A Measure of Blood (32 page)

“I can't.”

“Are you far? I could meet you somewhere?”

“How will you get to State College, Ma? Your ticket is to Pittsburgh.”

“Oh. Yes. I know. I was going to take a bus home. But I could meet you in Pittsburgh. Just say where. You can drive me and … I'll take care of you. I'll make sure you're safe. Where can you meet?”

He can't think where.

“A restaurant?” she prompts.

He can't
think
. Mad Mex near Pitt? No. Might be recognized. “There's a Mad Mex in the North Hills. But you would need a cab.”

“That's fine. I'll get there. Are you … driving?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Why?”

“Just be careful. Take your time. I'll be there in four hours, five hours. I get in at four twenty-one. Then, time for a cab. Where are you again?”

“Not sure exactly… .”

“If you think you can get to the restaurant, I'll wait for you.”

Is she sobbing? He can't tell.

Nadal rushes to the truck, thinks better of it, and begins walking toward the entrances to the strip mall.

On the road he gets his first ride right away from a guy in a truck that looks a lot like the one he abandoned, only red and silver. The man asks no questions. He's a grubby sort, looks like he hasn't had a shower in seven days, but he behaves with utter calm and kindness. Nadal is so grateful he's afraid he'll cry. Somehow he manages to ask for Route 70 back to Pennsylvania.

“Going that way but only so far.” The man takes him as far as he can and then leaves Nadal on the road.

DETECTIVE DON BOLDEN
turns out to be a tidy, agreeable-looking man of about forty. He shakes Christie's and Colleen's hands and says, “Nurse reports all vital signs are fine.” He gestures to the nurse who is approaching them. “Psychiatric social worker is in there now, talking to the kid. Very low pressure. We have to let her at him. Give her fifteen minutes?”

“No abuse?”

“Doesn't look like it. We had a bit of a struggle with him about his clothes but he's like, what, eight years old? Almost? He doesn't believe in taking his clothes off.”

“At that age they do not like
naked
,” says the nurse. She introduces herself. “Stella Hammer. Anything I can do for you, just say.”

“Is there a vending machine?” Colleen asks.

“Right. You guys drove straight through of course. I can order something from the cafeteria. What kind of thing are you up for?”

“Anything,” Colleen says, handing over two twenties, which Bolden waves aside, with a “We got this.”

“Sandwiches, Cokes.”

Stella Hammer, while making a phone call, goes to a kitchen area and comes back with crackers and juice, the hospital staples. “Until he brings the sandwiches,” she says, handing them to Colleen, whose stomach is actually roaring.

Bolden takes a phone call, listens carefully, and explains to Christie and Colleen, “I'm going to have to go outside. We have reporters and cameramen practically climbing over the walls to get a picture of Matt.”

“Need me?” Christie asks.

“You sit tight and have your sandwich.”

Their sandwiches arrive in record time and they are halfway through them when Colleen's phone rings. As soon as the speaker identifies herself, Colleen immediately switches on the speakerphone. “Mrs. Brown,” she says. “Yes. Do you know something?”

“Can you hear me?” It's noisy on both phones.

“Yes. Sorry about that, but I can hear you. Do you know something?”

“I want to persuade my son to turn himself in.”

“Has he called you? Don't hang up. Where are you … ? It's noisy there, all right.”
Sounds like an airport
,
she mouths to Christie.

“I'm at the Charlotte airport. I flew from Miami but I had this stop to change planes. I'm coming back. Would you be able to meet me at Mad Mex in North Hills?”

“Mad Mex in North Hills. Pittsburgh. Sure can.”

Where is he?
Christie mouths.

Colleen puts a hand up and says, “He called you then?”

“Yes. I told him to go there.”

“Good. That's a good plan.”

“I told him to get himself back to Pittsburgh and I would meet him. I won't get there until maybe six o'clock tonight, six thirty if the plane is late.”

