SIXTY
Zach forced himself to quit bawling like some sort of candy-ass wuss. Jeff and Gordie wouldlaugh at him, but it hurt. Everything was coming apart. His folks were reallysplitting. The kids at school were right. When your folks split and move out,they never get back together, no matter what they tell you.
Right after the big blowup with Dad, Mom went to herroom, and slammed the door. He heard her crying, wailing like he had neverheard before. It scared him. Her sobbing tore at his heart.
He didn’t know what to do. But he had to do something,had to grow up and do something.
He opened his school backpack and was shoving stuff init. He had made a decision. He was going to Gordie’s. He’d stay with his pal.He’d get away.
He stuffed his CD player, Batman comics, Swiss armyknife, penlight, Walkman, some underwear, and balled up some pants, socks,shirts, and a jacket into his pack. He dropped to his knees and carefully slidout the envelop he kept hidden under the big drawer in his room. It containedhis life savings: $117.14.
Zach hoisted the bag on his back, slipped out of thehouse, and trotted off, growing angrier and more determined with each step hetook along Fulton.
Mom and Dad were breaking a promise.
This is how you measured a person’s worth, by thenumber of promises they broke.
It just wasn’t fair.
He headed toward Center. He knew the way to BART. He’dtake it to San Francisco and then take a cab to Gordie’s house. They could callJeff and catch up on stuff, talk about old times. Maybe he could move in withGordie. Maybe there was some way he and Gordie could become brothers. Maybesign some court papers or something. Gordie’s mother and father never fought.Gordie’s dad was an accountant and was always home.
It was kind of nice being on his own. Before he got onBART, he’d stop at that hobby store along the way and buy that monster-sizedmodel of the U.S.S. Kitty Hawk. He could take it with him to Gordie’sand he could help him put it together. That would be cool!
He was on his own now. They didn’t need him around inBerkeley anymore. Zach sniffed as he waited for the light to change at anintersection. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed a white van a few carlengths away. Funny.
Looks like the same doof that was hangin’ out near hisgrandma’s place earlier. So what? Zach shrugged off his curiosity.
SIXTY-ONE
One cherry had tumbled into place.
Two more and they had a jackpot.
Sydowski loosened his tie as everyone settled aroundthe conference table in Room 400 at the hall. Most had to stand. Gonzaleswheeled a new chalkboard into place, in front of its predecessor bearing theblown-up faces of Tanita Marie Donner, Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn, and themap with its color locator pins. The new board had enlarged color photos of theFord pickup, the boat, and trailer.
They were on the bad guy’s trail.
The next cherry would be his identity.
And the next would be finding him with the kids.Sydowski sipped his coffee, bit into his chicken sandwich. He and the othershad returned from Calaveras in time to grab stale food from the cafeteriabefore the meeting. The pickup truck lead kicked it all into overdrive. Morepeople had been brought in.
“We’ve got new information, so listen up, we’ll behanding out assignments.” Gonzales stood at the new board, examining the newmaterial in his file folder. “The IDENT team left behind in Calaveras justlifted two latents from the new bills left over in the buy of the suspectpickup. They match the single latent we found on the wrapping of the hamburgerused to lure Gabrielle Nunn’s dog. We pumped them through the system. Zilch.”
“We are also checking all prints of anyone who hasever been bonded in the state — private investigators, armored car guards,state and federal workers, just to make sure we’ve covered everything.”
Adam McCurdy, chief of Investigations, interjected.“The chief will hold a press conference this afternoon to make a public appealfor information on the pickup and the boat and trailer, reiterating the reward.He will say that we believe Virgil Lee Shook is responsible for the murder ofTanita Marie Donner, but that we have nothing linking him to the abduction ofBecker and Nunn. He will state that the suspect in those kidnappings is stillat large. We’ll add whatever new information is pertinent.”
Gonzales nodded.
“We’re sending out alerts on the truck and the boat,targeting marinas.” Gonzales flipped through his file. “Treasury’s stillworking on the serial numbers of the new bills to determine point ofcirculation. So far they have narrowed it to a San Francisco bank. And, on thehamburger…” Gonzales found another data sheet. “A brick wall. Because thelabel was damaged, we could only confirm it as a purchase in the city. And, onthe boat and trailer: same as the pickup, no change in registration. Stillcomes up to Urlich.”
As Gonzales summarized the case, Sydowski finished hissandwich, slipped on his glasses, and made notes, his theories and hunchespercolating, extracting the essence of a vital angle he knew he had overlooked.It tried to surface during the chopper flight back from West Point, flailing inhis subconscious as the patchwork of vineyards, pastureland, orchards, towns,and urban sprawl rolled below. It was difficult to converse through thehelicopter’s intercom, leaving each person alone with his thoughts as theythundered back to San Francisco. Now, sitting in Room 400, Sydowski replayedthem, trying again to catch the key, hidden aspect that had been gnawing athim.
It had been so long since he talked with hisdaughters. He was consumed with the case. It was national news. The girlscalled him regularly, the red message light blinking at him from his machinealmost everything night when he got home. “Saw you on TV, Dad, hope you’retaking care of yourself.” Geneva, his firstborn daughter, sounded like hermother.
Then came his second daughter, Irene, forever the babyof the family. “Hey, Pop, I know you’re busy, call us when you get a chance.Oh, Louise wants to leave a message, go ahead, honey.”
“Hi, Grandpa! I saw you on TV, I love you.”
It was always too late for him to call back. He rarelyhad a free moment to check on his old man. And he was likely going to miss theSeattle bird show.
Sydowski glimpsed Turgeon taking notes intensely. Shewas wearing a powder-blue pullover sports shirt, navy Dockers, and glasses. Herhair was up in a bun, accentuating her pretty face, her youth. She could passfor a Berkeley grad at a lecture. But she was a veteran cop, a goodinvestigator with good instincts, and although he hadn’t known her very long,he was glad she was his partner. He found a degree of paternal comfort in herpresence.
Sydowski chided himself for drifting, the key aspectescaping him stemmed from the Donner file … a common denominator with Donner …Christ, it was at the forefront of his memory, sitting there slightly out of focus.Something Angela Donner had told him.
Gonzales moved the review along. “Now I’ll turn itover to Bob Hill of the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit in Quantico, Virginia. Heflew in this morning. Bob.”
A self-conscious smile of acknowledgement flashed acrossthe long face of the lanky soft-spoken supervisory agent. Hill was in his lateforties and had a gently cerebral air about him.
“As you know, I’ve been assisting on the profile inthis case since Danny Becker’s abduction, when the unit was contacted. I’d liketo caution you about putting all your eggs in one psychological basket. Theprofile is only a tool, as you know.” Hill was acutely aware many case-hardenedinvestigators view psychological profiling as mumbo jumbo. “But eachdevelopment helps us to sharpen it. May I use the board, Lieutenant?”