If Angels Fall (33 page)

“Okay.”

“Excuse me, Walt.” Special Agent Merle Rust took Sydowski
aside. “IDENT’s finished with her bedroom. Came up with nothing, zip. WE should
give it a quick once-over.”

Sydowski agreed, patted Ryan’s shoulder, then left
with Rust.

It was like walking into the bedroom of a doll’s
house. The two men dwarfed it, casting huge shadows on the walls.

Rust squatted, examining the contents of Gabrielle’s
dresser, while Sydowski sat on her bed. Soft pastel, patterned wallpaper with
tiny bouquets covered the walls. The ceiling borders were painted a lilac
shade. Beautiful, Sydowski thought. A framed piece of embroidery reading:
“Gabrielle’s Room” hung above the bed. A multicolored crayon drawing of Jackson,
Gabrielle’s puppy, hung on one wall. This was the room of a happy child, like
the rooms of Tanita and Danny.

As Rust sifted gingerly through Gabrielle’s dresser
drawers, Sydowski ran his fingers over the flowers printed on her comforter.
She had been here hours ago. Sleeping, dreaming. Safe. He touched her pillow,
traced the frills of the cotton pillow case, and picked up a stuffed pink bear.

“Snuffles,” Rust said.

“Huh?”

“Snuffles, Walt. According to her dad, it’s her
favorite possession, after her pup.”

Sydowski touched Snuffles to his nose, inhaling a
sweet child’s scent. Rust opened Gabrielle’s closet, crouched down, and
inspected the items jammed into it, starting with Gabrielle’s shoes.

“Why in hell are you doing that?” Paul Nunn asked from
the doorway. “What could you possibly hope to find?”

Rust and Sydowski exchanged looks.

Nunn’s eyes were still wet and he was exhausted from
having endured hours of police interviews. Rust stopped, but remained crouched.

“Paul,” Sydowski began, “everybody has secrets. Even
children.”

“Secrets? What secrets?”

“Gabrielle may have been approached by her abductor
before. He may have tricked her into keeping it secret. He may have given her
something, a little gift.” Sydowski nodded to Gabrielle’s drawing of her dog.
“Maybe she hid a drawing, or wrote something.”

Nunn absorbed Sydowski’s rationale. “But we’ve told
her and Ryan never to talk to strangers.”

“He may not have been a stranger to her. He may have
learned something about you and Nancy to trick her. If he took her dog, then
he’s working from a plan.”

Nunn rubbed his stubble, then the back of his neck.

“She’s a good girl, she always tells us everything.”

“You don’t know that,” Rust said.

“What about her hair? You found her braids and there
was blood.”

“Well,” Sydowski said, “it’s exactly like we’ve said.
We suspect he cut her braids off to change her appearance. She may have
struggled and he likely cut himself. If he tossed her hair in the street like
he did, it means he was likely in a hurry or afraid he was being watched. It is
common for the stranger to want to alter the child’s appearance right away.”

“Why didn’t you tell the press about the suspect?”

“What suspect?” Sydowski said.

“Virgil Shook. I heard some of the detectives talking
tonight.”

“He’s a loser we want to check out. We’re waiting for
his file from Canada—that’s where he’s from. We’re checking out a lot of people
as fast as we can. You should keep his name to yourself.”

“Why? If he’s got my daughter, you should tell the
whole world and splash his face across the news.”

“We need every edge we can get. We don’t want the
kidnapper to know what we may find out about him. It could blow up in our
faces.”

“That what happened in the Donner case last year with
that guy who committed suicide?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Is this Shook guy connected to that baby’s murder and
my girl?”

“There are similarities in all three cases. That’s all
we know.”

Paul took a deep breath, his shining gaze going around
the room tenderly. His little girl’s room, where he tucked her in, read her
stories, brushed away her fears, promising to keep her safe. And now his little
girl’s room was somehow violated by the presence of these men—these men who’d
looked upon corpses of children, and into the faces of killers. These men who’d
touched death, touched evil, were now touching his little girl’s private
things. They had invaded a hallowed region and somehow fouled it.

“Do what you have to do.” Nunn left, bumping into
Inspector Turgeon, who smiled at him before entering and closing the door.

“What’s the latest, Linda?” Sydowski said.

“IDENT picked up the prints of a pervert from one of
the stalls in the girl’s bathroom at the Children’s Playground. Belong to
Donald Barrons. He doesn’t look like the composite. We’ve got two people who
can put him there about one hour before the abduction. Vice is grabbing him.
Barrons likes to expose himself to little girls.

I thought somebody checked him clean on Donner and
Becker,” Sydowski said.

“Maybe we should be more thorough this time,” Turgeon
said.

“Shook’s file arrive yet?” Rust asked.

“The Mounties promise it by tonight.”

Rust cursed.

“That’s it?” Sydowski said.

“IDENT’s back at daybreak to do the yard and the
neighborhood. More searches with volunteers at Golden Gate. DMV’s still working
up a pool of suspect vehicles based on the partial plate.”

“What about the tip line?” Sydowski said.

“I called them. Hundreds of calls, kooks, crazies.
They’re checking everything, but there aren’t enough bodies, so it’s going to
take awhile.”

