If Angels Fall (25 page)

“Lady, your daughters are cruel.”

“They’re running around deeply concerned about what to
wear and who’s going to be there to impress.”

“You’re raising a pair of debs. How proud you must
be.”

Both women laughed.

“Nancy, you’re still taking Gabrielle to Joannie’s
party, right? You’re not going to overreact to this kidnapping crap?”

“I considered not going, but I don’t want to scare the
kids. Besides it would be rude not to go to Joannie’s party, then expect her to
come to Gabrielle’s.”

“There you go, girl.”

Nancy could hear Wendy’s smile and it warmed her to
know they were friends. They had met at the Bette Food Value Mart in
Stonestown, where they were part-time cashiers. When they learned they lived
near each other in the Sunset, they became pals. Wendy was a big-hearted Texan
from Austin who adored country music and joked about writing her own tune,
“Livin’ ‘n’ Lovin’ in the Fogbelt.” Her husband, Rod, was a welder who drank a
bit. But he did have two saving graces. He brought home a regular paycheck and he
could two-step. “I’ll hang on to him. Until a better dancer with a bigger
paycheck comes along.”

Nancy and Wendy chatted every day on the phone and
routinely packed juice, snacks, a thermos of coffee, the kids, and walked the
few blocks to the playground between Moraga and Lawton. They gossiped while
their children played. Today was a playground day.

“Meet you there in an hour,” Nancy said.

“You got it.”

“Wendy...?”

“Yes?”

“Bring your copy of today’s
Chronicle
?”

“Oh, you old worrywart! Sure, I’ll bring it.”

Don’t give in to a siege mentality, Nancy told
herself. Be realistic. Keep an eye on Gabrielle and Ryan. That’s all she had to
do.

In the living room, Nancy inspected the new
flower-print dress she had made for Gabrielle’s birthday party. She stayed up later
to finish it. It was draped over a sofa chair. Tracing her fingers over her
fine needlework, she smiled, then returned to the kitchen where Ryan was
starting on a second bowl of cornflakes.

“Can I join scouts today, Mom?”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Get dressed when
you’re done. We’re going to the playground.” She kissed the top of Ryan’s head.

After showering, Nancy slipped on a pair of old Levi’s
and a Blue Jays T-shirt. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail while her
full-length mirror reflected a figure women envied and men enjoyed.

Gabrielle’s room was the freshest smelling room in the
house. At times Nancy was certain she detected the lingering fragrance of baby
powder. Were her senses deceiving her? Or, was it merely part of the bittersweet
experience of watching her daughter grow up, knowing that one day she would be
gone? Nearly six years old and already peering over the edge of the next.
Recently, a poster of Leonardo DiCarprio had replaced one of Big Bird. Taped to
the wall above Gabrielle’s night stand was a snapshot of her hugging Jackson.
It broke Nancy’s heart.

Sensing a presence, Gabrielle stirred, then woke.

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

Gabrielle rubbed her eyes.

“Time to get up. We’re going to the playground.”

“Know what, mom?”

“What?”

“I dreamed Jackson was in my bed, licking my face!”

“You’ll always have him in your dreams, sweetheart.”

“In know. But it’s not the same as for real.”

“We’re going to see Letty and Elaine, so rise and
shine.”

Wendy waved from their usual park bench. “Good morning,
Nunns!”

The children called to each other.

“Boy, the joint’s jumping this morning.” Nancy
deposited herself beside her friend and unscrewed the coffee thermos. “I
remember the days when we used to have the place to ourselves.”

“You sound like an old lady.”

The children scampered to the swings, Charlotte,
Gabrielle, and Elaine held hands. Ryan trotted behind them. The women enjoyed
their coffee and watched a pair of teenage lovebirds snuggling on a bench to
their left. A few yards away, on a tattered blanket under a tree, a scrawny man
was reading. To their right, a bearded man in sunglasses and a fedora sat alone
with his newspaper. He caught Nancy’s glance, and nodded. He went back to his
newspaper, which reminded her of something.

“Did you bring your
Chronicle
?”

Wendy produced her rolled edition from her bag.

Nancy began reading, gasping at the speculation that
Danny Becker’s kidnapper was a paroled pervert. She slapped the paper on the
bench, looked over at Ryan and Gabrielle. If anything ever happened to then, it
would kill her.

“How can you be so calm about it?”

“Look at it logically. A zillion people live in the
Bay Area. Look at the odds. You’d win the lottery before this guy came after
your kids.”

Nancy considered it. “What would I do without your
Texas common sense?”

“You’d go crackbrained and lock yourself up with the
kids. Oprah would do a live show on your lawn. ‘Mrs. Nunn, it’s been twenty
years since the Bay Beast last struck – are you willing to let your grown
children out of the house now?”

They laughed, poured more coffee, then discussed
Joanne Tyson’s seventh birthday party at the Children’s Playground in Golden
Gate Park. Of all places, they groaned. Well, it was a huge park and still a
beautiful choice for a little girl’s giant birthday party, they agreed. Thirty
kids. Wendy was saying something about Joannie’s mom going overboard when they
heard the scream. A child’s scream. They took instant head counts. All children
were accounted for. All standing. None bleeding. Gabrielle was screaming. Nancy
caught her breath, realizing Gabrielle was not hurt.

“A puppy! A puppy! Look, Mommy, a puppy, just like
Jackson!”

A teenage girl with a cocker spaniel tugging at a
leash in front of her rushed near them. Gabrielle was poised to run to the dog.

The bearded man on the bench to their right looked up
from his newspaper at Nancy calming her daughter.

