“And we're bringing in a tracking dog from Baltimore County.”
“What kind of dog?” Paul wanted to know.
“We've requested a bloodhound. Bloodhounds will be able to pick up Timmy's scent even if he was carried away in somebody's arms.”
“What good will that do?” Emily was sobbing again. “If the kidnapper took Timmy away in a car, the trail will stop at the parking lot, right?”
“Bloodhound noses are many times more sensitive than German shepherds',” Powers pointed out. “It was a bloodhound that tracked Laci Peterson's scent down the center of a highway, if you remember, proving she left the house in a vehicle, not on foot, as her husband had claimed.”
Laci Peterson. Another victim who didn't make it. This wasn't encouraging.
Dante slouched in his chair, hands pressed tightly between his knees. “You know what really bothers me?” he told the officer. “I never asked Emily to sign for anything today. As far as I know, there was no delivery.”
Emily looked up, face blotched from crying. “Then whoâ¦?”
“You didn't recognize the voice on the telephone?” I asked.
Emily bit her lower lip. “Just a woman's voice. I assumed it was one of the staff.”
“Hey, everybody!” The head of a white stuffed tiger lunged into the room, followed immediately by the equally white head of my sister, Ruth. “What's with all the police cars, anyway? I had to sneak in through the loading dock. Look what I brought for Puddle Ducks,” she chirped, not pausing long enough for anyone to answer her question. She galloped the super-sized toy along the chair rail. “This will solve the problem.”
Greeted by a silence so heavy it was palpable, still
cradling that ridiculous white tiger, Ruth froze. “What? What did I say?”
“Timmy's missing,” Dante snapped.
Ruth looked from Dante to the tiger and burst into tears.
I wasn't due at Hillsmere Elementary to meet Chloe until three-ten, but I decided I couldn't bear another torrent of tears when I could barely control my own. “I need to pick up Chloe and Jake,” I announced, suddenly rising from my chair. I was desperate to get outside. Maybe breathing the fresh salt air would revive me. I consulted Officer Powers. “Is that okay?”
“Who are Chloe and Jake?” he wanted to know, as if they were suspects he needed to add to his interview list.
After I explained that Chloe and Jake were my grandchildren, he nodded permission. With a reassuring squeeze of my hand from Paul, and a barely audible thank-you from my son-in-law, I managed to escape the spa.
Getting out of the grounds wasn't as simple. As I stepped onto the concrete apron that surrounded the parking lot, someone said, “It's Hannah, isn't it?”
I turned. Roger Haberman.
I had been charting a course straight for my trusty LeBaron, and I didn't want to be delayed by Roger Haberman or anyone else.
“Is everything all right?” Roger asked, his face scrunched up with concern. “I beg your pardon, but you look terrible.”
No doubt my face
was
a mess, whatever makeup I'd managed to dab on that morning long since washed away by torrents of tears. “No, Roger, everything isn't all right. Our ten-month-old grandson appears to have been snatched from the day care center. That's why the police are here.”
Just sharing the bad news with Roger started me off on another crying jag. Roger waited until I had more or less gotten myself under control, then laid a gentle hand on my arm. “I'm
so
sorry. Are the police organizing a search? Where do I sign up?”
“Timmy hasn't learned how to walk yet, so they don't think he wandered off into the woods on his own.” I pulled a ragged tissue out of my handbag and dabbed at my eyes. “Honestly, Roger, if I thought that chopping down every tree in Bay Ridge would find him, I'd grab a chain saw and turn the whole neighborhood into a pile of kindling.”
A sudden thought occurred to me. “You've been out here for a while, haven't you?”
Roger nodded. “I was just arriving for an interview when all hell broke loose.”
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“I'm afraid not. Just your usual to-ing and fro-ing, like that water truck over there.”
It occurred to me that if Roger had been entering the gates just as the fire alarm went off, he might well have passed the kidnapper as he or she was making a getaway on Herndon, the narrow, two-lane road that led directly from Paradiso on Kimmel Lane down to Bay Ridge Road. “How about on the way here?” I asked, my hopes rising.
Roger thought for a moment. “There was a car behind me. That one,” he said, pointing to the girl in the Jetta, who I now realized must have been coming to the spa rather than going away from it. “And I'm sure I passed a few cars on the way here, but I don't remember any car in particular.”
“
Think
, Roger,” I urged. “Close your eyes and try to picture those cars.”
Roger closed his eyes as instructed. “Two cars, I think, and an SUV definitely.”
“What kind of cars? Did you notice the make of the SUV?”
Roger grimaced. “Sorry. The cars were just cars, and all SUVs look the same to me. Big and ugly.”
“Oh.” I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.
“The SUV was brown, though. I remember that. Or it could have been gold. Looked like one of those vehicles you take on safari.”
“Oh, Roger, bless you! The police are inside Paradiso right now, interviewing people. Please tell them exactly what you've just told me. Make sure to ask for Officer Powers.”
“I wish I could be more helpful.” He tapped his temple with a forefinger. “Old noggin ain't what it used to be.”
Two cars and a brown SUV, I thought, mulling it over. Pitifully little to go on, and Paradiso wasn't the only establishment at the end of Herndon Road. The vehicles could just as well have been heading back to Annapolis from the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, a brand new facility built on property adjoining Paradiso. Nevertheless, Roger's information might help narrow the field if a list of suspects was eventually identified.
“I'd be happy to help search,” Roger said, returning to an earlier topic.
“Thanks, Roger, but the police are bringing search dogs in pretty soon. Officer Powers thinks the dogs will confirm that somebody picked Timmy up and walked away with him.”
