It Only Takes a Moment (17 page)

I
n an area buried beneath ground level at the KEY News Broadcast Center, a dozen men wore surgical masks and latex gloves as they opened every envelope and package that arrived. An inspection team had been organized when anthrax was found at major media outlets after September 11. In the months and years that followed, as things got back to normal, the staff was reduced to just two or three inspectors on a shift. Now, with the Blake kidnapping, the staff was up to full strength again as every bit of correspondence and every delivery and shipment was thoroughly examined.

“Here’s a good one,” said one of the staffers after he sliced open a package and inspected the contents.

The man who stood next to him craned his neck to see what was inside the box. “Gosh, those look good,” he said, reaching for one of the cookies. “Smell good, too.”

“Hold on there, bro,” said the inspector, pulling the box away. “How can you be so sure that they aren’t tainted?”

“I’ll take the chance,” said the other, snatching a sugar cookie out of the box.

As his coworker chewed, the inspector read the note written on the back of an order form stuck inside the package. He read it again, showed it to some of the other guys in the room and then reached for the telephone to call the security chief.

“I think there’s something here you should take a look at, Joe. Can you come on down?”

Joe Connelly read the shaky handwriting:

There was no signature, but the box and the order form were stamped with the name and address of a bakery in a town Joe knew was about an hour outside Manhattan.

He read the letter again.

Joe didn’t like the feeling he got from this one.

When he got back to his office, Joe called Eliza’s assistant.

“Paige, it’s Joe Connelly. We’ve got a package downstairs, a package of baked goods. Were you expecting anything like that for Eliza?”

“Not that I know of, Joe.”

He read her the letter.

“Ugh, creepy,” said Paige.

Joe gave her the information on the bakery. “Ever gotten cookies before from this place or ever heard of it?” he asked.

“No, it doesn’t sound familiar,” said Paige. “But let me write down the name of the bakery again. I’ll check in my files and get back to you.”

“Marzipan Bakery,” said Joe. “M-A-R-Z-I-P-A-N.”

A
fter polishing all the glass cases and wiping all the counters, Rhonda methodically went shelf by shelf, removing the stale cookies, cakes, and pies. Next, she made a list of treats that needed to be replaced by the baker who would come in overnight and bake the goodies to be sold the next day. Finally, she closed out the cash register and deposited the contents in the zippered bag that the owner would take to the bank. She stashed the bag in the designated spot where the owner would find it when he came in tonight after the bakery was closed.

Rhonda took off her apron and stopped in the tiny bathroom at the back of the kitchen to wash her hands, reapply her lipstick, and run a comb through her hair. She knew that Dave was waiting for her and would be eager for her to get home and take over. But she wanted to make a stop at Wal-Mart first.

She drove the few miles to the store and found a spot in the crowded parking lot. As she walked in, Rhonda was conscious of the security cameras that were aimed at her and everyone else who walked into the place. But she had nothing to hide. She was just a mother coming in to buy things for her child.

In the children’s section, some of the summer clothing was already on sale. Rhonda found a cute pair of baby-doll pajamas, pale blue, which would bring out the blue in Janie’s eyes. She also selected a pair of yellow flip-flops. In the
toy department, she picked out a few coloring books and a large box of crayons. Rhonda opened the carton and was delighted with all the vibrant shades. Surely, Janie would be pleased, too.

At the end of the long aisle, a display caught Rhonda’s attention. Hanging from a fake palm tree was a variety of stuffed monkeys. There was one that looked just like the monkey that Janie had held in one of the magazine articles, the monkey Janie called Zippy.

Rhonda slipped the toy from the tree and proceeded to the checkout counter, excited that she was bringing home something that would please the child. Having Zippy with her again would surely make Janie happy.

S
he didn’t hear the bell the first two times it rang. The third chime cut through the din. Isabelle turned off the vacuum cleaner and answered the door.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said when she saw the policeman standing on the stoop.

“Is your brother around?” he asked, looking over Isabelle’s shoulder, trying to see inside the house.

“No, he’s out.”

“Where did he go?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure.”

“When will he be back?”

“Don’t know that, either.”

“Would it be all right if I came in and took a look around?”

Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “Do you have a search warrant?”

The officer looked uncomfortable. “No.”

Isabelle shrugged and held up her palms. “Sorry.”

“All right, have it your way,” said the cop. “But you know, when you don’t cooperate voluntarily, it doesn’t look good. It looks like you have something to hide.”

“We don’t have anything to hide,” said Isabelle. “Not a damn thing. But because Eliza Blake’s daughter is missing, you guys are automatically looking at every convicted sex offender as a suspect. I know how it works.”

“Then you know I’ll be back,” said the policeman as he turned to leave.

Isabelle called after him, “When are you guys going to stop persecuting him? He did his time, he’s paid his debt to society. Give him a break.”

“Once a pedophile, always a pedophile,” said the policeman. “They don’t change.”

“Yeah, but they can work hard to control themselves,” Isabelle said vehemently. “That’s what Hughie is trying to do and it doesn’t help when you guys are always harassing him.”

“You went
where
?” Isabelle stared incredulously at her brother.

Hughie didn’t look up from the project he was working on.

