The Stolen (5 page)

Just then the front door swung open, nearly knocking me on my ass, and a caravan of steely-postured suited men and women came pouring out. The first few were all hefty men wearing identical pants and blazers. They wore single wire earpieces, transparent tubing with Star ear-mold devices. They didn’t wear sunglasses, but the bulges in their jacket pockets said they would be in a matter of seconds.

I stepped aside. The men paid me no attention, stopping at the bottom of the porch, hands clasped behind them. When I turned back to knock, I found myself in front of a tall, lean man in his early fifties. He had wavy gray hair, a sharp, equine nose and the slightest onset of crow’s-feet. He wore a smart navy suit and a brilliant smile. I recognized him instantly but tried to hide my surprise. He was talking to somebody inside I couldn’t see, but when he turned around, the look on his face confirmed that he recognized me, as well. I swallowed hard.

The man cocked his head, flashed that smile again and put his hand out.

“Henry Parker, right?
New York Gazette?
”

“Yes, yes, sir.” I was flattered that he’d heard of me. Either that, or he knew why I was here.

“Pleasure to meet you, Henry. Gray Talbot.”

“Pleasure to meet you, too, Senator.”

Talbot smiled again. “Walk with me for a moment, won’t you, Henry?” It was phrased like the kind of question you couldn’t refuse.

I half nodded, then suddenly Talbot’s arm was around me, leading me down the steps. His grip was just strong enough to let me know I didn’t have a choice, light enough to let onlookers know this would be a friendly chat. Everything about the man spoke volumes of an effortless confidence, a confidence that had captured the hearts and minds of New Yorkers desperate for a politician who deep down wasn’t
quite
a politician.

Gray Talbot was currently in his fourth term as a Democratic New York State senator. In his four elections, he’d averaged sixty-two percent of the vote, and it was assumed Talbot would hold that seat until he either retired, died or decided he preferred a larger, whiter house. Talbot was currently the third-highest-ranking Democrat in the senate, behind the senate majority leader and senate majority whip. As the current majority chairman on the United States Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs, Talbot was one of the most outspoken proponents of lowering the federal interest rate. “A home for every American who wants one” was his slogan. He was often photographed with his trademark plaything, a Rubik’s Cube, constantly fiddling and working out solutions. He was quoted as saying the game kept his mind limber. Every cube he’d ever completed was kept in his home. Rumor was he needed a bookcase to house them all.

In the previous election, three years after Daniel Linwood’s disappearance, Gray Talbot had outdone himself, garnering an unheard of seventy-three percent of the popular vote. And now that man had his arm around me. Talbot wasn’t visiting Daniel Linwood for a simple photo-op. The stakes were much higher. Daniel’s reappearance wasn’t merely a human-interest story, it was important enough that one of the most powerful men in the country made it his business. Yet as we walked, there were no staged photo-ops. No handshakes. No teary hugs with Shelly Linwood. Gray Talbot, as far as I could tell, was here because he
wanted
to be.

And he was the kind of man who, if he felt like it, could squash reporters with his pinkie finger.

As Talbot led me across the lawn, I could hear groans of protest as his bodyguards held the throng of reporters back. When we were out of earshot, Talbot took his arm from my shoulder and said, “I’m glad Wallace chose you to report on Daniel. Shelly and Randy think they can trust you. I’m inclined to believe them.”

“Then can trust me, sir, I promise that.”

“Good.” Talbot turned slightly as the angry catcalls grew louder. “Ignore the parasites,” he said. “They’re jealous, that’s all. Any one of them would trade their press badge to be where you are and do what you’ve done in such a short amount of time.”

I felt a tingle down my side where a bullet had shattered my rib and punctured my lung just a few years ago, and wondered if that was really true.

“You know I used to live in a place just like this,” Talbot said, his eyes searching the tree line as though looking for a familiar sign. “Not like it is now, the way it was back when Daniel disappeared. The kind of town where you woke up every day assuming a crash position, trying just to hold on to a sliver of hope. My biggest dream growing up was to just get the hell out and make something of myself before the evil swallowed me whole. The strongest men and women aren’t the ones born with everything, Henry, they’re the ones who are born with nothing but fight like hell to get it. I know how hard you’ve fought. And I know you’ll understand what this family has gone through. To lose a child? To assume your child is dead, that you’ve outlived your firstborn? I can’t even imagine it. So be respectful. Daniel will never get back those years, and his parents will never fully repair that hole in their hearts. If their boy’s story is given the respect and honesty it deserves, well, that might go a little way toward helping. I know you have a responsibility to your job. But your job is also to mend fences when you can. This is not a tabloid story. This is not a family to be exploited. So don’t you dare treat them like one.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said.

