And Then There Was One (2 page)

“It’s a big mall. Jackie said maybe they went to get candy. But why? There was plenty of candy at the movies. Jackie said that Alex likes animals, but there’s no pet store in the mall. Jackie suggested a sports store.”

Plummer raised his eyebrows.

“They’re sports fanatics,” Lucy said.

“I know this mall like the back of my hand,” Danielle said. “I thought about the sneaker store, but Jackie said they just got brand new Nike’s. That’s when I called my grandmother. I figured that they had to be here somewhere, but if I was late getting them back, their mother would simply freak. Everybody knows how ultraprotective Aunt Katie is about her kids.”

Jackie twisted again in Lucy’s arms, “Where are they, Grandma?”

“Mrs. Jones, I need details.” Plummer consulted his notes. “Alexandra and Samantha?”

“Alex and Sammie,” Lucy said, gulping back tears.

Plummer got up and walked around his desk. He knelt at Lucy’s side and directly addressed Jackie. His voice was firm, yet kind. “I have a couple of questions for you, Jackie. Okay?”

The child nodded.

“Can you tell me what your sisters were wearing?”

Jackie fingered the butterfly pattern on her blue slacks, then brushed tears from her eyes. “Yes. Sammie had on those awful pants, the ones with a lot of colors and a shirt I told her did not match. She said she didn’t care.”

“What color shirt?” Plummer asked?

“Yellow,” Jackie said. “And the pants had a mix of colors, reds and greens.”

“What about your other sister? What was she wearing?”

“A purple dress. Actually, violet. She likes dresses. And a barrette, like mine.” Jackie fingered the fake jewel clasp holding the hair back from her forehead. “And Sammie had her hair in a ponytail with a red ribbon.”

“I explained all that to the ticket guy,” Danielle interrupted. “I told him, ‘look at Jackie. Did you see two little girls who look just like her? One with a yellow shirt and multicolored pants. The other
in a purple sundress.’ And I explained that the one in the multicolors had her hair in a ponytail.”

“Alex’s dress was light purple,” Jackie corrected.

“‘Miss, we see so many kids going through here,’ was all he said.”

Plummer got up. “Okay, timing is everything. I need to know exactly when you arrived and exactly when you separated.”

Danielle said that they arrived at the mall at twelve thirty. They hung out for a few minutes then went inside the theatre to buy popcorn and pop. She and Jackie separated from Alex and Sammie at exactly the time the two movies were scheduled to start: twelve forty-five. New tears gathered as she faced Plummer. “And that’s the last time I saw them.”

Plummer patted Danielle on the back. “We’ll find them,” he said. Then he attacked the phone, spewing orders in a voice that bellowed: “monitor all access and egress; station security agents at each of the four mall exits; stop anyone with a child fitting the description of the Monroe girls — healthy nine year olds, black hair, one in a ponytail, the other shoulder length, brown eyes, dark bronze skin; nobody leaves the mall complex without scrutiny.”

Plummer’s next calls were to the Oakland County sheriff and the Michigan State Police. He urged the police not to wait to call in the FBI. The intensity of Plummer’s tone terrorized Lucy as the security director repeated over and over that these first few hours were critical.

Lucy felt her heart race, and she broke into a cold sweat, pulling Jackie even more tightly to her chest.

General Motors and Chrysler Bankrupt: Ford Next?
—
Detroit News
, Sunday, July 14, 2009

Katie Monroe glanced again at her Piaget watch, an extravagant gift from her husband on the occasion of her forty-fifth birthday. She couldn’t suppress the flicker of a smile even though at that moment annoyance was escalating to agitation. Her mother must have taken Danielle and the girls out for something to eat after the movies. She’d given the girls popcorn and candy and soda money. And she wanted them to have an early dinner so they’d get to bed on time. Their flight to Tampa left Detroit at seven thirty the following morning and they’d have to leave her mother’s shortly after five a.m.

“Relax, Katie,” Sharon said. “Stop trying to control every single minute. So they’re a little late. Kick off your shoes. Let’s have a cup of tea.”

“So I’m a control freak,” Katie laughed. “You’ve been telling me that since I was five, that’s as far back as I can remember. I’ll make the tea.”

