CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I wrestled with what to do with Melinda's message. It exonerated me, only I wasn't sure anyone else would interpret it that way. She sounded too messed up. If I called Russo or Cheever and played it for them, they might accuse me of doping her up and forcing her to talk. I decided to hold on to it and hope she called back.
As I drove away from the FBI building my cell phone rang. It made my heart race, and I answered without bothering to look at the Caller ID.
“Carpenter here.”
“Jack, this is Sally McDermitt. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time.”
Sally was a former investigator with the Broward County Police Department who had worked in my department. I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice.
“Not at all. What's up?”
“I'm in a bind and need some advice,” she said. “A little girl disappeared inside the Magic Kingdom this morning, and we can't find her.”
Sally had left the force to take a great-paying job running internal security for the Walt Disney World theme parks in Or lando. The last time we'd spoken, she'd had over a thousand people working for her, was driving a BMW convertible, and lived in a gated community whose other residents included a bunch of well-known professional golfers.
“How old?” I asked.
“Just turned three, a little red-haired cutie named Shannon Dockery. She's a roamer, so her parents didn't immediately notice she was missing.”
“Where was she last seen?”
“Right outside the ‘It's a Small World’ exhibit.”
I had worked with Disney on child abductions before. This exhibit was a favorite among toddlers and their parents.
“A pro,” I said.
“That's what we think,” Sally replied. “The park's exits have been closed. We're only letting people out through the main parking area. That way we can get a good look at everyone who leaves.”
“You think the abductor is still inside the park?”
“I sure do. We looked at the videos at all the entrances right after this happened. No kids fitting Shannon's physical description have left the park today.”
Sally had caught a live one. It was rare, and I'd compare it to catching a giant marlin on a fifty-pound reel. She didn't want him to break the line and get away, and for her sake, neither did I. I could drive home by way of Orlando, and I decided to offer my services.
“Want me to help you catch him?”
“But you're four hours away,” she said.
“Actually I'm in Tampa, working on another case. I can give you a couple hours of my time, if you think it will do any good.”
“Oh yes, please come. You were always the champ when it came to finding little kids.”
I could hear the desperation in Sally's voice.
“I'm leaving right now,” I said.
“See you in an hour,” Sally said.
“You've never seen me drive,” I told her.
An elevated section of I-275 ran over the city of Tampa, and I found an entrance ramp without trouble and headed east. Within minutes I was merging onto I-4, which dissected central Florida and led directly to the forty thousand acres owned by the Walt Disney World Corporation. I pushed the Legend up to eighty and kept it there.
Children had disappeared at Disney since the theme park opened over thirty years before, and many of those abductions had become case studies for people who made their living looking for missing kids. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the abductor was a parent who'd lost custody in a bitter divorce battle and decided to take the child back and go judge shopping. But every once in a while, a stranger stole a child.
The folks who ran Disney did everything imaginable to stop this from happening, and employed a small army of well-trained security people to keep the place safe. Public areas were outfitted with the latest in high-tech surveillance monitoring equipment, including a special magnetic bar code in every ticket that allowed Disney to monitor the flow of people around various attractions. But in the end, they couldn't protect every child who passed through the turnstiles, and the unthinkable happened.
Disney was not really in Orlando, despite what the television and magazine advertisements said. It was located in the tourist town of Kissimmee, ten miles due south. Forty minutes later I took the exit and followed the signs for the MGM Theme Park, one of five theme parks that Disney owned in Orlando. Buster's window was at half-mast and his ears were standing straight up.
I drove down the twisting road to MGM, then hung a right at the employees only sign and EMPLOYEES ONLY sign and spotted Sally standing in the parking lot. She wore chinos and a blue sports shirt with the Disney logo embroidered on the breast. Her hair was a natural gold, her eyes the color of the ocean. Like me, she was a native Floridian, and she lived for the outdoors. I once joined her for a run after work, and she nearly killed me. As I got out I offered her my hand, but she hugged me instead.
“It's good to see you, Jack,” she said.
“It's good to see you, too,” I said.
“I'm scared about this one.”
“I know. That's why I came.”cSally led me into a four-story glass-and-concrete building with no markings. It was painted an earthy green and blended into the lush landscaping that towered around it. The security for Disney's theme parks happened here, though few people knew it. At Disney, buildings were either part of the experience or invisible.
A basement hallway echoed our footsteps, and we entered a small carpeted room with a one-way mirror covering one wall. On the other side of the mirror sat a young couple crying their eyes out. The girl was pleasantly plain and covered with freckles, while the boy had a pinched face and an old-fashioned crew cut. Both were small of stature and dressed in simple country clothes.
“Meet Peggy Sue and Tram Dockery,” Sally said. “We kept them apart and interrogated them. Their stories are consistent.”
My breath fogged the mirror. “That his real name?”
“Yes. Hails from Douglas, Georgia, which is about two hundred and fifty miles from here as the crow flies. He manages a barbecue restaurant that his father owns. First thing he told me was he'd done a stint in prison for selling weed, and had been on the straight and narrow ever since.”
“Believe him?”
“He offered up the information. Yes, I believed him.”
“His wife looks young,” I said.
“Her driver's license says she's nineteen.”
“How old is their little girl?”
“Nearly three.”
“So he got her pregnant when she was sixteen.”
Sally didn't respond. She'd already looked at the facts and decided the Dockerys hadn't orchestrated their daughter's disappearance and sold her for money to buy crack, or to pay off a loan shark, or put a down payment on a new car, or any of the other insane reasons that couples give when they get caught selling their children.
I continued to stare through the glass. Something about Tram's behavior didn't feel right, and after a few moments I realized what it was. Parents who lose kids do nothing but worry, and worrying is a manufactured fear. Tram's fear wasn't manufactured. It was real, and it told me that he knew something the rest of us didn't.
“Can I talk to him without the wife?” I asked.
“Be my guest,” Sally said.
