Deadly Intent (35 page)

He spoke in a quiet, calming voice, and for an instant she was tricked into thinking all was well. She bobbed her head in agreement, desperate to believe him. But deep down she knew Ben was too level-headed to go anywhere without asking permission first or at the very least, calling to let her know where he was.

“A forensics team is on its way,” John continued. “They’ll comb every inch of the parking lot.” She gave another stiff nod. “I’ll need the names and addresses of Ben’s classmates, and of his teacher.”

“I’ve already talked to all his friends.” she said dully. “They couldn’t tell me anything more than what I already knew.”

“It won’t hurt to ask again. Give me the information, Abbie.”

She handed him the address book she had used earlier, directing him to the first name on the list.

“I’ll also need a recent picture of Ben. And the Acura’s license plates.”

Brady must have anticipated the request because he was already searching through her purse.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she pulled out Ben’s latest school picture, the one where he had insisted on wearing his baseball uniform. He was grinning as he looked directly

into the camera. A stubborn little cowlick stuck out at the back of his head. He had coaxed it down that morning with gel, but it had popped up again.

She ran her thumb over the smiling face and clamped her teeth over her lower lip, wondering how many mothers had gone through that same ritual of handing their child’s photograph to a police detective, praying he or she would be returned to them safe and sound.

Her hand shook when she handed John the picture. “This was taken at the beginning of the school year.”

John took the picture. “What was he wearing when he left the house?”

Abbie thought for a moment, recalling the frantic morning, the rush to get breakfast on the table, the hunt for that special shirt Ben wanted to wear, then a quick check of his backpack to make sure his homework was in it, the hasty peck on the cheek.

“Blue jeans,” she said in a voice that sounded foreign. “A navy polo shirt with white stripes, black sneakers.”

“Did he have a school bag?”

“A Harry Potter backpack, blue and black. Ben’s name is on the inside.” It had been a morning like any other, except that Ben had missed the bus and she’d had to drive him to school. She blinked back tears. “Where...will you start looking for him?”

“I’m going to talk to his teacher before I do anything. And his classmates. One of them may have caught a glimpse of the driver.”

She knew they hadn’t, because she had already asked, but she didn’t say anything. John was an expert investigator, and if there was a way to get those children to remember something vital, he would find it.

“Abbie.” He hadn’t put his book away. “I have to ask

you about your ex-husband. You said he threatened to take Ben once.”

She closed her eyes. Jack. He had completely slipped her mind. She would have to call him. “That was a long time ago. He wouldn’t do anything now. His career is going well. He’s serious about someone. Ben would only be a hindrance to him.”

“I’ll still need to talk to him.”

She gave him the number and watched him jot it down.

“Can you think of anyone else who could have taken Ben? Someone who might want to get back at you about something? Torment you?”

She shook her head. She had no enemies. Or at least she didn’t think she had. That possibility had never been a preoccupation before.

Brady walked over, a frown on his face. “You mean... someone with a grudge?”

John turned around. ‘ ‘Yes, someone with a grudge could do this. You know such a person?”

Brady gave Abbie a knowing look. “Ken Walker comes to mind.”

John’s attention snapped back to Abbie. “That former employee you saw at Winberie?”

Brady’s eyes widened. “He followed you to Winberie? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Because it wasn’t important,” Abbie said impatiently. “Nothing happened. And Ken would never kidnap Ben.” But Brady’s intervention had put enough suspicion in John’s mind to make him question her further about her former employee.

“I’ll check him out,” he said when she was finished. “In the meantime, it’s probably best if you stay here a little while longer, in case Ben calls.” He glanced at Brady. “I don’t want her to be alone, though.”

Brady gave a quick nod. “I’ll stay with her.”

Ken forgotten, at least in Abbie’s mind, she gripped John’s arm. “Find him,” she whispered. “Find my son.”

“I will.”

Find my son. Find my son. Find my son. She kept repeating those three little words in her mind, over and over, like a mantra.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” John put his notebook away.