“Have you lost your mind, Hughie? What were you thinking? Going up to Camp Musquapsink was
incredibly
stupid. You know how dangerous it was to go back there. A cop was already here. What do you think would happen if he knew you were peering through the fence at the camp today?”

He put down the scissors and looked with remorse at his sister. “I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “There are so many of the kind I like there.”

“Like booze to an alcoholic,” Isabelle muttered as she sat next to her brother at the kitchen table.

“What did you say?” asked Hughie.

“Nothing. But, Hughie, you
can’t
go back there again. Understand?”

“Um-hmm.”

She took hold of her brother’s arm and stared into his eyes. “Promise,
Hughie. You’ve got to promise me you won’t go back to the camp again.”

“I promise I’ll try, Isabelle.” He picked up the scissors again and started cutting.

“They’re going to come back, Hughie. The cops will come back,” said Isabelle. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Eventually, maybe,” said Hughie. “But unless they have something we don’t know about, they aren’t going to get a warrant and they won’t be able to come inside. There’s no probable cause here. I’ve been careful.”

Isabelle watched Hughie while he continued to cut. His tongue stuck out slightly over his lip as he concentrated. “Why do you have to do that, Hughie? Why can’t you act your age?”

“Don’t you think a little girl would like these?” asked Hughie as he held up the paper dolls he had fashioned.

Resigned, Isabelle got up from the table. “I’m going out for a while,” she said. “If you need me, call me on my cell.”

She left as her brother gathered up his paper dolls and went into the bedroom.

“W
e’ve got something. We’ve got a lead.”

Eliza hovered over the FBI command desk, listening intently to every word passing between Agents Gebhardt and Laggie. “A customer at the Burger King in Frankfort, Kentucky, saw a child matching Janie’s description in the front seat of a black van with a dented back door in the parking lot. The guy took a picture with his cell phone and wrote down the license plate number before the van drove away.”

“So what happens now?” asked Eliza, taking Mack’s hand and squeezing it.

“We find out who owns that van and track it down. The Kentucky State Police are all over it.”

Eliza went to the telephone to share the first hopeful news they’d received with Maria, but there was no answer at the Rochas home.

I
t was awfully quiet in there.

The man opened the door to see what was going on inside the room. Janie lay on the mattress, the blindfold tied around her eyes, her mouth open as she breathed softly and rhythmically. An occasional hiccup jolted her little body.

He walked over to the bed to get a closer look. Those knees of hers were red and angry-looking. Pus had started to coat the scrapes and cuts. He reached out to touch Janie’s face. Her cheeks and forehead were hot to the touch.

He closed the door quietly. Wondering if an infection had set in, he decided he should probably get something at the pharmacy before she really got sick. The last thing they needed was a kid with a raging fever, or worse. Now would be the time to go, while she was asleep.

Since the episode yesterday when the old lady had helped the kid out the window to run away, he’d nailed sheets of plywood over the windows in the bedroom and bathroom. Once he locked the door to the room, there was no way for Janie to escape.

Cursing the kid for putting him in this situation in the first place, he
got into the Jeep and drove the fifteen miles on curving country roads into town, finding a parking space in front of the drugstore. Inside, he picked up a shopping basket and filled it with gauze pads, cotton balls, witch hazel, antiseptic ointment, and some children’s aspirin. He decided to throw in a thermometer as well.

At the checkout counter, the cashier emptied the items from the basket and rang each one up. “Did you find everything you need?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” the man grunted. “Actually, do you have anything for hiccups?”

The cashier looked up. “We have some things in aisle three, but I don’t know how well any of them work. I hear there’s no cure for hiccups.”

“Screw it then,” said the man. “Why waste the money?”

He threw some bills down on the counter, waited for his change, and left quickly.

While he was driving back, his cell phone sounded.

“How is she?”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Oh, that’s good. She needs that. What are you doing?”

“I’m driving back from the drugstore.”

“You left her alone?”

“Don’t worry. She’s not going anywhere. I made sure of that.”

“What did you go to the drugstore for?”

“To get stuff for her knees.”

“They’re worse?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Worry about what
you
have to do. Did you send the ransom demand yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?” he asked with exasperation.

“The money isn’t the issue here,” she pleaded. “It’s never been about
the money. I think we could be making a big mistake in asking for a ransom.”

“We’ve been over this again and again. If we want to get away with this, we have to ask for a ransom so it looks like that’s our motive for taking her. Nobody says we have to pick it up. That oughta really confuse the FBI.”

M
ack made a call to Range Bullock, alerting him to the FBI lead in Kentucky.

“I don’t know if you want to send our own crews or let our affiliates cover it if the cops find Janie,” said Mack. “But Eliza and I want to make sure that KEY News has the best coverage. I didn’t tell the feds I was going to call you.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Mack,” said the president of the news division. “I’ll get the wheels rolling.”

“I wish I could be there when they catch this lowlife,” Mack muttered. “I’d wring his neck and rip him a new one while I was at it.”

“That’s why it’s a good idea for you not to be there,” said Range. “Besides, Eliza needs you to be with her. How is she, anyway?”

“Most of the time, she’s putting up a brave front, but this is killing her, Range. Eliza is strong, but this is beyond what anyone should have to bear. Let’s hope this Kentucky lead is the answer, because I don’t know how much more she can take.”