It Only Takes a Moment (21 page)

S
he was a prisoner in her own house. She couldn’t go outside for some fresh air, couldn’t take a walk to clear her head, couldn’t take a ride in the car to get away for a while because the press was out there, ready to ambush her.

Eliza got up from her chair. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower,” she announced.

She stood beneath the soothing spray and let the warm water cover her, washing the tears from her cheeks and easing the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. It was a relief to get away from the tension downstairs, if only for a little while.

As Eliza dried herself, she remembered again what Stephanie Quick had said that morning, remarks that Eliza hadn’t paid much attention to, her mind focused on the ransom note and the possibility of Janie’s imminent return. Stephanie had said that the kidnappers hadn’t sent a ransom demand yet. As soon as Stephanie had said that, Eliza had tuned her out—but it turned out that the psychic had been right.

Since Stephanie was right about that, and she had been right about the green face paint and her vision about John and the perfume, she could be
right about the letter
M
and Janie’s being near moving water.
Please God,
thought Eliza,
let Janie be near the water, not in it.

She dressed in fresh clothes, went downstairs, and marched in to talk to Agent Gebhardt. “What’s being done with the lead that Stephanie Quick gave us about the water?” Eliza asked forcefully.

Agent Gebhardt looked up, her facial expression perplexed. “That’s not a lead, Eliza. That’s just a general statement, from a psychic, no less. And even if we were to treat it as a lead, where would you suggest we start? Where would you look for moving water?”

“Well, we could let the public know about it at least,” said Eliza. “Then people all around the country, around the world for that matter, would know and could be paying attention.”

The FBI agent didn’t comment.

Eliza’s despair turned to anger. “All right,” she announced. “If you guys won’t, I will. I’m doing the interview for
KEY to America
and I’m going to tell the world what the psychic saw.”

T
he Internet, and volunteers all around the country, made it possible for flyers featuring the faces of Janie Blake and Carmen Garcia to be displayed in post offices and hospitals throughout the United States. Flyers were stapled to trees and telephone poles and taped in the windows of convenience stores, fast-food restaurants, gas stations, and low-rent motels, all in the hope that someone would recognize the faces and have an idea of who was holding one child and her caretaker, or where to find them.

Nell studied a yellow flyer tacked to a fence that surrounded the grocery store parking lot. She looked around to make sure no one was watching her. Then she reached up and pulled the flyer down, ripping it. She crumpled the paper in her hand and stuffed it in her bag.

She went inside the store and saw another flyer, blue this time, on the bulletin board. But there were too many people who could spot her if she took it, so she left it where it was. All around town, she found multicolored flyers identifying the missing pair and urging anyone with any knowledge or suspicion to contact the police.

Nell took down as many flyers as she could.

L
inus Nazareth was thrilled when Eliza called and told him she was going to do the interview.

“You want to do it live in the morning, or do you want us to tape it?” he asked. “Either way, we could come out and do it at your house if you’d rather not come into the Broadcast Center.”

“Let’s tape it tonight,” said Eliza. “That way, if I forget to say something important, we can go back and edit it in. And I think I’d rather come in to do it. I’ve got to get out of this house for a couple of hours.”

“Perfect,” said Linus. “I’m wondering, would you be willing to bring in a videotape of Janie, too?”

Eliza considered the request. She hated sharing her personal home videos with the world, but her public exposure had gotten them into this horror, so more public exposure might get them out of it.

“All right, Linus. I’ll bring one with me.”

“Yes!” said Linus with enthusiasm.

Eliza could picture him pumping the air with his fist.

“Linus, do me a favor and don’t be so damn happy.”

His tone changed immediately. “You’re right. I apologize. I’m sorry
that the ransom demand turned out to be bogus, Eliza,” he said. “I really am.”

Yeah,
thought Eliza,
but I bet you’re not so sorry that the story is continuing. I bet you’re not sorry you are going to be exclusive with the interview and I bet you’re not sorry you can tease the hell out of it so tomorrow morning’s ratings are through the roof.

The videotapes and discs were kept in a cabinet in the den. All of them were marked by subject but not filed in any particular chronological order.