“Shh-shh, honey. He’s a nice puppy, just like Jackson,
but he’s not Jackson. You have to try to stop thinking about him. It’s hard,
but you have to try.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow, a signal for Wendy’s help.

“Tell me, princess,” Wendy chirped. “are you all set
for Joannie’s monster birthday party?”

Gabrielle’s fawn eyes could melt an iceberg. “Lette
and Elaine and me are going to ride the carousel and have birthday cake.”

Gabrielle skipped back to the others.

“Thanks, pal.” Nancy slapped Wendy’s shoulder.

“What are you guys going to do about her puppy-dog
blues?”

“We’re surprising her with anew pup on her birthday.”

“Might be the cure.”

As they talked, the bearded man eavesdropped,
appearing to be completing the crossword puzzle of his carefully folded
newspaper. In fact, he was making notes – notes about Gabrielle Nunn, who would
be six soon, about Jackson, her missing cocker spaniel, and Joannie Tyson’s upcoming
birthday party with thirty children. Chaos. The man made precise notes about
the time and location.

Then Edward Keller put the pencil stub in his breast
pocket. He loved today’s news, the part about religious delusions. How could
mortals distinguish between delusion and divine revelation? Keller strolled
from the playground, tapping his folded newspaper against his leg. Behind him
he heard the Angel Gabriel’s laughter and he was bathed in the light of truth.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth
.

Keller praised God for his help.

Gabrielle Nunn
joined the chorus of shrieking girls spinning in the tub of the
carousel. Its ancient organ huffed a mazurka and Gabrielle was the happiest she
had been in weeks, almost forgetting that her dog Jackson had disappeared.

It was Saturday. Joannie Tyson’s seventh birthday
party at the Children’s Playground in Golden Gate Park. A monster bash.
Thirty-two kids. A tiny Be-In. The summer of cake and ice cream.

Gabrielle was wearing the flowered print dress her
mother made especially for her six birthday, a few days away, but Gabrielle had
pleaded to wear it today. Her mother gave in. Then Nancy Nunn plaited her
daughter’s auburn hair into French braids. Gabrielle’s favorite. Now, whirling
and laughing with friends Tracey Tanner, Millie Palmer, and Rhonda King, whom
everybody called Help-Me Rhonda, Gabrielle was having a perfect day.

A dream day.

Round and round she went. Her stomach tingling as if
an ecstatic butterfly were fluttering inside. She wanted to ride the carousel
forever. But when they finished their third successive tour. Nancy Nunn, who
was watching the girls, feared a fourth ride would be risky, given the amount
of cake and ice cream they downed earlier.

“Can we catch up with the others now?” Millie Palmer
asked.

Between the cake eating and the present opening, the
party had separated into small groups, each chaperoned by an adult.

Some had gone to the Troll Bridge, some to the Mouse
Tower. Wendy Sloane had taken Letty, Elaine, and three other girls to the
Farmyard.

“Can we go to the Mouse Tower, Mrs. Nunn?” Tracey
Tanner asked.

“No, the Farmyard!” Rhonda King said.

“Before we go anywhere, ladies, who has to go to the
washroom?”

Millie and Rhonda shot up their hands.

Nancy herded her foursome to the nearest washroom.
Millie and Rhonda each found a stall. Nancy put Gabrielle and Tracey before the
mirrors to check their hair. Soon Millie came out of the stall to wash her
hands. Minutes passed. Rhonda was taking a long time.

“Rhonda?” Nancy called, trying the stall door. It was
locked.

“Oh, Mrs. Nunn, I don’t feel good,” Rhonda moaned. The
other girls looked at each other. “I feel like I’m going to-“

Rhonda retched and vomited. The girls grimaced.

Rhonda coughed violently.

At Nancy’s insistence, Millie, the group’s smallest
member, scooted under the stall and unlocked the door. Rhonda was on the toilet
in tears, her panties around her ankles. Humiliated. Nancy held her trembling
hand, dabbed her tears with a crumpled tissue, brushed her hair from her eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

“Gross,” Tracey said.

“It’s going to be fine, dear,” Nancy assured Rhonda.
“Tracey, please get me some paper towels soaked in cold water and some dry
ones. Girls, stay by me while we help Rhonda.”

“But Mom, it’s so gross!” Gabrielle complained.

“Stay here, Gabrielle,” Nancy ordered over her
shoulder while helping Rhonda pull up her underwear. “Rhonda sweetie, this
happens to every little girl, so don’t you worry.”

Tracy gave Nancy the paper towels. None of the girls
teased Rhonda about her nickname as Nancy cleaned her up. They stood by for
support, except for Gabrielle. The acrid order overwhelmed her.

Gabrielle did not want to be sick herself. Lured by
the carousel’s organ puffing a new polka, she took it upon herself to wait
outside the washroom. She stood alone, watching the revolving animals, the
dreamy horses, the chariots, the rocker, the turning tub. Mom should be
pleased. After all, she was a big girl. A smile was blooming on Gabrielle’s
face when suddenly a shadow fell over her.

“You are Gabrielle?”

A tall man with a beard, dark glasses, and a ball cap
smiled down in her. She didn’t know him, but he had a friendly, soft voice. Had
to one of the dads for the party, she guessed.

“You are Gabrielle Nunn whose dad is Paul, a
firefighter, and your mom is Nancy.”

Gabrielle didn’t realize she was nodding.

“Let’s talk over here.” The man took her aside,
glancing at the snapshot in his hand, giving it to her. “This would be your
pup?”