What Follows After: A Novel (10 page)

Scott had left Mr. Weldon’s property fifteen minutes ago, after searching his fallout shelter. There was no evidence Colt and Timmy had ever been there. Had they tried, they would have soon been caught by Weldon anyway. Scott had to sit through another of Weldon’s ten-minute tirades citing the many evil intentions of those “nasty commie scumbags.”

Once again, he’d proclaimed that President Kennedy would be declaring war on the Russians tonight, saying that was the real reason he had blocked off time on all three networks. Scott didn’t argue, partly because he wasn’t sure Weldon was wrong on that point, but mostly because he wanted the conversation to end as quickly as possible.

Scott got out of his car after pulling up to a 7-Eleven at the corner of A1A. He’d come there to use the telephone booth outside. Of course, there was a phone at the house, and it was only four doors down from Weldon’s. But Gina was there, and he didn’t want her to overhear his conversation. It would just make her upset. She’d start laying into him about calling work at a time like this. How could he even consider such a thing? He was always climbing the corporate ladder of success. Never satisfied with the status quo.
“Your job, that’s all
you ever talk about, your job.”
His family, always getting the leftovers.

Scott walked up and got inside the phone booth, closed the door.

Gina didn’t understand. He was doing all this for her, her and the boys. Not for himself. It had always been for them. That’s what it took to get ahead these days. He hadn’t been doing anything more than every other man at GE. She hadn’t worked a single day outside the home since the day they got married, up until ten months ago when she kicked him out.

And what was she now? Some clerk at a midsized insurance firm, still mostly dependent on his income. She could never understand the pressure he was under at a company like GE, working on the most sophisticated technology being developed anywhere in the world. They were trying to get a man on the moon before this decade was out. That’s what the president said. How could she understand anything about the kind of work he did, what it took to pull off something like that?

He dialed his boss’s number from memory, shaking his head. He couldn’t think of one other husband at work who had to put up with a wife like this. Wives were supposed to be supportive of their husbands, to stay at home, to cook and clean, take care of the kids, be there with dinner ready when he got home, or keep it warm in the oven if he had to come home late.

Okay, in the last few years that had happened a lot. But he wasn’t out gallivanting around, chasing women or spending happy hour with the boys at the bar. He was working, and working hard.

“Hello, Mr. Finch’s office, Marianne speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Marianne, it’s Scott, Scott Harrison. Just checking in. I told Mr. Finch I’d call this afternoon.”

“Oh, Mr. Harrison. Have you found your boys yet? Mr. Finch told me what happened.”

“Not yet. They’ll probably turn up soon. Either by dinner or before it gets dark.”

“I hope so. You want to speak with him?”

“Please.”

“I’ll put you right through.”

A few moments later, “Hey, Scott, Finch here. How did you make out? The boys safe and sound?”

“Not yet, Mr. Finch. Still looking for them.” He knew Finch wouldn’t like the sound of that.

“Hmm, that’s not good. I hope you find them soon. Really counting on you to supervise the setup of that big shindig down at the Castaway Beach Motel, our part of it anyway. The lockdown on the main plant shouldn’t affect things going on at the Castaway. You know there’s over a thousand coming to this thing now. Scientists and CEOs and engineers from all over the US. They’ve even decided to open it to the public here in Daytona, sort of a goodwill gesture. Let them hear all about our big plans for the future.”

“I know, sir. I’m sorry. I thought we would have found them by now. Mark Mitchell’s there now. I briefed him on everything this morning before I left.”

“Mitchell’s good, but he’s not you. This is your baby, Scott. A lot of good PR can come out of this, if it’s done right. It’s done wrong, the opposite can happen.”

“I know. I know, sir.”

“Can you at least stop in before the day’s out? Make sure everything’s on track for tomorrow?”

Scott looked at his watch. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Great. Let me know if I need to get involved.”