As soon as he left, Abbie called her ex-husband’s office, only to be told he was attending an American Land Title Association conference in Honolulu and wouldn’t be back until Thursday.

“I’ll be glad to tell him you called,” his secretary said.

“This is an emergency, Jen. Please ask him to call me immediately.”

She hung up and hugged herself, feeling suddenly very cold.

John waited until he was out of earshot before calling the dispatcher at the station.

“Helen? John Ryan. I need a bulletin out on a young Princeton boy. Name’s Ben DiAngelo. Someone in a red Acura SUV, license plates MER 2316, took him from outside his school—Princeton Elementary—at about two o’clock today.”

He looked down at Ben’s photo. “He’s nine years old, about four foot three, seventy-five pounds. Blue eyes and red hair, freckles on his nose. Last seen wearing blue jeans, a navy polo shirt with white stripes and black sneakers. He’s carrying a blue and black Harry Potter backpack.”

“Got it. Shall I notify the state troopers, too?”

He hesitated, still hoping the boy was going to turn up at someone’s house, but agreed, just to be on the safe side.

“Please. Tell them to still be on the lookout for that green pickup with the Texas plates. And Arturo Garcia.” At this point he didn’t have any reason to believe Garcia had taken Ben, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

He hung up and got inside his car, the knot in his gut tightening. Although he hadn’t said anything in front of Abbie, his first thought when Brady had called was that Tina’s pedophile had struck again. He still considered that a possibility. And if he was right, the chances of finding Ben DiAngelo alive were very slim.

From time to time, as he drove, he glanced at the photo on the dashboard, remembering Ben’s laugh, the sounds he and Jordan had made in the pool as they showed off their respective diving skills. The thought that that same happy boy could now be in the hands of a madman filled him with fury and helplessness.

Then, because he still couldn’t get those dark thoughts out of his mind, he dialed Clarice at work.

“Yes, John?” As always, she sounded rushed and stressed.

He felt a little impatient himself, so this time he dispensed with civilities.

“Where’s Jordan?” he asked abruptly.

His sharp tone seemed to bring her down a peg or two. “At his friend’s house. Why?”

“Which friend?”

“Philip Goertz. John, for God’s sake, what’s wrong with you?”

“Do me a favor,” he said, ignoring the question. “Call the Goertzes’ house and make sure Jordan is there, and that he’ll stay inside until you pick him up.”

“ What is wrong ?”

“Do it, Clarice, now.” Realizing he had spoken sharply, he softened his tone. “Please. I’ll hold.”

He heard a soft bang as she put her phone down. It was followed by a rustle as she searched for her cell phone, the muted sound of keys being punched, then her voice, which now sounded strained.

“Hi, Nancy. It’s Clarice. I just wanted to make sure Jordan was with you.” She laughed. “Did he really? No, no, no need for that. I forgot to remind him he should go home with you today and I just had to make sure he was there.” Another laugh. “I know. Thanks, Nancy. See you at about six.”

She came back on the line. “Everything’s fine. The boys are downstairs, playing with Philip’s birthday present—PlayStation 2.”

“You didn’t tell her to keep them inside.”

“I didn’t have to. She said they had already turned down a street-hockey game with their friends. They’re not going anywhere.” Too smart not to have picked up on this urgent line of questioning, she asked, “Has another boy disappeared, John? Is that what this is all about?”

He could hear the tension in her voice and decided to level with her, for Jordan’s sake. “Yes, but don’t tell Jordan. The missing boy is a friend of his and I’d like to tell him myself. Is it okay if I stopped by after dinner?”

“Of course. You could eat with us, if you want. I’m picking up some Boston Market chicken on the way.”

His hesitation was brief. It would be good to spend an hour or so with Jordan, and prepare him for what he had to tell him. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Clarice.”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Are you really worried about Jordan? I mean... Do we need to take extra precautions?”

