If Angels Fall (31 page)

“I cannot believe this has happened!” Corliss threw up
his hands. “Is this assuring police work? Arresting innocent people?”

He tossed Sydowski’s shield back at him. “I’m not
leaving until I speak to my lawyer.”

“Why? You haven’t been charged with anything.”

“I’ve just been arrested. My rights have been
violated.”

“You have been inconvenienced, sir. That is all.
Again, I thank you for your cooperation and understanding of the gravity of the
situation. Please, Mr. Corliss, I suggest you leave.”

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I’m going to lodge
a formal complaint over this matter. I’ll go to the media, and I’ll sue.”

Sydowski said nothing.

“Four police cars pounced on us. My daughter saw her
father forced at gunpoint to step out of our truck with my hands in the air and
lie on the ground. Like a low-life criminal. We were publicly humiliated. There
was a goddamn helicopter hovering over our heads for Christ sake. We’re
innocent people. I’m a law-abiding taxpayer and I won’t stand for this kind of
harassment.”

Sydowski had enough and stepped closer to Corliss,
invading his personal space. “I’ve eaten about as much of this as I can stand,
sir. A few hours ago a little girl, about the same age as your daughter, was
kidnapped from her mother by a man with a beard, like yours, driving a pickup
truck, like yours. He used a dog, like yours, to lure the girl away. A few days
ago, a man kidnapped a boy from his father on the subway. These children are
gone. Their parents are crazy with fear. The last time this happened, we found
the child, a two-year-old girl. She was stuffed in a garbage bag.” Sydowski
moved closer to Corliss. “Her throat was cut. I know. I held her corpse.”

Corliss blinked.

“Now, why don’t’ you just trot over there to the press
and tell them how outraged you are. Tell them what a terrible injustice this
has been for you. I’m sure the parents of the kidnapped children will thank
you. And think what a hero you’ll be to everyone who knows you.”

Corliss adam’s apple bobbed as he absorbed Sydowski’s
advice.

They heard a child’s voice and saw Jennifer Corliss.

“Daddy!”

Corliss picked her up in a crushing hug.

“The police said it was a false alarm. We can go now,
Dad.”

Corliss studied his daughter’s face, kissed her, then
he turned to Sydowski. “Then I guess we’ll be on our way.”

Four hours
after Gabrielle Nunn was kidnapped, scores of reporters crammed into the Hall
of Justice cafeteria, which was serving as a press room. Flanked by a number of
SFPD brass, detectives, and officers from various jurisdictions, the chief took
his seat and prepared to tell San Franciscans a monster was preying on their
children. He sipped some water, cleared his throat, and leaned into the
microphones heaped on the table before him.

“Five-year-old Gabrielle Nunn of San Francisco was
abducted by a man a short time ago while at a birthday party at the Children’s
Playground in Golden Gate Park. The suspect drove away with her in a pickup truck,
a battered, dark-colored Ford, late 1970’s, plate beginning with a ‘B’ or ‘E’
or ‘8’. We suspect the same man also kidnapped three-year-old Daniel Becker
from his father on BART near Balboa Park and are investigating any link to last
year’s kidnapping and murder of two-year-old Tanita Marie Donner.”

Blazing TV lights accentuated the chief’s green eyes.
Speed winders whirred with sporadic camera flashes.

“We have some aspects of Gabrielle Nunn’s abduction we
will make public. A month ago, the Nunns’ blond cocker spaniel pup, Jackson,
disappeared from their home in the Sunset. We believe the dog was taken by
Gabrielle’s kidnapper, who used it today to entice her to go with him.”

“Another vital lead comes from a family who was
videotaping their outing at Golden Gate Park today when Gabrielle Nunn was
lured away. They recorded Gabrielle’s abductor. We’ve enhanced the tape and
will show it to you. We have since produced a composite of the suspect.
Everyone will be given copies of the video, the composite, pictures of
Gabrielle Nunn, and her dog.”

“We’ve expanded our investigation into these crimes by
establishing a formal task force consisting of the SFPD, FBI, stat, and other
agencies. We have a dedicated tip line for any information on these crimes. And
the mayor’s office has increased the reward for information leading to an
arrest in any or all of the cases to $200,000. Anyone with any information
should call us.”

The chief nodded to an officer. Suddenly, an enlarged
color picture of Gabrielle Nunn stared at reporters from the screen overhead.
It was one of the Polaroids taken at the party. Gabrielle, eyes bright, and
oblivious to the horror looming.

“What a cute child,” said a reporter near Tom Reed.

An angel
. That’s what
Wilson had called her.

Suddenly the computer enhanced face of Gabrielle’s
abductor emerged beside her. A Caucasian, in his late forties, early fifties,
bearded, with snakelike strands of blondish hair writhing from under a ball
cap. His mouth was like a slit. Large, dark glasses hid his eyes, concealing
whatever force was propelling him to hunt her, take her, and ram another stake
into San Francisco’s heart.