Sydowski nodded. No one spoke.

The room became quiet, except for Rust sifting
delicately through Gabrielle’s clothes. They had nothing. Two children stolen
from their parents in broad daylight and they had nothing to give them a degree
of hope. Sydowski slipped a Tums into his mouth.

The whipping
of the chopper over Golden Gate Park thundered on the TV, then
faded as the somber voice of
Metro-TV News
reporter Vince Vincent
described the kidnapping and hunt for Gabrielle Nunn.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

“And tonight, at their Sunset home, Gabrielle Nunn’s
mother, Nancy, made a heart-stopping plea to her daughter’s abductor...”

The story cut from the carousel at the park to Nancy
and Paul.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Keller yawned as Vincent summarized the case, how
police linked it to Danny Becker’s kidnapping and the unsolved abduction and
murder of Tanita Marie Donner last year. The composite of Keller flashed on the
screen followed by the dramatic, blurry home-video footage of Gabrielle talking
to Keller.

Keller stopped rocking.

There was a description of Keller’s truck, then the
missing poster of Gabrielle’s dog, details of her severed braids, a picture
showing how she would look with shorter hair.

“I saw this man stop and seemed to be struggling with
a child in his truck. I thought it was so strange,” Eva Blair recounted to
reporters what she had witnessed near the Walker place that afternoon. “It was
unusual, so I called the police.”

Forensic experts searched for clues in the spot where
Gabrielle was taken, in the parking lot, and in the secluded area where they
found Tanita Marie Donner. Police were in Dolores Park where evidence in the
Donner case was found last year. Someone in a pickup was stopped at the Golden
Gate Bridge. Garbage collection was halted in Golden Gate Park and around the
Sunset. Trash bins were emptied, their contents prodded by officers in overalls
and surgical masks. Scores of volunteers, mothers and fathers with their
children, walked across sections of Golden Gate Park searching for clues.
Police officers and cadets went door to door with pictures of Tanita Donner,
Danny Becker, Gabrielle Nunn, and the suspect’s composite. The reward for good
tips on the cases was raised to $200,000, and the SFPD and FBI had formed a
multiagency task force to investigate.

A task force?

Keller swallowed. His throat was dry. Almost raw.

So be it. His mission was sanctified.

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

The abductions have shaken the Bay Area to its very
core.

“It’s every parent’s nightmare.” Charlene Munroe told
reporters as she, along with her ten-year-old daughter and twelve-year-old son,
combed Golden Gate Park’s wooded areas. “We helped in the search for Danny
Becker. I’m a mother, too.” Charlene swept aside some grass with a stick, then
called her children, who had ambled a few yards from her. “Stay close to me,
guys! I just hope this works out for the best.”

Squeak-creak. Squeak-creak.

Vince Vincent went on about the intense investigation,
the rumors about a psychic being called and contacts with police who faced
serial child murder cases in Atlanta, New York, and British Columbia.

Keller switched his set off. Scattered around him were
the early editions of the major Bay papers. He had read every word, studied
every picture, graphics, locator maps, everything on the case.

Let them search.

It was late, but he was not tired. He went to the
worktable, looked through the heap of journals, binders and notes, stopping to
study the time-worn snapshot of his three children: Pierce, Alisha, and Joshua.
Laughing. A few weeks before they drowned.

They never found the bodies.

So let them search. For Raphael. For Gabriel.

They’ll never find the bodies. The Truth was revealed
to him. His children were not dead. They were waiting to be reborn in celestial
light. Only God’s Angels could rescue them, transfigure them. Then together
they would walk in the Kingdom of God. How could police know his Divine
Mission? They were mortals. How could they comprehend what was preordained?

They could never know the Divine Truth as he did.

It had been revealed to him. He had been chosen. He
was the enlightened one who would show the world God’s wonder. Edward Keller
had been ordained; he was the light beyond sorrow, the light beyond the veil of
death, destined to fulfill a Holy Mission.

He was cleansed in the light of the Lord.

Soon everyone would know God’s love, His name, His
glory.

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth.

The Angels, soldiers of God’s merciful love, were sent
to him.

Keller smiled, for it was true. He had found the
first.

Danny Raphael Becker, Raphael of the Powers. Healed by
God. Chief of the Guardian Angels. Guardian of Mankind. Protector of Children.

And he had found the second, concealed as Gabrielle
Nunn. Gabrielle. Gabriel. God’s ambassador to earth. The Angel who heralded the
coming of the Messiah. Gabriel had come to him. She was the messenger. She was
his.

She was in the basement with Raphael.

It went according to his prayers.

Thanks to be to God. Praise Him.

Keller found the silver crucifix and slipped it around
his neck. Then he reached for the binder with the names of his eldest son,
Pierce, and the third Angel, caressing his meticulous notes inside. One more
Angel to complete the choir. One more to complete his Holy Mission. One more
and God would initiate the transfiguration. He would find his children. Be with
them. Bring them back. Nothing could keep him from his holy destiny now.
Nothing. He held his crucifix in a white knuckled grip. He’d come too far,
endured too much pain. Nothing must go wrong now. Suddenly he heard
something---

Screaming? Yes. Screaming.

Hysterical screaming from the basement where the
angels were.