Nick Stephenson - Eight the Hard Way

I couldn’t resist. “And they could read your handwriting?”

Mira rolled her eyes. “That’s doctors. I am the one who has to interpret their scrawls, so my penmanship is very good, thank you very much.”

“Sorry.” I wasn’t, really, because I was beginning to vaguely dislike Mira. I wasn’t sure why. Mira wasn’t overly privileged, or rude, and she certainly couldn’t be blamed too much for knocking back a few in a situation like this, two days full of helplessness. Maybe it was just the feeling the woman looked down on me, despite the fact it would be my ass on the line. Or maybe it was a hunch she wasn’t being fully truthful with me, risking her daughter.

“Anyway, I put the envelope in my mailbox—it’s out front at the curb—and went into my bedroom and stayed there like the note said.”

“Your bedroom faces the back, right?”

“Right.”

“So when did the envelope get picked up?”

“Sometime in the middle of the night, I guess. I fell asleep finally about two and then I woke up around seven, thinking it had all been a dream, until I remembered again that Talley was gone. No one had called. I went out to check and the envelope was gone from the mailbox. I came back inside, got something to eat, checked my email, turned on the TV, and I waited. They called about an hour later.”

“So that was Saturday morning...they called around eight? But you checked the mailbox around seven?”

“Yes...does that matter?”

“It may.” It indicated, but did not prove, that the kidnapper-thieves were not actually watching or listening in at the Sorkin house. I would have thought they’d have called as soon as they saw or heard Mira check the mailbox, not an hour later...unless they were very clever, and that’s what they wanted anyone to think.

“Go on. Tell me about the phone call. You didn’t happen to record it, did you?” Lots of doctors had recorders on their phones, for malpractice protection.

“No. I never thought I’d need anything like that. I mean, I don’t deal directly with patients. I was hired for my degree, not my clinicals.”

Maybe that was what bothered me about Mira: the fact that she was a part, if only a minor one, of the Big Pharma machine that kept prices artificially high and profits fat. I tried to fight my emotions by reminding myself that I had also sometimes wandered into gray areas in the service of the greater good. Who was I to judge a single mom trying to give her daughter a good life? It wasn’t as if Mira was on their board of directors, holding fat stock options.

Every snowflake in an avalanche thinks itself guiltless.

A little girl was in the hands of kidnappers, I reminded myself. Not to mention the five grand and a client that, no matter who she worked for, did not deserve her current karma.

On the other hand, the whole point of karma was that what comes around really does go around, so maybe Mira had earned this pain. Who knew? I’d only met the woman today. Maybe she was not what she seemed.

But Talley...no. I refused to buy that one. At ten, Talley was innocent. I had a child to find and, if I could, to bring home safe. “The phone call,” I reminded Mira.

“Yeah. Well, his voice was ordinary. Middle aged, as I said, I think, and probably white. At least, he didn’t seem to have any...”

“Ethnic markers?” I prompted.

“Yes. No accent, either.”

“So you mean he sounded like he was from around here?” When people said “no accent,” what they usually meant was that the person sounded like they did.

“Yes, that’s what I mean. American English, not black or Hispanic or Asian...no offense.”

I chuckled. “One grandmother was Chinese, one Mexican, but my parents and I were all born here, so...none taken.” It showed just how PC everything was getting that Mira felt she had to apologize for making a simple factual observation. “Go on.”

“He reminded me they were watching and listening, and that if I kept quiet and they had no trouble, Talley would be returned Sunday morning. It wasn’t fair, because they said Saturday night before, and now they pushed it back. Then they let me talk to her for a few seconds, I guess just to show that she was all right. She said she was okay. I could tell she was scared, but not absolutely terrified. She always was a brave little thing, like a boy.”

I bit back a reflexive lecture on gender stereotypes. Reminded me of myself and things my mom used to say. So much for enlightenment. Instead, I stuck to the facts. “Was that it? Did they say how Talley would be returned to you?”

“No, but...I mean, this is supposed to be a safe neighborhood. They could drop her off anywhere and she could just walk home, and it’s not like they care about her...oh, God.” A sob welled up from Mira and forced itself from her throat. “Please, you have to get her back.”

I reached across to take Mira’s soft, well-manicured hand in my own callused left, keeping my right back. Though I’m a leftie and hadn’t lost much capability, and to look at the right you couldn’t tell anything was amiss, people were still funny when they sensed injury, as if at some level they thought it was contagious.

“I’ll do my best. So, what next?”

“Well, I waited all day and all night, just trying to keep busy. It was agonizing. Then, when Talley didn’t show up Sunday morning, I started to panic. I got the prepaid phone and called Cole. He said he was out of town on assignment, but he asked a couple of questions that made me think to call the alarm monitoring, like I said, and found out they hadn’t used my info to get in to the building and steal the drugs. Then he told me about you, though I didn’t know who you were then. He just said you were someone connected who could help. The rest you know.”

No, I thought as I stared at Mira. I don’t know why you didn’t just phone me on your burner and try to reach me Sunday. I don’t know how that card got into my drop box. It’s one of the things about this whole deal that makes no sense. There might be a couple of other things I don’t know, but I can’t pin them down yet, and if I ask outright, I’ll tip you off for sure...

“So here it is Monday morning. Are you sure they haven’t stolen the drugs between your call yesterday and right now?”

“Well, I emailed in sick, and then got a reply from my assistant. Then I called the monitoring center again this morning, just after shift change so it was different guys. I didn’t want them to wonder about me asking the same question again. They gave me the same answer as before so...pretty sure.”

“And you have heard nothing more from the kidnappers?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Okay. You know,” I said, speaking clearly and distinctly to try to help Mira focus, “at some point we will have to bring the police into this, even if it’s just to report the whole thing after we get her back, so you need to be ready. Once I’m gone, I want you to write down everything that happened, every detail, every jot and tittle that you can think of. It will help you later when you have to make a statement, and I may find it useful too. I notice you have a fax machine. When you are done, fax it to my office at this number. Don’t email it, fax it. harder to intercept, even if they are tapping your home phone, which I believe they are not.” I scribbled my fax number down on the corner of the card photocopy and tore it off, then I added my cell. “Call me on that burner phone if you need anything, or you think of anything else.”

Mira picked up the scrap of paper and looked at it, and then nodded.

“Do you have a picture of Talley you could lend me?”

“Sure.” She retrieved a snapshot from a desk in the other room, and set it in front of me.