She and her sister Sharon sat in Lucy’s cozy kitchen, drinking green tea, chatting about their kids, their nieces and nephews, getting caught up with the whirlwind of family gossip. Soon they were plotting the tactics of a surprise birthday party for Lucy. She’d be seventyseven in December.

“My house in Tampa,” Katie said.

“There you go again, little-sister-in-charge,” Sharon shook her head with a gotcha smile.

“Who could object?” Katie started to sound defensive, then
grinned. “I promise perfect weather. The college kids will be on break. Mom’s hip will be fine for travel by then.”

“Just one thing,” Sharon said. “Mom’s birthday is the anniversary of Anthony’s death. She won’t leave Detroit because she goes to the cemetery. Every anniversary for Anthony, Johnny, and Dad. Remember, she always took us when we were kids?”

Katie nodded. She hadn’t factored that in. She’d been just five when both of her brothers were killed in the Detroit riots. She didn’t remember much about them, just how sad her mother and her older sisters were; how awful it was with all the flames and smoke and guns and sirens. A few years later, Lucy had managed to move her family to a house in the outskirts of Detroit, where Katie grew up, and after her daughters were married, she’d moved to a small townhouse in Auburn Hills.

Now Katie was forty-eight and lived with her husband and her identical triplet daughters on Davis Island in Tampa, a neighborhood that was as safe as any neighborhood can be. Katie thought of how different her life might have been. Before Scott, she’d had only one serious boyfriend, Keith Franklin. She still shivered, remembering the vindictive note he’d sent her from prison when he’d found out that she’d married a
white
man. And there had been that out-of-the-blue e-mail from him about a month ago. Just the thought of that made her cringe. She’d immediately deleted it, purged it from her system, and blocked the sender. She’d been more annoyed than concerned, but now…
Katie, I’ve changed. I need to be with you. I’ll leave my wife. I’ll take care of your daughters. All I think about is you —

“Sharon, can you remember them?” Katie asked, getting back to her family, needing to escape the shadow of Keith Franklin on her life.

“Not much about Dad,” Sharon said. “Even though I was seven when he died. You were only two. But, yes, I remember Anthony and Johnny. They used to tickle us until we cried. They had lots of friends. Johnny was always playing loud music.”

Katie rarely allowed herself to think about her brothers. Now that she was a mother, she couldn’t fathom the bottomless pain her mother must have endured. Losing a child had to be the ultimate in human suffering. Just the thought triggered in her a senseless rush of panic.
Not healthy, she knew, as a professional. Her psychiatric training had required a round of psychoanalysis, but that was before she’d become a mother herself, before she’d had any inkling of the intensity of a mother’s love for her kids.

“Sharon, I’m getting scared.” Katie said, again checking the time. “They should be back by now. And where’s Mom? She shouldn’t be out so soon after her hip replacement.”

“She’s probably visiting neighbors. She is supposed to get some exercise. Maybe she walked the girls to the Dairy Queen. You know how Mom spoils the grandchildren. Their every whim —”

“So why aren’t they back?” Katie interrupted.

The sisters had migrated to the living room of Lucy’s house. Sharon with her feet propped up on the ottoman and Katie perched on the edge of the sofa ready to pounce should the front door open. As the baby of the family, Katie had been more indulged than her three sisters, and they were used to her mild displays of histrionics.

“I just wish she’d get the girls back soon. Scott’s flying back to Tampa from New York City tomorrow morning, and the girls and I have such an early flight out of Detroit. Naturally, Scott scheduled little league practice for them. He’s fanatic about their baseball. The only girls in the league, and he makes sure that they’re better than any of the boys — and I mean
way
better. And, I have to be back to testify in an ugly trial on Monday.”

“What’s up?” Sharon asked.

“Parental sexual child abuse. Dad’s guilty as hell. I’ll do my best to nail him, but the testimony of kids is always fragile. A guy with entitlement wealth. One of those narcissistic sociopaths. Charms the hell out of everybody. Anyway, he messed those kids up pretty bad.”

“My little sister, the child abuse expert. Who would have thought? You do so much good, Katie. Plus, admit it, you like the theatrics. You always did like to be in charge.”

“Give me a break. Growing up with three older sisters, I call it survival.”

“Any way about it, you’ve got the best of all worlds, medicine and law. Or maybe the worst, considering the scum of the earth you put away, but it has to beat labor law. I get to spar with teamsters all day long.”