“I know that, Henry.” Talbot stopped, turned around, made a brief gesture, and the bodyguards began walking over. A limousine pulled up, a chauffeur getting out to open the door for the senator. He shook my hand one last time, then said, “You’re a fine young man and a terrific reporter. Hopefully Daniel Linwood will have the chance to grow up and find his calling just the same.”

Then he got in and was gone.

I turned back to the house, tried to figure out what to make of the encounter. Gray Talbot was known to be a humanitarian, and his troubled background only solidified his resolve to help those in need. The Linwoods obviously fit that bill, and he was more than happy to put more weight on my story. To make sure I didn’t color outside the lines. Not that I planned to, but there’s a difference between moral obligation and having a politician flat-out tell you.

I walked back to the Linwoods’ house. This time the other reporters were silent. I rang the doorbell, and barely a moment passed before it opened to reveal a woman wearing an apron. She had curly brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a look of both joy and exhaustion in her face. The apron was covered with stains of various colors. She smiled. Her eyes were bloodshot and weary, but happy.

“Henry, right?”

“That’s right. Mrs. Linwood?”

“Please, call me Shelly. Come in. Daniel will be so happy to meet you. From what Senator Talbot told me, you two actually have a lot in common.”

S
helly led me through the foyer and into what looked like their family room. A thirty-eight-inch television sat on a wooden stand; toys and video-game cartridges were spread about haphazardly. The couches and chairs were all dark fabric and wood, the kind you buy when you expect stains to make regular appearances.

“I was going to clean up for the senator, but…you know…” Shelly said, slightly embarrassed at the mess.

“You want Daniel to get used to living in a normal home,” I said.

“Best for him to get used to a real home again,” Shelly said, nodding.

A man entered the room. He looked weary but happy. He was a slightly paunchy man with a receding hairline and deep bags under his eyes.

“You must be Henry,” he said, offering his hand. “Randall Linwood.”

“Mr. Linwood,” I said. “Thanks so much for having me. I’m grateful for you letting me into your home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Parker. With so many vultures circling us since Daniel’s return, it’s good to have someone we feel we can trust handling the story. Shelly and I have done our homework on you and your newspaper. I think we’re all in good hands.”

“You are, sir. I ask for nothing but the truth, and I give nothing but my word.” Shelly smiled at this, flicked at her eye as though wiping away a nonexistent tear.

“Anyway, I have to get back to the office. I wanted to be here to meet the senator, but if I miss any more time, Daniel’ll have to eat Spaghetti O’s for the next few weeks. Pleasure to meet you, Henry.”

“Likewise, sir.”

When Randy Linwood left, I heard a brief scuffle come from another room. Looking through the doorway, I saw two pairs of eyes peering at me from between the slats on a staircase. Just as quickly as they appeared, the legs they were attached to ran back up the stairs, whispers following.

“James and Tasha,” Shelly said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, the red still there. “They’re not really sure how to deal with all of this. We’re so happy, but all this…attention, it’s not what they’re used to. They deal with it in their own way.”

“I can’t imagine going through what you’ve been through. But I have to say, Mrs. Linwood, you’re handling it well.”

“I’d say thank you, but it’s not on purpose.”

“Have the police been helpful?”

“Oh, my, incredibly so. I actually thought it’d be much worse, but they’ve barely spent more than half an hour here since Danny came back. In fact, when the senator came, that’s the first time I saw more than two of them at the same time.” I found that strange, but allowed Shelly to continue. She paused for a moment, said softly, “We’re just so glad to have Daniel back. It’s like, a wave crashing over you when you’re ready to burst into flame. I can’t explain it. All I know is I love him now more than I ever did.”

Without thinking, my hand went to my briefcase and I started to unlatch it. My eyes snapped back to Shelly, a sheepish grin on my face.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d kind of like to keep the tape recorder running, if you don’t mind. Things like that, what you just said, they’d add a lot to the story. I don’t want the piece to be just about Daniel and how his return has affected him, but what it’s meant to your family. How it affects you, your husband, your other children.” Shelly smiled, nodded once. I took out the recorder, raised my eyebrows, clicked it on.