Colleen looks at her watch calculating. If Mala Brown is in Charlotte, she might get there earlier than six. She says, “If I can't get there, and I'll try, I'll send someone I trust. I promise that. Someone good who will be gentle. Where was your son when he called you?”

“He said he didn't know.”

“Did he call a cell phone? What number did he call?”

“My friend, Violetta.”

“Good, good. The number we had. I'm glad he had a way to contact you. And I'm glad you called me.”

She raises her eyebrows at Christie, who is now on his phone, already playing all the angles. Whether they find Nadal long before the appointment at Mad Mex or not, he's going to probably send Potocki and Dolan to do the snatch. Potocki who will be kind and Dolan who can sweet-talk confessions out of anyone.

“Mrs. Brown. How are you holding up?”

“Me? I have these thoughts like it would be better to die.”

“No. You're doing the right thing. Your son needs you. What time is your flight?”

“Pretty soon. I need to go to the gate.”

“Please take care of yourself. Remember you're going to be needed.”

When she gets off the phone, Christie is alerting Headquarters to put people at all roads coming into Pittsburgh from the south. And Dolan and Potocki to trace the phone call for a location, but he definitely wants them at Mad Mex from four o'clock on.

The psychiatric social worker comes out and tells them they can see Matt.

The door is ajar and they push it in. “
Heeey
. There he is,” Christie says. “Man, am I glad to see you. We both are.”

There's something different about the boy. He lets them hug him, both of them. He seems calmer than before.

“Are you hungry?”

“No. I ate.”

“You remember Detective Greer, right?”

“Yes.”

“Now's the part where we both want to know what happened. Can you fill us in?” They all sit as if this is an ordinary conversation. “What—first—what did you call the man who took you?”

“Nothing. He said to call him
father
, but I never said it.”

“Did you know to meet him outside the theatre?”

Matt looks surprised, confused. “No. Was I supposed to?”

“We're wondering how he found you. Had he called or anything? Phoned you?”

“No.”

“And then what? He just came up to you.”

Matt thinks. “Yeah. I got scared at first.”

“I would think so. How did he persuade you to go with him?”

Matt looks at the floor. “My mother's dead, right?”

After a long pause, Christie says, “Yes.”

“Is she buried? I mean, cremated?”

“No. We wanted to wait for you to be there, so we postponed. Was that right?”

Matt nods.

“Why did you ask me that when I asked what the man said to you?”

“He said she was alive. He said he saved her and he would take me to her.”

“Did you believe him?”

“Kind of. Then I didn't.”

“Where did he take you?”

“To a house. A regular house. He locked me in a room.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Sometimes.”

“How?”

“Hit me once. I think once. Kept making me sleep.”

“How did you spend your time?”

“We kept going places. A place in the woods and two motels.”

“Did you try to run?”

“He kept watching me. He threw our phones away. In the hotel he put the phone in bed with him.”

“Were you near the phone? In the same bed with him?” Does Matt register the bladed questions?

“No. He always put me in the other.”

Christie looks up at Colleen, who nods to him that she believes the boy.

“Do you know where the man is now?”

Matt shakes his head. “He was coming after me in the school bus, but then he passed it.”

“How did you … how did you get to the school bus?”

“I pretended I was asleep. He went to a coffee shop and he went inside. Then I ran out of the truck, looking for somebody to help and when I saw the bus I ran hard and the driver picked me up.”

“Very smart. Very, very good. Tell me. When you were lying there, trying to sleep, pretending to sleep, who did you think about? Who did you wish you could talk to?”

Matt shrugs. “My mom. You.”

“Really.”

“I thought you'd know what to do.”

“Did you miss anybody?”

He shrugs. The question stumps him. “My mom?”

THE WAY IT
HAPPENS
… Christie calls the Peabody Institute and a secretary confirms that Zacour is teaching. He checks his watch. He asks if Zacour can be interrupted.

“Is it an emergency?”

“It's … yes. Tell him Commander Christie is calling.”

Three minutes later, Zacour comes to the phone. His hello is raspy.

