Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

Reed nodded.

“Tom, this is the guy you wanted to tell me aboutafter the Nunn case, after you met him at Martin’s group, and saw the roughhome video we had from Nunn’s party?”

“I held off because of the Donner fiasco.”

Sydowski wanted to tell him everything about FranklinWallace and Virgil Shook, but decided it wasn’t the time. “Go home and be withyour wife, Tom. She needs you. If something pops, I’ll call you. We’ll bemoving everything to the Hall of Justice very soon.”

“Walt?”

“Yes?”

“He’s our only child. He’s all we have.”

“I know.” Sydowski patted Reed’s shoulder. “Be strongfor him,” he said, then left.

Reed rubbed his thumb over his son’s picture, pickedup a phone, and called his mother-in-law’s house in Berkeley.

Ann’s mother answered, her voice quavering.

“It’s Tom, Doris. Is Ann there?”

“She’s resting. A doctor from the university came overand gave her a sedative. There’s lots of police here — Oh, they’re signalingnot to tie up the line.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Tom, I’m praying for everybody.”

“I’ll bring him home, Doris. I swear I’ll bring himhome.”

Reed covered his face with one hand. His life wasslipping away, slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do.The eyes of the whole newsroom were on his back. He heard a familiar tinkle ofjewelry and knew Molly was near. She touched his shoulder.

“Molly, I don’t know what to do. Talk to me, aboutanything.”

“Go home to be with Ann, Tom.”

“I don’t know if I can face her. She blames me.”

“Tom, no one on this earth can think clearly whensomething like this happens. No one.”

Reed turned to the window. “Thanks for gettingTellwood.”

“Benson’s a vampire. He sent me to Berkeley. I don’tthink you saw me in the pack.”

Reed looked at her.

“He went crazy when he heard Keller’s name over thepolice scanners. He grabbed your file, pulled up the Keller feature you wroteyesterday, and said he was going to turn it into a Pulitzer. Planned to keepyou out by saying you were too distraught to be reached but your exclusive Star probe led to Keller, who retaliated by taking Zach before police could catchhim.”

“What?”

“It’s true.”

“He’s diseased.”

“Tom…” Wilson’s voice broke. “Tom, don’t hate me,but what’s happened is news. I’ve got to write a story, Tom.” She glanced atthe news desk and swallowed. “They want me to interview you.”

Disgusted, he shook his head. But he knew the truth,better than anyone. From across the newsroom, a telephoto lens was aimed athim.

He had become the carrion and the ants were coming.

Zach Reed stared into his hand before closing his fingers around their ticket out of thisrat hole.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Zach crouched at the bottom of the basement stairs,primed to make his move. It was all planned. Gabrielle and Danny had goneupstairs to the bathroom. They were going to flush a whole roll of tissuepaper, plugging the toilet, then call the man.

Squeak-creak.

A TV was blaring upstairs. Good, that would help. Thetoilet flushed, gurgled. It flushed again.

“Mr. Jenkins!”

Good, Gabrielle. Good.

The squeak-creak stopped. Someone walked fromthe TV to the bathroom. A man’s voice over loud, rushing water cued Zach. Hepadded up the stairs, breathing quickly, panting. Had to be brave. Only gonnaget one shot at this. Adjusting to the light, his eyes widened at what he saw.Nothing had prepared him for this.

Enlarged pictures of Gabrielle and Danny covered theliving room wall. A worktable was cluttered with a computer, books, and papersthat had cascaded to the floor. The paint was peeling, blistering. Ignored.Windows were sealed with ragged sheets. The place was desolate. Something icy,something decomposing, reeking of death dwelled here. He spotted the threebinders, the printed names of Joshua, Alisha, and Pierce, paired with Danny,Gabrielle … and Michael.

Michael? How did he know his middle name?

Pasted to one wall were news clippings about the babygirl they found last year in Golden Gate Park. Some of them were his dad’s.Zach’s stomach knotted.

He’s going to kill us!

His eyes stung. The faces of his mother and fathercircled him. He was going to collapse. The ceiling was coming down on him. Stopit! Stop it! Stop it! Nobody’s gonna get you outta here but you. Quit being ababy. Quit it! Hurry up!

Fist balled, he found the kitchen, scoured it until hefound the phone. A wall phone with a long cord and the dial pad in the handset.He reached it easily, scanning the filthy counter for a magazine, a phone bill,anything with an address. Nothing. He swallowed.

The splash of water on linoleum echoed from thebathroom.

Hurry!

He couldn’t stop shaking. He sniffled, stretching thecord from the kitchen to the rear entrance. Wait! He tried the door. Nope.Locked solid. From the inside. Try the front door? No. No time. The cord waslong, allowing him to hide in the rear closet. Leaving the folding door openslightly, he opened his fist and by a shaft of light read his father’s businesscard.

TOM REED

STAFF WRITER

THE SAN FRANCISCO STAR

415-555-7571

It was his dad’s direct line.

Zach pressed the buttons for the number, shaking sobadly he misdialed. Please, he sniffed and redialed. There. He put the phone tohis ear, the line clicked, and began ringing.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Keller sat before the TV news coverage of Zach Reed’sabduction, his finger unconsciously caressing the body of Christ on the silvercrucifix around his neck.

They have not died. I can bring them back.

“…it is unbelievable what has happened…”

Skip Lopez, a green reporter for Channel 19’s ActionNews team gripped his microphone.

“Zach Reed, the nine-year-old son of Tom Reed, areporter with The San Francisco Star , was abducted this afternoon fromthis hobby store in Berkeley. Reed had been covering the earlier kidnappings oftwo other San Francisco children, Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn, when thislatest abduction occurred…”

Squeak-creak.

W-what was — Keller heard little voices. Water? Thebathroom?

“Mr. Jenkins, sir.” Gabriel was calling.

Keller left the living room and found Daniel andGabriel in the bathroom, fearful. “What is it?” Water cascaded from the toilet,puddling on the floor. Obviously it was backed up. He found a plunger under thesink.

“Step away,” he told them. A few solid churns clearedthe blockage. “Use the towels,” he pointed to the spilled water. Returning tothe news, he stopped in his tracks.

Michael?

He hurried back to the bathroom.

No sign of Michael.

Sydowski shouted Reed’s name again.

Why was he yelling his name, holding up his phone?

“Tom! Tom, it’s Zach!”

Zach?

But Zach’s kidnapped, how could he be calling? … Zach!

The impact of the call hit Reed like a bullet, nearlyshort-circuiting his brain. He flew across the newsroom, seizing the phone fromSydowski.

“Zach!”

“Dad?” He was crying.

Reed lost his breath. Had to think clearly.

“Zach, where are you?”

“I don’t know. I think we crossed the Bay Bridge.”

“Are you hurt?

“No, but I think he wants to do something bad to us.”

“Us?”

“GET A NUMBER, ADDRESS, AREA CODE,” Sydowski scrawledon the note he thrust into Reed’s face.

“Zach, is there a number — ”