“Are you recording now?” she asked.

“I am.”

“So this will go in your interview?”

I laughed. “Not everything. Not what you just said, only if it relates to Daniel and your family.”

“Can you print swear words?” she asked.

“Uh…no.”

“Okay, I curse sometimes and I don’t want Daniel to get embarrassed by his potty-mouthed mother.”

I smiled at her.

Behind Shelly, I noticed a row of photographs lining a gray shelf. Inside the frames were pictures of the Linwood family. Most of the photos had just four people in them. Shelly, Randy, James and Tasha. Two pictures had been placed in front of the others. One was of all five Linwoods: Randy, Shelly, Tasha, James and Daniel. It looked like a photo from a Christmas card, all five bundled in warm sweaters, posed on a couch with smiles as big as they could muster.

“The last photo we took as a family,” Shelly said. “Tasha was only a year old.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. Then I looked at the photo next to it.

The picture was of their daughter, Tasha, when she was just a child, maybe one or two years old. Tasha wasn’t facing the camera. Her head and body were turned away, short blond hair caught in the wind. There was nothing particularly photogenic about the pic, nothing that seemed extraordinary.

“Tasha’s birthday,” Shelly was quick to point out. “There was a leak in the basement. We lost so many photo albums. This is the only one we could save. Not the best shot, but it’s what’s in it that matters. She’s just so carefree.”

I smiled back at her. “Should we get Daniel?”

Shelly bit her lip, then relaxed. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

I sat down on the couch. An oak coffee table separated me from a chair where I assumed Daniel would sit. The couch was dark brown, microfiber, half a dozen stains of varying color and size spattered about. A silver robot peeked out from beside the television set, and a few stray doll hairs were tucked between the cushions. The Linwoods’ living room was well worn, well used. The photos on the mantel didn’t look like they were placed there for Senator Talbot. I could tell from the dust patterns and slightly faded wood surrounding them that they were barely ever moved. That photo of Tasha, though, captivated my interest. It just seemed so out of place.

I placed the tape recorder on the coffee table; better to keep it in plain sight than unnerve Daniel by taking it out after he’d settled down. I breathed easy. Waited.

I heard Shelly say, “Come on, sweetheart,” and into the room stepped a young boy. He was a little over five feet tall, with dark, tousled hair and hazel eyes. Those eyes appeared less curious than slightly fearful, as though he was being led through a curtain into somewhere unknown. His cheeks bore a few freckles that surely got him teased as a kid, but in ten years would make him look cute, even handsome. His limbs were gangly, face thin. I remembered my growth spurt at about the same age, thinking I’d end up being eight feet tall and starting at center for the Lakers. Of course neither happened. For a moment I believed Daniel’s tentativeness was directed toward me, but then I realized that there was a gap of nearly five years in this boy’s memory. He wasn’t just feeling me out, but his whole life.

Shelly kept her hands on his shoulders, gentle but muscles tensed, as though he could topple over at any moment and shatter. Daniel’s only hesitation was in his gait, otherwise he looked like a regular boy, ready to lose himself in too much homework, too many video games, and the dreams of years he had yet to know.

“Hey, Daniel,” I said, standing up slightly, trying to make him relax. “I’m Henry. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Danny,” he said. “Just Danny.” No hesitation there. I saw a frown glimmer across Shelly’s face, but she said nothing.

“Danny,” I said. “Well, Danny, thanks for letting me talk to you.” His nod said he wasn’t quite as happy as me.

He smiled tentatively, sat down in a wicker-backed chair across the table from me. “Could I have a soda?” he said to Shelly. She was up and heading to the kitchen before the question was finished. When she’d disappeared, he looked at the tape recorder. “Is that thing on?”

“Yeah, it is. See that red light?” He nodded. “That means it’s on.”

“So it’s recording what I’m saying right now?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. Shit.” I looked up at him. Danny had a mischievous grin on his face, slightly red with embarrassment. “Sorry, just wanted to, you know…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That won’t be in your story, will it?”

“Nah. I’ll keep the uncensored version for my personal files.”

Shelly came back in carrying a tray with a glass of soda, another glass of water and a plate of assorted vegetables. Danny and I shared a smirk. Then I noticed what else was on the tray: a gauze pad, a bottle of what appeared to be rubbing alcohol, a cylindrical tube the size of a pen and a vial.

