It Only Takes a Moment (16 page)

W
hen Eliza Blake called again to tell Maria Rochas there was still no news about her mother or Janie, Maria listened attentively but said very little, even when Eliza mentioned that she had established a $250,000 reward. It crossed Maria’s mind that Mrs. Blake could be testing her, seeing if Maria had information she had been withholding but would offer up now because of the money.

“I hope somebody comes forward with something that helps, Mrs. Blake,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I must go now. I have to get to work.”

When she came out of the house, Maria noticed the police car driving by. After she dropped the baby off with her sitter, she saw the vehicle a second time. As she walked to the nail salon, she was sure the car was following her. It drove past repeatedly and then circled around to find her again.

During her lunch break, she crossed over Broadway to the car wash. Vicente was working with the group of Guatemalan men wiping, vacuuming, and polishing the cars and SUVs lined up for service. He broke away from the cleaning team when he saw her.

“What is wrong?” he asked, seeing the expression on her face. “Is there news of your mother?”

“No.” Maria’s voice cracked. “No news.”

“What then?” he asked. “What is it?”

“We have to take Rosario and get away from here.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

“What are you talking about, Maria?”

“Look over my shoulder, Vicente.”

A police car was parked on the other side of the street, the officer inside looking in their direction.

“I know, Maria. They are watching us. But we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know we haven’t, Vicente. But do you think that matters? If they don’t find Janie Blake, they are going to blame us. And if they do find Janie Blake, they are going to come back to get us and send us back to Guatemala. Either way, we have to go where they cannot find us.”

“But we can’t leave, Maria. That will make us look guilty. Besides, don’t you want to be here if your mother tries to contact us?”

“Of course I want to be here if my
mamá
calls,” Maria cried. “I am worried sick about her. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. But, Vicente, I don’t want to be deported. I want us to stay in America.”

M
ack came back into the house after walking around talking to the reporters staked outside. He found Eliza in her daughter’s room, sitting on the bed, Janie’s stuffed monkey in her lap. Mack sat down and put his arm around her.

“How’s my girl?” he asked.

Eliza stroked Zippy’s head. “Janie sleeps with this thing every single night. I don’t know what she’s going to do without it.”

Mack reached over and wiped the tears from Eliza’s face. He pulled her close, kissing her cheeks and whispering reassurances.

“This is such a nightmare, Mack. Every time I think of what she and Mrs. Garcia could be going through, I’m filled with just the most awful dread.” She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. “What if they’re hurting her? What if I don’t get her back?”

“Try not to think like that, honey. It doesn’t do any good.”

“I know,” said Eliza. “I know it doesn’t. But I keep thinking about what the psychic said, that she saw blood.”

“For God’s sake, Eliza. Please, don’t let what that nut said get to you. Don’t do that to yourself. Honestly, sweetheart, though I can understand that, as a parent, you’ll grasp at whatever you think can help, I truly
believe you’re wasting time and energy with that Stephanie Quick character.”

Eliza pulled back and looked directly into Mack’s eyes.

“If you had said that to me a few days ago, I would have been in total agreement, Mack. But the world is turned upside down. You know that saying? Extreme times call for extreme measures. Well, things are about as extreme as they can get right now. Maybe it won’t be the traditional law enforcement investigation that will find Janie, maybe it will take something that’s really ‘out there,’ beyond anything we would usually think of or trust.”

They sat quietly for a while, holding each other. Eventually, Mack broke the silence. “I think you should reconsider the offer Linus made and do that interview, Eliza.”

Eliza stiffened. “Why? So everyone can dissect each word I say, and judge every facial expression I make, to determine whether I’m sincere or not? So they can decide if I had my own child kidnapped?” Eliza shook her head. “No thanks.”

“That’s precisely why you
should
do it,” said Mack with urgency in his voice. “We know better than to underestimate the audience. When they see you and listen to you, they’ll get a true sense of you.”

“At this point, let them think what they want, Mack. I don’t really care. I just want Janie back.”

“Exactly. The focus should be entirely on finding Janie, but I have to tell you something, sweetheart. Everyone in the media outside is fixating on you, and even though nobody really believes you are capable of being a part of this, they want to know how you’re taking being considered a suspect.”

