Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

“The Coast Guard’s been alerted. They’re watching theislands. We’ve got a team going to Half Moon Bay now and local people therehave been alerted,” Sydowski said. “Let’s go, Tom. Merle, we’re going to the Star news department.

“Okay, first, Tom, give us all the addresses Zach knows,so we can put people there in case he escapes or tries to call.”

Their home in the Sunset, his room in Sea Park, Jeffand Gordie’s houses, Ann’s mother’s on Fulton, Rust wrote it down.

“Let’s get going, Tom.” Sydowski took his arm.

“I have to talk to Ann.”

Dempsey’s back room was a moldy storage closet. Boxesof ancient model cars, planes, and ships teetered near the ceiling. There was acoffee-stained sink, a hot plate, a small table, and a door to a toilet. Theair reeked of cardboard, cigarettes, and loneliness. Ann sat at the tableacross from Pender staring at pictures of Zach.

“Ann,” Reed said.

She did not acknowledge him. The floor creaked when hesquatted down and took her unresponsive hand.

“Ann, I have to go with the police. I have informationthat could help us find Zach. It’s at the paper. Ann?”

She was not there.

Watching her and Reed, Pender said, “Crisis people arecoming.”

“Ann, I’ll bring him home, I swear. I swear to you.”

Reed tried to hug her, but it was awkward. She did notreact until he started to leave. She lunged from her chair at him, crushing hisneck in her arms, filling him with pain, love, and courage.

***

Sydowski and Turgeon shielded Reed from the tangle ofreporters and photographers waiting outside the hobby shop. He recognized someof them and instinctively stopped. Sydowski pushed him into the backseat of anunmarked Caprice. Familiar voices hurled questions.

“C’mon Reed, just give us something!”

“Tom, please just make a statement.”

“Is it really your son? Give us a break.”

One guy smacked the car in frustration. Reed imaginedhim returning to the newsroom, telling editors, as he himself had done manytimes, “I couldn’t get anything good — the father wouldn’t talk to us.”Cameras pressed against the glass, their eyes probing, invading.

Wait until it happens to you.

Turgeon drove. The dash-mounted cherry blazed, and shegave a few blasts of the siren, inching through crowd. The Chevy partedtraffic, gliding, speeding through Berkeley, Oakland. All the while, Sydowskiand Turgeon said nothing, allowing Reed his privacy, never once capitalizing onthe chance to ask him how it felt to be in the spotlight. They were above that.

Sydowski broke the silence as they sailed through thetolls of the Bay Bridge to San Francisco.

“Tom, I don’t think we have much time to find Keller.Tomorrow’s the anniversary of his children drownings. If he’s going to doanything, I think he’ll do it then.”

Reed looked at the Bay, remembering the time Zach wasa year and a half old and toddled into his study where he was working. Histiny, determined hands grabbed and tugged at him as he scaled his way to hisfather’s lap, where he went to sleep, sucking his bottle. How Reed leaned backin his chair, savoring his warmth, his sweet smell, and vowed to keep him safefrom all the bad things in this world.

Zach Reed’s heart hammered in his chest as he ascended from sleep to consciousness, racingthrough a mental systems check. It was all coming back to him, bubbling to thesurface.

He was not dreaming. He was waking to the nightmare.

He was kidnapped.

His mouth tasted salty. Kidnapped by some religiouscreep who talked about God. And this dungeon stunk big time. Oh boy, he was indeep trouble. Mom and Dad were going to kill him because he ran away, becausehe got sucked in by a weirdo. He had to get himself out of this mess becauseDad was going to kick his butt.

Squeak-creak.

What was that? Sounds of a TV somewhere. Where was he?He was lying on a bed. He opened his eyes. Two faces swam into focus, joltinghim alert. Kids.

These kids were familiar for some very bad reason.Zach heard the rocking noise above them.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

“Who are you?” he said.

“Who are you?” the girl asked.

Zach went numb, like the time he was five and sawlittle Luke Petric get run over by an eighteen-wheeler, mowed down like a ragdoll, and all Zach could do was stand there screaming, his scalp tingling likeas if he’d been electrocuted.

The kidnapped kids, the ones everybody was lookingfor: Danny and Gabrielle.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

That was him! Above them. The man who took them wasupstairs. What was going to happen? It was getting hard to breathe. Somethinginside was overwhelming him, on the verge of breaking. Hang on. Calm down. Takeslow breaths. Just be cool. He wanted to cry for his parents.

He was only nine.

But he was the biggest kid in this place.

The boy and girl looked different from their happy,smiling pictures. Zach wanted to cry, but Danny and Gabrielle were looking athim. Like he was supposed to save them or something.

“Who are you?” Gabrielle repeated coldly.

“Zach Reed. How do we get out of here?”

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

“We can’t. Mr. Jenkins has got everything locked up.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Jenkins.” Gabrielle pointed at the ceiling.

“Well don’t worry, that doof is not going to hurt us!”

Danny started to whimper. “Can you take me home, now?I want to go home.”

Zach put his arm around him. “Don’t worry, Danny. It’sgoing to be okay. I’m gonna fix it so somebody comes for us.”

Garbage covered the floor — fast food bags, wrappers,and containers. The basement’s only window was barred and covered withnewspapers. Zach noticed the door was wide open.

“Where are we Gabrielle? San Francisco? You know whatstreet?”

Gabrielle shrugged.

“And are there any other people here?

“Just Mr. Jenkins. My dog Jackson was here, but Mr.Jenkins said he ran away. Did you see him? He’s a blond cocker spaniel.”

“No.”

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Gabrielle burst into tears, triggering Danny’s sobs.

Zach didn’t know what to do, so he hugged both ofthem, fighting his own tears. “It’s gonna be fine. Shhh-shhhh. It’s okay.”

“He’s a crazy man!” Gabrielle sobbed. “He killed a ratand he’s always praying to us on his knees! He calls us by other kids’ names,shows us old movies of them and makes us wear their old clothes! I’m so afraid!We tried to run away, but he’s got us locked up, and he keeps making ussleepy!”

“Does he hurt you?”

“Gabrielle shook her head. “He just baptizes you.”

“What?”

“You’re going to get it soon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He puts you in the tub and dunks your head. Afterthat, he starts to call you by another kid’s name. He told us you’re the lastone he was looking for.”

“The last what?”

“Angel.”

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Zach saw the door and thought. “Does he always leavethe door open?”

“Uh-huh. So we can go upstairs to the bathroom.”

Zach looked around for something, anything that mighthelp him try to escape. He was surprised to see a corner of his backpackprotruding from the stinking garbage. He fished it out.

The creep had never touched it. Zach dumped thecontents, grabbed his father’s business card, his cash, his portable videogame, then his tiny Swiss army knife. He opened it and ran his finger over thethree-inch, razor-sharp blade. He folded it and stuffed it in the crotch of hisunderwear. Bad guys always frisked you, but a guy never checked another guythere. He was not supposed to. It was like a world rule, or something.