“It's good news. He's found. We're right here, practically around the corner from you. You didn't know he was coming this way?”

“How could I?”

“No, of course.”

“Is he all right?”

“He's doing very well. Considering. He's untouched but it was rough.”

“And you've caught the man?”

“No. Not yet. We will.”

Christie pauses. He holds his breath.

“Would I be able to see him?”

“Yes. Yes. That would be possible. We're here for, oh, another hour maybe. We're at the hospital. Johns Hopkins.”

“Oh, but that's—”

“Yes, it's quite close. We're in a consulting room off the emergency ward.”

“I'll cancel my session. I'll be there. Give me, give me twenty minutes.”

Christie raises his eyebrows in answer to Colleen's silent inquiry.

Then fifteen minutes later Bolden comes in to tell Christie that Janet Gabriel and Arthur Morris have arrived. The photographers have recognized them and the reporters are asking them all kinds of questions. Bolden has sent two cops to bring the couple through the crowd. “Do you want to make a statement? How do you want to do this—let the photographers in?”

“No photographers yet. Would you make a careful statement for me—you know the ‘we are still determining what happened but the boy is safe' kind of statement.”

“Fine.” Bolden goes out as his men usher Jan and Arthur in. They are flushed and ragged and in their ways
beautiful
—full of joy.

They rush to Matt and hug him hard. Jan's eyes are closed and she holds the boy tight while he looks surprised and a little bit pleased.

Christie sighs and goes to the door. Colleen is watching him.

Soon after there's a voice in the hallway, insisting, “Yes. I'm allowed. Please. I talked to Commander Christie.”

“Don't push. Wait a minute. How do I know who you are?”

Christie can hear in the cop's voice that he's frightened and he's probably thinking,
Oh God, oh God, this might be the man who took the boy and I'm …
—

“I can show you identification. Do you need identification? I have it. I'm—”

Christie goes out to rescue Zacour. “He's Ziad Zacour. He's the boy's father.”

And then he brings him in and everything in the room stops. Everything. The man and boy stare at each other. Jan and Arthur can't move. Zacour is biting his lips tight and tears well in his eyes. “I wanted to see if you are all right? Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

I ought to say something,
Christie thinks
. I ought to explain
. But still nobody, including him, says anything. They can't be interrupted, those two. They're onstage in the greatest scene of all, two people falling hopelessly in love.

THE WAY IT
HAPPENS,
Potocki goes to Mad Mex and Dolan to just outside the parkway exit to Pittsburgh. Both take backup with them. Dolan wins the prize. A man in a rattletrap pulls off onto the berm just short of the exit and his passenger hands him a fistful of money.

Then Nadal Brown gets out of the old car and begins walking toward the tollbooths, looking uncertain about the best way to avoid scrutiny. He needs another ride. He is no doubt thinking this was not a good place to get off. Then he stops in his tracks. He sees the cop cars. In moments they are on him, handcuffing him.

Dolan strolls up and speaks quietly. “Nadal Brown. I'm going to ask you to come with me. Quietly and calmly. I'm arresting you for the murder of Margaret Brown and for the abduction of Matthew Brown. You have the right to remain silent. You also have the right to an attorney. You should know that anything you say may be held in evidence against you.”

Brown looks as if he will not say anything. They begin to walk to the police car. Brown walks oddly as if the arms behind his back make his balance unsteady. “There was someplace I was supposed to be.”

“I know about that. We'll bring your mother to see you.”

He frowns. “I don't understand.”

“I'll explain everything. We'll talk. Especially when we can sit down and be quiet. Try to relax. We just need a little calm—it's a short ride.”

They get into the car. Nadal closes his eyes.

“Tired?” Dolan asks.

Nadal nods.

Dolan calls Potocki first. “You can come on in.”

“Got him?”

“Yep. But send somebody good, really good to deal with his …”

“I understand. I will. I'll brief Denman and Hurwitz for that. And have them bring her.”