by Rick Mofina
But not tonight.
Tonight it was a sanctuary for the three childrenhuddled on the floor watching a movie. The children were sitting on sleepingbags. Plastic bowls overflowing with popcorn were next to them, untouched.Wendy Sloane was on the sofa, dabbing her face with a crumpled tissue. She sawSydowski, then looked away. She had seen enough of police to last her the restof her life; moreover, she would never forgive herself for teasing Nancy abouther fears.
Sydowski grunted amicably as he sat with the childrenon the floor, introduced himself, and invited them to ask any questions thatmight be on their minds.
The girls were silent, watching the movie.
Ryan turned to Sydowski, his eyes cold and dry.
“Is my little sister dead?”
“We don’t know, Ryan. We just don’t know.”
“How come? You’re a detective right? You’re supposedto know.”
“We haven’t found anything, not a single piece ofanything you could think of that would prove Gabrielle has been hurt.”
“But the news said you found her hair and stuff.”
“We think the stranger cut her hair so people wouldn’trecognize her from her picture. We’re going to make a new picture of her. Itdoesn’t mean she has been hurt.”
Ryan’s face brightened a bit. “That means she couldstill be all right somewhere?”
“Exactly, but with shorter hair.”
“And that’s really why there’s going to be moresearching tomorrow with a helicopter and dogs and everything? Not becauseyou’re looking for her dead body, like the TV news said?”
“That’s right. We’re looking everywhere for yoursister and for anything to help us figure out what happened to her, so that wecan find her. So far, no matter what anybody else tells you, there is nothingto prove Gabrielle has been hurt. You got that straight from me. That’s my wordas a San Francisco Police Inspector. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Excuse me, Walt.” Special Agent Merle Rust took Sydowskiaside. “IDENT’s finished with her bedroom. Came up with nothing, zip. WE shouldgive it a quick once-over.”
Sydowski agreed, patted Ryan’s shoulder, then leftwith Rust.
It was like walking into the bedroom of a doll’shouse. The two men dwarfed it, casting huge shadows on the walls.
Rust squatted, examining the contents of Gabrielle’sdresser, while Sydowski sat on her bed. Soft pastel, patterned wallpaper withtiny bouquets covered the walls. The ceiling borders were painted a lilacshade. Beautiful, Sydowski thought. A framed piece of embroidery reading:“Gabrielle’s Room” hung above the bed. A multicolored crayon drawing of Jackson,Gabrielle’s puppy, hung on one wall. This was the room of a happy child, likethe rooms of Tanita and Danny.
As Rust sifted gingerly through Gabrielle’s dresserdrawers, Sydowski ran his fingers over the flowers printed on her comforter.She had been here hours ago. Sleeping, dreaming. Safe. He touched her pillow,traced the frills of the cotton pillow case, and picked up a stuffed pink bear.
“Snuffles,” Rust said.
“Huh?”
“Snuffles, Walt. According to her dad, it’s herfavorite possession, after her pup.”
Sydowski touched Snuffles to his nose, inhaling asweet child’s scent. Rust opened Gabrielle’s closet, crouched down, andinspected the items jammed into it, starting with Gabrielle’s shoes.
“Why in hell are you doing that?” Paul Nunn asked fromthe doorway. “What could you possibly hope to find?”
Rust and Sydowski exchanged looks.
Nunn’s eyes were still wet and he was exhausted fromhaving endured hours of police interviews. Rust stopped, but remained crouched.
“Paul,” Sydowski began, “everybody has secrets. Evenchildren.”
“Secrets? What secrets?”
“Gabrielle may have been approached by her abductorbefore. He may have tricked her into keeping it secret. He may have given hersomething, a little gift.” Sydowski nodded to Gabrielle’s drawing of her dog.“Maybe she hid a drawing, or wrote something.”
Nunn absorbed Sydowski’s rationale. “But we’ve toldher and Ryan never to talk to strangers.”
“He may not have been a stranger to her. He may havelearned something about you and Nancy to trick her. If he took her dog, thenhe’s working from a plan.”
