Noah's Rainy Day (37 page)

I was worried about the little boy and hoped to relieve some of my concerns by seeing him again. Unfortunately, I’d seen nothing. The creepy man had warned him about not playing outside. What had he done to punish little Max?

I heard my mom bend down beside me. “Noah, do you want to tell me about it now?”

I smiled briefly.

“Emma went with Auntie Elizabeth and Uncle Michael, so I’m all you’ve got. I’m going to have to figure this out. Yes and no questions? Or five fingers?” My mom paused, then asked, “Questions?”

I did nothing.

“Spell it out?”

I smiled.

She sighed. “Okay, let’s see. First finger. Yes?”

I flicked my eyes up.

“All right, first finger is correct. Now first knuckle? Nope? Okay it’s not ‘A.’ The second knuckle? No wait, valley between is next. The valley? No?”

This was going to take forever. I told myself to be patient. But it was hard.

While she asked, plucking through to last knuckle “G,” second finger, first valley “I,” third finger, second valley “R,” I finally inched my way close enough to the window to show them. On second finger, third knuckle “L,” my dad finally said, “Girl?”

My eyes flicked up.

“Emma?”

I did nothing.

“Girl, but not Emma. Someone at school? No? Next word?”

I was going to look up, but then decided we might be here all day and I had already lost time, although I didn’t have a clue what time it was.

In exasperation, Mom asked a question that did not have a yes or no answer. “Noah, what’s the matter with you?”

I had to do something. I had to answer her question quickly and with conviction. I knew what I should do, but I still didn’t want to do it. It was going to hurt and the very thought of it made my eyelashes flutter. It may cause another grand mal seizure, which I wasn’t sure my body could take. I was exhausted and sore and this would only make things worse. But my mom needed an answer. Quickly.

I closed my eyes, anticipating the noise and pain and I flung my head against the window with a loud thud. The window didn’t break. I had never done anything like this before, but it seemed the only thing to do.

Startled, my dad fell to his knees beside my mom. “Noah!”

I lifted my head and smiled at them, releasing a moan of happiness that I had finally gotten their attention. I squeezed my eyes shut again as I flung my head against the window a second time.

My mom rolled me over on my back and scolded me. “Noah, stop that. You could hurt yourself. What has gotten into you?”

I could feel my dimples deepen as I smiled widely and rolled my eyes upward. I had their full attention. I arched my back and flung my arm against the window, my knuckles striking the cold pane of glass with a small thud. My hand hurt. I moaned with a laugh and repeated the trick.

Confused, Dad asked, “Noah, do you want to go outside?”

I did not smile. Trying to stay focused, not to mention the head banging, was giving me a headache.

Mom spoke to Dad as if I wasn’t even there or couldn’t hear them. “Gabriel, Noah has never woken up this quickly after a seizure, never rolled out of his bed after a seizure. He knows how much it hurts to hit his head, yet now he’s intentionally flinging himself at the window. Maybe we need to take him to a doctor.”

Then I heard her grow still. I held my breath, hoping she was catching on. I really really wanted to shout,
There’s a girl next door who is not a girl at all. It’s the missing boy from the airport. Call Auntie Liv. The man is getting mean. Hurry!
Of course, nothing came out of my throat. Not even a gurgle. I was too tired.

“Look. That’s where Emma said Noah was sitting earlier when he
became so upset. See his chair tracks? Noah, is this about earlier today? What upset you?”

I squealed. I could barely contain myself. They were finally getting it. I could communicate. I kicked my legs, arched my back, and opened my mouth wide. I struggled to smile, but knew they understood. I was saying
yes
. My whole body was saying
yes
.

My mom asked, “And something happened out there today to upset you, right?”

I squealed again and arched my back even higher before relaxing back to the floor in anticipation of the next question.

Dad pointed. “Footsteps in the snow. On the other side of the fence. There are little footprints all over the yard and one large set of footprints from the back door to the fence and back again. Looks like a child was outside with our neighbor sometime since last night, since it snowed until early this morning when I shoveled Mrs. Parrent’s driveway and walk.”

“You’re right!” My mom asked, “Noah, was the neighbor man outside today?”