Shelly noticed me looking at this and said, “Daniel, sorry,
Danny
has diabetes. I thought it’d be good to give him his insulin before you got started.”

“Fine with me,” I said. “Danny?”

He nodded. Shelly said, “We did your arm this morning, right? Let’s go with your leg.”

Danny rolled up his right pant leg, exposing his calf. Shelly inserted the vial into the pen until it clicked. Then she unscrewed the cap from the rubbing alcohol, tipping just enough onto the gauze pad to wet it. She rubbed the pad on Danny’s calf until it shone. Then she took the pen, pressed it against his skin and depressed the plunge. Danny winced slightly.

Shelly removed the pen, wiped down Danny’s leg with a towel, then took the materials back into the kitchen. Danny rolled down his pant leg as Shelly returned.

“Sucks,” he said. “Dr. Petrovsky says I have to take it three times a day.”

“Petrovsky?” I said.

“Dmitri Petrovsky. He’s Daniel’s pediatrician,” Shelly answered.

I nodded. “You should listen to your doctor. This medicine helps to keep you healthy,” I told Danny.

“Still sucks.”

“Do you mind if I stay during the, the interview?” she asked.

“Not at all. If it makes Danny more comfortable, I’d prefer it.”

“Honey,” she said, “do you mind if Mommy stays?”

“No, I don’t mind if
Mommy
stays.” “Mommy” came out with a slightly sarcastic bent. I smiled. I kind of liked Danny Linwood.

Shelly, satisfied, nestled into a love seat, holding a lace throw pillow on her lap.

“So, Danny,” I said, “how are things going here? Are you having a hard time adjusting?” He shrugged. “I need a little more than that, buddy.”

“It’s okay, I guess. I’m supposed to start school in two weeks, but I don’t really want to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know anybody. They’re all going to think I’m some sort of freak.”

“They do know you, Daniel,” Shelly interrupted. “You started out in grade school with most of them. Like Cliffy Willis, remember Cliffy? Or Ashley Whitney?”

I listened.

“No,
Mommy,
I don’t remember Cliffy. Or Ashley. I don’t remember anyone.”

“Mrs. Linwood?” I said. She looked at me. Nodded. Got it. She held the pillow tighter.

“Danny, tell me about the day you came home. You came to this house, knocked on the door.” Danny nodded. “Can you tell me what happened right before that?”

Danny shifted in his chair. “I remember lying down, then suddenly waking up. I was on the ground, like I’d fallen asleep or something. I recognized where I was.”

“And where was that?”

“Doubleday Field,” Danny said. “I played peewee baseball there.”

“What position?”

“Third base.”

“Like A-Rod,” I said.

“No, he’s a shortstop for the Rangers.”

I was about to disagree, when I remembered that in Danny’s mind, he was correct. The year Danny disappeared, Rodriguez hadn’t yet become a Yankee, hadn’t yet changed positions. I wondered how much else of Danny Linwood’s world had changed unbeknownst to him.

“What happened then?”

“I remember hearing a siren. Like a police car or an ambulance. And then I just started walking home.”

“You knew how to get home?”

“Yeah, I used to walk home every day with…” Danny searched for the rest of his sentence.

“Cliffy Willis and his mother,” Shelly offered quietly. Danny looked at her angrily, then the reaction slipped away.

“Where did you walk?” I asked.

“Home,” he said. “Past the corner store and that brick wall with the graffiti of the boy that got shot a long time ago. I got scared for a second when I saw the police car pull up at the field I just left, but I didn’t think I did anything wrong so I just went home.”

“Were you hurt?”

“No. Maybe a little tired, s’all. The doctors said they found something in my system, dia-something.”

“Diazepam,” I said. “It’s a drug used to sedate. The police report said it was administered a few hours before you woke up. When you woke up, that’s when it wore off.” I said this as much to Shelly as Daniel. “I’m sorry, keep going.”

“So, anyway, I walked home, knocked on the door. James opened it. I knew it was James, but he was, like, three feet taller than I remembered. And all of a sudden everyone is squishing the life out of me. Mom, Dad, Tasha, my brothers.” I saw Shelly smile, the pillow gripped tight in her arms.

“Brothers?” I said.

“James,” he said, “my brother.”

“Right,” I continued. “Do you know how long you were gone?”

“Mom says almost five years.”

“Does it feel like you’ve been gone a long time?”