“Any ransom calls, demands, or contact from thekidnapper?”
“Nothing.”
“What about the Becker case, any contact?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you think the children have been murdered? Are youdealing with a serial child-killer?”
“We have no evidence to suggest any homicides. Untilthen, we work on the assumption they are being held somewhere.”
“Why do you think the cases are linked?”
“The similar patterns. Bold, daylight, strangerabduction in each of them. And in the Becker and Nunn cases, the suspect’sdescription is very similar.”
“Any theories on the motive behind the cases?”
The chief turned to FBI Special Agent Merle Rust, whotook the question. ‘Our psychological profile suggests the suspect’s motivationstems from a traumatic event in this life involving children, abuse, atragedy.”
“Sexual abuse?”
“Possibly.”
“Chief, anything linked to cult or Satanicinvolvement? What about a terrorist link to Nathan Becker’s defense contractcomputer research?”
“Nothing on all counts.”
“What do the abducted children have in common? Howdoes this man come to chose Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn?”
“We have had some leads, but we can’t reveal them.Now, before we close here, I just want the people of the Bay Area to know thedangerous situation we’re facing here. Parents should be vigilant with theirfamilies at all times and report anything suspicious. Thank you for coming.”The chief was peppered with questions as he made his way out.
Reed broke from the pack and caught up to Sydowski.“You got a moment, Walt?”
Sydowski led him down the hall until he found an emptyoffice.
“Make it quick.” Sydowski closed the door behind them.
“That footage really the guy?”
“It’s him. We showed it to Danny Becker’s father.”
“It is the same guy in Tanita Marie Donner’s murder?”
“Don’t know.”
“What about the guy you brought in the other day?”
“I told you, he was a shit-rat who gave us a lead tocheck.”
“What’s his name?”
“Can’t tell you. We’re still checking.”
“Do you think Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn aredead?”
“I don’t know.”
“What have you got, Walt? What’ve you really got?”
“Not much. A fuzzy description. Gabrielle’s hair.”
“You think this guy’s going to strike again?”
“Off the record? This entire conversation neverhappened.”
“What conversation?”
“I think he will strike again. We’re trying to trackhim, anticipate his next move. But we’ve got dick to work with.”
Reed nodded, and mulled his next thought.
“I’ve got to go,” Sydowski said.
“Wait, Walt.” Reed swallowed. “What if I recognizethis guy?”
Sydowski’s face grew into astonished anger. “Don’tfuck with me!” He stabbed Reed’s chest with a finger. “Has this fucker beencalling you?”
“No. No. Nothing like that.”
“What are you talking about, then?”
“His beard. He looks like someone I met once, but I’mnot sure.”
“You’re not sure.” Sydowski bristled. “Let me tell yousomething. If you know this guy, if you have any information about him, thenyou better tell me now.”
“Well, it’s just-“
Sydowski held a warning finger under Reed’s nose.“Because if you are sitting on information just for the sake of a goddamnstory, we’ll come after you harder than we did on Donner. And this time I’ll beleading the fucking charge.”
“He just looked familiar, vaguely familiar. Likesomebody I may have met once, but I just can’t place him.” Reed lied and backedoff.
“His description fits any one of about two hundred andfifty thousand men in the Bay Area.”
“I was just trying to get some background on theinvestigation. This is such a huge story.”
Sydowski shook his head incredulously, his facereddening. “You’re wasting my time. We’ve got a child murder and two stolenchildren and to you guys it’s just a game, just a huge story.”
Sydowski was seething. “It’s so easy for the press,isn’t it? You get us up there, hit us with questions that make you look asinineno matter how we answer. You do your stories and you go home. Not us. We haveto find this fucker, have to breathe, eat and sleep with what he’s done and maydo again. It gets personal for us, so don’t come around me playing yoursmart-ass give-and-take games.”
“We’re affected by this as much as you.”
“Ever see a murdered baby’s corpse? You know what thatdoes to you? You ever have to escort a mother to the morgue to identify therotting remains of her two-year-old daughter? Then hold her as she cries sohard you swear she’s breaking apart in your arms?”
Sydowski’s eyes were glistening. “Do you know thisasshole, Tom?”
“I guess not.”
“All right. Then unless you got something substantialto tell m, don’t bother me any more.” Sydowski left the room.
Reed went to the window and stared at the city.
THIRTY-NINE
The San Francisco Star’s afternoon meeting broke and weekend editor Blake MacCrimmon carriedhis note-filled yellow legal pad across the newsroom.
The city’s psychopath had stolen another child.
MacCrimmon had called in six reporters on overtime forthe story. The Star was coming out with a huge package-MacCrimmon hadcleared four inside pages. Deadline was two hours away, but that was not thesource of his unease. It was the story. When he saw the shaky footage ofGabrielle Nunn’s abduction, his skin stung; something that hadn’t happened tohim since he covered Vietnam. He had four grandchildren who lived near GoldenGate Park. He stopped at Tom Reed’s desk.
“Your story is going to be our main news hit on front.Lead off with something like: ‘Fears that a serial killer is stalking childrenafter a man abducted a five-year-old girl Saturday, days after a three-year-oldboy was kidnapped.”
“How long can I run with it?”
“Forty, fifty inches. Put the footage of the bad guyup high.”
“No problem.”
“I’ve got Molly camped out on the Nunns’ doorsteptonight, in case of a ransom call, or the family talks to the press. We’ll sendthe night guy to relieve her later.”
“What else have we got going?”
“A Jack Thorne column. It captures the mood: nervousparents keeping their children close, city sharing the Beckers’ and Nunns’anguish. Color on Gabrielle, her family, the dog connection, the suspect’spsych profile, a summary of the three cases, that sort of thing.” MacCrimmonadjusted his glasses. “Anything you think we should add?”
Reed noticed a back issue nearby with his feature onthe bereavement group. Again, he thought of Edward Keller. Maybe he should tellMacCrimmon about his hunch, ask to be freed to quietly investigate Keller. Thenagain, maybe not.
“You have something on your mind, Tom?”
“No. Sounds like a solid package.”
“Story’s drawing global interest. Other papers inBritain, Japan, and Canada are sending staff here.” MacCrimmon checked hiswatch, then patted Reed’s shoulder. “Better get busy.”
Reed’s story came together smoothly. After proofingit, he sent it to MacGrimmon’s computer desk.
Reed massaged his neck and looked at Molly Wilson’sempty chair. Tomorrow was going to be another long day with follow-up stories.The mayor was holding a don’t-worry-the-city-is-safe press conference.Exhausted but satisfied, Reed considered leaving to get some sleep, butadrenaline was still coursing through his system. Something hideous had hit thecity and he was part of it, secretly experiencing the macabre thrill everycrime reporter knew, loathed, and would never truly comprehended. From Salinasto Ukiah, wherever the Star went, people would devour his work, gasp andshake their heads-in office towers, restaurants, airports, malls, schools andkitchens.
Reed knew this and it excited him. It always did.
Reed checked his watch. It was not that late. He shouldcall Ann and Zach just to hear their voices. They hadn’t been together sincetheir lunch in Berkeley. Reed smiles at how Zach was giddy with the good news.