22
“Damn it, Boss, it’s been five days.”
“I know how long it’s been, Granger.”
“The press is asking questions. A lot of questions.”
“The press can go screw itself.”
“Did you see those pictures?”
O’Bannon stiffened, like a metal rod had replaced his spine. “Yes.”
“I have to assume we’re not the only recipients. I’ll bet they went to all the papers, all the TV stations. They’re going to want to know what happened to our behaviorist.”
“Who the hell doesn’t?”
Granger’s face twisted up. “Boss-those pictures. They’re-we have to tell them something! Try to explain-”
“Why?” O’Bannon pushed away from his desk, matching Granger bellow for bellow. “It would be different if we knew something. But let’s face it-we don’t. We don’t have the slightest idea where she is or whether-” He stopped short of saying it.
“Face facts, Boss. Five days. None of this guy’s previous victims lasted five days. All of them were killed within a day or two of their capture.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m telling you, we’ve got to face up to it.”
“And I told you-”
“Susan is dead.”
O’Bannon froze.
Darcy sat behind him, in a chair in the corner of his office, not saying a word. Listening to everything.
“Darcy,” O’Bannon said, lowering his voice, “would you leave us alone for a moment?” He fumbled in his pocket for change. “Run across the street and get yourself an ice cream. Get us both an ice cream. Okay?”
“No.”
The response was so startling that both O’Bannon and Granger were thrown. “Excuse me?”
“I think I would rather stay here.” As if a sudden chill had come over him, Darcy’s hands rose and flapped against themselves. “Did you know there was a woman kidnapped in Vancouver in 1979 who was held for sixty-seven days till she escaped? She overpowered her kidnappers and ran away. She hadn’t been harmed.”
O’Bannon and Granger looked at one another. “Darcy…”
“In Omaha, in 1984, a teenage girl was kept in a basement for over six months until she was found by the police. She wasn’t hurt, too.”
O’Bannon felt as if he had gained a hundred pounds in the space of a second. “Darcy, we have to be realistic about this.”
“Elizabeth Smart was gone for eight months, but she came back. Patty Hearst was held for a hundred and twenty-four days until she was found by the FBI, but she had been brainwashed into joining their cause. Do you think Susan could be brainwashed?”
“No,” O’Bannon grunted. “I think anyone who tried to play mind games with Susan would probably end up in the loony ward himself.”
“Actual brainwashing in the post-World War II era has been quite rare and mostly ineffective,” Darcy recited. “Several instances of the Stockholm syndrome have been documented, but it is still uncommon.”
“What have you been reading?”
“Unless there’s torture involved. Do you think Susan might be tortured?” His voice remained as loud and expressionless as ever, but the flapping of his hands accelerated.
“No, son.” He took the boy’s hands and brought them to rest. “I don’t think so. But we have to accept the fact that Susan is prob-is-may not be coming home.”
“I think that I should have figured out that message sooner. Do you think that I should have figured out that message sooner? Should have should have should have. That makes it my fault that the Bad Man got Susan.”
“Of course it isn’t.”
“For that matter,” Granger said, “I wish I’d reacted faster.”
“There was no way anyone could have predicted what this bastard would do. He took out three security officers, for God’s sake, with that magic drug of his.” O’Bannon pressed the heels of his palms against his forehead. “Darcy, please go get some ice cream.”
“No. I will stay here.”
“Darcy, we have our best officers working on this case. The best thing you-”
“I am not going for ice cream. I am going to help.”
“Darcy, you’re not a police officer.”
“I could be!” He turned, and although he did not quite make eye contact, he looked in the direction of his father. “You-you-you always w-w-wanted me to be a policeman. So I will be a policeman.”
“Darcy…”
“You-you d-d-don’t think I can do it.”
“These men have been through years of training and-”
“I can do it. I can do training.”
O’Bannon turned for help to Granger, who was pointedly looking away as if he were not paying attention. “You have some… special challenges, Darcy.”
“Everyone has special challenges.”
“But we have to be realistic and-”
“Do you think that any of your officers could decode the Bad Man’s messages? Because I do not think any of your officers could decode the Bad Man’s messages.”
O’Bannon craned his neck. “That was a special situation. You need to go home, Darcy. When I get back tonight, we’ll talk more. Maybe we can make popcorn.”
“No!” Darcy threw down his hands. “I do not need popcorn or ice cream or going home. I will help on this case, even if you don’t think I can. Susan thought I could help and I did help. I did!” He marched to the door, his eyes watering. “I m-m-may be an idiot, Dad, but Susan needs me. And I am going to help her.”
Am I dead? I wondered as the light streamed into my eyes. It wasn’t a warm sensation-more like the grinding of gears against metal, brakes after the brake pads have worn. I should’ve been surrounded by darkness, I remember thinking, but instead I was immersed in light, too much light, white hot and blinding. I wanted to turn away from it but found that I couldn’t move.
“Hello, sugar bear.”
David again. I wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t exactly relieved, either. But he was something to look at. As always.
“What are you doing here? Do you know what happened to me?”
He didn’t have to answer. He gave me that soft, knowing look, the one he always used to disarm my wrath.