Hear the Children Calling (35 page)

She was wide-eyed, imagining now a shuffling of people, moving in unison and unaware of what was happening to any one individual. How easily a knife could be slipped between small ribs . . .

She swayed a little and Danny reached out to put an arm around her shoulders.

“We don’t have time to talk,” he said. “Just trust me that the kids are in danger. Are the phones still working here? I want to call my wife.”

Lou turned and called to one of the other cops. A petite woman with dark skin and huge brown eyes hurried over.

“Officer Maizi,” Lou said, “show this gentleman to a phone. You’re lucky they didn’t have time to cut if off.”

Danny followed the policewoman inside a nearby building. In a nearly barren office, he picked up a tipped-over chair and sat at the empty desk. The drawers had all been pulled open and emptied; the files across the room were in the same condition. He dialed the hospital. He was surprised to hear Kate had been released, since there had been no indication of this when he spoke to her. Dialing his home phone number only resulted in incessant ringing. Despondent, Danny hung up. Where the hell was Kate now? Had she forgotten he’d be contacting her?

Kate, at that moment, was busy with an investigation of her own. When Dorothy picked her up at the hospital, she was curious to find out why Mrs. Ginmoor hadn’t paid a visit to either her or the boys. Kate insisted on driving to the old woman’s house. On the way, she explained everything to her friend.

“I wish you had told me this earlier,” Dorothy said, sounding offended. “How could you bear such a burden alone?”

“I wasn’t alone,” Kate said. “I had Danny.”

“Who didn’t believe you at first,” Dorothy said.

Kate looked at her. “Would you have? Or would you have thought I was a hysterical, overly hopeful mother?”

“I don’t know,” Dorothy said. “But I would have stuck by you.”

Kate pointed. “That’s her house. Pull in the driveway, will you?”

A moment later both women were standing on Mrs. Ginmoor’s porch, knocking at her door.

“I just had a terrible thought, Kate,” Dorothy said. “What if the same people who hurt Chris and Joey got Mrs. Ginmoor, too? What if that’s why you haven’t heard from her?”

Taking in Dorothy’s ominous suggestion, Kate regarded her friend for just a moment. She took out her own keys and found the spare one to Mrs. Ginmoor’s house. The old woman had given it to her in the event something happened while the boys were in her house.

Kate led Dorothy through the familiar rooms, quiet except for the droning noise of the furnace below and the hum of the refrigerator.

“We’d better check every room,” Dorothy said. “If she’s hurt somewhere . . .”

Or dead . . .

A thorough investigation proved the house was empty.

“She’s just out for the morning,” Dorothy said.

“No, I don’t think so,” Kate said. “Something’s wrong. I’m telling you, Dorothy, Mrs. Ginmoor was crazy about our children. It just doesn’t make sense that she’d have neglected them.”

They were in the kitchen now, a small room of glimmering tile and cheerful yellow appliances. All signs of the exploded pie had been removed, though a faintly acrid smell still hung in the air.

“I think I’ve found something, Kate,” Dorothy said. She had crossed toward a counter, near the wall phone.

Mrs. Ginmoor had left a phone book open on her counter, to the Yellow Pages listings for travel agents.
Kate moaned a little and pointed to the notes scribbled hastily in the margins.

“ABQ. TWA. Flight 200.”

“ABQ?” Dorothy repeated. “Short for Albuquerque?”

“Where Danny went to find Laura,” Kate said, disbelieving. “Why would Mrs. Ginmoor be there, too? How could she know?”

She stopped herself, her mind a boiling kettle of questions.

“Kate, I think your sweet old Mrs. Ginmoor was working for these LaMane people,” Dorothy said.

Kate shook her head. “No. She loved our children.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence that she’s in Albuquerque, too,” Dorothy said. “Kate, I knew nothing of this until a few minutes ago. So I can be objective. Listen and think—you needed a sitter when you arrived in Massachusetts because both you and Danny worked. Along comes Mrs. Ginmoor, who conveniently agrees to stay even after Laura disappeared, thinking you’d need help. And who had no reason to leave because soon after you gave birth to Chris. But convenient for whom?”

“Mrs. Ginmoor was a godsend,” Kate protested lamely. It couldn’t be true.

