funny to leave a paper bag full of shit on my desk. Apparently this was the highlight of the week for a lot of journos.
And a month later Jack forwarded me the Photoshop image of my face superimposed onto that of a dog taking a big, steaming poop. That's when I became convinced that the more literate some people are, the more puerile their sense of humor was.
'You should be proud, Henry. Big interview like that, not to mention the sensitive subject matter, you could have had all the media watchdogs all over you if you'd messed up. You want people talking about the story itself before the quality of the coverage. Best kind of press for a reporter is no press.'
'That's a trick I haven't quite mastered yet,' I said.
'It'll come,' Jack offered. 'You have the brains and the talent. Just keep doing what you were born to do and the rest will come.'
'It felt good to be in there,' I said.
'I bet,' Jack said, and I knew he must have written a million stories like it. 'Good mixture of fastballs and softballs. Nobody wanted you to give the Linwood kid the third degree, but there are a lot of unanswered questions.'
'That's one thing that's strange. All those questions, and yet I'm the only one asking them.'
'What do you mean?'
'This Linwood story, it's really just incredible. I mean, this family, the Linwoods, it's like the sun has finally come out after a thousand years of darkness. Now they just want to move on with their lives, let Danny be a kid again. But nobody knows where he went, who took him, and why he can't remember a thing before the day he came back.'
'So you think he'll, what, just be left alone now?' Jack said. 'Uh-uh. Now's when the vultures start circling.
Long-lost relatives come out of the woodwork. An uncle somewhere who claims to be Daniel's best friend even though he hasn't seen the kid in years, wants some of the money folks donated. Some cousin will write a book about how Danny wasn't such a good kid, maybe he picked his nose when he was a toddler and put gum in a girl's hair.
It's sad how much money there is in the misery of others.'
I had to shake my head. I knew Jack was right, but after my interview I hoped the cops would pick up the slack, ask the really tough questions. Though Danny was technically a ten-year-old boy, he'd forever be known as the one who came back. Even strangers would hesitate a second, wondering where they knew his name from. And without that closure, the questions would never cease.
'You know, it's funny,' I said. 'All this commotion over Daniel returning, yet the cops have no leads and nobody really seems to be digging that hard. Even Shelly
Linwood herself seemed unconcerned as to why the cops weren't doing more.'
'When your dog runs away, then shows up an hour later, do you really care where it went? You're just happy the thing's back.'
'This isn't a dog, Jack. It's a child. Somebody took him and kept him for almost five years.'
'Yeah, somebody took him. And then either they got bored of him or he managed to get away. And the world keeps on spinning.'
'That's your answer?'
'I don't need to answer,' Jack said. 'It's not my kid, and it's not my story.'
'You don't think it's weird that Danny doesn't remember a minute of what happened? Or where he went?'
'Strange things occur every day in this world, sport.
Just last Thursday I went to get a glass of iced tea, turned out the pitcher was empty. Now, I know I didn't finish that sucker, but did I go questioning the neighbors? Nope. I went to the store, bought another jug.'
'I have no idea how this relates to an actual human being.'
'It's hoopla, is what it is now,' Jack said. 'You wrote a great piece, Henry. Move on.'
'Hoopla? They didn't outlaw that word in, like, 1800?'
'Laugh it up, tiger. A family is back together. You want to give them closure? Right now, today, this is the most closure they're probably ever going to get. You think people like Paulina Cole are going to stop calling? You don't think there are people out there who know the juice that can be squeezed from this family is worth money? Just because you think you have scruples, son, doesn't mean everyone else thinks that way.'
'Cop cars,' I said.
Jack looked puzzled. 'Cop cars?'
'Danny Linwood told me that when he woke up, he heard police sirens, and that he saw a cop car pull up right where he'd been lying. I checked the newspapers and police reports from that day, and couldn't find anything about any crimes reported in the vicinity of Doubleday Field.'
The Stolen
'Could have been a prank. Could have been a drunk wandered off before they got there. The cops could have come for any number of reasons.'
'Could be, sure. But don't you think it's a heck of a coincidence that the cops are called to a scene where just a few minutes ago, a kid who went missing for five years appears out of thin air?'
Jack chewed on his lip, trying to figure out if there was a way to play it like this was no big deal. I felt a lump in my throat. This wasn't the Jack O'Donnell I'd grown up idolizing, the kind who asked questions until there were no more to ask. Who dug until he hit a vein or a nerve. This
Jack seemed tired, content to be apathetic, unwilling or unable to go that extra step.
'I'm going to look into this,' I said. 'Somebody knows who took Danny Linwood and why.' Jack didn't say a word, just shrugged his shoulders, stood up and walked away. I debated following him, then decided it wasn't worth it.
I picked up the phone and dialed the Hobbs County
Police Department switchboard. I asked to be connected to whoever was investigating the Linwood abduction.
Then, surprisingly, the operator hesitated.
'Hold on one moment, sir, I'm going to have to check on that.' It seemed odd that despite the fact that Daniel
Linwood was likely Hobbs's biggest story since, well,
Danny's original disappearance, they couldn't connect me to the investigating officer right away. The operator hadn't been asked many questions.
'Sorry, sir, for the delay. Hold for Detective Lensicki.'
A synthesized version of 'Copacabana' came over the earpiece. It was all I could do not to slice my ears off.
Finally a man answered with a curt 'Yeah?'
'Detective Lensicki, Henry Parker with the New York
Gazette. I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time.'
'I know who you are, Parker. I saw you yesterday at the Linwood house. Haven't read your article in today's paper. I'll get right to it when my shift is up.' He didn't sound very sincere.
'Yeah, anyway, Detective, I had a question about something Daniel Linwood told me yesterday. He said when he woke up, he heard police sirens. Now, it might have been police, it might have been an ambulance, but I couldn't find any record or report of an investigation at Doubleday
Field. Could you comment on that?'
'No problem, Sherlock. There was no investigation because there was no crime. There was no report because nothing happened.'
'So who called 911?'
'Excuse me?'
'I assume the police had a reason to show up at Doubleday Field with their sirens on.'
'We do have routine patrols, Mr. Parker.'
'Do you usually keep your sirens on during those routine patrols?' Lensicki stayed silent. 'Listen,
