Vanished (2 page)

"Not quite yet. I'm here to check out the bike paths."

The bike paths were Quanta Corporation's gift, a thank-you
for allowing them to tunnel under the city for their high-speed
train lines. The New York-Boston line and the ProvidenceMontreal line crossed about a half mile from the U-Ave sub,
deep underground. The bike paths had been built on the open
land above the trains left by the construction-a win-win for
the city and the corporation.

"The high-speeds aren't vulnerable to anything above
ground," Logan said. "That's what they're claiming."

Pappas opened a pack of mint gum and offered a piece.
"Thing is this, Logan. Homeland Security has file cabinets full
of threats against the Quanta high-speeds, and we're not talking
just eco freaks and Al Qaeda wannabes. These days anyone can
put up a Web site and muster an army of fruitcakes. My concern
is for the attention junkies who would love to get their mugs on
the nightly news. They can't blow up the high-speeds, but they
can make things look ugly on your bike paths. And remind the
public what is tunneled underneath."

Logan had seen the memos, issued his own memo back
to Central PD, and mentally prepared for September chaos
when the trains would officially begin their runs. But this
was August.

"You're here early. The president isn't scheduled to ride for
two months. Columbus Day, right?"

"Which means in four weeks the suits from Homeland and
the Service will be out in force. Those visits we'll have to arrange
through Barcester Central. Call me a dinosaur, but I'd like to
take the pulse of what's above those trains without higher-ups
calling the shots for us."

Us. A subtle attempt to persuade Logan to regard him as an
ally. Local cops weren't thrilled when the feds came sniffing
around, even on matters of national security.

"So are you doing this all the way from New York to Boston?
That's the line President Freeman will be riding, correct?"

"I chose Barcester as my area of interest."

"Because of the train crossing."

"Seems reasonable to assume that if anything's gonna go
down, it'll be here."

Above ground, the bike paths that followed the train lines
met in a rotary known simply as the Circle. Almost the size of
a city block, the Circle offered water fountains, park benches,
even a little playground.

"Want to cycle it?" Logan asked. "I can lend you a bike and
a helmet."

"Nah. I'll walk. I just wanted to stop in, say hello. As a
courtesy."

"I'll come with you."

Pappas waved him off. "Not necessary."

"As a courtesy." No fed was going to wander Logan's duty
area unescorted.

Pappas glanced about, taking in the empty desks. "Don't you
need to man the station?"

"Our mandate is face time on the streets. We're only in
here to use the john or to process someone for transport." Or
to wait for a heart-shredding letter, special delivery, signature
required.

Pappas nodded, his expression bland. "In that case-I'd
enjoy the company."

"I'm going to trade the blues for a T-shirt and shorts. We've
got extras if you'd like."

"I'm fine."

"It's ninety degrees out there. You'll draw a lot of attention
with that men-in-black thing you've got going on."

He laughed. "Point taken. OK, I've got stuff in my car."

"Grab it. You can change in here."

Pappas headed out.

Logan went to lock the letter in his desk, then decided to
keep it in his pocket, with the irrational notion that-when
he finally got the courage to open it-the letters on the page
would reveal the real truth.

Subject 58RS is positive for paternity in every way that really
matters.

AYA DE LOS SANTOS PEERED THROUGH A CRACK IN THE
door. It broke her heart to see Sarah Nolan standing on
the porch, baby on her hip.

Just as it broke her heart to have to say, "I'm sorry, Sarah. But
we're closed."

Sarah looked around wild-eyed. "Please, Ms. Kaya. I don't
know where else to go."

Kaya launched into the spiel that the city attorney had
crafted. Every time she recited the words, they caught in her
throat. "I can give you a cab voucher so you can go to urgent
care at St. Vincent's," she finished.

"But Angie knows you. I know you."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. You received a notification two weeks ago.
The clinic is closed until further notice."

Further notice forever. Kaya had worked her tail off to keep
free and convenient medical care in this neighborhood. After
the lawsuit, it was unlikely the city would find a replacement
for her. Or even try.

Sarah tried to squeeze into the space the security chain
allowed between the door and its frame. "We won't make it to
the hospital. Please. You've got to let us in."

Kaya focused on the baby, a sweet little girl named Angelina.
The baby's color was good, her lips moist. Her breathing was
regular, with no obvious rasp other than a weary sobbing. Kaya
wiggled a finger, catching Angelina's gaze. Her crying slowed as she focused. Her pupils were normal in size and followed
appropriately.

No emergency here.

"It's just a short ride," Kaya said. "The doctors there will take
good care of you. I'll call you a cab."

"No! You have to let us in. Please, I am begging you." Sarah
rubbed her chest, her breath coming in rapid bursts. Her face
drained of color, a panic attack coming on. What was this
about? In the two years Sarah had been the clinic's patient, the
girl had shown nothing but a dreary apathy.

"OK, but just for a minute. We'll get you out of the heat and
get something to drink." Kaya unlatched the chain and took
Sarah by the arm to steady her. The city attorney would have
a fit if he knew. Would he rather she risk another lawsuit by
letting this girl topple off the front steps in a dead faint?

"I've got some OJ in the kitchen," Kaya said.

"Wait. Lock the door."

"I'll only be a minute, hon. We'll get you settled down, then
I'll call you a cab."

"No! Don't send us away!" Sarah slammed and locked the
front door. "You need to check Angie out for me. She's really
hurt."

