STOLEN (21 page)

On
the way to Mrs. Kolakowski’s home, Marty rehearsed what he was going to say in his
mind and related his apprehension to Sanders.

“How the hell am I going to tell this woman that the little
boy she thought died twenty-five years ago is very much alive; and the gunshot
victim she has been reading about in the newspapers is really him. I mean, this
is soap opera stuff, not real life! What kind of shock is this going to be to
the woman’s system?” Marty asked Sanders as they made their way towards the
white brick colonial home his neighbor had called home for over a quarter of a
century. The veteran detective put his hand on Marty’s back in a show of
support.

“I don’t know, Keal. This is a tough one. It happens
occasionally that a missing kid gets returned to his or her parents years after
they were abducted, but I don’t know if they follow them all up to see to see
how everyone adjusts. There was that one story. You know about that kid Steven,
who was kidnapped and showed up years later, crap, what was his last name? They
made a movie . . . Steven Staynor, that’s it. Kid came home
after years of living with his abductor and had a terrible time adjusting. His
whole family did. In fact, his older brother turned out to be some kind of serial
killer, you know the one they caught in the Yellowstone murders . . . remember?
Yeah; and the kid Steven ended up getting killed in a motorcycle accident. Then
there are those two girls . . . the one from Colorado,
Elizabeth Smart, and the other one, you know the one who was held in the guy’s
backyard all those years. You know, the one that had two babies by the
kidnapper? Jaycee Dugard. I have seen both of those young women on television
interviews and they seem to be doing extremely
well . . . they seem to be doing all right, but who the
hell knows? Then there is this last one; the three girls that the sicko kept
locked up in his house, in Chicago. I guess you would have to ask their
families. They would be the ones to ask.”

He knew Sanders was right. Who the hell knew what to expect?
Troy was kidnapped at the age of three and claimed he didn’t have any
recollection of his life before he was abducted. He doesn’t remember his biological
parents or the kind aunt who came to live with him after his mother died. What
kind of relationship could they possibly have now? Not to mention that the fact
the boy, who was now a man, was likely very emotionally damaged from years of
sexual and mental abuse and a life of dysfunction. Where was this all going to
lead? The thought crossed his mind that maybe Mrs. K was better off if she
never found out what he was about to tell her, the little boy she nurtured, the
little boy she mourned for, was only ten minutes away, recovering from gunshot
wounds inflicted on him by the man who he grew up believing was his biological father.

“What a mess!” Marty muttered under his breath, as he pulled
his vehicle in the driveway and slowly unhooked his seatbelt. He waited for
Sanders to exit the car before he made his way up the path to the front door. Marty
turned and looked at Sanders one last time and shook his head as he reluctantly
rang the doorbell.

She greeted them with a broad smile as she wiped off the
white flour that covered her hands on her apron. The sweet aroma of peanut
butter and some other ingredients he couldn’t quite recognize beguiled their
nasal passages. Mrs. K was one of the few women Marty knew that still practiced
the art of baking while wearing old-fashioned attire. She always reminded him
of June Cleaver, Beaver’s mom, adorned in a strand of pearls and a full apron
to protect her clothing while baking. Marty realized Sanders could also smell the
sweet treat from where he stood in the threshold of the doorway. Memories
flashed before him. The very same aroma of peanut butter cookies had enticed his
twin Tommy and himself on numerous occasions. The two of them would visit the
woman, using all sorts of lame excuses, knowing quite well a chewy, sweet treat
was waiting for them.

Although surprised to see Marty accompanied by someone
unknown to her, she acted as if his visit was as natural as if not a moment of
time had passed by.

Marty introduced Sanders to her and she immediately realized
that he had caught the scent of her baked goods. “Hello. You’re new. I don’t
believe I’ve had the pleasure. Please, come in. I’ve just pulled out a hot batch
of cookies from the oven, and I was hoping someone would come by and test out
the first batch. Make sure I got it right.” She used the back of her hand to
push a few stray gray hairs from her hazel-colored eyes. Some flour came loose
and dusted her eyelashes in the white powder. It had been quite a while since
Marty had been to visit, but nothing had changed. The same chocolate brown shag
rug covered the living area. Mrs. K still had the old Sony color console television
set sitting against the far wall. A small black box sat atop of it. Marty
recognized it to be a converter to change the analog signal into a digital one.
Sanders and Marty followed her into the kitchen area where a flood of memories
came rushing back to Marty.

The dining table was still the same, but the chairs had been
reupholstered. The same black and white linoleum that Marty had watched his
brother Danny and little T.J., in sagging diapers, crawl all over as babies
hadn’t changed either. But it was still as clean and bright as it was the day
it was installed. For the most part, the house was frozen in time. Nothing had
really changed since the day T.J. went missing.

Carefully taking the tray of cookies from the oven wearing a
thick oven mitt, Mrs. K placed them on the counter and then carefully used a
rubber spatula to lift each one off the cookie sheet and into a green ceramic
bowl.

She pleaded with them to sit down.

“I have a fresh container of real cow’s milk. You know that
farm stand, Marty? You know, the one over by the big flea market? Well, they
started selling fresh milk. The real stuff; you know, you have to shake it up,
because the cream it just is so thick and . . . it’s so
delicious, would you like some?”

Marty took comfort in her chatting. He was still trying to
figure out how to tell her his news. Sanders must have realized that he needed
more time to get his thoughts together, so he continued with the small talk.
“Now don’t tell my wife, ma’am, but these are the best peanut butter cookies
I’ve ever had the pleasure to taste. And that’s saying a lot, because my wife,
she’s a heck of a baker,” Sanders told her, trying to keep the crumbs in his
mouth while he carefully let the flattery out.