I smiled.

“With a girl? The girl Emma said she saw? Was that the girl you were trying to tell me about earlier with the five-finger method?”

I smiled.

“There’s a girl after all.” My mom asked at the same time my dad asked, “Do you want to go play with the girl?”

I smiled and my moan no longer sounded joyous.

“Did something happen? Something bad?” Mom sounded worried.

I smiled, but it wasn’t happy.

“Did the neighbor man say something mean to you, Noah?”

I vividly recalled the man calling me a vegetable, but I didn’t want my dad to veer off track, so I suppressed my smile.
Of course he was mean to me, but that’s not the point!
I screamed in my head.

“Did the neighbor man say or do something mean to the little girl?”

Kidnapping is mean. Keeping little Max prisoner is mean. Everything about this man was mean. Wasn’t it obvious? I smiled and whimpered. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I hoped they were horrified enough to call the police.

“Did he hurt the little girl, Noah?” my mom asked.

I had to think about that. I concentrated really, really hard and smiled. Weakly. It was the first lie I’d ever told my parents, which nearly broke my heart. But it had to be done.

AFTER THE EMTS DOCTORED
Chief Gates’s face and strapped Judy Manning on a gurney, Tony charged her with assault with a deadly weapon and intent to murder before she was hauled off to the hospital. Max and Melissa Williams staggered out of the makeshift headquarters in retreat to their hotel room, both appearing more like whipped pups than the global superstars they were. With everyone gone, we fell into our chairs as if we’d been carrying the weight of the world.

“Could this get any worse?” I asked.

“What in the hell was that all about? Am I misunderstanding what just happened or do none of these three have a clue where the boy is?” Gates asked.

Streeter shook his head. “I don’t think they do.”

“That’s not good, is it?” I asked.

Streeter eyed me, the shake of his head nearly imperceptible.

“I’m sorry, Streeter, for letting her get to my weapon. It will never happen again,” I said.

He plowed his fingers through his short, white hair. “It appeared to me that Judy Manning was the aggressor here; she threw the first punch.”

“There was a fight?” Jack asked, poking his head through the door, carrying boxes of pizzas, which instantly made my stomach growl.

“Melissa Williams stormed into the room talking smack, and Judy Manning had had enough. She snapped. Threw a few punches and got ahold of my gun,” I explained. Jack set the boxes on the table.

“Your 9mm? Everybody okay?” Jack asked, studying my face.

Rubbing his bandaged jaw, Gates said, “It may hurt to eat that pizza, but okay.”

“What happened to you?”

“Nanny Judy happened,” Gates said.

“She hit you?”

Streeter said, “Tony, let’s search the hotel where Manning was staying and confiscate everything in her room.”

“You think she was lying? Staged all that to cover her tracks?” Gates asked, echoing my sentiments of incredulity.

Streeter shook his head. “I don’t. But just in case.”

“I don’t think Nanny Judy’s responsible. Or Max. Or Melissa,” I said, grabbing a slice of pepperoni. “Not any more. I’m convinced after all that.”

“And I don’t think it’s a kidnapping for ransom,” Streeter said, leaning back in his chair, watching me.

“Me neither,” I said. “But Manning’s obsession reminded me of what they taught us at Quantico about the warped minds of abductors. It made me realize how crazy some folks are and how desperate they can become to ‘protect’ and ‘save’ children. I’m thinking the psychological profile of whoever abducted little Max might very well be a lot like what Nanny Judy just demonstrated to us. Obsessed with a child, desperate to keep him safe.”

“A pedophile,” Gates said.

“Or a whack job like Nanny Judy,” I said.

Streeter said, “Gates, don’t you keep a list of Denver’s registered sex offenders?”

“And the Greater Denver area,” the chief said, folding his first piece of pizza and eating half of it in one bite. Through a mouthful, he said, “Worst Christmas meal ever. No offense, Linwood.”

“None taken. And agreed,” answered Jack. “If your team can pull that
data, can we narrow it down to a list of those sexual offenses that involve children?”

“Already on it. I’ll find out what they’ve learned so far.” Gates was punching away at his cell phone as he rose to his feet. He stuffed the last of his slice in his mouth and walked out of the room to get the data coming.

