Sufficient Ransom (2 page)

She tried to sound light-hearted. “Kika keeps coming to our house. We’ll hide and hope she can’t find us. Like a game of hide-and-seek. Okay?”

“What about Daddy? Are we hiding from him too?”

“When Dad calls we’ll tell him where we are.” She kissed his cheek. “Feeling better?”

The worry gone from his face, Travis nodded.

“Good. Come help Mommy check all the windows and doors.” Ann bent her legs and lifted Travis. He was tall for his age and thinly built. “You’re such a big boy now, and you smell so good. Like that blueberry cake we had for dessert.” She held her son to her chest as she moved through the house, locking windows, doors, and shutting shades.

In the kitchen, she hesitated. Dinner dishes were still stacked in the sink. Travis’s Lego pieces were scattered all over the floor. Ann liked neatness. The thought of leaving a mess behind made her even more anxious. Every night before bed she spent at least an hour scrubbing down the kitchen, putting the clean dishes away, and mopping the white tile. If anyone so much as washed their hands in the downstairs bathroom she felt compelled to scrub that room too.

She fastened the window above the sink, flicked the blinds shut, and forced herself past the mess. Right now, getting away from Kika Garcia was more important than cleaning. On she went to the living room, the formal dining room, her home office, and the library. All secured.

His hand caressing her blond hair, Travis said, “Can we stay at the Del? Oh please, Mom, let’s stay at the Hotel Del. We could eat at the big buffet. Remember when we went there for Easter? Dad drank a lot of Champagne. Remember?”

Ann retraced her steps back to the kitchen, grabbed her handbag and car keys off the counter, and headed for the staircase. “We’ve been
to the Hotel Del so many times,” she said, slowing her pace. “They know us there. We’ll go somewhere new—like I said, with a big pool.”

At the foot of the staircase, she shifted her son to her hip and glanced at her wrist. It was 8:30. Richard should have landed in Hong Kong by now. She hated when her husband flew. She always imagined the worst. Every time he booked a trip, she just knew that this time his plane would crash. She pictured herself a heartbroken widow, at forty, raising headstrong Travis alone. When Richard returned home, she would hug and kiss him hard. Later in bed, she would confess her foolish visions and promise to be less apocalyptic the next time, but somehow her dark thoughts continued.

Now, the real threat of CPS taking her son quelled all concerns for her husband. Ann had read horror stories about overzealous caseworkers snatching children from their homes—children put into the foster care system. Parents falsely accused of the most egregious crimes, and years of childhood lost. Kika Garcia seemed determined to victimize her family in just that way—all because she had this idea that Ann was an abusive mother. Besides, what did Kika know about raising a child? Ann had heard she was childless.

She reached around Travis’s back and wiped her eyes. The crimes CPS accused her of were baseless. Yet, deep down Ann yearned to be forgiven. But for what exactly, and by whom? She didn’t know.

She lowered Travis onto the first step. Continuing the imaginary game of hide-and-seek, her voice hinted at conspiracy. “I bet Kika won’t find us upstairs.”

A mischievous grin lit up her son’s face.

The lights in her bedroom on, Ann emptied her cash drawer into her purse. While Travis bounced on her bed, she stuffed several days’ worth of clothes into a duffel bag, grabbed her travel kit from the bathroom and shoved that in too. On to Travis’s room to do the same.

Travis tagged behind her. “Mom, can I have a treat?”

He was being so well behaved. “I’ll give you some chocolate in the car, sweetie.”

It was dark when Ann rolled her Lexus out of the garage. “Kika won’t find us now,” she said in a playful voice as she watched her son in the rearview mirror. His eyes were shining with excitement.

Ann stopped in the driveway and scanned the street behind her car. Kika’s red Corolla was nowhere to be seen. Next, she peered at the trees and the sides of the house for signs of anyone hiding. Before activating the alarm she had turned on the outdoor lamps to discourage anyone from creeping up to the windows and spying.

