by Kate Merrill
“You say your friend actually knows the kidnappers?” Diana was astonished.
Juanita couldn’t contain her excitement. “Yes. If Bobby and me hadn’t left the trailer park, the kidnappers would’ve been our neighbors!”
“They still live there?”Diana gasped. Juanita’s excitement was infectious.
“No, it seems they moved out the same day Juan disappeared. Don’t you get it, Diana? We need to go there and check it out right away.”
As it turned out, Juanita’s informant friend was the rental agent for the trailer park. She had recognized the picture of Floyd Clontz on television.
Diana’s pulse accelerated. “But if she called you on the phone, then the FBI heard it all. Let them handle it.”
“Those FBI assholes didn’t hear,”Juanita explained. “Because my friend met me at the salon and told me in person. The Feds don’t know a damn thing, Diana, and you promised not to tell them, remember?”
Not true. In fact, Matthew and she had already decided to tell Agent Grim about the latest ransom demand, whether Juanita liked it or not. But this trailer park lead wasn’t part of the package, and maybe it would be fun to check it out on their own?
“I’m calling from a pay phone, Diana. When I hang up, I’m driving over to the trailer park, Sylvan Acres, and I want you to meet me…”
* * *
So that’s how Diana got roped into a snooping expedition.
She consulted her road map, then turned down another unfamiliar road. She almost missed the faded sign announcing Sylvan Acres, but negotiated a fast left onto a gravel pathway leading through a valley of trailers. They stretched into the distance, row upon row of steel elephants laid out to bake in the sun. Once upon a time, someone had planted a perennial garden near the gate, but except for a stand of sturdy yellow coreopsis, the attempt had gone to weed and seed.
Apparently the most recent occupants, those with newer doublewides, had been assigned lots near the entrance. But as she traveled deeper into the complex, ignoring curious stares from residents who knew that both her new Crown Victoria and she didn’t belong, the character of the place changed. Many of the ancient, rusted trailers seemed to have put down roots in the red soil. Their tiny yards were littered with junk, and it was depressing to imagine the lives lived behind those drawn shades.
Diana heard Juanita before she saw her. She was laughing, smoking, and sharing a can of Coke with a skinny African American woman. Both were seated on the cinder block steps of a metal building labeled Rental Office. Juanita was in high spirits as she introduced her friend, and Diana suspected the unexpected donation from Juan’s California grandparents, coupled with this new lead, had turned up her volume and put a spark in her dark eyes.
“Are you ready for some private investigation, Diana?” Juanita twirled a key chain on one long, red-tipped finger.
Diana frowned at the rental agent. “Shouldn’t you come with us?” In all her years as a real estate agent, Diana had never turned over a key to a total stranger.
“No, y’all help yourselves. Those folks are long gone, and they’re behind two months in their rent. I’m of a mind to have their sorry old rig towed off the lot when you’re done.”
As Diana followed Juanita down a back alley, picking her way between garbage cans and ducking under clotheslines, her apprehension grew. What they were doing was wrong, and if this trailer turned out to be the preacher’s lair, it should be impounded by the authorities, not towed off the lot. They had no business adding their fingerprints to the mix, but Diana couldn’t bring herself to voice an objection. Instead, she allowed Juanita to capture her arm and lead her to an old green trailer at the end of the row.
“Are you sure this is the Clontz trailer?” It wasn’t what Diana expected, with a tiny garden boasting yellow daisies, purple phlox, and tall red cannas blooming in gaudy profusion. A kidnapper with a green thumb? Go figure.
Juanita gazed wistfully at the flowers. “Actually, this is where me and Bobby used to live. Bobby planted these.”
Diana sensed a certain melancholy in her friend. “Yes, I can see Bobby’s talent on display in this garden.”
Juanita laughed bitterly. “Looking back, our life wasn’t half bad then. When Bobby inherited the house from his daddy, I thought our luck had changed for the better. But then we got stuck with Juan, and look what happened.”