“Where do we go from here?”

Streeter said, “We need to have someone stick like glue to Melissa and to Max Williams. Something might break after what just happened. Who’s on that detail now?”

I said, “Kyle’s with the officers who followed Manning to the hospital, waiting until she’s well enough to be booked and taken to jail. Phil followed Melissa and Max to their hotel.”

“Good. Witnessing something like that shakes people up. Maybe this will get one or the other to talk if they know something more about little Max. What’d you find, Linwood?” Streeter said, lifting his eyes from the files he was studying to the video screen.

“Just watch,” Jack said.

I sat beside Jack, and Streeter walked around the table and stood over my shoulder. I focused on not letting thoughts about Judy Manning grabbing my pistol and nearly blowing away the Williamses crowd my mind. But I found it difficult to stay focused as Jack queued up the video. My eyes drifted to the chunk of drywall where the bullet had lodged in the outer wall, inches from the large pane of glass that would have shattered all over the tarmac beyond.

“After reviewing eight hours of video per camera angle from the key cameras Liv selected, I think we found something. But I want you to weigh in on it before we pursue this much further.”

Jack dragged the sliding bar to a certain place on the video clip and clicked play.

On the screen near the back of the crowd heading for an exit, I watched a heavy man with dark sunglasses, a long dark coat, and shiny, dark hair heading toward the camera.

“This video was taken on key camera four, at the closest exit from the bathroom near the Buckhorn Bar and Grill to the short-term parking lot.”

We stood transfixed by the grayscale movement on the screen.

When I saw the images of the heavy man in a dark coat quickly escorting a small child, I felt a surge of excitement and asked, “Is that him?”

The grainy images of the man were impossible to glean an identity from, given that all we saw was the top of his head because of the angle of the camera lens. Unless at any point the man looked up directly into the camera, which I didn’t expect, given how “invisible” this guy had been up until now, this was the best we were going to get.

Jack hit pause and zoomed in on the image. “I think this is the boy. See? His hair is black under that stocking cap, like the man’s hair.”

Jack added, “See the child’s face? The eyes? Don’t you think this looks like the boy?”

We studied the zoomed image of the child, a child who frequently looked up at the camera and all around. A child full of wonder and curiosity.

Tony leaned closer and said, “This looks like a little girl to me. See the flowers rimming the hat? And on the pink coat?”

I hadn’t even noticed the chief coming back in the room and was glad he had made it back in time to see these video clips.

Streeter said, “The eyes. That’s him.”

Jack said, “We think you’re both right. Watch.”

The man walked toward the camera and just as they approached the glass doors visible in the bottom edge of the image, the child broke free from the man’s grip and ran toward the glass door, pressing his face against the glass.

“What is she doing?” Tony asked.

“Making a slobber impression on the glass. Look, see? The kid’s laughing and pointing at the masterpiece.”

The fat man hurried toward the child who had broken free from his grip. As if they’d been walking across a crowded street at rush hour, the man looked panicked in his movements and reactions. When he grabbed the child by the wrist and pulled her away from the window, the child laughed and pointed at the window.

Streeter said, “A slobber face.”

“Not a girl,” Tony said.

“Exactly.”

“What is a slobber face?” I asked.

Streeter said, “I thought you had brothers?”

“I do. Two of them. But I don’t see the connection.”

Jack’s said, “Parents don’t like having their windows messed up, so in most houses, children are forbidden to play with the glass, right?”

I nodded. I remembered that rule when I was growing up. Both at home and in the car. With nine of us, my mom was constantly washing windows.

“Little boys this age love to press their noses and mouths and tongues and grubby hands against the glass to make a funny impression. It’s what boys do,” Jack said.

I looked back over my shoulder from Streeter’s face to Gates’s face and saw that both men agreed with that categorical observation of five-year-old boys. I stole a glance toward Jack, who nodded.

“The boy in this video is doing what boys do when they’re away from the watchful eye of parents. They break free from an adult’s grip and do slobber faces,” Jack said.

“Or wander off from an escort out of boredom,” Streeter said.