It Only Takes a Moment (15 page)

Y
ou’re listening to 1010 WINS. You give us twenty-two minutes and we’ll give you the world.”

Alec couldn’t wait for the time when he could afford to get his own car and wouldn’t have to listen to this boring station every time his mother let him borrow hers. As he leaned over, about to adjust the dial, he heard the newscaster’s voice.

“The search continues for Janie Blake, the seven-year-old daughter of KEY News anchorwoman Eliza Blake, who disappeared with her babysitter on Monday. Police are looking for a black van with a dented rear door that they think could be related to the case.”

Alec thought of the van he had seen behind the old dry-cleaning plant on Monday afternoon when they had sneaked back there to smoke some more weed. The van was black, but he hadn’t noticed if the back door had been damaged. He had been too stoned to notice.

But he did remember the woman sitting in the front seat of the van. She had stared right at him, her eyes penetrating and defiant. He felt there was something scary about her, but had chalked it up to his own paranoia. But what if the woman in the van actually had something to do with the little girl’s kidnapping?

Alec pulled out his cell phone to call his best friend and explained what he’d heard on the radio.

“Did you notice if the back door was damaged?” Alec asked.

“Yeah, it
was
dented. I remember looking at it and thinking that it would cost a lot to have that fixed.”

“Do you think we should tell the police?” Alec asked.

“I don’t know, man. We’d have to explain what we were doing out there.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Alec agreed. “And that wouldn’t be cool.”

J
anie was curled up in the fetal position, cold, afraid, and alone. To divert herself, she tried to think about some of her favorite stories. The one that kept coming into her mind was Hansel and Gretel, where the little boy and girl had left a trail of crumbs as they went deeper and deeper into the dark forest. That had been a good plan, but the birds had eaten the pieces of bread, and Hansel and Gretel were left in big trouble. Just like she was.

She was worrying about what had happened to Mrs. Garcia and wondering if her mother would ever come to find her when she heard the door open.

“You’ve got to eat something,” his voice growled.

Janie shook her head.

“Don’t give me a hard time, your highness. Now get up and eat.”

Janie felt the man’s tight grip on her arm as he pulled her up into a sitting position. She cried out as her knees scraped against the mattress. She felt the man push against the hot skin around the wounds and she whimpered some more.

“Stop crying, goddamnit. You did that to yourself and now I’m stuck
listening to you whining about it. Open your mouth,” the man commanded.

She hiccupped as she tried to get control of herself.

“Daddy told you to open your mouth.” She felt his hand grab her chin and pull it downward. “Now do it.”

“Please. You’re hurting me. Stop.”

“Do what you’re told and I won’t have to hurt you, kid.”

She opened her mouth. She forced herself to eat three mouthfuls of the cereal he spooned into her before throwing up all over herself, the mattress, and him.

He closed the bedroom door, peeling off his shirt as he walked down the hall to the kitchen. Pulling a plastic trash bag from beneath the kitchen sink, he scraped the vomit from his shirt into the bag. As he washed his hands, he swore to himself. When he had come up with this plan, he hadn’t fully understood just how much of the dirty work was going to fall on his shoulders.

The phone rang.

“Well, did you take care of the maid?”

“Yeah.
Mamacita
’s not going to be giving us any more grief.”

“Good. Now there’s something else we’ve got to do.”

“What?” he asked as he ripped off a paper towel from the roll on the counter.

“We’ve got to hide the van. It’s all over the media…the cops are looking for a black van with a dented back door. Get rid of it and just use the Jeep from now on.”

“Great. Where should
we
put it?”

“What’s with the sarcastic tone?”

“Well, it’s interesting you always say
we
, when
I’m
doing all the work here.”

“Hey, this was all your idea. You knew going in that you would be the one taking care of her most of the time.”

“Try
all
of the time,” he snarled. “You’re not here enough.”

“I’m there as much as I can be.”

He didn’t answer.

“Remember? You said this would make things better for us,” she said.

“I know I did. But maybe I’m not cut out to be a daddy.”

“Don’t say that now, not when we’re in the middle of everything. You just have to hang in there.”

