I was just curious.
Cummings remained stone-still.
Im sorry. Youll have to forgive me, Josie said, making her voice as kind as she could. You probably dont know this, but I write obituary feature articles for the /Herald,/ and Ive learned that talking about a late loved one can be cathartic for the family. Im embarrassedits just a reflex, I suppose, and I do apologize.
Without comment, Cummings got up from the chair and left the room. Josie was about to groan out loud at her own stupidity when he came back, a copy of the morning /Herald/ in his hand. He threw it down on the coffee table.
Of course I know about you, Miss Sheehan. He laughed. Everyone in San Francisco knows about you this morning.
Josies lips parted in shock. She reached for the paper. Top left, above the fold, the headline read:
HERALD REPORTER MISSING, POLICE FIND SIGNS OF ABDUCTION
As much as she hated to admit it, the article tickled her. The headline was relatively snappy. The piece was well written yet did not clue in Cummings about the methods the police were using to investigate the crime. Editors had chosen a photo of Josie and Genghis in Dolores Park, one that Bea had probably given them, and Josies hair looked great.
Friends and family offered a $500,000 reward for anyone with information that led to an arrest. There were quotes from her mom and dad, Beth, Rick, and Bea. The article described her as a woman who was cherished, missed, and fretted over.
Josie looked up, her eyes locking on Cummings. She would get out of there alive. She had no doubt. Because that was Josies beautiful life they were talking about in the paper, and she wanted to live it.
Josie began to sob. At first it was legitimateshe was humbled by how rich her life was, how fortunate she was to be loved the way she was.
But after a few minutes, Josie noticed how her crying affected Bennett Cummingshe looked terribly uncomfortable. So Josie cranked it up a notch, wailing about her family and her dog and how all she wanted was a chance to have a happy life. She cried until Bennett Cummings couldnt stand it anymore.
At the twenty-four-hour mark, investigators had made progress on some fronts but were stymied on others. An airport bureau cop spotted the 1998 Buick Skylark with Rhode Island plates in the short-term lot. The vehicle had already been towed to SFPDs forensics services division, but so far, there was no evidence linking the car to Josies abduction.
Police were viewing hours of security-camera footage that might have captured someone walking either to or from the car. But nothing yet.
The cell phone number Gwen Anders had provided was a prepaid phone from a Minneapolis wholesaler, paid for in cash about a year earlier. There was no way to determine who had purchased it or was using it. However, the FBI had begun pulling cell tower records to see if the number had connected with any of the areas sixty-plus towers within the last week, which could, at the very least, narrow down a search area.
Rick knew investigators were moving as fast as they could. He had no complaints. The San Francisco police detectives and the FBI agents were doing their jobs well. It just wasnt fast enough for him. It wasnt good enoughbecause they still hadnt found Josie.
Her parents were holding up remarkably well. Though Josies dad reassured him they didnt blame Rick for their daughters disappearance, her mothers eyes told him the real storyhed better get Josie back to them in one piece. Genghis moped around Ricks Pacific Heights home, obviously missing his owner. Once Josie was home safe, Rick would be happy to tell her that her dog was a devoted companion, after all.
He worried about her. He pictured her tied up and gagged and left without food or water. He worried that Cummings might hit her. Rick feared Josie would give up on him, decide he wasnt coming for her. The idea of that took him to the very edge of insanity.
He had to get out of the house. He grabbed Teeny and Genghis and they walked from one end of Pacific Heights to the next, mostly in silence, up hills and back down, for more than two hours. They were about three blocks from home when Teenys phone rang.
Rick watched him nod and say, Youre kidding. Teenys eyes shot to Rick.
Absolutely. Thank you.
They have a two-block radius for us, Teeny said, his smile out of sync with the shock on his face. A call was placed from the phone two days ago, about an hour before Cummings showed up at Gwens condo. Theyve pinpointed the call as coming from the Presidio District.
Ricks heart began to pound.
Whatever youre thinking, dont think it, Teeny said. Theyre putting together a hostage-recovery team, part FBI and part SWAT Rick was already halfway down the block.
Rick!
CHAPTER 21
Here.
Josie wiped her cheeks with a fresh tissue and nodded pitifully, accepting the hot chocolate from Cummings. She took a sip while Cummings collapsed in a kitchen chair. He put his head in his hands. She didnt blame himshed cried all morning, then taken a nap, cried all afternoon and into the evening. She could hardly stand herself.
Are you all right, Mr. Cummings? she asked.
His head moved back and forth in his hands.
Can I do anything?
She heard him laugh, his face still hidden.
What are you thinking?
He slowly raised his head. The display of sorrow on his face made him look twenty years older, like a man on his deathbed. Josie was startled by the change.
I was just thinking about my drive here from the East Coast, Cummings said. He fell back against the chair, his hands limp in his lap. I kept running into young women who needed helpa waif in a coin laundry somewhere in the Midwest, an overwhelmed mother in a Wal-Mart. I drove a young woman named LaShelle all the way from a Nebraska truck stop to San Francisco and then put her on a plane to Los Angeles. She wants to be a recording artist. Cummings laughed to himself. I gave her a check for a million dollars to follow her dream.
Josies mouth fell open. That never happened to me at a truck stop.
Cummings gave her a weak smile. I just now realized what that was all about.
It was about Margot, wasnt it? Josie bit her bottom lip. You werent able to save her, were you?
No. I was not.
But you could save one of these women.
Cummings shrugged.
Josie knew she had to tread lightly with this next part. When someone dies young, it rocks everyone off kilter. Its hard for us to understand why someone whod hardly lived had to die. Its not right and it isnt fair.
Cummings looked at her, nodding his head faintly.
What do you regret most, Mr. Cummings? Josie knew she was pushing it, but if she could get him to open up, she might be able to neutralize some of his rage. Was there something in particular that you wished youd said or done with Margot while she was alive?
Cummingss eyes flashed. Miss Sheehan, an obituary writer does not a psychoanalyst make.
She laughed. She couldnt help it. There was something about Bennett Cummings that she liked. He had a wry sense of humor. He was very smart.
And he was utterly lost. He was a man who seemed to have everything, but was lost anyway. And lost people did desperate things.
Josie hoped to God she wasnt already forming an unhealthy affection for her kidnapper.
All I know is people can torture themselves after their loved one is gone, worried they failed them somehow. Josie wrapped her hands around her mug of hot chocolate, searching for the right words. Ive noticed that for some people, thats where most of the pain comes fromtheir own guilt.
You are quite astute, Miss Sheehan. He got up from the table, and Josie assumed he was done with her lecture. But he was back in a moment, a fresh vodka and tonic in one hand and a BlackBerry in the other. He turned on the device and swung his chair closer to hers.