David Wiltse - The Edge of Sleep

Becker looked directly at the policeman, his eyes holding on the holstered pistol on the man’s belt.

“He’s carrying one, for instance,” Becker said.

Fred laughed. “No, I mean…”

“Did you see any weight lifters, any body builders, any men who were particularly pumped up?”

“That’s not uncommon these days.”

“Did you see anyone who looked particularly strong with a nine-year-old boy? That ought to be something a little different that you’d notice, wouldn’t it?”

Fred paused for a moment, his eyes falling from Becker to a point in the middle distance. He even took the toothpick from his mouth.

“No,” he said at last. “I don’t think I saw that combination.”

“Did you see any men who looked like that at all, with or without a kid? Did you see any men out of the ordinary, period?”

The manager shrugged again. “What’s ordinary? We get all kinds in here. We get the whole world through here, eventually. But no, I know what you mean, and no. I didn’t see anybody like that. I didn’t see anybody I’d call suspicious at all.”

Becker started to leave, then pivoted on his heel and came back for one more question. This time the policeman made no attempt whatever to disguise his annoyance.

“Were the people from the nursing home gone by the time the kids from the school got here?”

Fred stared at him blankly for a moment before Becker continued.

“You would have noticed that. Children mixing in with the walkers and wheelchairs. Did you see that?”

The cop turned to Becker and spoke to him for the first time.

“You’re thinking somebody put him in a wheelchair and took him out that way?”

“Seems possible.”

But the manager was shaking his head. “Nah, the old people were long gone. They don’t have that much attention span, you know. Or they get cranky, I don’t know. They never stay more than a couple hours before their nurses wheel them out of here. They were gone before lunch.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. I was hoping to sell them doughnuts at lunchtime. They love sweets, you know.” Fred spoke as if he were referring to 3 different species.

“Who does?”

“Old people.”

“And children?” Becker asked.

“And children. And I didn’t make any sales to either one of them, come to that. Too much supervision. Entirely too much supervision.”

“It’s like that every time,” Karen said as they drove back toward Clamden. “That’s why we call him Lamont; he seems to get around like The Shadow.”

“He’s not invisible,” Becker said.

“Of course not,” Karen said. “There’s probably another word for someone who can come and go unseen.”

“He’s seen,” Becker said. “He’s just not remembered.”

“Because he clouds men’s minds.”

Becker put his head all the way back against the headrest and tried to ignore the speed at which Karen was driving. She used the car as an instrument of her anger, battering space with it.

“We don’t know yet that this was even a snatch,” Becker said.

“It was.” She bit her words as if they hurt. Becker watched her warily.

“Maybe the boy is lost. Maybe he ran into his aunt and went home with her. Maybe…”

“It’s Lamont,” Karen said with finality. “I know him by now. I can’t see the son of a bitch, but I know him. He was there this afternoon and somehow he managed to make off with Bobby Reynolds. And unless we get so lucky it defies all the laws of probability, in two months we’ll find Bobby Reynolds in a garbage bag. And that cocksucker will be free to do it again.”

“So then let’s get lucky,” Becker said.

“What the fuck does that mean?” she spat.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just trying to calm you down.”

“Don’t. Anger is the only thing I’ve got working for me. I sure as shit don’t have any clues.”

“Maybe he doesn’t walk out with him. Maybe he does it long distance in some way. Lures them.”

“How? With a dog whistle? These are children we’re talking about, Becker. They don’t just break from a group and leave the mall. I mean, they might wander off, particularly boys, but not that far.”

“How far would they wander?”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t get pissed off at me. I’m just trying to help. I admit I don’t know much about kids anymore. You’re the expert on boys that age. It’s a serious question. How far would they stray from the group? Let’s say they saw something fascinating like… like what? What would fascinate your son?”

Karen blared her horn at the car in front of her that dared to be in the passing lane doing less than eighty-five miles an hour. The car jerked back into the right-hand lane as if startled.

“At this age? Something that would pull him away from his friends?… A sports star, maybe? Michael Jordan? But forget that. If anyone that famous was at the mall, we’d know about it. And even then he wouldn’t go without telling his friends and even then he wouldn’t leave the mall itself…”

“But he might go far enough to separate himself from the group? I mean, assuming for the moment he saw something that fascinating in the distance-never mind what that thing might be?”

“It’s possible, I suppose, but at this age he lives for his friends. It’s just so unlikely that he wouldn’t at least tell one of them what he saw…”

“My point is, he wouldn’t necessarily have to leave the mall by himself, would he? Or with Lamont for that matter.”

“Then how does he get away?”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Becker said.

“Shit!” For a second Becker feared she was going to slam on the brakes, which at their speed would have meant disaster, but she held the car on line despite her agitation.

“Just a thought,” Becker said. “I don’t have much hope for it, but

…”

“You’re saying he might still be in the mall somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check. He could be under a counter, in a closet…”

“Every shop there has to have a storage room of some kind. How much space does it take to hide a nine-year-old? Not much.” Karen had the telephone in her hand, at the same time slowing and easing into the right-hand lane.

She continued to talk to Becker as she punched in the number of her office.

“What do you think. Lamont lucks them away somewhere until everyone clears out and then slips out with them at night?”

“I don’t think that, no. But I do believe it should be checked out,” he said.

Karen told Malva in her office to wait, then turned her attention to Becker once more. “Why don’t you think that?”

“How would he immobilize his victims for that long? That mall doesn’t shut down until nine o’clock. He’s got to keep the kid quiet for at least six hours.”

“And then leaves with the cleaning crew.” Karen spoke into the telephone, “Malva, first, call the Chief of Police in Bickford, tell him to search the mall thoroughly. He’ll tell you he did, but I want him to go over it with a full body scrub, look inside every space at least… oh… say a foot and a half square. Tell him to start now, the entire mall, then you get as many men up there as we have to spare to help out. Put the arm on the state police to get their men over there, too. Tell him I want it done thoroughly, Malva, thor-ough-ly. I want the mall strip searched, understand? The missing boy might still be there… right… Then have Elias go to work on the cleaning crew that comes in at night. It must be a big one, the mall is huge. I want him to check the backgrounds of all of them to see if any of them worked at any of the other places where any of our victims went missing.” She glanced at Becker. “Anything else?”