It Only Takes a Moment (23 page)

W
ord that Eliza was in the house had spread through the Broadcast Center. Scores of employees were waiting for her outside the studio when she finished the interview. Some offered verbal encouragement, some hugged her, some squeezed her hand. All of them were eager to express their support.

“Thanks so very much, all of you,” said Eliza to the group. “I know you’ve all been working hard on covering this story. Keep praying, will you? Keep Janie and Mrs. Garcia in your thoughts and make those thoughts positive ones. All right?”

Annabelle, B.J., and Margo waited as the crowd slowly dispersed. When they were finally alone with Eliza, Annabelle suggested they go upstairs together. Once in the anchorwoman’s office, she told Eliza where she and B.J. were thinking of going in the morning.

“What do you think, Eliza?” Annabelle asked. “Does it sound like a good idea?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” said Eliza. “The thing that intrigues me most about the idea is the
M
part of this—that the anonymous letter came from the Marzipan Bakery.”

Annabelle exchanged glances with B.J. and Margo. “I hate to admit it,
but that’s what pushed me over the top in favor of going, too,” she said.

“Even though the FBI agents blow me off any time I bring it up, they have to admit that Stephanie was right about the green paint on Janie’s face,” said Eliza. “And, honestly, I don’t care what anybody says: When she told me that John is glad I still use the same perfume I wore before he died, she was telling me something that nobody else would know. Nobody could know that was one of the last things we talked about.” Eliza paused. “We’ll see if she’s right about Janie and the blood. I have the sinking feeling that she is and that Janie is hurt.”

It was quiet in the room for a few moments until Margo broke the silence.

“Okay,” she said. “The FBI and the police are doing their thing, investigating in ways we can’t, with a network and technology we don’t have. But, since they aren’t paying any attention to Stephanie, what do we have to lose in going over the things she says she’s seen?”

“Well, besides thinking the letter
M
is involved,” said Eliza, “Stephanie said she dreamed about Janie being near moving water.”

“God, that’s so general,” said B.J. “Where do we even start?”

“I know it is,” said Eliza. “She also said she dreamed about a bridal veil in connection with Janie.”

“A bridal veil,” mused Margo. “All little girls like to dress up as brides. Could that have something to do with anything?”

Annabelle shook her head as she considered the clue. “I know Tara is obsessed with her Barbie doll, and the bride’s costume is her favorite one of all.”

Eliza bit her lower lip, determined not to cry. “Janie loves dressing up her Barbie in that white dress and veil, too.”

“But how could a bridal veil translate into where Janie is, or what she’s doing?” asked B.J.

“I don’t know,” said Eliza. “I don’t know.”

“All right,” said Margo. “What else?”

“That’s all really,” said Eliza. “But Stephanie did give me this.” She
took the silver zodiac medallion from her pocket. One by one, the others examined it.

“She told me to keep it with me and keep concentrating on Janie.”

“As if you could do anything else,” said Annabelle.

“Look,” said B.J., wanting their meeting to end on a hopeful note. “We’ll go up to the Marzipan Bakery early in the morning and see what we can find out there. And we’ll keep on thinking about the water and the bridal veil.”

A
t the end of the day, one of the paintball guns had not been returned. The manager scanned his records and saw that it was the gun rented by Phil Doyle. The manager wasn’t terribly concerned. Doyle was a regular and he could simply have forgotten to return it. The manager was sure he’d be getting a call from Phil tomorrow, apologizing for the oversight and promising to bring the gun with him the next time he came up to play.

The manager finished locking up the lodge. As he walked to his car, he noticed that there was still one other vehicle left in the parking lot. He recognized it as Phil’s old GMC Jimmy.

God, is he still up there in the field? Is he hurt? Or is he just lost
?

The manager called the police, knowing full well that no search was going to start until the morning light. As long as he wasn’t hurt, Phil Doyle was the kind of guy who would have no problem surviving a night in the woods.

B
eneath the window, the kidnapper crouched over the body. He examined the gun the man had carried and realized it had not posed a threat after all.

Some of the white paint that covered the front of the man’s jumpsuit had not dried completely. He carefully zipped open the jumpsuit and found a wallet in the pocket of the guy’s shorts. Inside was a driver’s license and eighty-three dollars. He took the bills and put them in his own pocket before throwing the wallet back in the jumpsuit and zipping it up again.

Next, he checked the pockets of the jumpsuit itself and found the plastic necklace that spelled out Janie’s name.
How had this guy gotten that?

As he looked at the beads, he realized that he hadn’t seen the necklace since earlier in the week.
Was Janie wearing it on the day she tried to run away? Had she dropped it on the road on purpose? If she had, she was a clever little thing.

He decided it didn’t really matter how the necklace had ended up in Phil Doyle’s pocket. What mattered was, if he hadn’t killed this guy the whole operation could have failed.

Now, what to do with the body?

W
ith her head bowed, Mrs. Garcia sat on the cold floor. Her lips moved as she silently prayed the rosary, counting the Hail Marys and Our Fathers off on her fingers.

The dim bulb had started flickering several hours before. Mrs. Garcia had turned it off, afraid that it would burn out completely. But as she heard the noise coming from above, she pulled the string to light the root cellar.

Her muscles ached as she stood up but she wanted her ears to be closer to the ceiling so she could hear better. Her ankle throbbed from the twisting it had taken when the rotted step collapsed beneath her. She shifted her weight to one side as she listened. It sounded like something was being dragged across the ground overhead.

