Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

“Does this house have a phone, Gabrielle?” Zach said.

“In the kitchen, on the wall.”

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

“All right.” Zach glanced at the ceiling and sniffed.“I’ve got a plan to get us outta here.”

Reed pushed his way through the throng of reporters, photographers, and TV crews waiting inthe lobby of the ancient fourteen-story Star Building in downtown SanFrancisco.

“Reed, is it true you know the kidnapper from a story?

This was real. It was happening.

“Has there been a ransom demand?”

Something was roaring in his ears.

“Did this guy take your son because you weresuspicious he abducted Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn?”

He couldn’t concentrate clearly.

“Any connection to the Donner case and Virgil Shook?”

His only thought was of his son.

“Can we have a picture of Zach?”

“I can’t talk now,” Reed managed.

Cameras flashed and TV lights burned as he shoulderedhis way in. Sydowski, Turgeon, Rust, and a half-dozen other police, shieldshanging from pickets and neck chains, surrounded him, ensuring no one else goton the elevator with them. It was closing when a security officer wedged hisarm between the doors.

“What the hell you doing, Butch?” Reed demanded.

The plump, gray-haired guard felt the hard glare ofthe detectives and he cleared his throat. “Uhmm, sorry, Tom. But orders are thatyou’ve been terminated. Barred from the building. Mr. Benson’s orders.”

“Back off,” Sydowski growled.

“Just doing my job. Good luck, Tom.” Butch saluted.

As Reed and the police swept through the newsroom,heads snapped around, conversations stopped and people gaped. By now, theentire department knew Zach had been abducted. And everyone knew Reed had beenfired.

He hurried to his desk, whispers following his wake.

His only crystalline thought was for Zach. Finding hisson. Ann was right. It was his fault, and if it was the last thing he did, hewould find Zach. Alive. Nobody would stand in his way. Every molecule of hisbeing was focused on his son.

Everything remained on Reed’s desk exactly the way heleft it yesterday when he was still employed. He rifled his paperwork: hisyellow file on Keller was gone. Sydowski and the others encircled his cubicleas he searched in vain.

“It was right here, a yellow legal-size folder!”

“Tom?” Molly Wilson materialized, her teary voicethickening. “I know everything. What Benson did. Zach. I’m so sorry, Tom.”

“I need help, not sympathy, Molly. Where’s my Kellerfile?”

“I’ll help you, Tom.” She sniffled, eyes going toBenson’s office. He was on the phone, reading from a yellow file folder. “I’llhelp you right now!” Wilson ran off, bracelets chiming.

Reed burst into Benson’s office, snatched the Kellerfile, and returned to his desk to show Sydowski and the others.

Benson leapt after him. “What do you think you’redoing, Reed?” Benson grabbed the file back.

“Give me that file, Benson!” Reed spat.

“Tom, I’m terribly sorry about what’s happened.Really. But you have to calm down and think rationally. This file is theproperty of the newspaper and you, as a former employee, are trespassing.”

“What?” Reed was incredulous. “What did you say?”

“I’m afraid the only way to take this file is with awarrant.”

Sydowski said, “We’ll get one right away. Linda.”

Turgeon picked up a phone. “What number to get out?”

“Nine,” someone said.

FBI Special Agent Ditmire rolled his eyes. “I don’t believethis. This is a hot pursuit. Can’t we charge this man with obstruction, Merle?”

Reed thrust his face to within an inch of Benson’s.“The clock is ticking on my son’s life! If you don’t give me that file now, itstarts ticking on yours.”

Benson blinked.

Reed continued. “Give me that file now or I hold anews conference outside and every parent in the Bay Area will know what MyronBenson at the Star is doing! Then I’ll join the Beckers and Nunns to sueyou for the wrongful deaths of our children.”

“Myron, give Tom his file, now.” It was Amos Tellwood,the publisher. Molly Wilson stood beside him. Newsroom activity ceased.

“I’ve just been fully enlightened. Tom, you have thepaper’s unbounded support.” Tellwood turned to Sydowski. “I am the publisher andyou have full access to anything we have that will expedite finding Tom’s son.We shall not lose another second debating it. Tom, you remain a Star employee. Myron, in my office. Now.”

Reed opened the folder. Sydowski and the others tooknotes, and went off to the telephones. Tom told Sydowski and the others aboutKeller’s pilgrimages to the drowning spot at the Farallons. Sydowski told himKeller had bought a boat.

The hunt for Zach Reed, Gabrielle Nunn, and DannyBecker intensified. The FBI double checked with the US Coast Guard. Yes, theFarallons had been sealed. And the FBI and California Highway Patrol each putchoppers up, searching for a new white van, possibly with rental plates, oranything trailing a boat like the one Keller had bought in Calaveras County.They had a team of police at Half Moon Bay, and alerts to all marinas.

Statewide bulletins with photos and more informationwere continually broadcast. Police stationed at every known point in Keller’spast were watching for him and the children. Detectives went to the homes ofDanny Becker, Gabrielle Nunn, and Reed’s mother-in-law in Berkeley, where aphone trap was being set up. They were setting up a trap on Reed’s newsroomline.

The SFPD tightened its surveillance of William PerryKindhart, and undercover cops turned their radar for any street talk on thekidnappings. Detectives questioned other members of Keller’s bereavement group;others canvassed every car rental and leasing outlet in the Bay Area. The FBI’spsych profiler pored over Reed’s file on Keller and discussed it with Dr.Martin. The photo department kicked out three clear pictures of Keller takensecretly when Reed had sat in on Martin’s research group and duplicated Reed’swallet snapshot of Zach. It was more recent than the framed one on his desk.Other newsrooms were calling the Star for Reed — for quotes, forphotos.

Reed found a moment’s sanctuary at an empty cornerwindow desk, where he had a partial view of the Bay Bridge between the officetowers. In his hand he held a picture Ann had snapped on a cable car a monthbefore the breakup. He traced Zach’s face with his finger.

He remembered Nathan Becker, sitting in that boutiquein Balboa, drowning in fear, clutching Danny’s picture, and Nancy Nunn pleadingbefore news cameras for Gabrielle’s life, and how he thought it was sad forthem, but a dynamite news story.

What had he become?

Wait until it happens to you.

Sydowski rolled up a chair beside him. They werealone. “How you doing, Tom?”

Reed shook his head, unable to answer.

“Hang in there. If we have anything going for us, it’sthat we know more about the bad guy than we ever did, thanks to you.”

“Do you think Zach’s dead?”

The two men searched each other’s eyes.

“No.” Sydowski gave him the truth. “Not yet.”

Reed turned to the window.

“Tom, I think whatever he’s going to do, he’ll dotomorrow on the anniversary.”

Reed agreed.

“Look, Tom, you met the guy. What does your gut tellyou?”

“He’s a madman.”

“You know we’re doing everything conceivable to findhim. Right now we’ve got nothing — no driver’s license, no record with PacificBell, utilities, voter’s registration, taxes, credit cards, nothing. On paperhe doesn’t exist. We’ve got people dealing with Fargo, following the bill hepaid for the flowers on his family’s grave. We may get a lead there. It’s aquestion of time.”