She drove through the quiet streets. When Travis insisted she turn the backseat light on so he could read his
Star Wars
book, she said, “When we get on the freeway, sweetie. First, we’ll park at the shopping center so I can call for a reservation.” She had considered calling from home, but the thought of spending one more minute than necessary in her house with the social worker about had changed her mind. Though it was the last day of September and the summer crowds had largely dissipated, some convention or other always seemed to be going on in San Diego. She didn’t want to drive from hotel to hotel only to be told they were full.

Ann unlocked her phone and got to work. Minutes later she hung up, relieved. The Solana Regent, a short drive up the coast, had a vacancy. Next, she called Richard in Hong Kong. Voicemail answered. Whispering so Travis couldn’t hear, she urged her husband to call her. “After what happened tonight, hopefully Stewart can get that restraining order against Kika,” she added before hanging up.

“Mom, can I have the chocolate now?”

She snapped open the glove compartment and handed back a Twix, hoping Travis didn’t notice that her hand was shaking. She forced herself to speak casually. “Careful with the crumbs, sweetie.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to get herself together before Travis sensed her panic. But what if Kika notified the police? What if she followed them to the hotel? Her frustration mounting, Ann wished her husband hadn’t left her and Travis alone and gone flying half way around the world. Richard would know how to handle that crazy stalker.

“When will we be there, Mom?”

“In about fifteen minutes, Travis.”

Ann started the engine, unsure whether she was ready for the next leg of their unwanted adventure. After glancing around to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she headed for the freeway.

Ann’s troubles had started the day of her screaming fit three weeks ago. She burned with shame at the memory. It was the morning of September 8 and Richard was away. Travis had a dentist appointment to get to. She had been up much of the night preparing a presentation for a new client, Douglas Stark. She was anxious and irritable, and Travis was procrastinating, as usual.

“Travis, I asked you to brush your teeth three times, already. We need to leave for the dentist in ten minutes.”

They had just finished breakfast. Ann was in her home office putting the finishing touches on her PowerPoint presentation. Travis stood in the doorway holding a Lego structure he had built. Colorful gilt prints of the Madonna and Child paintings that Mr. Stark coveted were laid across her desk. Her client had asked her to research several Renaissance pieces that were going up for auction in New York in the middle of October. A former colleague from the Boston Museum of Fine Art, where Ann had worked as a junior curator after Smith College, had generously gifted to her these high quality prints, knowing how important it was to Ann that Ann’s client be pleased with her work.

“Mom, can you help me get this piece off?”

At the doorway, she placed her hands on her son’s shoulders and pointed him toward the bathroom. “Go brush your teeth, Travis.”

“What about my Legos?”

Ann’s phone rang. She nudged Travis. “Go!” She had no time for any more of his nonsense. If he didn’t move they would be late for their appointment. If they were late for that, they would probably have to wait at least another thirty minutes before they could be seen. Afterwards, she would have to get Travis to school. Then she’d have to drive all the way downtown San Diego from La Jolla—a good twenty-five minutes—park her car, have lunch with Mr. Stark, and present him with her findings. Which at two hundred dollars an hour—her fee—was costing him a fair bit.

Douglas Stark’s number appeared on her phone’s screen. She couldn’t afford for Travis to interrupt this call. She unlocked the front door and stepped outside. A few minutes later, after reassuring her client she would be at the restaurant at 11:30 sharp, she re-entered the house. “Travis?” she called. “Come on, honey. We have to leave.”

Ann heard a noise in her office. Travis was behind her desk with a black marker in his hand and a guilty grin on his face. “What’re you doing?”

She walked over to her desk and looked down. The gilt prints she had painstakingly acquired for her client were marked up. The Madonna’s face on one of them was traced round in heavy black, her beneficent smile made ridiculous with a curving grin. The other prints too were worked over in childish ways. In one of them, baby Jesus sported a sign that read, “Give me candy.”

Blood rose to her face. “How could you do this?”

Fear crept into Travis’s eyes. “I was just... I was only…”

That her son would try to justify his actions with some lame excuse after the trouble she went through to get this presentation ready, enflamed her anger. “You were just
what
?”

Travis’s voice was petulant. “What’s the big deal? It’s just pictures.”

At that point, everything was a big deal to Ann. Her headache was worsening by the second. If they were late for the dentist, she’d be late to her meeting. This client had his eye on several expensive paintings in her gallery; his patronage could be a major boon to her business. If she failed to impress him he could just as easily take his business elsewhere.