“Easy for you to say. She didn’t just puke all over you.”

“She’s sick?”

“Who knows? When I tried to get her to eat something, she threw it all up, back at me. Maybe she’s getting a bug, maybe she’s nervous. How am I supposed to know what’s wrong with her? That’s a woman’s job.”

Now that the kid didn’t have the old lady anymore, he figured it would be a good idea to give her something to keep her occupied. Not for her sake but for his.

He took the small television with the built-in VCR from the other bedroom and carried it across the hall. Cracking the door, he peeked inside and saw that Janie was sleeping.

Finally. Now if she’d only stay asleep.

He put the TV down on the floor outside the small room, stole out of the house, and quietly opened the driver’s-side door of the van. Reaching in, he put the vehicle in neutral. He stood at the side of the open door, steering with one hand and using all his strength to push the van forward and into the large shed. Afterward, closing the wooden doors of the shed, he was satisfied that he had barely made a sound.

S
he heard noise coming from above her. The sound moved from one side of the ceiling to the other and then it stopped.

Mrs. Garcia got up from the floor of the root cellar. She looked up and called into the darkness.

“Help! I’m down here. Please, help.”

She waited. No answer, but she heard another, different sound. A quick, rhythmic noise. Footsteps?

She screamed frantically. “
¡Auxilio, soccoro!
Help! I’m down here!”

The sound grew fainter until it faded altogether. The only thing Mrs. Garcia could hear then was her own labored breathing and the rush of her pulse pounding in her head.

D
aisy lay with her head resting on her paws, guarding the door to Janie’s bedroom.

“Good girl,” said Eliza as she bent down to stroke the dog’s soft coat. “You miss them, don’t you, Daisy? You miss our Janie and Mrs. Garcia.”

The yellow Lab looked up with sad dark eyes.

“She’s about two, right?” asked Stephanie Quick as she stopped to pet the dog.

Eliza cocked her head to the side. “That’s right. How could you tell that?”

Stephanie shrugged. “Just a guess.”

Eliza glanced at Agent Gebhardt whose face remained expressionless. All three women entered the child’s bedroom, while Mack stood in the doorway. Agent Gebhardt positioned herself just inside the room, watching intently as Stephanie walked around. She stopped at the plush toy that sat in the small wicker rocker.

“Janie’s favorite?” she asked.

“Yes. Zippy,” answered Eliza as she heard her own voice crack. “She
loves that monkey. Her grandparents gave it to her on her third birthday. She has taken it to bed with her every night since.”

Stephanie nodded and continued walking around the room.

“This one is Janie’s?” she asked, pointing to one of the twin beds beneath the window.

Eliza nodded.

“May I?” Stephanie asked as she reached for the pillow.

“Why not?” said Agent Gebhardt. “We’ve already been over this room with a fine-tooth comb.”

Stephanie picked up the pillow and wrapped her arms around it, hugging it to her body. She closed her eyes and was silent. “Do you really want me to tell you everything?” she asked when she opened them.

“Yes.”

“I see blood.”

Eliza took hold of the bedpost to steady herself.

“She’s hurt?”

“Yes. It doesn’t seem to be too serious, though,” Stephanie said softly. “But, Janie
is
in pain.”

“Anything else?” Eliza forced herself to ask.

“Yes,” said Stephanie. “I see a bridal veil.”

“You mean a Communion veil,” suggested Eliza. “Janie will be making her First Communion soon.”

“No,” said Stephanie. “It’s definitely a bridal veil.”

As Stephanie was leaving, she put something in Eliza’s hand. “Hold on to this and keep concentrating on Janie,” she said.

Eliza studied the silver medallion emblazoned with the signs of the zodiac.

“And one more thing that’s coming through to me,” said Stephanie. “John is glad you are still wearing the perfume he loved.”

Eliza looked up sharply. How could Stephanie have known about the perfume? Stephanie’s words brought the memories flooding back.

On one of the last nights in the hospital with John, he had been doz
ing as she entered the room. He was very thin, flushed with fever, his breathing was labored. She bent down to kiss him.