“You know I will,” Scott said. “But I’m sure everything will be fine. I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

He hung up and got back in his car, decided he better stop in at the house and see Gina before he stopped at the Castaway and checked in on Mitchell’s progress.

Hopefully, she’d be there and so would the boys, and they’d have a chat about a fitting punishment for pulling such a stunt and giving them all a scare.

Where was he? Scott was never there when she needed him.

Gina felt like she was losing her mind. She was sick with worry. Where could her little Timmy be? She would cry some more, but she was all cried out. She looked at the telephone again, willing it to ring. She stared at the phone every few seconds, hoping another call would come and erase the terror of that first call: the one from her sister saying Timmy had been stolen.

The FBI agent had told her some things to get ready to assist them in their search. She mentioned they had already given the best photo of Timmy to Officer Franklin. The FBI agent—she had forgotten his name—said not to worry, he’d get the photo himself, or have the Daytona police wire a copy to the FBI.

Since the phone refused to ring, Gina walked outside again and down the sidewalk, trying to get a glimpse of Scott’s car. Where could he be? He said he was just going to drive around the neighborhood some more, looking for the boys. How long could that take?

No sign of him. She walked back in the house and let herself drop onto the sofa. How could they expect her to just sit here by the telephone? Did they really think the kidnappers would call with ransom demands? If they did, she could show them a stack of bills. The money in their bank account wouldn’t even cover them.
If they wanted Scott’s family’s money, why didn’t they kidnap one of them? The kidnappers obviously hadn’t done their homework. Scott was sort of the black sheep of the Harrison clan. Why kidnap her little Timmy? Scott’s brothers were the wealthy ones; they followed their father into the banking business. Why hadn’t they taken one of their kids?

She sat up and buried her face in her hands. What was she saying? She didn’t want that either. She loved Colt and Timmy’s cousins.

She soon discovered she had at least a few more tears as she heard a car pulling into the driveway.

As Scott turned the corner onto his street, his stomach involuntarily cringed. He’d skipped lunch, but it wasn’t that. “Please let the boys be here,” he said aloud. He looked down the road and picked out their place, just in time to see Gina walk inside the front door.

She was alone.

A few moments later, he pulled into the driveway. He sat in the car, staring at the house, not sure what to think or what to do. A man was supposed to protect his wife and children. It was his job. No, it was more than that; being the protector was part of a man’s calling, something ordained by God. His father had always said that.

But Gina had made it impossible.

He got out of the car and walked toward the house. He’d just have to face whatever came and make the best of it. After opening the door, the first thing he noticed was the sound of Gina crying.

Not good.

She was sitting on the edge of the sofa, her head buried in her hands. As soon as she saw him, she stood and ran into his arms. “Oh, Scott . . .” was all she managed to get out before she collapsed into his chest and sobbed even harder.

He put his arms around her and held her tight. It was the first time they had touched this way in almost a year. He stroked her head gently and patted her back. Was she releasing some pent-up anxiety that had built up over the day, or was there some terrible new development? When appropriate, he asked, “What’s wrong, Gina? Is there any news?”

She pulled back and looked up at him. Total heartbreak in her eyes. Before she spoke, he braced for something awful.

“He’s gone, Scott,” she blurted out. “Timmy’s gone. Somebody took him. A strange man stole him and took him away on a bus.” Tears flowed down her face again.

For a moment, her words did not penetrate. Scott was still mostly focused on comforting her. But when he realized what she said, his legs became weak.

About ten minutes later, Scott and Gina were sitting beside each other on the couch. Scott had a need to know everything she had learned so far, and she had a need to say it. But neither one wanted to utter the words. They were just too awful.

Scott decided to take the lead. First, he blew his nose. He had done some crying too. He couldn’t stop it. “So Colt is definitely fine?”

Gina nodded. “He should be here with the FBI agents in about thirty minutes.”

“These are the same agents you’ve already talked to?”

“I only talked to one of them,” she said. “His name was Hammer or Hamilton. I don’t remember.”