She tried to calm herself with soothing thoughts. Mr. Stark didn’t know she had these prints. She would just give him the PowerPoint presentation on her laptop. Everything would be fine. She guided Travis away from her desk. “If you’re not ready in two minutes, no dessert tonight.”

Travis turned around and slapped her arm. Boy, did he know how to push her buttons! Her anger spiking a notch, Ann took a deep breath. No use getting worked up. Everything would be fine. Her voice was calm. “Behaving this way won’t get you any favors today, Travis.”

His parting look was sullen.

She glanced at her watch. It was 8:35. If they hurried, they might just make Travis’s 8:45 appointment. She scooped up the desecrated prints and dropped them into the garbage bin. Reaching for her cup of tea, she stopped. She noticed that her wrist was wet. She lifted her mug. It was half full. She touched it all the way round. It was dry.
What could possibly be wet?
Her eyes locked on her laptop. The machine was sitting in a shiny pool of water, the screen blank.

Travis’s plastic Legoland cup caught her eye; it was upright on the other side of the desk. She picked it up. An inch of water sloshed around its bottom. Mechanically, Ann dropped the cup in the bin and turned her attention back to the laptop. She jabbed her fingers at the keyboard trying to get it to come on. When that didn’t work she carefully lifted it onto her lap. The cord attaching it to the wall outlet was wet. She jerked the cord out of the machine and let it fall to the floor. Her fear rising, she pressed the power button and tried to re-boot the laptop via the battery. Her every effort failing, panic took over.

Her entire business was on this machine. Her accounts, her contact list, two years of work, since she opened her gallery, all stored on this slender device. Her husband was always after her to do daily back-ups, but she never seemed to have the time. The last time she had backed her computer up more than a month ago, she had accidentally deleted some important files. It had taken her all morning to straighten out the mess. Now she would have to reconstruct the last month’s worth of work—it could take weeks. And then there was Mr. Stark’s lost PowerPoint presentation…

She placed the laptop on the credenza behind her desk. “Travis! Get in here!”

When he arrived, his head hanging, Ann knew he had done it on purpose. Her voice rose. “You ruined my business! How could you?”

Travis tried to explain away his guilt.

Something inside of Ann snapped. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, Mommy needs a time-out.” She pushed past the desk and raced the stairs to her bedroom. Not caring that the windows were open, that her neighbors would probably hear her, she screamed and screamed.

Hearing her screams, her next door neighbor called the police.

11:45 P.M
.

S
nuggled against Travis in the hotel bed, Ann checked her phone again. She had left Richard several messages and emails urging him to return home early from Hong Kong. Terrified Kika would make good on her promise to take Travis, she couldn’t stand the thought of the next days without her husband. It was nearly midnight and he still hadn’t responded. She imagined his days and nights were jam-packed with meetings, as usual.

With Richard’s heavy travel schedule lately, she and Travis were alone much of the time. It seemed more so since the whole CPS thing started. Ann knew she had to find a new school for her son. She had interviewed a few prospective places, but she wasn’t in any hurry after the disaster of the last school. She cherished their leisurely meals together, their playtime, and visiting all their favorite places, like they used to do when Travis was very small.

Travis had been born four weeks early—small and helpless. Nothing she had read in the books prepared Ann for the awe she felt in the presence of this perfect little person whom she and her husband had created. Terrified something would happen to him, she didn’t take Travis out of the house for the first two months of his life. On their inaugural outing, fearing an accident, she admonished her husband to drive slowly. When they arrived at their destination, an Italian restaurant in Del Mar, she had clutched Travis in his car seat as she ran for the door, afraid the hot sun would burn his delicate skin.

When the waitress bent down to take a look at Travis, sleeping in his seat, Ann threw a blanket over him, fearful germs would somehow reach him. “I’m sorry,” she said to the startled woman. “I’m a little nervous. You see. It’s his first time out.” The waitress, a mother herself, understood, as did the many others whose eager hands Ann had gently turned away. The world, women especially, love to touch a baby. As Travis grew, she relaxed more. But that feeling of vulnerability remained.