“It wasn’t God who sent her,” Dorothy said. “She was planted with your family, Kate, to keep an eye on you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she arranged the details of Laura’s kidnapping. And she stayed on to be certain you never got too suspicious.”

“It’s so crazy,” Kate said. “I never told her about Laura appearing to . . .” She let out a cry. “Oh, my God, the pictures!”

Her fingers squeezed Dorothy’s arm like a talon as she told about the pictures she had had altered to look like Laura might today.

“She must have reported it,” Kate said. “And when the boys were alone with her in this house, she arranged
to have them hurt. That witch! I’ll kill her when I find her. When I think that I left my babies alone with her!”

“Kate, she must be after them now,” Dorothy said. “I don’t know why she was called down there, but it may be that Laura will remember her, even subconsciously. Your daughter may trust her enough to go anywhere with her.”

Kate looked at the phone. “I’ve got to call Danny! But how? I don’t even know where he is. Last we spoke, he was at the airport.”

“Then, let’s get back to your house,” Dorothy said. “We’ll wait for him to call us. And as hard as you can, Kate, send Laura a warning to stay away from Mrs. Ginmoor.”

52

“T
HE CORNDOGS ARE A BUCK FIFTY EACH
,”
THE MAN
at the concession stand said, looking down from his perch at three grimy faces. “Drinks are seventy-five cents.”

Jenny, Tommy, and Michael gathered in a circle and emptied their pockets and bags of all the coins they could find. In their haste to run away, none of them had taken the time to bring very much money.

“Three dollars and ten cents,” Tommy sneered. “We could split up two dogs, I guess.”

“I’m thirsty,” Jenny said. “Walking in that hot sun—”

Both boys shushed her.

“We can find water somewhere,” Michael suggested. “But we can’t move on without energy from
food. Those snacks we brought, they aren’t enough. I say we go for the corndogs.”

Jenny felt a tap on her shoulder and swung abruptly. An elderly woman was gazing at her with sad eyes, her face so kindly that Jenny was speechless for a moment. There was something about her, something strangely familiar. An alarm went off in the little girl’s mind, warning her that this might be someone from the center. But in the few moments she studied the woman’s face in silence, she realized she hadn’t seen her at LaMane. Still, she felt as if she knew her, as if she had met her long ago.

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” the woman said. “I’d be happy to treat you children.”

Tommy shook his heard, his expression grim. “No way, lady. We don’t talk to strangers.”

“But—”

The woman’s words were cut off when Jenny pulled Tommy a little farther away. Michael stepped over with them.

“We could use the help,” she said.

“Are you nuts?” Tommy asked. “What if she’s with Adams?”

“She isn’t,” Jenny said. “I’d know it if she was. And if you two boys would open up your minds, you’d know it, too. She’s just a nice old lady who wants to help us.”

Jenny didn’t report the strange familiarity she’d felt.

“Buying those dogs is gonna wipe us out,” Michael said. “We can’t go anywhere without money, Tommy.”

“It isn’t like we’re going to leave the fair with her,” Jenny added. “Tommy, just let her buy us the food. It’ll give us time to find out if she really is a nice person. And if she is, she can help us.”

“We don’t need help,” Tommy growled.

“Don’t be a jerk,” Michael said. “How long do you think we’re gonna last, three kids alone?”

Jenny and Michael turned back toward the old woman, who was already holding a box with three
corndogs and three sodas. Ravenous, even Tommy accepted the food, which disappeared in minutes.

“My, but you’re very hungry, aren’t you?” the old woman said. “And filthy, too. Where have you been that you got so dirty? Where are your parents?”

The children exchanged glances.

“We—we ran away,” Michael said quickly. He felt Jenny and Tommy’s astonished gazes, but he went on. “Last night, we decided to try to camp out in the mountains. It was terrible. Really cold.”

“And we kept hearing growling noises,” Jenny put in, though she didn’t quite understand Michael’s game. She only knew he was smart enough not to get them into more trouble.

“You poor things,” the old woman said. “But your parents must be terribly worried. No matter what the reason you ran away, you must let them know you’re safe. If we could find a phone . . .”

Michael shook his head. “No! See, my dad was gonna work with one of the balloonists today. But this place is so big and there are so many people, I just can’t find him.”

