The Kidnappers (9 page)

“Had you seen the car in our alley before?”

“Not that I remember.” Ernie glanced in the rearview mirror as he negotiated a corner. “Of course there are always vehicles out there. A few of them I've seen more than once. But the chauffeur-driven cars usually pick up passengers at the front door, not in the alley.”

“Would you recognize the car if you saw it again?” There was a sharpness in Father's voice.

“Maybe. Joey noticed some kind of emblem on the door; I didn't get a very good look at it, though. I was too busy trying not to get run over.”

“Call me—or the police—if you see it again.”

“I will, sir, believe me. Do you want me to wait in front of the police station, Mr. Bishop? There's limited time parking, but probably if I explain what you're doing inside, I can get some leeway. Otherwise, I can drive around the block until you come out.”

It was just like on TV. We went inside, and Father talked to a lady in uniform behind a desk. We only had to wait a few minutes before we were ushered into a small room. Nobody stopped Pink, so he came along, flushed and excited.

Everything was kind of a drab gray, and the floor was dirty, but there was a woman Junie's age with a bucket and a mop, cleaning it up. “Watch your step,” she warned as we passed her.

In the little room was a table with a stack of big books on it and a couple of chairs. Another officer took one of the books off the pile and opened it in front of me. “Look at all the pictures carefully,” he directed. “I'll be right through that door if you find the guy, okay?”

I didn't find him. After I finished with each book of mug shots, Pink looked through them, but neither of us saw anyone who looked familiar. I had hoped the kidnapper would be among the pictures, so they could go out and arrest him and rescue Willie. Willie must be pretty worried by now, I thought.

When we'd finished there, all of us disappointed, we were led up a broad flight of stairs and into another cubicle where we were introduced to Tony Lamont. He looked almost too young to be a cop. I thought he'd be drawing on a piece of paper, and I wondered how I was going to describe the kidnapper so he could be drawn. But Tony had a computer.

“Can you tell me the general shape of his face?” he asked as I took the chair beside him so I could see the screen, too.

Panic fluttered in my stomach. “Uh . . . I don't know. Just a regular face.” I glanced toward Father, seated beside Pink across the room, but there was no help there. I was the only one who'd seen the kidnapper.

An image appeared on the computer screen. “Like this?” the operator asked. “Take it easy, think about it, don't rush.”

I stared at the oval face. “No,” I said finally. “It wasn't that round.”

“More like this?” His fingers were quick on the keyboard, and the screen image shifted, narrowing, pulling in the cheeks.

“Maybe . . . maybe the guy's forehead wasn't that high.”

It was fantastic what he could do with the computer. The hairline came down, and I began to have a prickling feeling along my spine. “Yeah, that's closer to it. And . . . I think the ears stuck out a little more.” The ears moved, and I swallowed. “He was wearing an earring in the left ear.”

“A stud? Just a little round one or a dangling one?”

“It was a circle, a tiny circle. Gold colored. No, that's too small. Yes, like that.”

“How about the right ear?”

“I couldn't see that one. Or if I did, it didn't have an earring.”

“How about his eyes? Like this?”

I studied the sketch. “Oh, wow, it's so hard . . . I only saw him for a few seconds, you know. And I was kind of in shock at what he was doing . . .”

“How about this?” The eyes, which seemed to be looking straight at me, became wider.

“I think . . . maybe a bit farther apart. His eyebrows were thick. Dark. Yeah, that . . . that's closer.”

“How about his chin? Rounder? Pointed? Squarish?”

The face on the screen kept changing, little by little, and the kidnapper emerged. It was eerie, frightening, yet oddly satisfying, too, because by the time the police artist rested his hands on the keyboard, the kidnapper was there on the monitor. Pretty much the way I'd seen him in the few seconds before the door of the car slammed shut, hiding him behind dark glass.

Detective O'Hara walked into the room and peered at the sketch. “That look like the guy, son?”

“I think so.” The fluttering took off again in my belly. “I think a person might recognize him from this. Do you think they'll be able to find him? It's an awfully big city.”

