am, or smarter. It may not always be true, but it keeps me on my toes. Driving toward the Magic Kingdom's main entrance in the golf cart, I suddenly realized what the can of blue spray paint was for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I jumped out of the cart as it reached the turnstiles. Catching Sally's eye, I held the can of blue spray paint triumphantly over my head. She hurried over to me.
“Please tell me you have some good news,” she said.
“Shannon's abductors have cut her hair, changed her clothes, and also changed the color of her shoes,” I said. “My guess is, they made her look like a little boy.”
Sally took the can of paint out of my hand.
“Is this the new color of her shoes?”
“Yes. Get me some paper.”
Sally went to her golf cart and removed all the paper from a clipboard on the dash. She handed the paper to me, and I sprayed all the sheets with blue paint and waved them in the air to dry. Then Sally and I approached each pair of guards watching a turnstile and handed them one of the sheets.
“Look at the shoes of each child leaving the park,” I instructed them. “If you see this color, grab the kid and yell for us.”
Sally repeated the instructions, making sure the guards understood. Then we went to where Tram and Peggy Sue stood on the side in the grass. Tram had brought Shannon's clothes out of the park, and Peggy Sue was clutching them against her chest. I gently touched her arm.
“Peggy Sue,” I said.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“You need to pull yourself together. If there's any person your daughter will run to, it's going to be you.”
Peggy Sue swiped at her eyes. “What if she's gone? What if they already took her out of the park? What then?”
I wanted to tell Peggy Sue not to think those dark thoughts, but I bit my tongue instead. There was no greater sin in my line of work than making false promises.
“We're going to find her,” Tram said, sounding strong.
I stood by the turnstiles with Sally and watched families leave the park. Each child passed briefly before my eyes, then was gone forever. More than once I thought I'd spotted Shannon, only to realize I was wrong. Finally Sally spoke up.
“Why are you so jumpy?” she asked.
“Times like this I can't stand still,” I said.
“Why don't you go back inside and see if you can spot her?”
she suggested.
It sounded like a good idea. An elderly couple wearing mouse ears walked past. They were smiling and holding hands like newlyweds. I approached the man and offered to buy the mouse ears from him. The man refused my money and handed the ears to me.
“Have fun,” the man said.
Sally got me back inside the park. Thousands of people were waiting to leave, and I was reminded how incredibly loud small children could be, especially when they were unhappy.
I walked to the rear of the lines, feeling the hot macadam baking through my sandals. Reaching the lines' end, I turned around and started walking back, looking at little kids' shoes without being too obvious. Several irate fathers accused me of trying to cut in.
“I've lost my family,” I said.
The ruse worked, and let me keep moving forward. It was a slow process, and after ten minutes, I called Sally on my cell to see how things were going.
“No sign of her yet,” she said.
“Keep the faith,” I said.
I slipped the phone into my pocket. I'd reached the middle of the lines and was standing in a sea of unhappy little kids. I reminded myself that Shannon's abductors were playing the roles of parents, and when they reached the turnstiles, they'd be giving star performances. Coming up from behind was the best way to go.
Lowering my head, I continued my search.
Most cops I knew believed in God. I'd always found this strange, considering the amount of human suffering and tragedy that cops were subjected to. Perhaps a religious belief was the best way to cope with these experiences. Or to explain when amazing things happened.
Right now, I was a believer.
I'd spotted Shannon Dockery. She was part of a family of five and was standing a hundred yards from the turnstiles with her thumb stuck in her mouth.
I quickly noted her abductors. The woman pretending to be Shannon's mom was a thirtyish brunette with permed hair and fake fingernails painted in custom-car colors, and the man pretending to be her dad was a bearded truck-driver type who spit out a steady banter of corny jokes. They looked just as ordinary as anyone else.
Then there were Shannon's fake brothers. The oldest boy was tall and string-bean thin and maybe ten years old, while the younger boy was short and round and didn't know how to tie his sneakers. Shannon stood between the boys, holding hands and doing the buddy system, the way kids in the park were supposed to.
The deception Mom and Dad had used to disguise Shannon's identity was extraordinary. Many families that visited Disney wore color-coordinated or themed clothing. They did it for fun and because it made it easier for parents to watch the kids. Shannon's fake mom and dad were also wearing themed clothing. “Support Our Troops!” was splashed across their T-shirts along with pictures of the burning World Trade Center towers, and each of the children wore patriotic colors: the oldest in red, the middle in white, Shannon in blue. Had I not found the can of spray paint in the park, the disguises would have flown right by me.
I called Sally on my cell phone.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“Got her,” I said quietly.
Sally screamed into my ear. “You found her?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Jack, I love you!”
“They're about to come out, second turnstile from your right. It's a family of five, with three little kids dressed in red, white, and blue. Shannon is in blue. I'm going to come out right behind them.”
“A family? How old are the other kids?”
“They're young.”
“Hold me back if I hurt the parents, Jack.”
Using children to commit crimes sickened even the most jaded law enforcement officers, and I understood Sally's feelings, for they were my own as well.
“I'll call you once they come out,” I said. Soon Shannon's false family reached the turnstiles. I watched Dad shoot a furtive glance at Mom. Together, they put their hands on their children's backs and pushed them ahead. They were going to exit as a group, making it harder for the guards to get a clear look at Shannon. It was another clever tactic to avoid detection, and my gut told me that they'd done this before. I called Sally back.
“Here we go,” I said.
Private security forces were not bound to the same rules as the police. They did not have to identify themselves to suspected criminals, nor act with the same restraint that the law required of cops. As the family exited the turnstiles I threw my arms in the air and jumped up and down. Moments later, Disney security hit the family hard.
Three burly guards surrounded Dad, who immediately began pushing and shoving. In a flurry of flailing arms and legs, the guards wrestled him face-first to the ground. Dad was as slippery as an eel, and while two of the guards held his arms, the third sat on his back and pinned him down.