Diana understood. Juanita never planned to fall in love with the boy. Then just when she thought her life had improved, fate slapped her back in her place. “Do you want to go inside, for old time’s sake?”
Juanita shook her head. “We don’t own it anymore. We gave it to Sylvan Acres, so they could rent it real cheap to someone who couldn’t afford anything better.”
Diana was moved by Juanita’s generosity, but kept her thoughts to herself as they walked on. Better than most, Diana knew that one could never go home again.
Sun glinted off the silver walls of the Clontz’s classic Airstream. Under different circumstances, Diana would have been charmed by this piece of campy Americana, but as it was, her skin crawled with goose bumps as Juanita twisted the key. “This isBreaking and Entering. Maybe we should stop right now?”
Juanita grinned, pushed the door inward, and the stench of something rotten escaped the closed space. “Yuck!” She fanned the air as she climbed into the cluttered interior. “It stinks like something diedin here.”
Diana sincerely hoped not as she followed her inside, and their eyes adjusted to the gloom. “Smells like spoiled milk--- or eggs.”
“You have a good nose, partner.” Juanita forged ahead to where bowls of musty cereal grew mold on a filthy table, and an army of ants swarmed on eggshells abandoned in the sink. “Somebody left in a hurry. If that girl you saw at the Open House lived here, she was no Mrs. Clean.”
But as Diana continued to explore, she sensed that diametrically opposed personalities once inhabited the place. “The floors and windows are spotless,” she observed.
“So what?” Juanita brushed flies off an open can of peanut butter, then dropped it into a soggy paper trash bag on the floor. The bag was already filled to brimming with coffee grounds and empty whiskey bottles. “These people were pigs!”
Diana peeked inside a tiny broom closet where cleaning supplies were neatly stacked beside a poster of a near-nude Brittany Spears tacked inside the door. Someone had drawn obscene hearts on her nipples with a red magic marker.
“Gross!” Juanita peered over her shoulder.
What exactly were they looking for? Telephone numbers, address book? Diana figured she’d know it when she saw it. She watched Juanita sort through a cardboard box filled with old gospel records.
“These must belong to the preacher,” she said. “It makes me feel dirty just touching them.”
“I’ll check the bedroom,” Diana offered.
“If I were you, I’d look behind the door first. I wouldn’t want the magic marker freak catching me alone in that bedroom.”
Diana laughed uneasily. She knew Juanita was trying to inject a little comic relief to their mission, but she detected a glaze of desperation in her eyes, an emotion they shared. Time was not on their side, as Juan’s situation became more precarious with every passing minute.
Her heart knotted like a fist as Diana moved into the cramped room, where everything was miniaturized to fit the small scale of the Airstream, making her feel excessively claustrophobic. She saw the lace curtains and chenille bedspread had been freshly laundered, but the air was close and musty. She suppressed an impulse to flee.
Half the room was distinctly masculine. She stepped on a pile of dirty socks, underwear, and a jockstrap as she leaned across the bed to crank open the window and let in some breeze. On the feminine side, she found a shelf filled with an antique doll collection. Each doll had been lovingly positioned in relationship to its neighbor. Some held hands, others had one arm propped around the next, and each tiny porcelain face was tilted to smile at the doll to her
right.
This sad attempt at harmony broke her heart. She felt the presence of the girl from the Open House who had carried a plastic purse, limped, and stolen food. That girl had been little more than a child herself and would never hurt Juan.
Diana started bonding with the girl, feeling her sorrow and desperation as surely as she smelled her scent---old-fashioned talcum powder. Her excitement escalated as she touched each doll, and then lifted a black and white photo off the shelf. The picture was mounted in a primitive wooden frame and was obviously prized by the girl. It depicted an older woman in a dark, crudely sewn dress. Her hair was streaked with gray at the temples and drawn back into a severe bun, but her expression was kind and loving. Her gnarled hands rested on the shoulders of a tiny girl, maybe four years old. The child’s dress was fashioned of fine lace, and yet she was barefooted.
