Rick Mofina - If Angels Fall

“At the podium, please, Mrs. Reed!” Reporters urgedher.

Reed helped her here, standing behind her as sheclutched a folded note bearing her elegant handwriting on her store’sstationery.

Ann began: “Edward Keller. I am Zachary Michael Reed’smother. He is my only child.” Her monotone voice was alien to Reed. It was asif he was hearing a Jaycees address. “I want my son back and I am begging youto return him. I have spoken with the families of Danny Becker and GabrielleNunn. Please, let the children go safely.”

Camera flashes rained on her.

“We’ve done nothing to hurt you and understand youmust be suffering terribly, as we are suffering now. Our hearts are linked inour pain. Only you can end it safely. The children are innocents. Zach, Danny,and Gabrielle have done nothing to you. Please, please, I beg you to find it inyour heart to let the children go.”

Ann finished, declining to answer questions as sheleft the cafeteria with the help of two FBI agents. Cameras trailed her as Reedstood alone, unprepared, gripping the edges of the podium. The attention turnedto him. He cleared his throat.

“Edward, if you are watching us, I’m sure you rememberme, Tom Reed. Our understanding is that no one has harmed the children. I knowyou are a good man, Edward. Please release the children. The city, the entirecountry, now knows your tragedy, knows your pain. Do not extend it to otherswho have never harmed you. Release Zach, Danny, and Gabrielle, anywhere safely.By doing that, you will prove to everyone that you are the good man I know you are,Edward. You are a smart man, who means no harm to anyone. You have alreadyproven so much, now is the time to let — ” Reed stopped, ran a hand over hisface. “Please, let the children go. Please.”

The reporters opened fire.

“Tom, do you think Keller took your son because youwere getting close to learning he had kidnapped the other children?”

“I don’t know, it’s possible. I — ”

“What kind of man is Edward Keller, Tom?”

“I — Well, I only met him briefly, so it’s hard todescribe — ”

“Today being a tragic anniversary for Keller, do youthink he is going to reenact some fantasy with the children?”

“I fear that might happen, but I hope not.”

“What about Franklin Wallace and Virgil Shook, Tom?”

“What about them?

“Both are dead. You reported last year that Wallacekilled Tanita Donner. You still think so, or do you feel he died innocently?”

“I don’t see what this has got to do with — ”

“What I’m wondering is if there is a chance policeshot the wrong guy in the Donner case. That maybe here’s a connection to EdwardKeller and the unsolved abductions?”

“The Donner case is still under investigation,” SanFrancisco’s police chief interjected. “We have nothing linking it with thekidnappings of Danny Becker, Gabrielle Nunn, and Zach Reed.”

“Have you ruled out the possibility of a connection?”

“Our focus is on the children, who we believe arestill alive and being confined somewhere by Edward Keller.”

“That’s right,” the FBI agent in charge of the SanFrancisco office added. “I think we’re getting off track. Now, we havesomething to show you. If you’ll just watch the monitors.”

He signaled to begin. Clear security video from theBerkeley hobby store rolled, showing Keller approaching Zach and leaving thestore with him. It silenced the conference for half a minute.

“We’ve made copies to distribute and we’ve enhancedthe suspect’s face in still photos. We have a news release detailing the factsof the case. I want to reiterate the enormity of the investigation and that thereward for information leading to an arrest in this case now stands at$300,000.”

Reed worked his way out of the room while theconference continued. But he wasn’t free. With reporters in tow, he tried tofind Ann. He caught up with her outside in the Hall of Justice parking lot asshe was getting into a car with the FBI agent. Three camera crews were on her.

“Ann!” Reed called.

Reporters were shouting, jogging after Reed as he ranto Ann. He turned to them. “I just want a private word with my wife, so give usa break. Can you do that, please?”

“Come on,” the agent to the reporters, “back off!”

Reed slid into the backseat with Ann and rolled up thewindows.

“Tom, I just want to go home to wait at my mother’shouse.”

“Ann, I — please — ”

“I have nothing to say to you right now, and it’s bestwe leave it that way. I have no time for you. Every fiber of my being isfocused on my son.”

“Our son, Ann. Our son.”

“He’s my son, he’s your story.”

Reed absorbed the blow.

“Ann, I swear, I’ll bring him ba-”

“Get out of the car. I want to go.”

“Ann.”

“Get out, now!”

In the Hall of Justice, four floors up in the smallwaiting area of the Homicide Detail, San Francisco cabbie Willie Hampton washolding up his cap, watching live coverage of the news conference on the littleTV at the desk of Homicide Detail’s secretary.

“Like I said, I don’t know if that’s the dude on theTV there,” he repeated. “I just got back from Hawaii and seen this tragedy allover the news. Sorrowful thing.”

Willie hung his head and shook it.

“I’m catchin’ up on the news an’ somethin’ specificcatches me ‘bout that little Danny, the boy got stolen from BART at Balboa.Something’s ticklin’ my memory sayin’ ‘Willie, you got to check this here,’see. So I get my calendar, check my ride sheet for that day. Sure enough I wasworkin’ around Balboa Park when that boy got taken.”

Willie leaned forward, dropping his voice: “Betweenyou an’ me, my last fare was a curbside, off the books, right ‘fore I left onmy vacation.” His tone rose back to normal conversation. “Picked up a dudecarryin’ a kid near Balboa same time they say Danny got taken. Somethin’strange ‘bout the man. The kid was a girl, maybe five, but I recollect her hairlooked kinda phony, like a wig maybe. I dropped them at Logan and Good, nearWintergreen. Somethin’ funny ‘bout it all. Somethin’ not right. That’s all I’msayin’, see.”

Willie examined his cap for a moment.

“Miss, how much longer you figure ‘fore someone talksto me?

Turgeon took notes as Willie Hampton told her andSydowski about his strange fare to Wintergreen. This was it, the real thing.Sydowski felt it in his gut as Willie recounted how he got lost on the dead-endstreet, turned around to find his way out, then saw his fare walking with thechild over his shoulder before entering the broken-down house. When Willie finishedhis story, Sydowski had one question.

“Can you take us to this house now, Mr. Hampton?”

“Well, yes, sir. I think I can.”

Half an hour later, Sydowski, Turgeon, and WillieHampton sat in an unmarked police car, a few doors down the street from EdwardKeller’s house.

Dispatches about the break in the case sizzled on police scanners. Reporters whocovered that morning’s new conference scurried to Wintergreen. Local TVinterrupted network shows with live reports from the curb. The house and entireyard were sealed. Identification experts from the FBI and SFPD, clad in whitehairnets, surgeon’s gloves, and coveralls — “moon-walking suits” — dissectedthe scene. The feds took the inside and the city team took the garage and yard.An FBI chopper equipped with Forward Looking Infrared able to trace body heat,even that of corpses, hovered overhead. The city guys covered every square footof Keller’s yard, using a probe and vapor detector, which picks up the presenceof body gases from decomposition. Military camouflage canopies were erectedover the area to hamper news helicopters from broadcasting the excavation ofbodies, should the task force find any.