“I see.” Roger scowled. “It's a terrible thing to harm a child.” His face softened. “Eva and I were never blessed with children, so I can only imagine what you must be going through. And the child's parents, too,” he added quickly.
“Thank you for your concern, Roger.”
“If there's anything I can do, anything at all⦔ His voice trailed off.
At that moment all I wanted was to get away from Roger Haberman and be by myself for a little while. If I could concentrate on things that needed to be done, perhaps it would keep my mind from drifting off into the terrifying, dark corners of my imagination.
I had taken several steps in the direction of my car, but turned back. “Do you think Eva will be in her office tomorrow morning?”
“She's up by seven, and usually in the office around nine,” Roger told me. “Would it help if I mentioned that you might drop by, or would you rather call her yourself?”
Just thinking about picking up the telephone and talking about Timmy made me ill. With Roger to give Pastor Eva a heads-up, at least when I saw her, I wouldn't have to deal with her initial shock and surprise, which would set me off crying again for sure. “Thank you, Roger. That would be a real kindness. And if she can't see me at nine, perhaps she could give me a call at home and we'll work out another time.” I dredged up a smile from somewhere and pasted it on my face. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go, or I'll be late picking up my grandchildren.”
“Of course,” Roger said. “Take care.”
He was still looking after me like a kindly uncle when, two minutes later, my LeBaron and I pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Kimmel Lane.
Step one accomplished.
Step two. I had to make my way past the police who were guarding the gate to Paradiso. Norman Salterelli, the body-builder, was still on duty, lounging against the gatepost, beefy arms folded over equally beefy chest, chatting with the officer.
I rolled down my window to identify myself. To his credit, the officer punched a number on his Nextel and checked out my story with Powers before motioning me through.
For a split second I entertained a fantasy of peeling out of Paradiso in a roostertail of flying gravel, until Norman squashed the idea by resting his hairy forearms on the roof of my car and leaning into my open window. “You take care, Hannah Ives, and if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Norman. You've been a real star.”
He patted the top of my convertible with the flat of his hand. “Go with God.”
“Thank you.” In spite of myself, I smiled.
Step three.
I'd forgotten about step three. True to his word, Ron Powers had ordered a roadblock at the gates that once upon a time had guarded the entrance to the Bay Ridge community. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I waited at the end of a long line of cars for my turn for inspection. The police were thorough, thank goodness, checking front and back seats, and asking everyone to pop open their trunks, too. I didn't think I could endure one more sympathetic look, so when it was my turn, I simply let the officer check my car for Timmy, thanked him, and drove on.
At the light at Arundel on the Bay Road, I turned left. Hillsmere Elementary School, where Chloe attended first grade from 8:55 to 3:10, was almost immediately on the right, a modern brick building, typical of Anne Arundel school architecture in the 1970s. I was early, so I pulled around a queue of school buses with their engines idling and into a parking space marked
VISITORS
, where Chloe would be certain to see me.
Because Dante and Emily lived in Hillsmere Shores, Chloe could have ridden the bus, of course, but Emily had to drive Jake to preschool at St. Anne's Day School just a quarter of a mile farther down the road, so she preferred to drive the children herself. Fortunately, I was on the schools' lists of approved “picker uppers” so I wouldn't have any trouble driving away with the children.
Neither had Timmy's kidnapper.
That thought stung. I wanted the world to stopâthe cars on the road, the birds in flight, even that stray dog trotting down the roadâI wanted them to stop, look my way and say, “I feel your pain.” But even the day refused to go into mourning: the sun shone in a cloudless sky, a gentle breeze blew. I sighed, and because I knew the children would approve, I reached up, released the levers, and powered down the top on my convertible. No matter what I did, life would go on.
I leaned my head back against the headrest, closed my eyes and let the sun shine directly on my face. The sun must have jump-started my brain, too, because I sat up so suddenly that I bumped my head on the sun visor. Dennis! Dennis Rutherford, Connie's husband, my brother-in-law, my
police lieutenant
brother-in-law from Chesapeake County. He'd know what to do.
I rarely called Dennis on his cell phone, except in case of emergency. After the last time he'd galloped to my rescue, he'd programmed his number into my phone as a joke. “Here,” he'd said, handing it back to me. “Don't bother with 911. Just call me.”
If this wasn't a 911, I didn't know what was.
I scrolled down to
DENNIS
and pushed the Call button. After two rings his message machine kicked in.
Damn damn damn
. I left word that I needed to talk to him and pressed End.
Something in the recording of my voice must have given him a clue to my state of mind, because Dennis rang back almost at once. When I told him that Timmy was missing, he exploded. “Jesus Christ, Hannah, how long ago was that?”
“Two hours.”
“Two hours.” He repeated my words in the same tone of voice he might have used if I'd said “two days” or “two years.” Two of anything was clearly too long. “Tell me you've called the police.”
My throat felt raw, but I managed to croak, “Of course we called the police. They're at Paradiso right now. I had to leave to pick up the kids.”
“Tell me what Anne Arundel County is doing.”
“Wait a minute.” I rummaged under the passenger seat and came up with a bottle of springwater that had been rolling around on the floor since Valentine's Day. I twisted off the cap and took a long drink, trying to soothe my aching throat before continuing. I explained to Dennis what I knew about the investigation so far, about the BOLO and the Amber Alert, while Dennis made attentive listening noisesâ
uh-huh, right, okay
. From his reaction, I assumed he didn't think we were dealing with rank amateurs.
“Who's in charge?” he asked after I wound down.