Nunn rubbed his stubble, then the back of his neck.
“She’s a good girl, she always tells us everything.”
“You don’t know that,” Rust said.
“What about her hair? You found her braids and therewas blood.”
“Well,” Sydowski said, “it’s exactly like we’ve said.We suspect he cut her braids off to change her appearance. She may havestruggled and he likely cut himself. If he tossed her hair in the street likehe did, it means he was likely in a hurry or afraid he was being watched. It iscommon for the stranger to want to alter the child’s appearance right away.”
“Why didn’t you tell the press about the suspect?”
“What suspect?” Sydowski said.
“Virgil Shook. I heard some of the detectives talkingtonight.”
“He’s a loser we want to check out. We’re waiting forhis file from Canada-that’s where he’s from. We’re checking out a lot of peopleas fast as we can. You should keep his name to yourself.”
“Why? If he’s got my daughter, you should tell thewhole world and splash his face across the news.”
“We need every edge we can get. We don’t want thekidnapper to know what we may find out about him. It could blow up in ourfaces.”
“That what happened in the Donner case last year withthat guy who committed suicide?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Is this Shook guy connected to that baby’s murder andmy girl?”
“There are similarities in all three cases. That’s allwe know.”
Paul took a deep breath, his shining gaze going aroundthe room tenderly. His little girl’s room, where he tucked her in, read herstories, brushed away her fears, promising to keep her safe. And now his littlegirl’s room was somehow violated by the presence of these men-these men who’dlooked upon corpses of children, and into the faces of killers. These men who’dtouched death, touched evil, were now touching his little girl’s privatethings. They had invaded a hallowed region and somehow fouled it.
“Do what you have to do.” Nunn left, bumping intoInspector Turgeon, who smiled at him before entering and closing the door.
“What’s the latest, Linda?” Sydowski said.
“IDENT picked up the prints of a pervert from one ofthe stalls in the girl’s bathroom at the Children’s Playground. Belong toDonald Barrons. He doesn’t look like the composite. We’ve got two people whocan put him there about one hour before the abduction. Vice is grabbing him.Barrons likes to expose himself to little girls.
I thought somebody checked him clean on Donner andBecker,” Sydowski said.
“Maybe we should be more thorough this time,” Turgeonsaid.
“Shook’s file arrive yet?” Rust asked.
“The Mounties promise it by tonight.”
Rust cursed.
“That’s it?” Sydowski said.
“IDENT’s back at daybreak to do the yard and theneighborhood. More searches with volunteers at Golden Gate. DMV’s still workingup a pool of suspect vehicles based on the partial plate.”
“What about the tip line?” Sydowski said.
“I called them. Hundreds of calls, kooks, crazies.They’re checking everything, but there aren’t enough bodies, so it’s going totake awhile.”
Sydowski nodded. No one spoke.
The room became quiet, except for Rust siftingdelicately through Gabrielle’s clothes. They had nothing. Two children stolenfrom their parents in broad daylight and they had nothing to give them a degreeof hope. Sydowski slipped a Tums into his mouth.
FORTY-ONE
The whipping of the chopper over Golden Gate Park thundered on the TV, thenfaded as the somber voice of Met
ro-TV News reporter Vince Vincentdescribed the kidnapping and hunt for Gabrielle Nunn.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
“And tonight, at their Sunset home, Gabrielle Nunn’smother, Nancy, made a heart-stopping plea to her daughter’s abductor…”
The story cut from the carousel at the park to Nancyand Paul.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
Keller yawned as Vincent summarized the case, howpolice linked it to Danny Becker’s kidnapping and the unsolved abduction andmurder of Tanita Marie Donner last year. The composite of Keller flashed on thescreen followed by the dramatic, blurry home-video footage of Gabrielle talkingto Keller.
Keller stopped rocking.
There was a description of Keller’s truck, then themissing poster of Gabrielle’s dog, details of her severed braids, a pictureshowing how she would look with shorter hair.
“I saw this man stop and seemed to be struggling witha child in his truck. I thought it was so strange,” Eva Blair recounted toreporters what she had witnessed near the Walker place that afternoon. “It wasunusual, so I called the police.”