“We'll find him,” the detective said softly. “You said there was an emblem of some kind on the car door. Can you describe that?”

I tried, but the memory was so vague. “About this size, and maybe with an initial, or several initials in it. There was gold, and bright colors. Maybe around a capital C? Or an O? I don't know.”

Pink piped up from his seat beside my father. “Have the kidnappers demanded a ransom?”

O'Hara glanced at him but didn't answer. “Run off a batch of these and get them distributed, all precincts.”

The operator pushed the
print
key, and we watched as copies of the kidnapper's likeness began to spew out of the printer. The operator gathered them up, thanked me, and walked out of the room.

Pink came over to pick up one that had fallen on the floor.

“Ever seen him before?” I asked.

“Nope. But I'll notice if I do,” he said. He folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

Ernie pulled up almost as soon as we reached the sidewalk. We showed him the picture. “This is the guy,” I told him.

“No kidding. Good work, kid,” he said as we headed for home.

I noticed he kept looking in the rearview mirror, more than usual, and I finally asked, “Is somebody following us?”

Ernie barked a laugh at this. “In this traffic, how could we tell?”

Nevertheless, Father turned around and scanned the cars behind us, and I thought maybe he was uneasy, too.

When we got home I showed the print to Sophie and Mark. They were both impressed. I got some Scotch tape and stuck it up on the inside of my bedroom door.

“Do you think they'll put it on the news?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah,” Pink told her. “Probably.”

“He only said to distribute it to all precincts,” I remembered.

“That detective wouldn't say if they'd heard from the kidnappers. You know, a ransom note or anything like that,” Pink observed. “Maybe the kidnapping is still a secret from everybody but the cops and the family. And Joe, of course, because he saw it happen.”

Just in case, we tried a news station, but there was nothing yet. “It'll probably be on later,” Pink guessed. “Are we gonna get a video or two to watch tonight, Joe?”

I stared at him. “You want to walk over to the video place to get them?”

“Oh. I forgot. I guess not. You think they've got this place staked out, watching for us to come out? You think that's why that car was in the alley?”

“Why would they think we'd go out the service exit?” I said slowly, frowning. “I almost never go out that way. If they were watching anything, I should think it would be the front door.”

“There's no place to park out there, though,” Sophie pointed out. “Nobody could just sit in a car and watch for you in front.”

True. But there was no logical reason for the kidnappers to think I'd go out into the alley.

“What was he doing out there, then?” Pink speculated. “Does he have some connection with this building?”

We couldn't think of any possibilities, but it seemed sinister that the kidnap car had been so close to us.

“Maybe Ernie could take you to the video place,” Sophie said after a short silence. “I don't think he's gone off duty yet.”

Pink perked up. “Yeah, let's see if he can! Otherwise, we're going to be stuck with what's on regular TV, and there isn't much scheduled. I already looked.”

Mom, for once, was sitting down in the kitchen, having a cup of tea. I asked about Ernie.

“No, he hasn't gone yet. He's going to stick around until the caterers have come—they're due soon—in case he needs to do anything else. There's no reason why he can't leave long enough for you to get your videos. Tell him to be careful, though, you hear?” She hesitated. “On second thought, maybe it would be better if he took Mark to pick out something for you. I kind of hate to let you out of my sight until this kidnapping thing's been resolved.”

“Mom! You know the kind of junk Mark will pick out! If Pink and I go with Ernie, nothing's going to happen!”

Even as I said it, I began to doubt the truth of that, but it was true that Mark wasn't a reliable movie picker. Once when I had to stay home with a strep throat, he brought me old Shirley Temple movies and Rin-Tin-Tin.

Mom sighed. “Well, just tell Ernie to be careful.”

“Once they run that sketch on TV,” Pink said, “there won't be any reason to try to get at Joey, will there? I mean, why else would they try to run over him except to shut him up? Keep him from identifying the guy?”