Eliza picked one marked
JANIE SWIMMING
and put it into the machine. She watched, with an increasing tightness in her chest, the images of Janie wearing inflatable water wings and paddling in a swimming pool. Eliza recognized it as one of the pools at the Grand Floridian in Walt Disney World.
Janie was three years old when we went there,
she thought.
We need something more current than that.

JANIE AND NASTY SANTA
.
That should do it.
Last Christmas, Janie had begun asking questions about the existence of Santa Claus, but she had still wanted to cover her bets and alert him to what she hoped to find under the tree. Eliza had suggested they go into New York City to find Santa, but Janie had insisted they go to the local mall, where her school friends were going. The outing turned into a disaster.

They’d been there when the mall opened because Eliza hoped to avoid a long line and the curious stares that inevitably followed her. When they got to Santa Claus, there were already two other children in line.

Eliza fought to control herself as she watched the pictures of Janie waiting her turn. The child’s face glowed with excitement, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling blue.
That will certainly be the shot they’ll use on the broadcast,
thought Eliza.
Let the world see the vibrance and innocence of my precious girl.

She kept watching as Janie walked up to Santa’s chair and stood be
side him. He offered her his knee, but Janie shook her head. Santa might have been miffed, or just miscast for the job, but he definitely wasn’t very friendly after that.

Eliza had gotten closer so the camera would pick up the audio.

“And what can I bring you for Christmas, little girl?” he asked.

“A new bike,” said Janie. “A pink one.”

“You don’t already have a bike?” asked Santa.

“I do,” said Janie, “but it’s too little for me now and it’s red. I want a pink one.”

“Do you think you deserve a new bike?” he asked her rather pointedly.

Janie looked at him with uncertainty.

“Have you been a good girl and done what your mommy and daddy told you to do?”

Janie nodded.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Janie’s bottom lip began to quiver. “Well, I’ve been good for my mommy.”

“What about your daddy?” he asked. “Haven’t you been good for him?”

Janie started to hiccup.

Eliza intervened. “She’s been very good, Santa,” she called out.

But the damage had been done. Janie pulled back from the man in the red suit and ran to Eliza. The camera had been turned off after that.

Eliza’s heart had ached. A simple trip to see Santa had turned into a painful reminder for the child that her father wasn’t with her. Janie had hiccupped, as she often did when she was upset or nervous, the whole ride home.

It occurred to Eliza that Janie was probably suffering with the hiccups now, while she was going through this ordeal. She wondered if the hiccups were worth mentioning to the FBI.

J
anie lay blindfolded on the mattress, staring into the darkness. She could hear the man in the next room. He was grunting loudly. Every so often Janie heard something hit the floor. Then the noises stopped. The door opened. She knew the man was checking on her. She didn’t move.

“After I finish lifting my weights, I’ll bring you something to eat,” said the man.

Janie didn’t answer.

“Suit yourself, you little brat.” He slammed the door closed again.

Janie whimpered quietly as she turned over and tried to fall asleep. The lady at the Urgentcare had been nice but her legs still hurt. The lady reminded her of her mother and Mrs. Garcia trying to make her all better. Janie wished that she had been able to tell the lady at the Urgentcare to call Mommy, but if she had, the man had said he would kill Mommy. Besides, the lady never came back after she went to get the medicine.

Her small body shuddered as she hiccupped.

She wished so much she was with Mommy now. Mrs. Garcia promised Mommy would be coming.

Where is she?

W
hen six-year-old Melissa Bushell got home from Camp Musquapsink, she ate some grapes and drank some milk. Then she asked her mother if she could watch the video from the swimming race the day before.

Glad to have something to occupy the child while she started dinner, her mother cued up the video. But as the images appeared on the screen, Karen Bushell found herself sitting down to watch alongside her daughter.

“There I am!” shouted Melissa.

“You did a great job in that race, sweetie,” said her mother as she reached out and stroked the child’s hair.

“I know I did,” Melissa said, smiling happily. “Let’s watch it again.”

“You
can watch it again,” said Karen. “
I
have to start making dinner.” She rewound the video, hit the
PLAY
button, and left the room. She was just opening the refrigerator door when she heard Melissa call out. Karen ran back to the family room.