“It won’t hurt to keep a close eye on him for a few

days, until I know exactly what happened to that other boy. If that’s a problem, I can—“

“No, no problem,” she said quickly. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“I’ll see you this evening, then. About six-thirty?”

“That will be fine.”

He hung up and pulled into the parking lot of Princeton Elementary.

Brady had called Claudia, who arrived at the restaurant a half hour later. “I don’t know what to say.” She held Abbie in a tight embrace. “Except have faith in John. He’ll find Ben.” She put a kettle of water on the stove and turned on the burner. “Did you hear from Jack?”

Abbie nodded. “He said he was leaving Hawaii on the first available flight.”

Claudia made tea, her remedy for just about anything from a sore back to anxiety, and the two of them sipped in silence, jumping every time the phone rang. Brady had elected himself telephone operator, taking calls from mothers anxious to hear if Ben had been found, or heard from. He even took a couple of last-minute reservations.

At some point, he turned to Abbie. “What do you want to do about tonight? We’re almost fully booked, but if you want me to, I’ll call our customers, tell them we had an unforeseen emergency. They’ll understand.”

The restaurant. She had been sitting here, in this familiar kitchen, but had hardly paid attention to what was going on around her. She forced herself to focus. “No, let’s stay open. If you don’t mind handling everything without me.”

“Of course not.”

Later, in the bathroom, where she had gone to splash cold water on her face, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her

hair was a mess, her face chalk white, her lips bloodless, and her eyes had a wild, haunted expression in them. She just stood there, holding on to the edge of the sink as the seconds stretched into an eternity.

Ben is gone. Ben is gone. Ben is gone.

The mantra had changed. Despair was setting in. Any moment now, the strings that had held her together for the last hour would snap. And then what? How could she help Ben if she fell apart?

As she returned to the kitchen, she glanced out the window and saw two men wearing gloves and holding plastic bags walk around the parking lot, their eyes on the ground. She wanted to go out there and ask if they had found anything helpful, but knew it would be pointless. She would only be in the way. And they wouldn’t tell her anything. So, she just stood at the window and watched them until they left in their township police van.

At five o’clock the staff returned. In a whisper, they asked Brady if there had been any news, and when he shook his head, they quietly began their evening chores.

Abbie was pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the utility room, when John came back. It was all Abbie could do not to scream the question “Did you find him?”

Instead, she stared at him intently, praying for good news, a small lead, a description of whoever had taken Ben, anything she could hang on to. Anything that would make the task of finding her little boy easier.

The grim look on John’s face put an end to her fantasies. “Ben’s teacher and his friends concur with what Jimmy Hernandez told Tiffany,” he said. “Whoever was behind the wheel of your car—and they all assumed it was you—tooted the horn. Ben heard it, saw the SUV and ran to it.”

‘ ‘And he got inside?” Abbie said, aghast. ‘ ‘After he realized it wasn’t me.”

“It doesn’t sound as if he had much time to do anything. According to Jimmy, the Acura sped away quickly.”

“No one saw the driver?”

“Not through those dark windows, no.”

She had a sudden vision of Arturo Garcia, the look on his face as he had shouted at her. A man with so much rage and determination wouldn’t give up easily. And he would be resourceful, knowing exactly how to get the information he needed, such as the location of the restaurant, Abbie’s home and Ben’s school.

“Could Arturo have done this?” she asked.

“I doubt he’d have the guts to—“

“But what if he did?” Abbie’s voice rose. “Ben could be anywhere by now. My son could be hundreds of miles away, with a maniac.”

“He couldn’t have gotten far, Abbie. We had APB’s out within a half hour.”

“You’ll never find him!” Abbie shouted. “Why don’t you say it? Why do you keep tiptoeing around the obvious?”

“Because I stopped relying on the obvious a long time ago. We’re doing everything in our power to find Ben. Squad cars from several adjoining communities have joined in the search. They have a description of your truck, along with the licence plates.”