by Dan Walsh
For the first time since this horrible week had begun, she smiled.
It was a real smile.
Scott had not been unfaithful to her.
She thought about it some more. The smile remained, without effort. But now tears began to fill her eyes and fall down her cheeks.
Different tears. Tears of relief.
56
It had been a total waste of time.
Vic and Nate got back in their car, ready to head home. They’d been waiting just over an hour, staring at the house through the binoculars from the street, when the father had come out with his little boy and gotten into their own car. Vic could tell, even from this distance, it wasn’t Timmy. The hair color was wrong. But even if someone had dyed his hair, you couldn’t fake a face full of freckles.
It was so disappointing. He dreaded calling the Harrisons back with this news.
“Guess we’re back to square one,” Nate said as he drove off down the road.
“Guess so,” Vic said. “Got any more ideas brewing? Think we’ve wrung this one dry.”
“Not at the moment. Really thought this one would pan out.”
Vic had thought so too. Turned out, the freckled-faced little boy was really the son of the man who lived at this address. He was a twin to the little boy who had died last year, which explained why there was another little boy about the same age still living at this house. The father had explained all this to Vic and Nate when he’d reached the end of his driveway and noticed them getting into their car across the street.
He had asked them to explain what they were doing in front of his house. Vic had apologized for causing him any concern and assured him it was a simple case of mistaken identity. They wouldn’t be bothering him again.
But who would they be bothering? They had absolutely no leads left to pursue.
“It might not matter anyway.”
“What?” Vic asked.
“Where we go with this case,” Nate said. “The way this thing’s going with Kennedy and Khrushchev, somebody’s gonna push that red button any moment now.”
Etta Mae heard Josephine making all kinds of commotion in the house. She was out hanging laundry on the line. She ran inside, dodging the tree roots. “What’s the matter, Josephine? Are you okay?”
“He’s leaving, Etta Mae. See him?” She was still looking through her binoculars. “He’s getting in the truck now. And he doesn’t have the boy with him.”
Etta Mae bent down below the shade and looked through the window. Sure enough, that mean ole redneck just started his pickup truck. Now he was backing it up. A few moments later, he was driving down the driveway toward the road. And he was alone. He was definitely alone. “As soon as he’s down the street and out of sight, I’ll get right over there and talk to that little boy, make sure it’s Timmy.”
Josephine lowered the binoculars to her lap. “Wait a few minutes first, just to be safe. What if you got over there and he got halfway down the road, then remembered he forgot something and turned around?”
An awful thing to think about. “Good idea.”
They both stood there, alternating their stares between the house and the road. After a few minutes, Josephine said, “I think it’s safe now. You go on ahead. Wish we had a pair of walkie-talkies so I could warn you if he comes back.”
“Me too. But I’ll be quick. I just want to talk to the little boy, make sure it’s Timmy. Once I do, I’ll hurry back here.”
Etta Mae took one quick look at the road before she stepped onto the porch. She looked back toward Josephine’s house and waved, knowing Josephine was looking right at her. After knocking on the door, she stepped back and waited. No one came. So she did it again. She waited awhile longer. Still no one came.
Maybe he’s not allowed to answer the door, she thought. “Timmy? You in there?” she yelled. “If you are, you can come to the door. It’s all right. My name’s Etta Mae. I’m a friend of Mamie Lee, the woman who works for your grandmother.”
Still no answer.
He had to be in there. She knocked one more time. Waited. Still no answer. She got off the porch and walked around to the side of the house, stopped at the window where she had seen the hand holding the curtain earlier. She tapped on it gently. “Timmy, you in there?” she yelled. “It’s me, Etta Mae. I’m a friend of Mamie Lee, the woman who works for your grandmother. I’m here to help you.”
She stepped back. No one answered. But a few moments later she heard what sounded like banging coming from the back of the house. What could that be? She waited a moment. There it was again.
She walked toward it; sounded like it was coming from the other side of a wall near the back porch. She banged on that spot three times. To her surprise, whoever it was knocked back three times. So she did it again. And again, three more knocks in reply. “Timmy, is that you?”
She heard some kind of muffled answer, sounded like a little boy’s voice. She ran around to the back of the house and realized what this room was. A screened-in back porch ran across the length of the house except for the last five feet or so, which was a solid room. Looked like maybe a storage room. No windows. But there was a door which you could get to from inside the porch. It was padlocked.
She hurried over to the porch door and pulled. It wasn’t locked. She almost ran across the porch floor and knocked on the door. “Timmy, you in there? That you knocking on the wall?”
“It’s me,” a little boy’s voice answered. “I’m Timmy. It’s so dark in here. Can you get me out?”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Etta Mae whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “We’ll get you out, Timmy. And back to your folks, I promise. My name’s Etta Mae. I’m real good friends with Mamie Lee. You know her, right?”
“I do. She’s always very nice to me, and my brother Colt.”
“Well, she’s my best friend. And we’re going to get you out of there, as soon as we can. But I can’t do it myself. This door’s padlocked shut. I’m going to have to call the police. That man took you, right? When you were with your brother at that diner?”
