“No…” responded Vasquez. “…doesn’t feel right…” she said. He couldn’t make out the rest.
Johansen had his back to him. He had a wild thought about slamming into the stocky agent and making a break for it. Vasquez gave him pause, though. He felt sure that she had a gun on her and that she would not hesitate to shoot him. In the leg, maybe. Then what good would he be to Justin?
Instead, he pulled the door open and leaned out. “Well?”
They looked at him. It was good to see them look a bit ruffled.
Vasquez pulled out her cell phone. Her finger moved on the keypad and the phone beeped in response. She turned away and seemed to speak to several people in rapid succession. Ray fidgeted with impatience. His fingers rubbed against each other nervously and his burning eyes blinked rapidly. He noticed that Johansen was watching him closely. The man looked pissed-off, but Ray was too distracted now to care.
Vasquez turned around. “I checked out your story. There was a 9-1-1 call and your son has been reported missing. Under the circumstances, I’ve decided not to formally charge you at this time. You are a suspect, however, in a federal felony-Dr. Vance?”
But she was talking to his back. Ray and Brenda were headed out into the main hall at a trot. When he got out into the open hall, Ray began to run for side doors that let out onto the parking lot.
Behind him Vasquez was shouting. “Don’t leave the area, Dr. Vance. We will be in touch with you soon.”
“What’s wrong Dr. Vance?” asked a thin female student as he rounded a corner, grabbing the walls for support as he went. He recalled vaguely that her name was Valerie-something. He ignored her and charged the doors. He straight-armed the panic bar and burst out into the sunlight.
Ray reached his car and for an awful moment he thought that he had left his keys behind, or worse, that he had lost them. Then the bulge in his back pocket that his fumbling hands had missed the first time was out and a bright key flashed in the sun. He shoved the key into the lock and all but twisted it off getting the door open.
“Good luck, Ray!” shouted Brenda from the steps. Ray realized that she must have run after him. She said something else, but the engine of his Ford Taurus was roaring now as he backed out and threw the transmission into drive. She waved and he raised a hand back to her.
As he headed out of the parking lot, skirting a slow car and jumping a curb in the process, he realized that Brenda had shining tears on her cheeks again. Crying and running again. Twice in one day, and he had never seen her do either before.
… 75 Hours and Counting…
The trip home was hellish. Traffic had never been more frustrating. He wanted to break all the rules and he did break most of them. He drove around cars that were stopped at lights in order to run a red. Twice he jumped the curb so that two wheels were on the sidewalk briefly. His tires squealed at every corner. Fortunately, he had never wanted a long commute and the way home was not heavily-traveled at this time of day. Still, even the slightest delay all but drove him mad. He sat hunched over the wheel, sweating, shouting and beating at the wheel. His thumb was sore from pressing relentlessly on the horn button, using far more pressure than was required.
He drove at the limits of safety and just beyond, moving fast and illegally, skirting every delay, but not quite recklessly enough to get himself hit. Fortunately, there were no cops on the route to stop him. If there had been, he wondered what he would have done.
When he came skidding around the corner, he was disturbed to see only one cop car out in front of the house. Didn’t they care more than that? Vaguely, it occurred to him that most of the police should be out cruising around looking for signs of Justin, but somehow he wanted more response than this.
He jumped the curb and stopped the car on the lawn, heedless of the black swathes he cut in his well- groomed grass. The door opened as he got to the steps.
“Ray!” said Sarah, reaching out for him. He hugged her and bent down over her small body, pressing it up against him. He didn’t ask if they had found Justin yet. It was obvious that they hadn’t. He knew she didn’t want to say anything. It was a connection the two of them had always had, knowing when the other wanted to talk and when all that was needed was a hug or a light, supportive touch.
A black man in a clean-cut, but not expensive, brown sports jacket followed Sarah out of the house more slowly. He had a notepad and a pen in his hand, reminding Ray of the FBI agents back at the university. He hoped the man wasn’t FBI. He had had quite enough of them already today.
The man nodded to Ray. “Afternoon, Dr. Vance. I’m Detective Waterson.”
Ray put his chin down on Sarah’s head. He smelled her perfume. It brought back a flash of good memories. Then he looked up and faced the Detective.
“Have you turned up anything?”
“No sir, but we are searching and we are hopeful. Oftentimes these things turn out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding. Can I ask you some questions?”
Ray smiled weakly. He had been questioned to death by people in suits all day. “Shoot.”
Waterson nodded. “We’ve already talked to the teachers and staff at the school where he was last seen. Apparently, no one noticed anything out of the ordinary. You were the one to drop him off this morning, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“No.”
“Did he seem upset?”
“Only about his shoes,” said Ray. Suddenly, his voice choked up.
“What? His shoes?”
Ray shook his head, unable to answer for a moment. Sarah’s arms squeezed him around the middle, feeling his emotion.
“He never likes to put on his shoes in the morning. It’s a ritual battle we have to fight every day.”
Waterson frowned and made a note. “I see.”
Ray realized that Waterson probably didn’t have kids, and that he didn’t see at all. Why would the police have someone without kids on this case? It seemed wrong somehow. Everything seemed wrong today.
“Did you punish him this morning, or last night? Is there any reason that he might run away?”
Ray shook his head. “No special reason. Do you think he might have?”
Waterson shrugged. “It’s hard to say. It’s rare for a six-year-old to take off on his own for long, but not unheard of. Dr. Vance, you were the one who was supposed to pick him up, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but… I was detained. He’s supposed to go next door if I’m not back from the university yet. We have an arrangement.”
“With the Trumbles, yes, I understand that. Do you have any relatives or friends who might have picked him up since there was no one home to meet him?”
“No, I don’t think so. Look, I think I should be out looking for him instead of answering all these questions. If we knew anything, then we would be trying these possibilities.”
“In times of stress, Dr. Vance, we sometimes forget or overlook things. It’s my job to make sure that we cover everything.”
“But I should be out looking for him.”
Detective Waterson looked at him. “Where would you look, Dr. Vance?”
Ray opened his mouth and blinked. He realized he didn’t know where to start. He thought of the park and the school grounds, but that was no good if he had been kidnapped. He thought of all the highways and houses and orchards and quiet fields in the area. Where would he begin? Was Justin tied up and on his way to L.A.? Was he somewhere in the central valley right now? It was maddening to think that if he only knew exactly where his son was right then, he could go and get him. For the lack of that single fact, he was helpless.
He dropped his chin down again to rest atop Sarah’s fresh-smelling hair. He closed his eyes and tried not to cry himself.
… 74 Hours and Counting…
Justin reached out a shaky hand and grabbed the thin steel bars of the cage. They were almost too thin to
