by Rick Mofina
Spotting a few gray whales on the way temporarily impressed them.
We want to go back.
The hell we will. He would circle the islands, and they would eattheir picnic lunch. He would complete his fatherly duty. The skies darkening.Thunder. It came up so fast.
Lightening and rain. The children huddled. Their wet shiny faces. Timeto head back. Maybe they should wait it out on the islands. They were at leasta mile off the southern-most island. It seemed close. Hard to say. Some boatsfar off. Thunder. Rain. Head for the islands. The boat rising. Dipping. Arollercoaster. Something scraping under them, a fantastic thud. A rock?
Then he saw the huge tail and his heart nearly burst from fear.
A whale! Right under them! Cracked the hull!
The children screamed. Water came through his shoes, ice cold.Alisha screaming. Water rushing in! Josh crying.
“Pierce! Alisha! Life jackets! Get them on! Hurry!”
Water crashing over the side now. Cold. The boat yawing. The waterrising fast over his ankles. Alisha screaming. The jackets. Can’t get them on!Kill the motor. Standing to help Josh. A wave smashing over the gunwale.Something hard hitting his face. Airborne. He was flying. Wet. Freezing. Black.Nothing. Silence.
He was in the water.
Spitting out water. The boat was on its side. The children were inthe water. Pierce. Hanging on to the hull. Josh’s head bobbing near the stern.Alisha was near the boat.
The life jackets were rolling away. It was so dark.
“Pierce! Get Josh, he’s near you!”
Alisha treading water. Joan enrolled them in swimming classes.Didn’t she? Think! He didn’t know if his own children could swim.
They have everything but a father.
Alisha’s hand breaking the surface. Grabbing her hair as she wentunder. Alisha coughing. Crying. “Pierce!” Pierce had Josh. “Good boy, son!” Allof them were together. Okay. Think. Keller gasping. Holding Josh to his chest.Alisha and Pierce next to him. Their breath tight, their teeth chattering. Histoo.
Hypothermia. Shock. Josh silent, nearly out cold. He shook him.Alisha moaned. Stomachache. The burgers and shakes!
The boat gurgling. It’s going down. Stay with the boat. But it’ssinking! What if there’s an undertow? Spotting a light. Thank God. It’ssomething. A buoy? He could make it. He hadn’t eaten. He could make it. He hadto.
“Listen! We’re going to that light! It’s not far! Do what Daddysays. We’ll be okay! Kick your shoes off! Joshua!” His eyes were closed. Lipsblue. “Joshua! Wake up, goddamn it!” Keller shook him again. He woke. Turninghis back to Joshua. “Put your arms around Daddy’s neck! Now, Joshua!” Cold,tiny arms slipping limply around his neck. “Tighter, Josh, tighter!” Joshua’shold tightened slightly. “Alisha, take my shoulder and hang on!” Tremblinghands clutching his shoulder. Alisha whimpering.
“Pierce, grab hold! Hurry!” Pushing off. “Hang on to Daddy. LetDaddy be the boat. Kick your feet slowly. Easy. Talk to me. We’re going to makeit. Nice easy strokes.” The water rolling terribly. Breaststrokes. Adrenalinepumping. Doing fine. Confident. Going to make it.
“That’s it. Kick your feet. Keep warm. Think warm. Kick slowly.Easy. Help Daddy.
Alisha! Her grip loosening, she was drifting away. Carefullygrabbing her arm. “Alisha! Stay awake! Hang on to Daddy. Easy strokes. Alishacrying softer.
Suddenly his neck is cold. Joshua slipping down his back and under.Turning, reaching deep, nothing. Alisha. Joshua shaken off. “Joshua!” Divingdeep, arms flailing, seeing nothing, lungs aching, waves rolling. “Pierce!Alisha!” Nothing. “Joshua!” shouting. “Someone help me! Oh God, please helpme.” Waves tossing him, screaming. “Why don’t they hear me? My children aredrowning.” The darkness. Oh God, please. The thunder, the waves, white crest,black water now…
…jade against the churning wake of Reimer’s boat. Silence afterReimer killed the engine. “We’re here.”