“I don’t know if that’s sick or just pathetic, Mack.” She broke from his embrace and lay back on the bed. “You know, I’ve been in this business my entire adult life. People have invited me into their homes to tell them about wars, floods, fires, hurricanes, political and business scandals, presidential elections, and everything in between. I have one of the
highest credibility and trust ratings in broadcast journalism, and now, all of a sudden, I’m being pulled into this bizarre media circus. That’s just wonderful.”

“The media’s all over this story,” said Mack, “and this is a particularly scintillating aspect of it.”

“That’s disgusting,” said Eliza.

“Be that as it may,” he agreed, “but that’s the way it is.”

Eliza was sickened by what she found on the Web.

Not only had the
Mole
published the picture of Eliza on the swing and sobbing on its front page, the gossip magazine was capitalizing on their exclusive photo and selling it to any other media outlet that was willing to pay. Eliza checked the Web sites of all the major networks. KEY.com was the only one that didn’t feature the shot.

Knowing she should protect herself and not look further, she was compelled to check anyway. There it was on mediabistro.com, tmz.com, and perezhilton.com, the Web site that promised “Celebrity juice, not from concentrate.”

Eliza logged out, aware that these sites were just the tip of the Internet iceberg. Anyone in the entire world, with access to a computer, could see her at her most vulnerable anytime they wanted, and read about the suspicion cast upon her. She was used to being in the spotlight, used to appearing on television, used to seeing her face on the cover of magazines, but there was something about being exposed on the Internet, with its eternal memory and universal scope, that truly unnerved her.

The media kept trying to make this a story about her instead of about Janie and Mrs. Garcia. Eliza resolved to do all in her power to keep the focus where it belonged.

T
he knock at the door was loud and persistent. Turning off the cartoons and closing the bedroom door behind her, Nell went to answer it as fast as she could. Cora Wallace was standing on the front stoop.

“I know you said you didn’t want any,” she said, thrusting a shopping bag toward Nell, “but I made you some chicken soup. It’s good for you, honey.”

Having no other choice, Nell opened the screen door. “Thank you, Mrs. Wallace,” she said.

“There’s also some articles in there that I clipped from the papers about the kidnapping. In case you missed them, I thought you might want them for your scrapbook.”

Nell doubted that she wouldn’t have them. She got the same newspaper Cora got and Nell had been vigilant about cutting out every story and picture that appeared.

“That was nice of you, Cora,” she said as she leaned out and took the shopping bag. Cora went to give Nell a kiss on the cheek.

“Is that vomit I smell?” Cora asked with alarm. “Have you been sick,
dear? I had the feeling you were coming down with something when you were so pale at the pool yesterday.”

“I had a sick stomach this morning,” said Nell. “But I’m fine now.”

“Why don’t I come in and sit with you for a while, Nell? We can have a nice little chat. I’ll heat up some of the soup and we can talk the afternoon away. I worry about you being out here with nobody but Lloyd to talk to so much of the time.”

“I don’t think so, Mrs. Wallace,” Nell said, begging off. “I feel better now, but I’m still a little tired. I was going to take a nap.”

“Is Lloyd in there with you?” Cora craned her neck to look over Nell’s shoulder and into the house.

“He went out for a while.”

Cora shook her head back and forth at what she saw in the house. “I can’t believe that man still keeps those rifles in the house like that. At the very least, he should have them under lock and key instead of hanging them like trophies on the living room wall.”

A
lec parked his mother’s car back in the driveway, remembering to readjust the radio setting to the station she liked so that she wouldn’t nag him later. She was always complaining that he didn’t show her enough respect in the way he treated her things.

As he was getting out of the car, his cell phone rang.

“Hey, Alec. It’s me.”

“Wassup?”

“Did you hear about the reward?”

“What reward?”

“The two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for anyone who has information that helps finds that Janie Blake kid. We should tell the cops about the black van we saw behind the dry cleaner’s.”

Alec sat down on the front stoop of the house. “When I talked to you before, you said you didn’t want to go to the police because they’d find out we were smoking weed back there.”

“I didn’t know about the reward then. Now that I’ve thought about it, we can just tell them we went back there to make out with some girls.”

“The girls might not like that,” said Alec. “Don’t you think we
should talk to them and make sure they’re onboard before we go to the police?”

