I had taken several steps in the direction of my car, but turned back. “Do you think Eva will be in her office tomorrow morning?”
“She’s up by seven, and usually in the office around nine,” Roger told me. “Would it help if I mentioned that you might drop by, or would you rather call her yourself?”
Just thinking about picking up the telephone and talking about Timmy made me ill. With Roger to give Pastor Eva a heads-up, at least when I saw her, I wouldn’t have to deal with her initial shock and surprise, which would set me off crying again for sure. “Thank you, Roger. That would be a real kindness. And if she can’t see me at nine, perhaps she could give me a call at home and we’ll work out another time.” I dredged up a smile from somewhere and pasted it on my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go, or I’ll be late picking up my grandchildren.”
“Of course,” Roger said. “Take care.”
He was still looking after me like a kindly uncle when, two minutes later, my LeBaron and I pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Kimmel Lane.
Step one accomplished.
Step two. I had to make my way past the police who were guarding the gate to Paradiso. Norman Salterelli, the body-builder, was still on duty, lounging against the gatepost, beefy arms folded over equally beefy chest, chatting with the officer.
I rolled down my window to identify myself. To his credit, the officer punched a number on his Nextel and checked out my story with Powers before motioning me through.
For a split second I entertained a fantasy of peeling out of Paradiso in a roostertail of flying gravel, until Norman squashed the idea by resting his hairy forearms on the roof of my car and leaning into my open window. “You take care, Hannah Ives, and if there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Norman. You’ve been a real star.”
He patted the top of my convertible with the flat of his hand. “Go with God.”
“Thank you.” In spite of myself, I smiled.
Step three.
I’d forgotten about step three. True to his word, Ron Powers had ordered a roadblock at the gates that once upon a time had guarded the entrance to the Bay Ridge community. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I waited at the end of a long line of cars for my turn for inspection. The police were thorough, thank goodness, checking front and back seats, and asking everyone to pop open their trunks, too. I didn’t think I could endure one more sympathetic look, so when it was my turn, I simply let the officer check my car for Timmy, thanked him, and drove on.
At the light at Arundel on the Bay Road, I turned left. Hillsmere Elementary School, where Chloe attended first grade from 8:55 to 3:10, was almost immediately on the right, a modern brick building, typical of Anne Arundel school architecture in the 1970s. I was early, so I pulled around a queue of school buses with their engines idling and into a parking space marked VISITORS, where Chloe would be certain to see me.
Because Dante and Emily lived in Hillsmere Shores, Chloe could have ridden the bus, of course, but Emily had to drive Jake to preschool at St. Anne’s Day School just a quarter of a mile farther down the road, so she preferred to drive the children herself. Fortunately, I was on the schools’ lists of approved “picker uppers” so I wouldn’t have any trouble driving away with the children.
Neither had Timmy’s kidnapper.
That thought stung. I wanted the world to stop-the cars on the road, the birds in flight, even that stray dog trotting down the road-I wanted them to stop, look my way and say, “I feel your pain.” But even the day refused to go into mourning: the sun shone in a cloudless sky, a gentle breeze blew. I sighed, and because I knew the children would approve, I reached up, released the levers, and powered down the top on my convertible. No matter what I did, life would go on.
I leaned my head back against the headrest, closed my eyes and let the sun shine directly on my face. The sun must have jump-started my brain, too, because I sat up so suddenly that I bumped my head on the sun visor. Dennis! Dennis Rutherford, Connie’s husband, my brother-in-law, my police lieutenant brother-in-law from Chesapeake County. He’d know what to do.
I rarely called Dennis on his cell phone, except in case of emergency. After the last time he’d galloped to my rescue, he’d programmed his number into my phone as a joke. “Here,” he’d said, handing it back to me. “Don’t bother with 911. Just call me.”
If this wasn’t a 911, I didn’t know what was.
I scrolled down to DENNIS and pushed the Call button. After two rings his message machine kicked in. Damn damn damn. I left word that I needed to talk to him and pressed End.
Something in the recording of my voice must have given him a clue to my state of mind, because Dennis rang back almost at once. When I told him that Timmy was missing, he exploded. “Jesus Christ, Hannah, how long ago was that?”
“Two hours.”
“Two hours.” He repeated my words in the same tone of voice he might have used if I’d said “two days” or “two years.” Two of anything was clearly too long. “Tell me you’ve called the police.”
My throat felt raw, but I managed to croak, “Of course we called the police. They’re at Paradiso right now. I had to leave to pick up the kids.”
“Tell me what Anne Arundel County is doing.”
“Wait a minute.” I rummaged under the passenger seat and came up with a bottle of springwater that had been rolling around on the floor since Valentine’s Day. I twisted off the cap and took a long drink, trying to soothe my aching throat before continuing. I explained to Dennis what I knew about the investigation so far, about the BOLO and the Amber Alert, while Dennis made attentive listening noises-uh-huh, right, okay. From his reaction, I assumed he didn’t think we were dealing with rank amateurs.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked after I wound down.
I told him what I knew about Ron Powers.
Dennis mentioned that he’d met the guy, then reassured me by adding, “Sounds like Powers has a good handle on it, Hannah, but I want you to check on a couple of things.” He paused. “Are you up to this, or do you want me to do it?”
I found myself nodding, which was ridiculous since Dennis couldn’t see me over the cell phone. “I can handle it, but I think it might be better if you call Paul’s cell. He’s at Paradiso right now, and he can put you through directly to Powers. I can’t imagine that Powers has let anyone go home just yet.”
“Right.” Dennis hesitated for a moment, and his phone went beep-beep in my ear. “Okay, good. I’ve got Paul’s number programmed into my cell.”
“What do you want Paul to do, Dennis?”
“Unless I’m very much mistaken, Anne Arundel County hasn’t had a noncustodial kidnapping in years, so I’m not sure they’re completely up to speed. Did anyone call the FBI?”
“My God! Should I have? I thought that was the cops’ job.”
“Absolutely, it’s their job, and I imagine they’ll do it, but we should make sure it happens, sooner rather than later. The FBI has the resources to help us find Timmy, and time is generally not on our side in cases like this.”
“Won’t Powers feel like we’re stepping on his toes if we insist on bringing in the FBI?”
“I don’t give a damn about his feelings, for Christ’s sake, and neither should you. Law enforcement agencies cooperate to the fullest when a missing child is involved.” He drew a long breath. “The first thing we need to do is get information about Timmy up on NCIC. Sorry, that’s the National Crime Information Center’s missing persons’ file.”