Keller nodded but didn’t move.
The wake lapping against the boat. The gulls were crying. Reimer letKeller be, draped a hand over the wheel and looked off at the horizon. Herubbed his neck, scratched his stubble, glanced at his watch, started hittinghis thumbnail. Maybe he’d get a sandwich.
The boat swayed gently as Keller stood. Carefully, he unwrapped thepackage, dropping the paper into the boat. He studied the wreath. Entwined withwhite roses, it was beautiful. He held it before him for a moment, then liftedhis head to hear the boat’s wake reach a cove along the rocky shoreline. Tranquilhere today, like a church after a funeral. Keller placed the wreath tenderly onthe surface. It drifted away.
Reimer saw a great seabird startled by the boat’s wake spread itswings and lift off from the cove to fly low directly above them.
Keller heard a flutter of wings. Angel wings.
He saw something reflected in the water, passing over the wreath.
Here is where his life ended and where he would resurrect it. Hisheart now knew. It had been revealed to him.
Your children are waiting, Edward.
“Here you go, Logan and Good.” Willie Hampton turned to Keller,stopping alongside the curb. “That’s twelve-fifty.”
Keller gave him a twenty and collected the sleeping child.
“Hope your daughter feels better.” Willie fished for changed.
“My what?”
“Your daughter. Hope she feels better.” Willie held out the change.
“Yes. Keep it.”
Keller hoisted the child on his shoulder and walked off.
Willie Hampton pulled the door shut, then left Logan for DoneversStreet, went four or five blocks before he realized it was a dead end. Damn. Hecut over another block west near Wintergreen Heights, the large project. As hedoubled back, he spotted his fare with the child just as they entered asorry-lookin’ little house. Don’t know your story, friend, but it must be a sadone. Willie Hampton shook his head and returned to humming his favorite tunefrom South Pacific. In a few hours he would be on a jet to Hawaii.
SIX
Tiny ponies in heartsgallope d across Danny’s cotton pajamas, smelling of shampoo. Maggie touchedthem to her cheek and wept.
Night had come. If she didn’t get Danny into bed and read him astory now, he would become cranky. Maggie tried to rise, but couldn’t move.
She must be dreaming. She had to be dreaming.
Sitting in her darkened studio, looking at the park, the swans inthe pond, the water shimmering in the light of the turn-of-the-century streetlamps. The distant din of the strangers downstairs. Maggie’s painting wasnearly finished. She’d been working on it that morning when Nathan called, hisvoice small, breaking. She’d never heard him like this before. Was he drunk?
“Maggie? Maggie. Something bad has happened.”
“Nathan, what is it?”
“The police, the FBI, are going to be there soon.”
“Police? FBI? Nathan! What’s happened? Is Danny hurt?”
She heard a muffled, coughing sound.
“Nathan!”
“He’s gone, Maggie…”
“Nathan, where is Danny!” Her hand shook. Danny was dead.
“A man took him-“
“No! Nathan, no!”
“I chased him. I stopped the train and ran. But I couldn’t catchhim. The police are looking everywhere-I swear I’ll bring him back. I’ll bringhim…I’ll be right there, Maggie. I’ll be right there.”
She sank to the floor, cradling the receiver to her breast. Anyonebehind her would have thought she was holding a baby.
This is how Maggie’s dream started.
Then the doorbell rang.
It was Gene Carr, the doctor from down the street. Nathan golfedwith him at Harding Park. Gene was with men in suits. Police. Saying theirnames, showing identification. Please sit down, Mrs. Becker.
What is it?
Gene holding her hand.
This is a dream. She knows what they are going to tell her.
Danny is dead.
<
br /> Do you understand, Mrs. Becker?
No.
Your child was abducted by a stranger.
Shaking her head, wiping her eyes.
No.
They were mistaken. This didn’t happen to nice families.
No.
Nathan would never allow it. Danny was a special child.
Everyone exchanging glances. Solemn faces. It was no mistake.