Sarah thrust Angelina into her arms. The little one nestled
against Kaya, her tearstained face dampening the front of her Tshirt. Another complication-had Sarah abused her daughter?
That would be uncharacteristic. But if Kaya found any evidence
of abuse, she'd have to call youth services.

"I'll take a quick look. But remember, I can't treat her. The
clinic's closed."

Kaya led Sarah through the maze of boxes that filled the
waiting room. Her son, Ben, was in the laundry room, bundling
up sheets and towels to go to the local shelter. She resisted the
urge to tell him to turn down his blaring music. This move was
hard for him.

Eight years of hard work stuffed into cardboard boxes and
taped shut. The clinic's supply of baby food, diapers, shampoos, and soaps would be trucked to the Barcester Food Bank.
The prescription samples were designated for St. Vincent's
urgent care department. The furniture, equipment, and house
were scheduled to be auctioned off to help defray the milliondollar settlement.

Kaya laid the baby on the examining table and pressed the
stethoscope to her chest. Angelina Nolan was a beautiful child,
with chubby cheeks and silky black curls. Despite the heat, her
skin was clammy. Dehydrated, perhaps?

"Sarah, how're you coping with this heat?"

"The welfare gave me an air conditioner. It works. Mostly."

"Is the baby taking enough fluids?"

"She was. Until..." Sarah chewed her fingernail. Sixteen
years old with a ten-month-old baby and five months pregnant
with her next. Numbers that never added up to anything but
heartache.

A quick check showed no obvious bruising. Angelina had
quieted.

"Where is she hurt?"

"Maybe her arm."

"Mom?" Ben called from the hall, startling Sarah. "Mr.
Wakefield wants me to come in early. He's going nuts down
there. Shorthanded."

"Do you mind?" Kaya said. "I'm with a patient."

"Sorry. This'll just be a minute." Her son's voice ran a full
octave in one sentence.

"Get in here. Let me speak to Mr. Wakefield."

Ben came into the room, cell phone to his ear. He glanced
at Sarah, then at Angelina. "He hung up. I thought the clinic
was cl-"

"None of your business. Call him back."

Her son glared at her, all skin and bones and attitude. "It's
my last day. Can't you just back off me for one last day?"

Until this summer, Ben had been a mannerly child who read
a stack of books a week and devoured Sudoku like chocolate.
Now everything was a battle.

"Call him back." Kaya glanced at Sarah. "Sorry."

Ben punched in a number. "Mr. Wakefield? My mother needs
to talk to you."

Angelina wrapped her fingers around Kaya's finger. Kaya
grinned and waggled her eyebrows at the baby, trying to draw
a return smile. On the phone, a raspy-voiced man rattled
on about a kid out with an ear infection and another with
conjunctivitis.

"Mr. Wakefield, sorry to interrupt, but I'll send my son right
over." Kaya closed the phone and pointed it at Ben. "Straight to
McDonald's. Nowhere else. You got me?"

He snatched the phone back. "Yeah, I got you."

"Fine. Back home the instant the shift is over."

"Fine." Ben left, stopping just short of slamming the door.

Kaya raised Angelina to a sitting position. Her breathing
was good, and again, there was no obvious bruising. She slowly
rotated the baby's arm.

Angelina tried to pull away.

A cracked collarbone? Maybe a wrenched elbow or strained
shoulder ligament. Common abuse injuries. Injuries that would
require an X-ray-and a call to youth services.

"What happened, Sarah?"

The girl shrank into herself. "My boyfriend tried to take her
from me."

Kaya held back a sigh. "Is he the baby's father?"

"No.

"Who is he?"

"Just a guy," Sarah said with a shrug.

"What's his name?"

"You don't know him."

"I know half the people in the Flats."

"I can't tell you."

"I'm going to call St. Vincent's," Kaya said. "Set up X-rays
and labs for Angelina. I'll have your social worker drive you
both over there."

Sarah shook her head so hard her ponytail bounced. "No!
Don't do that. He'll kill me if I get the authorities involved. I
just need you to fix up Angie. And then we'll take a bus somewhere far away."

"You know I can't let you take her."

"I gotta get out of here."

"Honey, I've been through tough times. I know what it's
like."

"Not this. You can't know."

"Tell me, Sarah. Please. Tell me why this guy wants your
baby."

Sarah collapsed back into the chair, wrapped her arms over
her head as if trying to disappear into herself. "It's horrible. I'm
horrible. I never should have-"

"Honey, please tell me what this guy did."

"He sold her."

"He what?"

"He said I don't need her anymore. Because I'm pregnant.
The people who bought her gave him ten thousand dollars. He
says they'll be better parents than me. I wouldn't let him take
her. He tried to yank her away from me. That's when he hurt
her. He went to-went into the other room, and I ran out the
door." Sarah burst into tears. "I love my baby. Please don't let
him take her."

Kaya cradled Angelina. "Trust me, he is not getting this
child."

"I ran as fast as I could, but I think-" Sarah coughed, choking
on her tears. "I think he might know I was coming here."

"Sit, honey. I'll call for help."

"What if he comes in here?"

Kaya forced a smile. "He can't. Haven't you heard? We're
closed."

ASMINE WAS THE WORLD TO BEN.

He was nothing to her, of course. Just a pencil-necked
dope who helped her pass summer-school algebra. The
deal had been he'd school her in math and she'd school him
in cool.