“The whole thing makes me very nervous,” Mom admitted. “But your father says we can't wrap you in cotton and keep you locked up forever. So tell Ernie to be extra careful.”

I didn't need to tell Ernie. He'd been right alongside of Pink and me when the car in the alley had nearly hit us, and nobody doubted it was
me
the driver had been aiming at.

I didn't think I was going to be scared to go out in the alley, but at the last minute, before I pushed open the door, my mouth got dry. What if the kidnapper was out there again?

He wasn't, though. Ernie was lounging in the front seat of our car, cleaning his fingernails with his jackknife, and two catering vans were just pulling in behind him.

We held the door open for the caterers. They had all kinds of containers, hot and cold, apparently. I was beginning to get hungry again, but there was no way to snitch anything here with four people from the caterers keeping an eye on things.

Ernie didn't mind going to get the videos. It was only four blocks away. “Been a long day, and I'm going to pick up Alice right after I finish,” he said as we piled in the backseat. “Going over to Ma's for a spaghetti dinner. My ma makes the best spaghetti I ever ate.”

He flexed an arm, keeping one hand on the wheel as he put the car in gear. “That's where all this muscle came from.”

There was no sign of the New Yorker, nor anybody who looked like the guy in the picture. “I'll circle the block,” Ernie said. “Otherwise I'll get ticketed for double parking. Make it quick, okay?”

To be on the safe side, in case one of the movies wasn't as good as we hoped it would be, we picked out four videos. The store was crowded, and we had to wait to check them out. Pink offered to step outside and flag Ernie down the next time he came around the block while I finished making out the slips.

I had almost reached the front door when Pink pushed in, his face so pale his freckles stood out like speckles of rusty paint.

“What's the matter?” I demanded, clutching my stack of videos.

“I just saw him, Joe! He just walked past on the sidewalk!”

“Who?” I asked stupidly, glancing past him through the glass doors to where pedestrians were hurrying past.

“Him!” Pink gasped. “The guy with the earring!”

I felt as if I'd grown roots. I didn't move until someone jostled me from behind. “Excuse me,” a guy said impatiently, and I sucked in a breath and stepped aside, feeling numb.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes! He's just like the picture the police artist made! Come on, Joey, we've got to find out where he goes!”

Out on the street Pink pointed to a figure half a block away. “See him? The guy in the dark blue jacket!”

“I can't tell from here. I can't see his face, or even the earring. Where's Ernie? Maybe we can follow him,” I said.

But Ernie, after a startled look, pointed out, “I can't follow him without going around the block first to turn around.”

“Well, then, do it!” I cried. “We're going to lose him!”

Ernie followed orders, but it was clear he thought it was a waste of time. “Even if it's him, he's long gone. Probably it's a stranger, though. There are plenty of guys walking around with earrings.”

“I saw him face-to-face,” Pink insisted as we rounded the last corner and headed back toward home, in the direction the man had taken. “He looked just like the sketch, Joe, he really did!”

Ernie was driving as slowly as he could without the traffic running right over us. “What was he wearing?”

“Dark pants, a dark blue jacket. And he was carrying a bag of groceries or something. Yeah, groceries. There was one of those long loaves of bread sticking out of the top of it, like the ones you get from the French bakery. That's all I saw. But I don't see anybody like that now.” His voice was heavy with disappointment.

If Pink had really seen the guy, he had disappeared somewhere. Vanished into a side street or into a building.

I slumped back in the seat when Ernie pulled into our alley. The caterer's vans were still there, but nobody was around.

“Do you think we should report it to the police?” Pink asked as we got out of the car.

“If you're sure it was him, yeah. They could be watching the area where you saw him, maybe.”

I didn't have to use my key to go in the service entrance. The door had been propped open with a cardboard carton, strictly against the rules, but we left it that way anyhow. Several guys in white shirts, black pants, and bow ties, with the caterer's name on their black vests, came out of the elevator, carrying containers back to their vans. I heard Ernie's voice behind us, in the alley, as they went on through.