Someone was up there!

Mrs. Garcia positioned herself beneath the ventilation pipe and started screaming. She yelled and yelled, thinking of Janie, thinking of her precious family. She called for help until her voice grew hoarse.

Finally, she sank back down on the cement floor and wept.

R
honda watched as her husband went to the living room and turned on the television, clicking the remote repeatedly until he settled on CNN. While she straightened up the kitchen, Rhonda heard the reporter’s words.

“It’s been another frustrating day in the search for Janie Blake and her caretaker, Carmen Garcia. This morning FBI agents raided the apartment of a New York City man who had sent a fax demanding two million dollars in exchange for the child’s safe return. The ransom demand turned out to be a hoax, with no evidence whatsoever that the man had anything to do with the child’s abduction.”

She put down her dish towel, walked into the living room, and sat next to Dave on the sofa.

“If they only knew that Janie was safe with us, there wouldn’t be all this hoopla,” she said.

Dave clicked off the television and stalked into the kitchen. Rhonda could feel her husband’s anger as he went to the refrigerator, took out a can of beer, and slammed the door shut.

“Janie, Janie, Janie. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to hear you talking about that child?” he yelled. “I’m sick and tired of her.”

“First of all, please keep your voice down, Dave. She’ll hear you. Second of
all, the whole world is talking about Janie,” said Rhonda. “You can listen to them talking about her on TV, but you can’t listen to me talking about her?”

“It’s different,” said Dave. “You know, I have a breaking point, too, Rhonda. I’ve had it with this Janie thing. She’s not Allison and she’s never going to be Allison.” He lowered his voice. “Allison is dead, Rhonda. She was hit by a car and she died. Nobody can take Allison’s place.”

“I know that,” Rhonda said softly. “Janie is her own person. Why can’t you love her like I do?”

He looked at the expression of hurt and bewilderment on his wife’s face. “Forget it, I’m going in to take a shower.”

She listened to the sound of the water running and decided what she should do. Rhonda went to the child’s bedroom.

“Come, Janie. Daddy’s very upset. We’re going to go out for a while and let Daddy cool down and relax.”

Rhonda picked up the stuffed monkey sitting on the bed. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said. “We’ll take Zippy with us.”

On the way out of the house, Rhonda stopped in the kitchen and took a large knife out of the drawer. If things got bad enough, she might need it.

I
nvestigators know that perpetrators often come back to the scene of their crimes. Because the amateur video had been taken at Camp Musquapsink, it got priority over the other leads that were streaming in.

Picture enhancement showed a man wearing a black jacket, peering from behind a separation in the fence. His complexion was ruddy, his eyes glistened, and there was a rapt expression on his face.

As a start, comparisons were made with the mug shots culled from a list of child predators and other criminals known to be living within a fifty-mile radius of the camp and Eliza Blake’s home.

T
he grounds of the historic Ho-Ho-Kus estate that had been used by George Washington as one of his many headquarters during the Revolutionary War became the place where the crowd met to pray for Janie Blake and Carmen Garcia. Hundreds picked up candles as they streamed through the gates of the Hermitage property. The media were represented as well. Reporters and camera crews mingled with the crowd, getting video and conducting interviews.

The Town Car dropped Eliza off after the interview. Mack and Katharine and Paul were already there. Many neighbors and other people in town she had never even met came up and offered support. Among the well-wishers was Stephanie Quick.

“I wanted to be where there were so many individuals joining in the common hope of finding Janie,” she said as she held on to Eliza’s hand. “I hope all their energies help me see things better.”

“I hope so, too,” Eliza whispered. She was about to turn away when she remembered. “I should tell you I just talked about you in an interview that will air in the morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I shared the visions you shared with me, hoping that it might help. But, don’t worry, I didn’t give your name.”

“I’m not worried,” said Stephanie. “It’s fine if people find out that I’m helping you. The more people know, the better, I think.”

A hush came over the crowd as Eliza took the podium. She looked out over the audience, their faces illuminated by the glow of candlelight. She was touched by the sight of young children being held by their parents, the teenagers, the middle-aged, and the elderly citizens of the town, united by the common goal of finding Janie and Mrs. Garcia and bolstering their family.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Eliza began, wishing that Maria and Vicente Rochas were there. “I can’t tell you how much our family appreciates your keeping Janie and Carmen Garcia in your thoughts and prayers and how much you are encouraging us by standing along with us here. Knowing that all of you are supporting Janie and Mrs. Garcia, and are determined that we find them, somehow makes things a bit more bearable and a lot less lonely. So thank you for that and please, continue praying that we find Janie and Mrs. Garcia.”

Music played and songs were sung. When the vigil was over, Eliza turned to Katharine and Paul and insisted that her in-laws go home to their apartment in Manhattan.

“Get a good night’s sleep,” she urged. “Mack’s with me. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, dear?” asked Katharine.

“Absolutely,” said Eliza. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Eliza shook hands and accepted people’s warm greetings for almost an hour. Before she left to go home, she sought out Stephanie.

“Well, did you get any feelings?” asked Eliza.

Stephanie cracked a smile. “It doesn’t work like that,” she said. “It’s not immediate. But since you said you’d spoken about the things I’ve seen regarding Janie, I told a couple of reporters here tonight, too. Maybe that will help. Maybe somebody will be spurred by my visions.”