“And they’re the ones who found Colt?”

“No. I don’t think anyone found him.” She explained the rest of the story, as much as she knew.

“Colt knows better than to leave Timmy by himself. What was he thinking?”

“Don’t go there, Scott. The FBI agent said he already feels terrible about all this. You’re only going to make it worse if you start down that road.”

Scott stood up and began to pace. “But it’s his fault, Gina. You don’t think Timmy came up with this scheme, do you?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“So who else should get the blame, if not Colt?”

“Well,” she said, “for starters, how about you?”

“Me?”

“And me,” she added quickly. “Both of us. We’re equally to blame.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face her. “What are you talking about? How are we to blame? If Colt and Timmy had simply stayed in school this morning, like they were supposed to, none of this would have happened.”

“That’s true. But I’ve been thinking. Why did they feel they had to run away? Why did they feel they couldn’t talk to either one of us about why they’re so unhappy living here?”

She had a point, Scott thought. And not a small one.

“And blaming Colt won’t bring Timmy back,” she said, “or help us find him.”

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“You are. I’ve hated what’s going on between us these last ten months. I guess I didn’t realize how miserable it’s been like for Colt and Timmy.” He sat on the edge of an upholstered chair.

“I had no idea they were so unhappy,” Gina said. “I’ve been so busy working, feels like all the time, then I come home, try to keep up with everything around here. I haven’t had time to pay attention to them.”

“You said they were heading to Mike and Rose’s place?”

She nodded. “But I’m sure they didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“I wouldn’t think that,” he said. “Mike and Rose are just fun to be around. Every time they’re in town we’re mostly laughing and enjoying ourselves. Mike’s always cutting jokes at family gatherings. You can always hear Rose’s laugh from any room in the house. That’s the place I’d have picked if I were going to run away.”

“Did I mention they’re on their way here now, Mike and Rose?” Gina stood and walked toward the kitchen, then turned to face him. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No you didn’t, and yes I would,” he said as he followed her.

“How long does it take to get here from Savannah?” she asked.

“I’d say maybe four or five hours.”

“I was just trying to see if I should plan dinner for them.”

“I don’t think so, Gina. I’m pretty sure they’d get something to eat on the way. Speaking of dinner, what time’s it getting to be?” Scott looked at his watch.

“Why, are you going somewhere? Colt and those FBI guys are gonna be here in a little while.”

“I know, but I have to take care of something just up the road on A1A. I should be back before they get here.”

“Scott . . . what could be more important than being here when your son gets home?”

“I’ll be here.”

“No, you won’t. You say you’ll be here. And you may want to be here, but you won’t. Something will come up. It always does.”

Scott walked toward her, as close as he dared. “Gina, that’s not what’s gonna happen this time. I’m involved in this big Technology Expo at work. It’s been in the paper. Have you heard about it, at the Castaway Beach Motel?”

“No, I don’t get much time to read the paper these days.”

“There’s supposed to be a thousand people showing up. All kinds of scientists, executives, and engineers from all over the country. They’re coming here to learn about the space program, and I’m in charge of GE’s part in it.”

“How wonderful for you.” Said in her typical sarcasm. She didn’t even look at him when she said it.

Up until this afternoon, he had been thinking it was a pretty wonderful thing for him. But now, it didn’t matter. He just wanted Timmy back. “You’re wrong, Gina. I care way more about Timmy. But I’ve got a ton of people depending on me, and I’ve got to head over there for just a few minutes, let some key people know what’s going on. Then I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Can’t you just call? I don’t want to be here by myself when the FBI guys come with Colt.”

“I can’t do it over the phone.” How could he explain this? He thought a moment. “I wish I could explain why, but I just can’t. It’s too complicated. But I won’t get stuck there this time. I’ll be back before Colt gets here. I promise.”

She didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t even turn to look at him, just kept setting up the coffee percolator. Finally, she said, “Guess you better go then.”