Seeing his face next to Gabrielle’s was chilling.

Reed examined the composite.

Something was familiar. What was it?

The officers rolled a large monitor and VCR to the
front.

The chief said, “Now, we’ll show you the videotape.
The sequence we’ve edited lasts about twenty seconds. We’ve removed the sound,
isolated Gabrielle and the suspect with identifying circles.”

It was incredible. A hissing snowstorm filled the
monitor before the dark-light strobe revolutions of the carousel appeared and
the abduction of Gabrielle Nunn was carried out, in slow motion.

It was surreal.

Reed took notes.

The footage was blurry, jittery. Gabrielle and her
kidnapper were trapped in halos. It was still difficult to discern the man
under the ball cap, glasses, and beard. The tape vibrated, was out of focus.
Even in slow motion, his face was indistinct. Then he turned, the camera
captured his slightly distorted profile. It froze.

The rapid-clicking of the still cameras broke the
silence.

“That’s our best image of Gabrielle’s abductor,” the
chief said.

Reed examined the monitor. Something gnawed at him.
The screen was glowing with the suspect’s computer composite.

Then the video monitor.

The composite.

The monitor.

He swallowed. Hard.

The man. His beard, his nose, the shape of his head,
his build.

Edward Keller.

He resembled Edward Keller, the religious nut from the
bereavement group. Reed never forgot the people he clashed with. Keller was
irrational, telling him how he lost his three children in a boating accident.
But Reed could not find any news clippings of Keller’s tragedy. Why? Was Keller
a liar? An eccentric? Quoting ancient poetry and Scripture, babbling about his
“divine revelation” and his “blessed reunion with his children”.

Didn’t the FBI’s profile say Danny Becker’s kidnapper
was traumatized by a cataclysmic event involving children?

His blessed reunion with his children.

Children.

Are you the specter sent to destroy my work?

You can rescue them if you truly believe you can.

Reed found Sydowski among the stone-faced dicks lining
the wall. Should he put him on to Keller? But what if he is wrong? What if
Keller was just a nut, sick with grief, and Reed sicced the police on him.
Especially now? Didn’t Dr. Martin say the anniversary of the tragedy was
approaching, always a difficult time for grieving parents? The last time Reed
had galloped after a hunch, a man committed suicide, and Ann and Zack left him.
Reed tapped his pen against his pad. But two children had been stolen.

The chief was taking questions. Reed had missed most
of them, coming out of his thoughts to catch a stunner.

“... you found a bloodied body part in the Sunset and
it belonged to Gabrielle. Is that true, Chief?”

The chief was not pleased. “Your information is
inaccurate. We found some of Gabrielle’s hair. We believe her abductor cut it
to alter her appearance. It is not uncommon in abduction cases.”

“What about the blood?”

“We haven’t determined if it’s the abductor’s or
Gabrielle’s. And I can’t disclose details on the hair.”

“Chief, what about the stop made on the Golden Gate?”

“False alarm. Somebody who resembled the description.”

“There’s a rumor that a fugitive child-killer from
Canada is a suspect and is under surveillance.”

“We have a number of people we’re checking out. We
have no Canadian fugitives under surveillance.”

“Did you arrest a suspect and let him go?”

“No. We brought in a few people known to us for
questioning.”

“Do you have any leads on the suspect in the video?”

“None.”

“Any ransom calls, demands, or contact from the
kidnapper?”

“Nothing.”

“What about the Becker case, any contact?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you think the children have been murdered? Are you
dealing with a serial child-killer?”

“We have no evidence to suggest any homicides. Until
then, we work on the assumption they are being held somewhere.”

“Why do you think the cases are linked?”

“The similar patterns. Bold, daylight, stranger
abduction in each of them. And in the Becker and Nunn cases, the suspect’s
description is very similar.”

“Any theories on the motive behind the cases?”

The chief turned to FBI Special Agent Merle Rust, who
took the question. ‘Our psychological profile suggests the suspect’s motivation
stems from a traumatic event in this life involving children, abuse, a
tragedy.”

“Sexual abuse?”

“Possibly.”

“Chief, anything linked to cult or Satanic
involvement? What about a terrorist link to Nathan Becker’s defense contract
computer research?”

“Nothing on all counts.”

“What do the abducted children have in common? How
does 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 the
dangerous situation we’re facing here. Parents should be vigilant with their
families 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 empty
office.

“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 to
check.”

“What’s his name?”

“Can’t tell you. We’re still checking.”

“Do you think Danny Becker and Gabrielle Nunn are
dead?”

“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 never
happened.”

“What conversation?”

“I think he will strike again. We’re trying to track
him, anticipate his next move. But we’ve got dick to work with.”