The pause returned. “Let me call you back.”
Laurie turned off the recorder attached to her phone.
Chapter 40
Johnny tried not to cringe as the man’s fingers tousled his hair. Johnny could feel the man’s breath on his cheek as he leaned over Johnny’s shoulder to inspect his artwork. “You’re doing an excellent job. I knew you’d be happier once you were able to leave that little bedroom and roam around the house a bit more. It’s a comfortable place to be, right?”
Johnny started to say “uh-huh” as he continued to color, but quickly corrected himself. “Yes, sir. It’s a very nice place. Thank you again for the drawing table,” he added.
Two mornings ago, the man had unlocked Johnny’s bedroom door and then walked away with no comment, leaving the door ajar behind him. Johnny sat and stared at the open door for what felt like hours. Eventually, he heard the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen, followed by the smell of bacon. Still, he stayed put until the man returned, saying, “Breakfast is ready if you’d like to join me in the dining room.”
Since then, he had allowed Johnny to watch an hour of television a day in the living room and to eat all of his meals in the dining room. They had even sat on the screened-in porch yesterday while the man read the newspaper, occasionally asking Johnny to read parts aloud to him. He said, “It’s healthy for a child to know about the world.” But then the man’s face had reddened at the sight of one page that he immediately folded and hid beneath a book.
The story’s about me, isn’t it? Johnny had wondered. They’re looking for me. They’re going to find me, and then you are going to go to jail, locked away like you locked me in that room.
“You understand why I had to secure you in that room for the first few days, don’t you?” the man asked as Johnny continued to color. “I need to know that I can trust you—and vice versa. I’m taking good care of you, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, then, so now you know: as long as you behave, everything’s going to be okay. The more I know I can trust you, Danny, the more privileges I can give you.”
This morning’s “reward” had been this table, which the man had brought down from upstairs and set up in the living room. It was like the art table Johnny had at home, but it was tilted and had a lip on the bottom edge so the artwork wouldn’t fall off while you worked on it. The man had also given him a big set of colored pencils and a coloring book. It didn’t seem like a normal kids’ coloring book. It was called Historic Buildings of America, but it was better than nothing. As Johnny filled in the grass in front of the Alamo with his green pencil, he let his gaze wander through the living room window. He had yet to see another house within view—not even from the back patio.
“How long have you lived here?” Johnny asked, trying not to sound scared. It was the first time he had ever asked the man a question about himself.
“Depends on what you mean by here, but I’ve been in this house for about three years.”
“What about before that? I’ve only ever lived in one house—until this one, I mean.”
The man became silent, and Johnny wondered if the man could see that Johnny was only pretending to be his friend now. When he finally spoke, the man sounded sad. “I came out here to get a fresh start after I had some problems in my personal life.”
Johnny remembered hearing the man and the woman talk upstairs about some kind of court order and the way the boy was going to change everything. Did it all have something to do with the man’s problems? And why hadn’t Johnny seen the woman yet? Why was she always upstairs?
Johnny had a sudden idea and said, “I had a bad dream last night. I thought I heard a woman’s voice, like maybe it was coming from upstairs.”
Silence again.
When Johnny looked behind him, the man was peering at him with flat eyes. “You certainly are a clever boy.” Johnny couldn’t tell if the man was angry or pleased.
“I—” He didn’t know what to say.
The man’s face relaxed, and he tousled Johnny’s hair once again. “You’ll get more answers in due course. Trust is a two-way street, Danny.”
My name is Johnny, Jonathan Alexander Buckley. My parents are Andrew and Marcy Buckley. My sisters are Chloe and Emily. We live on Massachusetts Avenue in Washington, D.C.
Yesterday, Johnny found himself answering to that stupid name, Danny, without thinking twice about it. He wasn’t going to let the man force him to be someone he wasn’t. Even if it took ten years to escape from this house, Johnny would remember who he was and where he came from.
“Thanks again for the pencils and the coloring book.” He beamed up at the man with an appreciative smile and then added, “And for this cool table. I never had an art table like this one.”
Before Johnny’s mommy was a mommy, she was an actress. Sometimes, she would help Johnny write short plays for him and his sisters to perform when Daddy got home. This is just like a play, Mama. I will act the way I need to, as long as I need to… until I come home.
Chapter 41
That night at seven-thirty, Alex greeted Laurie at the door to his apartment with a gentle kiss on the lips. She picked up the hint of a taste of brine from the dirty martini he was holding.
“Laurie, you really don’t need to knock. That’s why you have a key.” After they got engaged, Alex had made duplicates of her keys and his, along with the keys to their new apartment.
“Old habits.”
Leo had bought tickets to tonight’s Yankee game for him and Timmy, assuming that Laurie and Alex would be on their honeymoon. She had convinced them to attend despite the changed circumstances, promising to call Leo in the event of a breakthrough in Johnny’s case. They were both trying desperately to give Timmy some semblance of a normal life right now.
Alex, knowing she hadn’t been able to eat much all week, convinced her to stop by so they could each make sure the other ate a little something for dinner.