“I don’t think they’ll care, especially if we stand to get that kind of money. But I guess you’re right. We should talk to them so that we all have our stories straight before we go to the cops.”

T
aking off her blindfold hadn’t made a bit of difference. In fact, in a way, it made things worse. Mrs. Garcia was in total darkness and feeling sheer terror. She could stand upright, but when she lowered herself onto the ground, Mrs. Garcia could barely stretch out to her full length.

A dank, woodsy smell permeated the stale air, causing Mrs. Garcia to cough as she crouched in the blackness. Sporadically, she felt something brush against her leg or her arm or her face and she forcefully swiped at whatever it was.

Where was she? Where was Janie? What were they doing to her? How would the child survive, all alone with those evil ones? Mrs. Garcia’s thoughts overwhelmed her. Baby Rosario was too young to understand, but Maria and Vicente must be so worried. Would anyone find her buried here? Would she die here all alone? She turned for comfort to the prayer she knew so well. Into the darkness, she prayed out loud in Spanish, interpreting the words in her thoughts.

Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Please, Holy Mother, God is on your side.”

Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres.
“Blessed are you among women. No one has more influence with him than you do.”

Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.
“And blessed is the fruit of your womb. You’re his mother, and like all good sons, Jesus will do what his mother asks him.”

Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners. I know I have not been perfect, but I have tried. I promise, I will try harder.”

Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.
“Now and at the hour of our death. Don’t let this be the end. Please send someone to find us. Yet, I think the hour of death is coming for me, Holy Mother. If that is God’s will, then that is God’s will. I will miss my Maria and her Vicente and my precious Rosario. I have had a good life. But, please, Holy Mother, save Janie. She is so young and so pure.”

Amen.

S
usan Feeney arrived at the front door with a casserole dish in hand but she was stopped by the two police officers who stood guard. After she identified herself as a neighbor and a friend and waited while one of the officers went inside to check, Susan was permitted entry. Eliza met her in the hallway.

“Oh, Susan,” said Eliza, reaching out and hugging her visitor.

“I brought you something to eat,” said Susan. “I wanted to see how you are.”

“Thank you,” said Eliza, taking the dish from her. “That’s very kind of you, Susan.”

“So many people have been calling me, Eliza, wanting to know what they can do. I hope it’s all right with you that I’m organizing a meal brigade. From now on, you’ll have food coming in here three times a day from people in town who want to help.”

Eliza shook her head and tears welled up in her eyes. “I still can’t believe that it’s come to this.”

“Have you heard anything at all?” asked Susan.

“Sure, the calls are coming in fast and furious, people saying they saw a black van with a dented rear door. Hundreds of them, but none
have led to anything yet. First, it has to be decided if a tip sounds like it’s worth pursuing and then it has to be followed up on. It all takes time, too much time.”

Eliza sank down on one of the steps of the hallway staircase and buried her face in her arms. Susan sat beside her.

“God, I wish I had paid more attention to that van,” said Susan. “If only I had thought to write down the license plate.”

“Please, don’t beat yourself up about that, Susan. How could you have known?”

“This is just awful. I don’t know what else to say, Eliza.”

“There isn’t anything to say.” Eliza reached out and patted Susan’s hand. “Just be my friend.”

An hour after Susan left, she returned.

“When I got home, I went online,” she explained. “I read about some of the things that volunteers can do to help find a missing child. I called my church and they are willing to let us use their community room to set up a volunteer center.”

“What would the volunteers do?” Eliza asked uncertainly. “Honestly, I wouldn’t want civilians getting in the way of the professional law enforcement efforts.”

“Of course not,” Susan agreed. “We’ll only do what they want us to do, things we clear with them first, only things that can free them up and support their investigation. Things like distributing flyers and helping your family with anything you need.”

Eliza thought for a moment. “There is something that I wish somebody would do.”

“Name it,” said Susan.

“Mrs. Garcia’s family lives in Westwood. If somebody could go over and take them some food and ask what else they need, I would so appreciate it.”

“Consider it done,” said Susan. “What’s their address and phone number?”

Susan wrote down the information. “There’s something else, Eliza,” she said.

“What?”

“People in town have been saying they want to hold a candlelight vigil for Janie. Would that be all right with you?”

Eliza considered the question. “I guess so,” she said. “We need all the positive energy we can get.”