John opened his eyes, his gaunt face cracking into a weak smile as he saw her. She smiled back and leaned down to kiss him again. She felt the heat coming from his emaciated body as he held on to her.

Then, in a wheezing voice, he had whispered, “Oh, you smell so good.”

She had promised herself then and there that she wouldn’t use another scent. And she hadn’t.

“Well, what did you think?” Eliza asked.

“I think she’s a phony,” said Agent Gebhardt.

“I don’t know about that,” said Eliza. “She blew me away with that remark about my husband and the perfume. How would she know that was one of the last things he talked about?”

“Stab in the dark,” said Agent Gebhardt dismissively.

“But she got a lot of other things right, too. Daisy
is
two years old and Zippy
is
Janie’s favorite toy. Plus, she picked out Janie’s bed.”

“First of all, she had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing the right bed,” said Agent Gebhardt. “And when you look carefully at both of them, the quilt on the one by the window looks slightly more laundered, more used than the one on the other bed.”

Eliza listened.

“Have you ever mentioned the dog in any interviews you’ve done?” asked Agent Gebhardt.

“Yes,” said Eliza. “Several times.”

“Did you mention how long you’ve had the dog?”

“I think I’ve mentioned that we got her as a puppy when we moved out here to Ho-Ho-Kus,” said Eliza.

“Which is something anybody could look up and discover that that was two years ago,” said Agent Gebhardt.

“Come to think of it,” said Eliza, “in the pictures that were taken for one magazine spread, Janie was holding Zippy in her arms, and I think the caption even read that the stuffed animal was her favorite.”

Agent Gebhardt managed a wry smile. “See what I mean? This woman doesn’t have any special gift. Anybody could have told you what she did.”

“What about the bridal veil?” asked Eliza.

“What about it? The woman is in la-la land.”

Eliza forced herself to ask her next question. “What about the blood she said she saw? What about Janie being hurt and in pain?”

“Stephanie Quick knows you’re vulnerable, Eliza. She is preying on that vulnerability and banking on the fact that you’ll do anything you can to get your child back. She doesn’t know if Janie is hurt or not, but by telling you that your child is in pain, she is manipulating you. She’s counting on your maternal need to rescue your child and she thinks you’ll grab at anyone or anything that might lead you to her.”

“She’s right,” said Eliza. “I do want every lead followed, and if it’s Stephanie Quick who can get Janie and Mrs. Garcia home, so be it.”

T
he police had him on their radar screen, but they couldn’t be watching him every minute of the day. If he was careful, he’d be able to get what he needed with nobody being any the wiser.

Hugh found his car turning in the direction of Camp Musquapsink. He knew the route well. He had driven it before.

Rather than keeping him far away, all the attention in the press about the children’s day camp had enticed him to come closer. Hugh knew he was taking a chance by going back, but he couldn’t help himself. The gnawing hunger inside him needed to be fed.

He snapped on the radio and listened to the latest reports. There was nothing new since the last time he’d listened. The cops were still looking for the black van. That was good. Let them look for the van instead of the car he was driving.

About a quarter mile from the entrance to the camp, Hugh pulled off the road, steering the car along a dirt driveway, overgrown in places with bushes and weeds. At a wide spot, he maneuvered the vehicle, turning it around so that it was pointed in the direction of the road in case he had to make a hasty escape.

He traveled the rest of the way on foot, his nylon pants swishing as he
walked. Hugh stopped short of the stone pillars that marked the entrance, watching as a stream of adults proceeded onto the camp’s grounds.
There must be some sort of parents’ visiting day going on,
he thought.

Hugh knew several spots around the perimeter of the camp that served as his observation posts. He selected the one that had the greatest probability of giving him exactly what he needed.

Through the separation in the fence, he could see the little girls. In brightly colored bathing suits that hugged their firm, undeveloped bodies, they lined up at the edge of the pool, listening to their swimming instructor while their parents cheered from the sidelines. They were mesmerized by their precious darlings. As was he.

Hugh felt his breathing grow heavier. Perspiration broke out across his brow and trickled down the sides of his face. Feeling his knees weaken, he leaned against the fence.

Isabelle would kill him if she knew he was taking a chance like this.