It was a mistake. It was.
Punching someone, shoving the words back down his throat. How dareyou tell me this? Get out of my house. Get out now.
Gene and the police holding her.
No, you lying bastards! Where is my baby? You bring me my baby!
Maggie waking on the living room couch. Someone holding her hand.Nathan. Eyes red. Gene standing over them. Gene’s wife, Sharon, nearby, huggingherself. Sharon was a distant relative of the President. She loved raspberrytea. Gene asking Maggie to take the two pills he gave her, holding Danny’sGoofy glass from Disneyland. She took the pills. One of the FBI agents, theolder one with the scarred chin, watching from one end of the sofa. The youngerone was on a phone. Police officers moving her grandmother’s Louis the XVIthchair, setting up a table right where they stand the Christmas tree. Dannyloved- loves — Christmas. A technician quickly installing telephones, a taperecorder, wires everywhere. Gene telling her the pills would relax her. Wherewould she be more comfortable?
Nathan suggested the studio. Gene and a policewoman in jeans helpedher upstairs, where she sat staring at the park.
The FBI agents talked to her several times. Did she know AngelaDonner? Franklin Wallace? No. Then the San Francisco detectives. Others camelater. Linda Turgeon, the policewoman in jeans, sat with her, silently drinkingcoffee.
“It’s after Danny’s bedtime,” Maggie said.
Turgeon smiled, nodded. She was pretty.
Maggie watched the swans burrowing their heads under their wings.Funny how dreams could be so real. Strange. But now it was time to wake up.Time to put Danny to bed.
Someone entered-the big inspector again, the one in the tatteredsports jacket who smelled of Old Spice. He had soft gray eyes and seemedunderstanding. He put his hand on Maggie’s shoulder. Maybe now she would wake.
“How are you doing, Maggie?” Sydowski asked.
She said nothing.
“It’s important we talk some more. Are you up to talking to me, tohelping us?” He sat beside her.
Maggie nodded.
She liked Sydowski’s reassuring presence.
“We’re doing everything we can to bring Danny home. Anything you canremember that now you consider odd will help, okay?
“Uh-huh.” Her chin crumbled. “This is real, Inspector. Someone tookmy baby. I’m not dreaming, am I?”
“No. You aren’t dreaming.”
She buried her face in Danny’s pajamas. Her body shook as she wept.Turgeon held her. Sydowski waited. He offered to come back in a little while,but Maggie wanted to go on. They had to find Danny.
He opened his notebook.
“Does Danny have any serious medical problems, allergies, does hetake any special medication?”
Maggie shook her head. “When he gets frightened, usually at night,he’ll wet his bed. We’re seeing a specialist about it.”
“What kind of boy is Danny? Describe his personality.”
“A good little boy. Friendly. He likes helping with chores.”
“How does he get along with other people? Other children?”
“He likes to play with other children, likes to share his things.”Maggie nodded with each point. “Gregarious, inquisitive, and he spills his foodall the time. You know how children can be.”
“Does he know his full name, his address, phone number, area code,does he know how to call home?”
“He’s only three.”
Sydowski saw Maggie’s painting of the swans.
“That’s quite good. How long have you been painting?”
“Oh” — Maggie touched her nose-“as long as I can remember.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Sell many pieces?”
“About three dozen a year.”
“I’d like to have the names of the people who’ve bought one of yourworks over the last three years as soon as possible. Do you have a favoriteartist supply store that you shop at?”
“Yes.”
“Do you take Danny with you?”
“Sometimes.”
“What are the names of the stores?”
“The Rainbow Gallery and Meuller’s Arts and Crafts.”
Sydowski wrote it down. “Do you take Danny to any groups, clubs,classes, or local organizations?”
“I’m a member of the Community Association. I go to meetings once aweek and usually take Danny with me to the community hall. There’s a playroomthere and he plays with the other children while one of the parents supervises.We all know each other.”
“Have you noticed any strangers hanging around your house in thelast little while? Anybody asking for directions?”
“No more than the usual.”