Forensic experts searched for clues in the spot whereGabrielle was taken, in the parking lot, and in the secluded area where theyfound Tanita Marie Donner. Police were in Dolores Park where evidence in theDonner case was found last year. Someone in a pickup was stopped at the GoldenGate Bridge. Garbage collection was halted in Golden Gate Park and around theSunset. Trash bins were emptied, their contents prodded by officers in overallsand surgical masks. Scores of volunteers, mothers and fathers with theirchildren, walked across sections of Golden Gate Park searching for clues.Police officers and cadets went door to door with pictures of Tanita Donner,Danny Becker, Gabrielle Nunn, and the suspect’s composite. The reward for goodtips on the cases was raised to $200,000, and the SFPD and FBI had formed amultiagency task force to investigate.
A task force?
Keller swallowed. His throat was dry. Almost raw.
So be it. His mission was sanctified.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
The abductions have shaken the Bay Area to its verycore.
“It’s every parent’s nightmare.” Charlene Munroe toldreporters as she, along with her ten-year-old daughter and twelve-year-old son,combed Golden Gate Park’s wooded areas. “We helped in the search for DannyBecker. I’m a mother, too.” Charlene swept aside some grass with a stick, thencalled her children, who had ambled a few yards from her. “Stay close to me,guys! I just hope this works out for the best.”
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
Vince Vincent went on about the intense investigation,the rumors about a psychic being called and contacts with police who facedserial child murder cases in Atlanta, New York, and British Columbia.
Keller switched his set off. Scattered around him werethe early editions of the major Bay papers. He had read every word, studiedevery picture, graphics, locator maps, everything on the case.
Let them search.
It was late, but he was not tired. He went to theworktable, looked through the heap of journals, binders and notes, stopping tostudy the time-worn snapshot of his three children: Pierce, Alisha, and Joshua.Laughing. A few weeks before they drowned.
They never found the bodies.
So let them search. For Raphael. For Gabriel.
They’ll never find the bodies. The Truth was revealedto him. His children were not dead. They were waiting to be reborn in celestiallight. Only God’s Angels could rescue them, transfigure them. Then togetherthey would walk in the Kingdom of God. How could police know his DivineMission? They were mortals. How could they comprehend what was preordained?
They could never know the Divine Truth as he did.
It had been revealed to him. He had been chosen. Hewas the enlightened one who would show the world God’s wonder. Edward Kellerhad been ordained; he was the light beyond sorrow, the light beyond the veil ofdeath, destined to fulfill a Holy Mission.
He was cleansed in the light of the Lord.
Soon everyone would know God’s love, His name, Hisglory.
Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth.
The Angels, soldiers of God’s merciful love, were sentto him.
Keller smiled, for it was true. He had found thefirst.
Danny Raphael Becker, Raphael of the Powers. Healed byGod. Chief of the Guardian Angels. Guardian of Mankind. Protector of Children.
And he had found the second, concealed as GabrielleNunn. Gabrielle. Gabriel. God’s ambassador to earth. The Angel who heralded thecoming of the Messiah. Gabriel had come to him. She was the messenger. She washis.
She was in the basement with Raphael.
It went according to his prayers.
Thanks to be to God. Praise Him.
Keller found the silver crucifix and slipped it aroundhis neck. Then he reached for the binder with the names of his eldest son,Pierce, and the third Angel, caressing his meticulous notes inside. One moreAngel to complete the choir. One more to complete his Holy Mission. One moreand God would initiate the transfiguration. He would find his children. Be withthem. Bring them back. Nothing could keep him from his holy destiny now.Nothing. He held his crucifix in a white knuckled grip. He’d come too far,endured too much pain. Nothing must go wrong now. Suddenly he heardsomething--
Screaming? Yes. Screaming.
Hysterical screaming from the basement where theangels were.
FORTY-TWO
Something as big as an elephant was inside Gabrielle’s head beating to get out.It hurt.