“My apologies for starting without you,” he said, holding up his glass. Usually, they’d both enjoy a pre-dinner cocktail as they caught up on each other’s day, but there was nothing joyful about a drink these days.
“I’m the one who’s sorry for being late. I kept waiting for Summer Carver to call me back, but for all I know, that moment will never come. I guess that’s why cell phones were invented.” She reached into the pocket of her blazer to make sure she hadn’t missed a call in the elevator.
As she set her purse on the round table in the foyer, she took in the view across the East River. Instead of feeling excited about their move into a new home, she thought how much she would miss this view. She also missed the time when all her thoughts weren’t so negative. Each day that Johnny hadn’t been found pulled all of them further into the darkness.
“You spoke to Marcy and Andrew?” she asked.
“Yes, right after they got an update from Detective Langland. They’re scared, but they’re hanging in there. They wanted me to thank you for everything you’re doing.”
“Kara called me again today, wanting to know if she could help.” Timmy’s babysitter had contacted Laurie almost every day since Johnny disappeared. “On top of everything else, I’m worried about the long-term toll this guilt might take on her and Ashley.”
He stroked her hair, tucked a loose strand behind her ear, and tilted her chin up to look her directly in the eyes. “Well, you feeling guilty about her guilt isn’t going to help anyone. One day at a time. Once Johnny’s back, we’ll call Kara and Ashley and make sure they have some adults to talk to about their anxieties.”
She nodded, wanting to believe that day would come.
Alex led the way to his kitchen, where two place settings were already waiting on the kitchen island.
“It smells so good in here,” she said. “Much better than the takeout I’ve been feeding poor Timmy all week.”
Seeing that the oven was on warm, she peeked inside to find a seared and fileted trout waiting in a
pan, with separate casserole dishes of sautéed spinach and roasted sweet potatoes.
“Leave it to Ramon to make a fish smell like pure butter,” she said.
“Can I pour you some wine? Or a martini?”
She declined. “I want to have a clear head if Summer calls. She made it sound like she was going to call me right back. I got the impression from her mom that she might be a little spacey, but now I’m worried that she’s up to something. She could have a way of calling Gunther directly behind bars.” The easy availability of burner phones inside prisons was well known. “Or maybe she’s getting advice from Tracy Mahoney.”
“Ryan really thinks that Tracy would be involved in a kidnapping?” Alex asked. Laurie had talked to Alex about Ryan’s concerns regarding Gunther’s attorney. “I can’t picture it.”
“Not that she’d aid and abet expressly. But he thinks she stretches the boundaries of ethics in the interests of her clients. She could be turning a blind eye to their plan, or giving them advice with a nod and a wink.”
She jumped at the sound of her cell phone ringing in her hand. Laurie pulled the compact recorder from her other pocket and quickly connected it. New York was a “one-party consent” state, meaning that it was lawful to record a conversation as long as one party to the conversation consented.
“This is Laurie,” she said.
“It’s Summer Carver. I was thinking more about our conversation earlier. Do you believe in karma?”
“The idea that fate has a way of balancing the scales?” Laurie asked. For five years, the man who’d killed Greg walked free, plotting to kill her and Timmy when the time was right. He had eventually paid a price, but only after she had lived in fear for much of her son’s childhood. But for now, she needed to say what Summer wanted to hear. “Sure, I believe in karma.”
“It means that someone’s actions, words, and deeds influence the person’s future. Your father lied about Darren’s so-called confession, and now something terrible has happened to your family.”
“And you think that’s karma?”
“I think that maybe if he did the right thing—if he admitted that he was wrong about Darren—the universe might find a way to restore justice in other forms, as well. And that might be a good thing for little Johnny.”
Laurie felt like she was getting close, but Summer was never going to admit that she and her brother had Johnny. At best, they would release him after they actually got what they wanted—a confession of wrongdoing from Leo. But Leo had already gamed out the entire scenario with both the NYPD and Detective Langland: Leo couldn’t pretend to exonerate Gunther without a guarantee that Johnny would be returned safely. If he did, Gunther would leak any such admission to the media as soon as Leo made it. Gunther would have what he wanted, and they would still be missing Johnny.
In short, they were at a stalemate.
Laurie realized, though, that they still had one advantage over Gunther and the Carvers. Summer had no idea that Laurie knew she was living with her half brother, Toby, in Upstate New York.
“You know what, Summer? We really should meet in person. Just me, you, and my dad. Off the record. We can clear the air. My father can tell you directly what happened in that interrogation room with Darren. I always find that people are more open when they can speak freely.” She could almost picture Summer getting reeled in like a fish on a line. “I think we’ll be able to give you what you need if we’re face-to-face. Wouldn’t you like to hear it straight from Leo Farley’s mouth?”
Laurie suggested meeting the next day at 10 A.M. Knowing the perfect spot, she suggested a quiet coffee shop in Greenwich Village. With traffic, downtown Manhattan was nearly a two-hour drive from Toby’s house in Brewster.
When Laurie hung up, Alex was looking at her expectantly. She broke out into a smile, hopeful that her plan would work. “Now I just have to deal with Toby.”