“Come back and look, Mommy.” Melissa pointed at the screen. “There’s a man watching the race through the fence.”

C
rouched behind a giant hemlock, Phil waited and regrouped. Air came in from the vents at the bottom of his safety mask as he breathed heavily from exertion and excitement.

One by one, many of his opponents had been picked off, either by him or by the other guys. He estimated that there were only a half dozen of them still left out here.

Phil listened intently for some sound of movement, but it was quiet. He had two choices. He could stay where he was and hope that his enemies would come to him, or he could go out there and try to hunt them down.

Slowly, he rose and walked out from behind the tree. He had ventured out only a few steps when he felt the stinging pain in his chest. White paint exploded across his jumpsuit and splattered over his plastic eye shield.

They got me,
he thought with disappointment.
Man, that’s going to leave a big black and blue.

Knowing he’d been killed, Phil threw his hands up in the air and walked off the paintball battlefield.

Phil started back, following what he thought was the trail to the post. After half an hour, he knew he was lost. His chest was sore and his legs were tired. He sat on the trunk of a fallen hemlock to rest.

In the stillness of the forest, the silence was broken by chirping birds. Phil also thought he heard the sound of moving water. He ached for a drink of cool water, but he would have to wait until he got back to the post and bought a bottle of the pure stuff.
The sooner the better.

As Phil stood up to begin retracing his steps, he thought he heard the noise of a passing car.
There must be a road over there
, he thought.

He could either turn around and hike all the way back or he could follow the sound of the car and find the road that must be nearby.

A deer darted across Phil’s path. He made his way with care, climbing over termite-ridden fallen trees and rotted stumps and through the ferns that covered the forest floor. Just when he thought he had made another mistake by choosing this way, the dusty road appeared before him.

He stood for a moment trying to decide which direction would be best. His eyes were drawn downward by the movement of a chipmunk that scurried across the dirt. The rodent scampered into the greenery at the side of the path and was gone from sight.

Phil spotted something else at the side of the road and he moved closer to see what it was. He bent down and picked up a cluster of multicolored beads strung together to form a necklace.

Some of the plastic beads had letters on them, letters that spelled out a name.

J-A-N-I-E.

S
he was in her room getting dressed to go into the city for the interview when Agent Gebhardt knocked. Eliza pulled on a robe and opened the door.

“We think we have something, Eliza.”

Eliza stood back and indicated that the FBI agent should come into the bedroom. “What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“A body was found this morning at an Urgentcare in Milford, Pennsylvania.”

Eliza’s knees buckled. “Oh my God,” she cried out.

Agent Gebhardt reached out to her. “No, it wasn’t Janie or Mrs. Garcia, Eliza. I’m so sorry for scaring you like that.”

Eliza sat on the edge of the bed. “Milford,” she repeated. “The letter
M
. Stephanie Quick said she saw the letter
M
.”

“It was the body of a young woman, a nursing student,” Agent Gebhardt continued, ignoring the reference to the psychic. “She was murdered. The coworker who found her said she had volunteered to close the place last night.” The agent neglected to fill Eliza in on the gory details of how the murder had been committed.

Eliza tried to control her breathing while she waited for Gebhardt to continue.

“The thing that has us interested is the fact that a woman called into the hotline from that same Urgentcare last night. The person who took the call said the woman was speaking very softly, whispering, but he’s positive he heard the woman say ‘Janie Blake’ before the connection was broken.”

“And you think that the woman who called the hotline was the nursing student who was killed?” asked Eliza, her pulse quickening again. “That she had some information about Janie she was trying to tell us before she died?”

Agent Gebhardt shrugged. “We can’t say that for certain. But it sure seems like more than a coincidence that a call comes from that Urgentcare just after closing time last night, a call that’s cut off, and then this morning the last person known to be at the place turns up dead.”

“What do we do now?” asked Eliza.

“Our guys are up there and they will let us know as soon as they have anything,” said Agent Gebhardt. “In the meantime, you should go ahead and do your interview. Get your message across, get some more publicity. Somebody might be listening out there who can lead us to Janie and Mrs. Garcia.”