The loving grandmother and child were surrounded by a natural wilderness, with mountains falling away into a hazy distance. Diana had not yet visited the Carolina Appalachians, but she knew instinctively that she had found a photo of the mysterious country girl on her home turf.
She explored the frame for clues---name of a photographer, location, and date---but found nothing. She wrestled with an impulse to hide the photo in her purse, so she could take it apart at home, but her conscience said no, so she replaced it on the shelf with the dolls.
“Any luck in there?” Juanita hollered.
“I’m still looking…” Diana called back.
Next she dropped to her knees and summoned the courage to reach under the bed. She fully expected a mousetrap to smash her extended fingers, but instead she touched an old shoebox. She slid it out and ran her hand over the yellow happy facestickers pasted all over the lid, and then she placed it on the bed to open it.
The scent of talcum powder was strong as she peeked inside, but the ugly, shriveled face staring back at her caused Diana to gasp in horror. What was this awful thing? She looked again, and saw that the creature was only another doll. The little manikin was clad in Swiss lederhosen, with fat pink stuffed legs and red leather booties. Once it had been a baby doll, but time had transformed his face to a shrunken mass of black rind. Diana eventually realized the deformed head had been fashioned from a piece of fruit, likely an apple, and recalled how a long time ago, her own mother told her a story about these apple-headed dolls. Her blood raced with the discovery. Repulsive as it was, the country girlhad clearly loved this thing.
“Let’s go, Diana!” Juanita yelled. “There’s nothing here, and this place gives me the creeps!”
Again Diana wrestled with her dark angels, but this time they won.
As Juanita and she stumbled from the Clontz trailer, locking the apparent futility of their search behind them, Juanita had tears in her eyes.
“What a waste. Did you find anything, Diana?”
“Nope, not a thing.” The lie brought heat to her cheeks, and the stolen apple doll became a mighty weight hidden at the bottom of her purse as she realized she had committed her first, truly larcenous act.
THIRTY-FIVE
What about Johnny…?
As Diana steered into Yacht Club Lane, she blinked into the early afternoon sun and vigorously shook her head to clear the cobwebs. The last thing she wanted was to show the Sorvino home to clients she barely remembered, but she had promised Miles she’d do this thing, and a promise was a promise. Her enthusiasm was further dampened by the anger she felt towards the Sorvinos. In the nine days since Juan’s abduction, the couple had turned their backs, refusing to help in any way. Diana would sooner deliver a swift kick to their privileged derrieres than help them sell their house.
Her sense of foreboding had begun the moment she woke up that morning, with that horrible doll staring at her. The beady currants that served as its eyes actually focused in its shriveled apple face and connected from across the room. She had propped the doll on her dresser, leaning it against the mirror, so that Diana’s own reflection was superimposed and seemed to say: “You’ve crossed the line, Diana. We’re in this together now, and there’s no turning back.”
Good lord, now she was listening to dolls! As she turned into the Sorvino’s driveway, desperately trying to organize her thoughts, she spotted a Cornelius police car parked out front. Was this a grotesque illusion, or déjà vu? Surely her mind was playing tricks. But then she recognized Andy Monroe, the baby faced officer she’d met the night of Juan’s abduction. He was leaning against his car, which looked exactly like her Queen Vic, and he wastalking into a hand-held radio.
Still numb with surprise, Diana parked behind the police vehicle and noticed that the Sorvino’s front door was hanging wide open, an oversight Brenda Sorvino would never commit. The surprise blossomed into panic, and a scream rose to the back of her throat. Something was terribly wrong, although Officer Monroe was smiling and waving her towards the house.
The scream burst loose as a gasp of shock when someone tackled her as she entered the house. Brenda nearly pulled her off balance in a frantic embrace.
“Thank God, Diana, I’m sograteful you’re here!”