Wednesday, July 22
Day Eight
Chapter 42
The next morning, Laurie and Leo passed a flower delivery van as they walked into a coffee shop called Mocha Mike’s at precisely 10:00. Summer Carver was already waiting for them at the tiny table in the back corner, past the barista’s pickup station, making a face after taking a sip from a lidded paper coffee cup.
Laurie had chosen this place for a reason, and it wasn’t the quality of its beverages. She had popped in here once with Jerry and Grace after a witness interview. The coffee was so bad, and the seating so inhospitable, that Jerry quipped that it must be a cover for a criminal enterprise. More like Money-Laundering Mike’s, he had joked.
But the dive had suited Laurie’s needs this morning to a T because Summer’s table was the sole table in the joint. The only other seating options were the barstools lining the countertop along the front window.
In person, Summer appeared younger and more attractive than in the photographs Laurie had seen online, with clear, pale skin, long, black hair, and large blue eyes peering out beneath thick, natural lashes. The result was almost doll-like.
Summer shook Laurie’s hand during introductions, but declined Leo’s offer of his. “Understood,” Leo said, pulling out a chair for Laurie to sit across from Summer, and then taking the seat next to Laurie’s.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Laurie said.
“I was a little early because my ride needed to be somewhere at ten, too,” she said. “Do you guys want to order your coffee or something? I got the mocha, given the name, but I wouldn’t suggest it.”
“We can wait a bit,” Laurie said.
Laurie already knew that Summer’s ride was her half brother, Toby, who was currently meeting his stepmother at a different coffee shop not far from here, around the corner from the headquarters of God’s Love We Deliver. Julie Carver had texted Laurie moments earlier, confirming Toby’s arrival at the meeting she had hastily scheduled with him the previous night. Convinced that her daughter was in over her head with Darren Gunther, she had agreed to help Laurie in exchange for Laurie’s promise that she would do what she could to help both Summer and Toby if they ended up doing the right thing.
Julie had told her stepson that she had recently learned that her husband had left behind one additional annuity that had not yet been dispersed. It was a modest amount, but Toby was the sole beneficiary. She needed him to sign the paperwork for the funds to be released and suggested that he meet her in the city this morning. While a police officer in an unmarked car watched the Carver siblings as they made their way down to the city, a different officer had installed a tiny recorder beneath the only table at Mocha Mike’s. The receiver was inside a decoy flower-delivery van parked at the curb around the corner, and was streamed from there to a feed being monitored in real time by Detective Jennifer Langland, who was stationed outside Toby Carver’s house in Brewster.
This needed to work.
“So,” Leo said, “my daughter tells me you believe in karma.”
Chapter 43
Johnny Buckley sat alone in his bedroom, his stomach still full from breakfast. The man wasn’t as good of a cook as either of Johnny’s parents, but he sure did like making breakfast. This morning was scrambled eggs, sausage links, and buttermilk pancakes with real maple syrup. His mom always said that if you’re going to eat pancakes, you have to get the real stuff.
After he helped the man load the dishwasher, the man had told him to go to his room and not come out until he was asked to do so. “You understand? Do not leave that room. No matter what. And remember what I told you about trust being a two-way street. You’ve been earning privileges. If you defy me, you will lose them. And I can still go find those people you call your parents and sisters. Don’t ever forget that, Danny.”
Now, alone in his room, Johnny repeated his silent mantra again to himself. My name is Johnny, Jonathan Alexander Buckley. My parents are Andrew and Marcy Buckley.
Johnny’s entire body stiffened at the sound of an unfamiliar noise. It was the first sound he’d heard for p
robably a whole hour. At one point, he’d thought he heard a car engine start in the garage. What was this new noise? Footsteps upstairs? Or maybe it was a knock from the front porch.
Johnny stared at the knob of his bedroom door. Would it even turn?
He placed his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear the sound again. Do not leave this room. No matter what. No matter what.
Chapter 44
Sixty miles north of Greenwich Village, East Hampton police detective Jennifer Langland listened to the audio feed streaming into her wireless headphones as she watched the chief of the Brewster Police Department, Isaac Dawson, bang his fist against the front door of Toby Carver’s house one more time. She was here with local police support, but they were letting her call the shots.
“Johnny! Johnny Buckley! Are you in there? We’re here to help you, son.” Dawson looked back to Langland and shook his head.
She had hoped that if they approached the Brewster house while the Carvers were both gone, Johnny might find a way to make his presence known. So far, Judge Marshall wasn’t willing to sign a search warrant authorizing them to force entry onto the property to search for the missing boy. A scream, a cry, even the sound of footsteps would be enough. But this house appeared vacant. Johnny could be locked away where he couldn’t be heard, or he might simply be too terrified to respond.
Dawson pointed to one of his own ears, wondering if perhaps the conversation Langland was monitoring might give them the probable cause they needed.
She shook her head. So far, Summer Carver continued to speak in circles, continually appealing to Laurie and Leo’s fears for Johnny Buckley as a way to generate sympathy for the “wrongly incarcerated” Darren Gunther. She had not, however, admitted to taking the boy, or that he would be released if only Leo admitted that he had lied at Gunther’s trial.
Piece of My Heart Page 17