The old woman smiled. “You leave that to me. How about a balloon ride? You’d be so far up you could see the entire grounds.”

Jenny and Michael nodded eagerly. Tommy held back, still not trusting the woman. But Michael leaned and whispered to him, “We won’t find my father, of course. But we will be able to tell if anyone from the center is here.”

Tommy finally nodded, understanding what Michael had been up to all along. All three children followed the kindly old woman until she found the shortest line, leading to a balloon decorated with alternate panels of red and white. She pulled a small, beaded wallet from her black handbag. Jenny and the boys went agape at the sight of two crisp hundred-dollar bills.

“Wow,” Tommy cried. “What’s that for?”

The old woman smiled at him. “For the ride, of
course. You don’t think these balloonists work for nothing?”

“But it’s too much,” Jenny protested. “You can’t spend money like that on us. We don’t even know you.”

Oh, but you do remember me, Laura. Don’t you know my face? Think back, think long back . . .

Jenny froze, staring at the old woman. Where had the thoughts come from? Why had she heard the name “Laura,” the same name the woman with glasses and brown hair used?

“What—what’s your name?”

“Mrs. Mira,” the woman said.

Nothing familiar about that. And nothing in the woman’s expression revealed that the strange message had come from her own mind. Jenny was more confused than ever. But before she could ask another question, they found themselves at the beginning of the line.

Mrs. Mira paid the ticket man and climbed into the wicker gondola with the three children. “We’re looking for someone,” she said. “One of the other balloonists.”

“What’s his name?” the man asked, readying the balloon for another trip.

Mrs. Mira looked at the children.

“Ralph Colpan,” Michael said, able to think only of his father’s name.

“Haven’t met him,” the aeronaut said, busy working the controls at the dashboard. “I know most everyone here. I’ve been into aerostation for ten years.”

“Aerostation?” Michael echoed.

“A fancy word for ballooning,” the man said with a smile.

The slack in the tether line was released and the variometer began to measure in feet per second the balloon’s lazy climb toward the sky. Tommy and Jenny clung to the padded leather edges of the huge basket, gazing in awe at the bright colors around them. Jenny pushed back the hair that had been blown into her face
by the wind. Soon, the noise of the burner sending heat up into the throat of the balloon drowned out the sounds of the people below. Jenny clung to the side, afraid the basket would shake in the wind, but she was surprised at how sturdy it felt.

“How come it isn’t jiggly?” she asked the balloonist, who wore a name tag that said he was called Max.

“The cables hanging down from the balloon are very strong,” Max replied, “and they provide a remarkably stable base. Do you know, movie-makers can get steadier air shots from a balloon than from a plane or helicopter?”

Michael could see for himself that the gondola was sturdy, and he knew a strong tether line held them anchored to the ground below. But his fear of heights kept him from going to the edge. He sat on one of the large, lightweight fuel tanks stored at one end of the gondola. The higher up they went, the more he was reminded of the watch tower at the center. If anything happened, it would be a long fall.

“I can’t see anyone’s face very well,” Jenny said. “How will we find Mr. Colpan?”

“Lots of people want a good look around,” the balloonist said, speaking loudly over the roar of the burner. He opened a door under the control panel and pulled out a pair of binoculars. “Try these.”

“Neat,” Jenny cried.

“Let me look,” Tommy insisted.

“You should really take turns, children,” Mrs. Mira said.

Michael looked at the binoculars. He wanted them, too, wanted the illusion of being closer to the ground. But he was frozen, terrified to go too close to the edge of the balloon carriage. He couldn’t move a muscle.

“You go first, Jen,” Tommy said. Mrs. Mira was nice, he decided. If she wanted to bring them back to the LaMane Center, she wouldn’t be bothering to spend so much time and money on a ride.

Jenny put the binoculars to her eyes and scanned the crowds below. None of the faces looked familiar,
she saw to her relief. If Dr. Adams was still looking for them, he hadn’t gotten this far. She decided to ask the boys to leave as soon as the balloon landed again. They obviously had a head start on their adversaries.

“I don’t see him,” Jenny said.

Tommy realized this was her way of telling him there was no one familiar below. He looked for himself and saw this was true. But when he tried to hand Michael the binoculars, he saw that his friend was sitting stiffly on a fuel tank, as white as a ghost.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.