“Yes. Is Colt out there with you?”
“No, he’s not. It’s just me. I’m gonna leave you now, so I can go call the police. They’re gonna get you out and arrest this man who took you away.”
“It’s so dark in here.”
“I know, sweetie. But don’t be afraid. God can see you just fine in there. You know that? Light and dark make no difference to him. He’ll take care of you till the police come. It won’t be long, I promise.”
He didn’t answer for a few moments. “Okay,” he said.
Etta Mae was just about to leave, but she stopped and walked back to the door. “If that man comes back before the police do, don’t say a word about this. Okay?”
“I won’t.”
57
Etta Mae ran across that yard like she hadn’t run since she was a teenager. She knew any moment she could trip and fall flat on her face, but she didn’t care. She hurried up the back steps, through the kitchen, and straight into the dining room. “It’s him, Josephine. It’s Timmy!”
“I knew it. I knew it would be,” Josephine replied. “Did you see him?”
“No, he’s got him shut up in a storage room on the back porch. Got no windows, and it’s padlocked but good. But it was him. Hard for me to recognize his voice through the door, but he said it was him, and that the man over there took him from his brother Colt. He’s awful scared, Josephine. We’ve got to call the police right now.”
“Oh goodness,” Josephine muttered. “Then let’s do it. Use the telephone over there. There’s a little pad right next to it. The Lake Helen police station’s number is right there at the top.”
Etta Mae walked toward it and reached for the phone, but stopped. “We should really call the FBI. My friend Mamie Lee—she’s the one I told you about, she knows this family directly—she said they got the FBI on this case. Because it’s a kidnapping.”
“Then we should call th
em,” Josephine said. “Only problem is, I don’t have their number.”
“I bet Mamie Lee does, or knows how to get in touch with them. Can I call her?”
“Of course you can.”
“It’s long distance, in DeLand.”
“That’s not far, go ahead and call it. Tell them they better get on over here. I don’t know how long August will be gone.”
Etta Mae dialed the Harrisons’ number from memory. A few moments later, she was talking with Mamie Lee. “Oh Mamie, you’re not gonna believe what I just found out. Lord have mercy . . .”
“What are you going on about, Etta Mae?”
“It’s Timmy. Mister Scott’s little boy. I found him.”
“You found him? Where?”
“He’s right next door.”
“But aren’t you working somewhere else? Mrs. Schaeffer’s sister or something?”
“I’m over here in Lake Helen, at a little house right by the lake. Josephine, she’s the woman I’m helping out, she got suspicious about this man next door suddenly showing up with a little boy. Caught a glimpse of him a few days ago, thought it looked like Timmy from his picture in the paper. Been watching the house ever since through binoculars. Well, just a little while ago, the man left. So I went over there to see if I could talk to the boy. And it was Timmy. Said so himself.”
“Thank you, Jesus,” Mamie said. “Is he all right? Is he hurt any?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Didn’t you see him?”
“I couldn’t. Got him locked up in a storage room on the back porch. No windows. But it’s him, I’m sure of it. He told me so himself. I need you to call the FBI, get them over here right away. Didn’t you say they’re working on this case?”
“They are, but I don’t know the number. I’m sure Mister Scott does. I could call him. Why don’t you give me the address of where you are? I’ll call him right now.”
Etta Mae got Josephine to give it to her, and she read it back slowly to Mamie Lee on the phone.
“I’ll call him right now, Etta Mae. This is so wonderful, like a miracle from heaven. Thank you, Lord!”
“Amen,” Etta Mae said. “Amen.”
As soon as she hung up, Josephine held up the newspaper. “The FBI’s phone number’s printed right here.”
Etta Mae ran over, grabbed it and, quick as she could, called Mamie Lee back. She got a busy signal. “Well, no matter. Looks like she’s talking to Mister Scott already. He’ll call the FBI straightaway.”
Scott could hardly believe what he was doing right now. He was standing in his living room, crying, hugging Gina. A few minutes ago, he had come home from the 7-Eleven to find her crying by herself. He thought she must have received some horrible news. He was glad he’d let Colt run across the street to show Murph his new baseball cards.
But these weren’t sad tears. Gina was happy. Apparently Marla had called to confess that she had lied about everything. Now Gina knew that Scott had been telling the truth. He had never been unfaithful to her.
She pulled back from the hug. He grabbed both her hands before she pulled back too far. “So you believe me? You really believe me?”
She nodded, tears running down her face.
“This is such good news,” he said. “I’m so relieved. You stay right there. Let me get the tissue box.” He saw it sitting on the hutch in the dining room. As he reached for it, the telephone rang. He took a few out for himself then handed the box to Gina. Then picked up the telephone on the third ring.
“Mister Scott? Is that you?”
He instantly recognized the voice. It was Mamie Lee. And she sounded very excited. “It’s me, Mamie. What’s going on?”
“Praise the Lord. You’re not going to believe it. I’m calling to see if you know how to get hold of the FBI.”
“I do. But why do you need to call them?”