“Do you employ anyone, housekeeper, gardener…?”
“A neighborhood boy, Randy Anderson, does landscaping for us.”
“Who baby-sits for you?”
“Vicky Harris and Melanie Lyle. They’re teenage daughters offriends. We seldom go out. Usually it’s the three of us at home.”
“Have you ever spanked Danny?”
“We’ve given him a tap on his bum-“ The tears started again. “Whenhe was bad.”
“About six months ago. We were grocery shopping and he smashed abottle of ketchup on purpose. I spanked him right there.” Her voice trailedoff. “But he’s a good boy, really. He was just tired that day and I wasimpatient.”
“Have you and Nathan had any marital problems, have you been seeinga marriage counselor, a clergyman?”
Maggie looked at him.
“No.”
“Have you or Nathan ever had an extramarital affair?”
“No.”
“I have to ask.” He made a note.
“Are you or Nathan under psychiatric care? Have you ever been?”
“No.”
“Anyone in your husband’s circles you think would do this?”
“No.”
“Has your husband ever used or dealt drugs?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Does he gamble?”
“No.”
“How are you set financially?”
“Comfortable, I guess.”
“No heavy debts, large loans?”
“No.”
“Do you know Angela Donnor or Franklin Wallace?”
“Only from the news last year.”
“Would you object to a polygraph test.”
“A lie-detector? My son’s missing and you think I’d lie to you.”
“It’s routine, but it will help. I am being straight with you.”
Maggie covered her mouth with her hands and nodded.
“Good. It really is routine,” Sydowski continued. “Can you think ofanyone in yours or your husband’s past who might hold a grudge, might have astrong dislike for either of you?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Is there anyone in your families, or circle of friends or acquaintances,who desperately want children, but can’t have any?”
“Just us. Before we had Danny.” Tears rolled down Maggie’s face.
Sydowski put his big hand on hers.
“Maggie, what we’re going to ask you is very important. As soon asyou can, we need you to write out a daily schedule, with a detailed hour-by-hourbreakdown of the entire family’s routine for the last month. What you do, whereyou go, everything, with all the detail you can provide. Places, name,everything. Inspector Turgeon can help you. It’s crucial. Can you do it?”
“I will do anything you ask of us, Inspector.”
“Don’t answer your phone with
out us knowing.”
Maggie nodded.
“You were very helpful. We’ll talk again later.”
“Is my son dead, Inspector?” Her voice became ragged. “I know whathappened last year with that little girl at Golden Gate Park. I know you andLinda are homicide police, so you tell me right now if you think my boy isdead. You tell me.”
Sydowski stood, remembering Golden Gate. The rain. Tanita MarieDonner’s body in the garbage bag. Her killer may have just claimed anothervictim, Maggie Becker’s boy. What could he tell her?
“We don’t know if Danny’s dead. We have no evidence to suggest it.All we know right now is that a stranger took him. Maybe he just wants him fora little while and will let him go. That happens.”
Maggie’s eyes searched his for a trace of deception until she wassatisfied there was none.
“Please. You have to bring him back. He’s all I have.”
“We’ll do everything in our power to bring Danny home. You have myword on that.”
Sydowski patted her hand, then returned downstairs.
SEVEN
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Walter.” FBI Special Agent Merle Rust implanted a chew ofSkoal between his right cheek and gum. “How’s your old man keeping these days?Down in San Mateo, isn’t he?”
“Pacifica. Got a garden, he’s fine. And you, Merle?”
“Thought I’d hang it up this year, but the job has a way ofinterfering with your life sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Sydowski sipped his coffee. “I have no life.”
They were in the Beckers’ kitchen with Ditmire, Turgeon, Mikelson,and Ray Tilly from General Works, who had the lead on the case.
“Let me introduce my new partner,” Sydowski said. “Inspector LindaTurgeon. Joined Homicide today from Vice.”
“Turgeon, Turgeon?” Rust was remembering. “You Don’s girl?”
Turgeon nodded, helping herself and Ditmire to coffee.