What on earth was this all about? As she caught her breath, she saw that Brenda’s honey-colored hair was a mass of disarray, her perfect makeup streaked with tears.
“It’s Johnny, Diana! They’ve kidnapped my Johnny!”
Every brain cell in Diana’s head closed down. Not one word made sense. She allowed Brenda to drag her deeper into the house, hardly noticing as the woman’s fingernails bit into the flesh of her arm. Diana was moving on autopilot, refusing to process the unthinkable. At the same time, a man walked briskly towards her, extending his right hand. His dark, restless eyes darted bird-like in his sharp, clean-shaven face.
“Remember me, Mrs. Rittenhouse? I’m Chief Jay Keener. We spent a night together.” He smiled.
Not funny. She had indeed spent one of the most painful nights of her life being grilled at Keener’s station house. “Have they reallykidnapped Johnny?”
He passed one arm around her waist and the other around Brenda’s, leading them both towards the kitchen. “The boy is missing, but I suspect he’s just taking a joy ride on his new bike. My guess is we’ll find him somewhere here in the neighborhood.”
Diana wasn’t convinced. If this was routine, then why was Keener here?
“I called the police the minute I realized Johnny was gone,” Brenda wailed. “Johnny was driving me crazy because I’d kept him cooped up inside all week. When he promised to ride only in our driveway, I let him go out. God, what have I done?”
In spite of Brenda’s obvious distress, Diana’s heart turned to stone. After what happened to Juan, once they learned the kidnapper’s true intent had been to snatch Johnny, how could Brenda let her son out of her sight?
Chief Keener made them sit down at the kitchen table. “The boy’s been missing only an hour or so, so there’s no cause for alarm.”
“Then why are youhere?” Diana demanded.
Keener smiled reassuringly. “Under the circumstance, it’s a valid precaution, but let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“That’s easy for him to say.” Brenda moaned. “But you don’t know the whole story, Diana. Once they identified the man who killed that poor FBI agent,
they realized the whole plot was a hate crime aimed at my husband.”
Diana couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she looked from one to the other.
“I’m not sure I’d call it a hate crime…” Keener frowned “But Floyd Clontz was likely bearing a grudge. Seems he applied for a loan to buy a logging truck, and John Sorvino refused to grant that loan.”
The missing pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and they were terrifying. Clearly little Juan had not produced the desired ransom, but poor Johnny was still a good bet. The prospect of a big payoff, coupled with revenge, had compelled Clontz to try again.
“Don’t you get it, Diana?” Brenda broke into uncontrollable sobs. “That man will kill bothboys and never blink an eye!”
The sailboat clock on the wall continued to tick a rhythm of despair. Finally, Keener cleared his throat:
“Point is, Clontz may well be a psychopath, and he’s cunning as a fox, but he’s bound to make a mistake. Even if the worst is true, and it’s too soon to assume that scenario, we’re on top of the situation. Agent Grim has informed me that a second, larger ransom has been requested for Juan…” He paused to stare hard at Diana. Did he know that Matthew and she had deliberately delayed reporting the ransom demand to the authorities? “At some point, Clontz will give new instructions for a drop-off, and we will nail him this time.”
Famous last words. Diana knew that in spite of Juan’s grandparents’ generous contribution to the ransom pot, they had still come up short. “We still need another twenty-five thousand dollars,” she muttered, casting a bitter look in Brenda’s direction.
“We have called Johnny’s father,” Keener continued. “He’s leaving the office and will be here any minute. In the meantime, I suggest we all calm down.”
Diana couldn’t take it anymore. She climbed to her feet and crossed to the kitchen window. Looking outside, she saw the sun was still shining and the sky was heartlessly blue, in cruel contrast to the complete agony gripping her heart. She also saw an expensive car pulling into the driveway and recognized its occupants--- the skinny pediatrician and his fat wife, the one who had admired her curried chicken salad at the Open House. Her real estate clients were there to see the house!