecting this, but mayb
e this was what God had in mind. She stood up, started making her way to the center aisle. Lord, give me the strength to say what I need to and not fall apart doing it.
“Etta Mae,” the minister said, “could you come up with her and stand with her while she speaks?”
“I certainly can, Reverend.” She followed right behind Mamie.
Mamie made her way to the front. She had half a mind to bring her fan up with her. About half the ladies in the church were using theirs. It was nearing the end of October, but it had been a warmer-than-usual day, and there was absolutely no breeze blowing through these open windows. As she climbed the red carpeted steps, the minister handed her a box of tissues, which was kind. She held up Etta Mae’s hanky to show she was prepared.
She stood next to the pulpit, Etta Mae just to her right. The minister invited her to stand behind the pulpit, but she knew that would make her too nervous. “Can I speak from here?” she said.
“Of course. Whichever one you’re more comfortable with.”
She looked out at everybody and found the strength for a smile. “Thank you all for your care and concern for me. And thank you, Rev. Owens, for taking time out of the service to let me share. I’m not much of a talker, so I won’t keep you long. Some of you know, I’ve been working for the Harrison family over on Clara Avenue for some time now.”
“Some time now,” Etta Mae repeated. “The sun been rising in the east for some time now.”
Quite a few people laughed. “Okay,” Mamie Lee said, “I’ve been working for the Harrisons for a long time now. Long enough for their youngest, Mister Scott, to grow from being a toddler, to a fine little boy, then a teenager, and now a married man and the father of two boys of his own. The thing is, I raised Mister Scott like he was my own. The other members of the Harrison family treat me just fine, but Mister Scott . . .” Now came the tears again. “Mister Scott treated me like family, like we were kin. I love his two little boys, Colt and Timmy, like they was my own grandbabies.” It was time to use the hanky.
“That little boy who was kidnapped, the one you read about in the paper, that’s Timmy, Mister Scott’s little boy.” Lots of people reacted now, especially the women. Lots of people reaching for the tissues or their own hankies. “They were on their way to visit their aunt and uncle in Savannah when a strange man kidnapped Timmy while his older brother was in the bathroom at a diner north of Jacksonville. This happened Monday afternoon, and nobody’s seen Timmy since. I’d sure appreciate all your prayers for his safe return.”