She broke out in a wide smile and a dash of color rose to
her cheeks. Her whole face lit up by the compliment. Marty hadn’t thought much
of how she must have missed having a brood of kids hanging around. Her nieces
were all grown and had families of their own, each one living in a different
state. The closest niece, Coleen, was living in Massachusetts, and Elizabeth,
the eldest, was living the farthest away, in Washington State. Marty’s family
was also spread out; and they all lived busy lives, forgetting to pay attention
to the wonderful woman who was there when they needed her so desperately, even
though she was going through her own horrific trauma. She had a husband, and
they seemed to be happy, but it never occurred to Marty how much she needed to
be needed until this moment.

“Mrs. K, I have something to tell you, can you come sit
down?” Marty pulled out a chair for her.

She looked at him suddenly, with caution. Fear replaced the
smile. “Oh no, Marty, it’s not your dad. Please tell me that your father is
well.”

“No.” He smiled and she smiled back. She was obviously
feeling relieved. “The Captain is fine. In fact, he’s being released from the
hospital and he’s coming home today.” Marty glanced at his watch. “In fact,
Hope is probably picking him up right now.”

“Oh, thank the Lord. You scared me for a moment, Marty.” She
took another deep breath and tapped her chest near her heart. “You got so
serious there for a minute.” She began to put the smile back on her face, but
she stopped when she glanced over and caught the expression on Sanders’ face
with her peripheral vision.

“Mrs. K, there is something that I need to tell you; and I
don’t know exactly how to say it. So please bear with me.”

She nodded; but Marty could see her hands begin to grip and
twist the towel she was holding. “Is your husband home? I would like him to
hear this as well.”

Marty saw her hands seem to relax and she stopped twisting
the towel into a knot. Marty realized, at that moment, she must have thought
there was a possibility that he was there in official capacity to give her bad news
about her husband.

“No, Al’s not here. Marty, you’re scaring me. Please, what
is this about?”

Marty was just about to tell her when his phone beeped.

Being
old-school, the Captain insisted on keeping the old landline phone system. The
old man refused, time and time again, to give up the convenience and the
reliability of the old analog phones and had them scattered throughout the
house, including the bathroom. The original black rotary dial wall phone that
hung on the wall in the kitchen was still in the same spot it had been for the
past fifty years.

The volume of the bell was set on high, and when the
unfamiliar tone began to ring, it startled both Tristan and Shane. Shane swung
his whole body around trying to locate where the loud ringing was coming from.
Tristan’s body remained stiff and his eyes remained targeted on Hope’s. His
lips were slightly apart and moving, as if he was trying to form words and speak,
but there was no sound coming out.

When Shane realized where the ringing was coming from, he
turned and was about to tell Hope to answer it, when he heard a loud banging on
the door. He immediately motioned for his captives to be silent by raising the gun
in the air and putting his finger to his lips. Hope began to lift the receiver
from the hook to answer the phone, but Shane stopped her. He shook his head,
letting her know in no uncertain terms, she should not answer the ringing
phone.

The banging on the door ceased and everyone exhaled at once.

Shane turned and walked over to the window facing the back
of the house. He glanced out the window and saw someone walking along the
perimeter of the side of the house. Keeping one eye on Hope and the Captain, he
watched through the window to make sure the person was alone. When he was
satisfied no one else was in the vicinity and lurking around, he quickly opened
the kitchen door which led to the back of the house. He grabbed Dylan by the
nape of his leather jacket, catching the boy completely by surprise.

“What the hell do you think are you doing, kid? Get in
here.” He jerked him through the door; and as soon as the boy was safely
inside, he slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt. He shoved the
startled teenager further inside and into the living area.

Once he got his balance back, Dylan lifted his head and saw
Hope and the Captain sitting on the sofa across the room.

Stunned but angry, Dylan tried to turn to face the man who
still had a tight grasp on him. He could feel the man’s knuckles pressing deep
into his cervical bone.

“That’s my bike,” he said, as he tried unsuccessfully to
shake Shane’s arm off, which was firmly holding him by the collar of his
leather jacket. They were about the same height; but Shane, ten years older,
had a lot more bulk on him and outweighed the lanky teenager by at least fifty
pounds.

Shane glared at him. Even though a few days had passed since
he saw the kid and that was for just a brief moment, he had no trouble
recognizing the boy as the owner of the Harley. There was no doubt in his mind,
this was the kid he had watched walk away from the gas pump and into the
convenience store a few days earlier.

The blast of the ringing phone began again and caught
Shane’s attention. He pushed Dylan towards the sofa, letting him see the
revolver, as a way of keeping the boy in line.

“Pick it up and don’t say anything stupid,” he directed
Hope.

Hope stood up and squeezed the Captain’s hand before she let
go. She slowly made her way to the phone and was not surprised to find her
captor was right there beside her.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Make it quick,
tell whoever it is that you’re busy and you’ll call them back.”

She bit down on her lip, trying to calm herself and with a trembling
hand, she lifted the phone off the receiver.

“Hello. Hi, honey. No, I’ve just been very busy trying to
get everyone settled in. Can I call you back? Yes, I’m fine. I have to go now.
Yes.”

Shane couldn’t hear the conversation that was being said on
the other end and it made him nervous. He mouthed for Hope to hang up.

“Yes, Marty, we’re fine. I really have to go. I promise I’ll
call you back as soon as we’re all settled in. I love you, too.” She said to
Jean, just before she hung up the phone.

Hope prayed her nervous captor wasn’t able to hear the voice
on the other end of the phone line and wasn’t able to tell by what was said
that it wasn’t Marty she was having the conversation with but his partner,
Jean.