“It’s Timmy.” She started to cry. “The Good Shepherd found him for us. We know right where he is.”
58
“They’ve found Timmy?”
Gina couldn’t believe it. Scott was nodding his head yes. He was smiling. She wanted to scream out her excitement, but she also saw another look in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Scott reached for her and drew her into a hug. “This really is great news, Gina. He’s alive, and now we know where he is. And it’s not that far away.”
“But something’s wrong, Scott. I can tell. What is it?”
“Mamie Lee said the man who took him lives in Lake Helen, a little house right on the lake. But Timmy’s locked up inside a dark storage room with no windows.”
“He hates the dark,” she said. “It terrifies him.”
“I know. I don’t think he’s been in there all the time. Mamie’s friend, the one who found him, said the man is at the store now. She said he keeps Timmy in there when he goes out. But she’s seen him in the house through the windows.”
“Oh Scott, we’ve got to get him out.”
“I know. I’m going to call Vic and Nate right now.” Scott picked up the telephone receiver again.
“Aren’t they gone? Following some lead near Palatka?”
“Yeah, but they said if I called the number on this card, they can get through to them on the car radio.” Scott picked up the card and began dialing.
He’s alive, she thought. My baby’s alive.
Nate pulled the car over at a gas station after seeing the telephone booth on the corner. Vic had just taken a call from the Orlando office with the best of news. The call had come in from Scott Harrison, saying they had gotten word confirming the whereabouts of little Timmy.
“So he’s in Lake Helen?” Nate asked.
“Sounds like it. At some house right on the lake.”
“Never been there.”
“Me either, but I know it’s a small, rural town. I don’t want to be wasting time when we get there, so we’ll ask for directions.” Vic opened the car door.
“I’m thinking we’re about ninety minutes away,” Nate said. “You want to contact the locals on this?”
“I don’t think so, Nate. Doesn’t sound like the boy’s in imminent danger. I can’t imagine the guys on the local force have much experience with something like this. Let me call Scott back first, get some more details. When I get back in the car, we’ll turn the sirens on and we’ll haul it down there as fast as we can.”
Vic opened the telephone booth and dialed Scott’s number. Scott was excited, which was understandable. This was great news. He answered Vic’s questions but wasn’t able to shed more light on the situation. He did confirm Timmy appeared safe but was locked up in a dark storage shed. The owner of the house was gone, but for how long?
“We’re heading right there,” Vic said. “As soon as we get off the phone.”
“How long will that take?” Scott asked.
“Maybe ninety minutes.”
“Ninety minutes?”
“Maybe a little less. But you said it yourself, Scott. It doesn’t sound like the kidnapper has hurt him. And he doesn’t know we’re on to him, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So things should be fine until we get there. Let us handle it. A guy like this is probably pretty unstable. We’re trained to handle these situations, and we’re gonna get there as soon as humanly possible.”
After he hung up with Scott, Vic got back in the car. “Gun it, Nate. Let’s go get that boy.”
When Colt came back into the house, everything had changed.
Starting with his mom and dad hugging and acting like they had never been apart. His dad had just hung up the telephone, saying the FBI was on its way to Lake Helen to get Timmy back.
“They found Timmy?” Colt said. “Is he okay?”
His father’s eyes were filled with tears. His mom looked like she had been crying too. “He’s safe. We know that much. A friend of Mamie Lee found him. Her name’s Etta Mae. She’s working for a few days in Lake Helen, and that�
��s only about a forty-minute drive from here. I guess that’s where the guy who took him lives.”
“So the FBI’s going to get him now?” Colt asked.
“They’re on their way, but they won’t get there for ninety minutes.”
“Ninety minutes?”
“I know, Colt,” his mom said. “But there’s nothing else we can do. We have to let the FBI handle it.”
“There is something we can do,” Colt said. “We can go get him ourselves. Does Etta Mae know where he is? What house he’s at?”
“She does,” his mom said. “But this man could be dangerous. We need to let the authorities get him. They’re on their way now.”
“Dad could do this,” Colt said. “And I could help him. We could drive by Grandpa’s house in DeLand. He’s got lots of guns.”
“We can’t do that,” she said. “This isn’t some TV show, Colt.”
Colt noticed his dad hadn’t said anything. He couldn’t read the look on his face. “Why don’t we get him, Dad? You and me? We could go there now.”
His dad looked at his mom. “We could, Gina. Well, I could. My dad has a whole closet full of guns.”
“Scott, what are you saying? Let the FBI handle it. Vic and Nate know what they’re doing. They know how to handle these situations.”
“I know,” he said. “But Gina, our little boy is sitting over there right now in the dark, locked up like some dog. And we know where he is, it’s not that far away. The guy’s not even home.”
“But he could come home any minute. He could get home before you even get there.”
His father folded his arms. “Okay, that could happen. If it does, we’ll stay out of sight. I’ll park over at the house next door, where Etta Mae is working. He doesn’t know what I look like or what kind of car we drive.”
“But he knows what Colt looks like,” she said. “I’m sure he’d remember him from the diner in Jacksonville.”