She tasted something horrible in her mouth, likevinegar and medicine. Open your eyes. Can’t. They’re too heavy. Maybe they’restuck shut. Lying on something soft. A bed? Where is she? It didn’t smell likeher room. Her house. It’s smelly here, like something rotten, like a scaryplace. Where was she?
Squeak-creak.
Where is she? What happened? The party. JoannieTyson’s birthday party at the park. The carousel. Butterflies in her stomach.Rhonda King throwing up. Gross! The man outside the bathroom. Jackson. He foundJackson. A quick secret peek in his truck. Want a soda? You spilled somebut-the wet cloth-can’t breathe-Jackson barking-the cloth drippingmedicine-fighting-kicking.
Squeak-creak. Squeak. Creak.
Don’t open your eyes!
Something-someone touched her cheek. A soft warm hand.Small.
Please. Please. Please. Don’t hurt me.
She had to open her eyes. Had to. Okay. A little boy.On his knees looking down at her. A boy who was smaller than she was, staringat her. She blinked at him and sniffed. The boy looked sad.
“Who are you?” he said.
“Gabrielle Nunn. Who are you?”
“Danny.”
“Where am I? Have you seen my dog, Jackson?”
Danny didn’t answer.
“Where’s Mr. Jenkins? He knows my dad.”
Danny just stared at her.
“Where is this place?”
Danny said nothing.
Gabrielle sat up and looked at him until a tiny lightof recognition glimmered on her face. “You’re the little boy on TV, the one whogot kidnapped-you are!”
“Where’s my daddy?” Danny said. “Can I go home now?”
Newspapers covered the basement window. It looked darkoutside. Were those bars, like jail? A dim bulb hung from the ceiling, like inGabrielle’s dad’s garage, painting the grungy, cracked walls in a pale light.Where’s the TV? Were there people who can take her home? Where was Jackson?Where was Mr. Jenkins? She was confused. She didn’t like this place. There werethree mattresses, ripped, with stuff coming out of them. They smelled. Whythree? The door was closed. Garbage and stuff plastered the floor. Yech!
“Danny,” she asked, “who lives in this place?”
He just sat there, his face dirty and white, like hewas sick or sleepy or something.
“I don’t like this place. I want to go home now,” shesaid.
Danny offered her a chocolate-covered, vanilla creamcookie.
“It’s got a bite already.” She didn’t touch it.
Danny bit into the cookie.
Gabrielle knew she was with the boy who got kidnappedand had his picture on TV everywhere. The boy everybody was looking for allover the place. Suddenly she realized a terrible thing.
She was kidnapped, too!
“Danny, where is this place?”
He just stared.
“What’s going to happen to us now?” she asked.
Danny’s fingers were sticky from the cookie. He wasreally littler than she was. His chin crumpled and his eyes clamped shut and hebegan crying in a ragged voice like he had been crying forever. Gabriellewanted to cry, too, but something inside took over. Big kids look after littlekids, they told you in school. Gabrielle put her arm around him.
“Don’t cry, Danny.” She sniffed. “My daddy will takeus home.”
“I want to go home, now.”
“Me, too. I wonder who lives in this place?”
Danny pointed a tiny finger to the door. “The man whotook me.”
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak. He was out there!
Gabrielle’s stomach bounced. Gooseflesh crawled alongher arms.
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
She hated Mr. Jenkins, whoever he was. He had trickedher. He lied. Where was Jackson? He must have stolen Jackson from her. He was abad man. She was in trouble now. Her mommy and daddy told her never talk tostrangers. No matter what. But he had Jackson and said he knew Daddy. Nomatter what. She broke the rules and it was all her fault. Mom and Dad weregoing to be mad. She had to tell them she was sorry she broke the rules. Theywould come and get her if she told them everything. Maybe she wouldn’t be intoo much trouble. Gabrielle knew what she had to do. She had to tell her momand dad. But how?
Telephone.
If you ever get lost, Gabrielle, just call home.
She would call home right now.
“Where is the phone, Danny?”
He pointed to the door. “Out there.”
Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.
She was scared. She looked around the room again.
“Danny, you sure there’s no phone in this room?”
“Out there.”