“It does feel good to get back into the swing of practice,” said Katie, positioning herself at the window. “I took too much time off when the girls were born. Once they started school, I lost my excuse.”

“Seriously, those kids you protect — I know much of it is pro bono.”

Katie got up and resumed her pacing, trying to stop her eyes from blinking the way they always did when she was scared. Sharon was right about the worst of humanity. She dealt with the scum — assaults on kids: physical, sexual, emotional. How could such horrors
not
make her overprotective of her children? That, and the ever-lingering fear of racial prejudice that her daughters might ultimately face. Racial prejudice comes in so many flavors, how well she knew that.

“We learned so much from Mom,” Katie said. “She worked hard to get our values right.”

“She worked hard for her clients, too. And for us. Imagine what it must have taken to send us all to Saint Mary-of-the-Woods Academy.”

The phone rang and Katie ran to grab it.

“Scott?” Katie breathed a sigh that bordered on relief. She and Scott had one of those mutually supportive relationships where just the sound of each other’s voice brought comfort.

“Scott, the girls are still out with Mom and Danielle,” Katie rushed to say, twisting the phone cord. “We have such an early flight in the morning —”

“Katie —”

Katie failed to breathe as Scott told her that the police were looking for Sammie and Alex at the mall. That Lucy, Danielle, and Jackie were there. That everything would be okay. That he was on his way from New York City to Detroit. That he’d chartered a plane. That the police would be there soon to —

When Katie did take a breath, it came out as a gasp, followed by a muffled scream as she dropped the phone onto the carpeted floor. In an instant, Sharon was at her side, but by then Katie was on her knees, scrambling for the phone, moaning, “No, no, no.”

Sharon grabbed the phone first. “Scott? What is it? What did you tell her?”

Sharon listened as she stood, then whispered, “Danielle?”

Katie, on her feet now, tried to grab the phone.

“Thank God,” Sharon breathed deeply. Then she said, “Yes, Scott, I’ll stay with Katie. What should we do? Go to the mall? Wait here? Oh, pray to God that this is all a mistake. I mean, what do you mean,
missing
? Couldn’t they be lost in the mall? Maybe in one of those arcades? An ice cream shop? Something safe, innocent?”

“My flight is getting ready to take off,” Scott said. “A police car will take you and Katie to the mall.”

Sharon stepped back, shaking her head from side to side as she handed the phone to her sister.

“Scott, what should I do?” Katie’s voice trembled as did her whole body.

The doorbell rang, followed by pounding, and Sharon opened the door.

Katie turned to find a fresh-faced police officer standing at the door, hat in hand. “The police are here, Scott. Please hurry.” She grabbed her purse and rushed out of the door into the waiting squad car.

Yankees Sweep Mets: 15–0.
—
Evening Sports, Sunday, June 14

It was nine thirty when Scott sprinted into the conference room at the Hills Mall, headed for Katie, and pulled her into his arms. Except for the movie complex and three restaurants, the shops in the mall were closed. By then every nook and cranny had been searched by both human and canine species. The girls had been missing for six hours and maybe as long as eight and a half. Hundreds of shoppers and clerks had been interviewed. Pictures of the Monroe girls were being circulated. The parking lots and the surrounding commercial areas were being canvassed. The media had gotten wind of the story and the mall was under the siege of camcorders, bright lights, reporters on alert. Nothing had gone out on the six o’clock news, but if the girls were not located within the next half hour,
Early News at Ten
would lead with the story.

Clarence Plummer, director of mall security, had hit the panic button early, and as it turned out, appropriately so. Local police, Oakland County sheriffs, and Michigan state police were now crawling all over one another. They were waiting on the FBI. Scott Monroe, still wearing a Yankee jersey with navy pin stripes on white, had to bully his way through clusters of them to get to his wife, athleticism and brute force serving him well despite his police escort. He’d been met by the state police at the airport and briefed en route to the Hills Mall. The whereabouts of two of his daughters was simply unknown.

“Scott, they still haven’t found them!” Scott felt Katie’s body shudder as he held her in a crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” Scott’s naturally loud voice seemed
to boom. “I needed to be here with you.” Scott ran his hand over Katie’s hair, something he did whenever he was upset and needed her near him.