“Sure, Tom.” He stood to leave.
“Walt?” Reed’s eyes were brimming. “Is my son dead?”
Sydowski looked at him for a long, hard moment,searching for the right words, deciding on the truth. “We just don’t know, Tom.You must prepare for the worst, but never give up hope.”
“But today’s the anniversary of the drownings. And yousaid if Keller’s going to do anything, he’ll do it today.”
“Yes and we are doing everything we can, we’re chasingdown every lead. You’ve got to hang on.”
“What does your gut tell you, huh? He’s beaten youguys three times now.”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“He’s either very lucky, very smart, or both.”
“In Danny’s Becker’s case, he left us with nothing. InGabrielle Nunn’s case, we got his blood, got him on a piece of video, then afingerprint and a name. In Zach’s case we have more video and, thanks to you,his motive.”
“So, what does that mean?”
“We’re gaining on him.”
Ninety minutes later, a female FBI agent arrived atthe Homicide Detail with Ann Reed, who was dressed in a white blouse, a darkblazer, and slacks. No makeup. Reddened eyes, taut jaw, betrayed a heart thathad stopped beating. When Reed moved to embrace her, she was unresponsive. Thedoctor had given her two Valium before she left Berkeley. She looked as thoughshe was going to a funeral.
No one moved until Rust said, “Let’s get going.” Heand Sydowski escorted Reed, while the others took Ann to the elevator, all ofthem riding together to the press conference. In the elevator car, Annapologized for being late.
“Not a problem,” Rust said respectfully.
“I was trying to decide what to wear.”
No one spoke as the elevator hummed.
“What do I wear to plead for my son’s life?”
It seemed to take forever to arrive in the basementwhere the Hall of Justice cafeteria had again been transformed into apressroom. Some two hundred newspeople were waiting there.
Reed and Ann were isolated, each alone with theirpain. He was at the bottom of a well, blurry faces peering into it. Microphonesand camera lights made the packed room hot, but he was shivering, his stomachseething. Copies of The San Francisco Star were everywhere. Facesstaring at him. Reed was the man who allowed his son to be kidnapped, andpushed an innocent man to suicide. Reed was on trial.
The FBI agent in charge of the San Francisco office,flanked by San Francisco’s police chief, stood before a half-podium placed on acafeteria table. He led off with a summary of the abductions, promising to takequestions after Zach’s parents spoke. He turned to the Reeds. Ann went first,her voice no more than a murmur.
“At the podium, please, Mrs. Reed!” Reporters urgedher.
Reed helped her here, standing behind her as sheclutched a folded note bearing her elegant handwriting on her store’sstationery.
Ann began: “Edward Keller. I am Zachary Michael Reed’smother. He is my only child.” Her monotone voice was alien to Reed. It was asif he was hearing a Jaycees address. “I want my son back and I am begging youto return him. I have spoken with the families of Danny Becker and GabrielleNunn. Please, let the children go safely.”
Camera flashes rained on her.
“We’ve done nothing to hurt you and understand youmust be suffering terribly, as we are suffering now. Our hearts are linked inour pain. Only you can end it safely. The children are innocents. Zach, Danny,and Gabrielle have done nothing to you. Please, please, I beg you to find it inyour heart to let the children go.”
Ann finished, declining to answer questions as sheleft the cafeteria with the help of two FBI agents. Cameras trailed her as Reedstood alone, unprepared, gripping the edges of the podium. The attention turnedto him. He cleared his throat.
“Edward, if you are watching us, I’m sure you rememberme, Tom Reed. Our understanding is that no one has harmed the children. I knowyou are a good man, Edward. Please release the children. The city, the entirecountry, now knows your tragedy, knows your pain. Do not extend it to otherswho have never harmed you. Release Zach, Danny, and Gabrielle, anywhere safely.By doing that, you will prove to everyone that you are the good man I know you are,Edward. You are a smart man, who means no harm to anyone. You have alreadyproven so much, now is the time to let — ” Reed stopped, ran a hand over hisface. “Please, let the children go. Please.”
The reporters opened fire.
“Tom, do you think Keller took your son because youwere getting close to learning he had kidnapped the other children?”
“I don’t know, it’s possible. I — ”
“What kind of man is Edward Keller, Tom?”
“I — Well, I only met him briefly, so it’s hard todescribe — ”
“Today being a tragic anniversary for Keller, do youthink he is going to reenact some fantasy with the children?”
“I fear that might happen, but I hope not.”
“What about Franklin Wallace and Virgil Shook, Tom?”
“What about them?
“Both are dead. You reported last year that Wallacekilled Tanita Donner. You still think so, or do you feel he died innocently?”
“I don’t see what this has got to do with — ”
“What I’m wondering is if there is a chance policeshot the wrong guy in the Donner case. That maybe here’s a connection to EdwardKeller and the unsolved abductions?”
“The Donner case is still under investigation,” SanFrancisco’s police chief interjected. “We have nothing linking it with thekidnappings of Danny Becker, Gabrielle Nunn, and Zach Reed.”
“Have you ruled out the possibility of a connection?”
“Our focus is on the children, who we believe arestill alive and being confined somewhere by Edward Keller.”
“That’s right,” the FBI agent in charge of the SanFrancisco office added. “I think we’re getting off track. Now, we havesomething to show you. If you’ll just watch the monitors.”
He signaled to begin. Clear security video from theBerkeley hobby store rolled, showing Keller approaching Zach and leaving thestore with him. It silenced the conference for half a minute.
“We’ve made copies to distribute and we’ve enhancedthe suspect’s face in still photos. We have a news release detailing the factsof the case. I want to reiterate the enormity of the investigation and that thereward for information leading to an arrest in this case now stands at$300,000.”
Reed worked his way out of the room while theconference continued. But he wasn’t free. With reporters in tow, he tried tofind Ann. He caught up with her outside in the Hall of Justice parking lot asshe was getting into a car with the FBI agent. Three camera crews were on her.
“Ann!” Reed called.
Reporters were shouting, jogging after Reed as he ranto Ann. He turned to them. “I just want a private word with my wife, so give usa break. Can you do that, please?”
“Come on,” the agent to the reporters, “back off!”
Reed slid into the backseat with Ann and rolled up thewindows.
“Tom, I just want to go home to wait at my mother’shouse.”
“Ann, I — please — ”
“I have nothing to say to you right now, and it’s bestwe leave it that way. I have no time for you. Every fiber of my being isfocused on my son.”
“Our son, Ann. Our son.”
“He’s my son, he’s your story.”
Reed absorbed the blow.
“Ann, I swear, I’ll bring him ba-”
“Get out of the car. I want to go.”
“Ann.”
“Get out, now!”
In the Hall of Justice, four floors up in the smallwaiting area of the Homicide Detail, San Francisco cabbie Willie Hampton washolding up his cap, watching live coverage of the news conference on the littleTV at the desk of Homicide Detail’s secretary.
“Like I said, I don’t know if that’s the dude on theTV there,” he repeated. “I just got back from Hawaii and seen this tragedy allover the news. Sorrowful thing.”
Willie hung his head and shook it.
“I’m catchin’ up on the news an’ somethin’ specificcatches me ‘bout that little Danny, the boy got stolen from BART at Balboa.Something’s ticklin’ my memory sayin’ ‘Willie, you got to check this here,’see. So I get my calendar, check my ride sheet for that day. Sure enough I wasworkin’ around Balboa Park when that boy got taken.”