The man on the left took the first step down and pulled a badge out of his breast pocket. “FBI, Mrs. Knight.”
“What?”
“Your lives are in danger. We’d like you to come with us, if you would.”
[60]
Walt glanced up from Boyle’s file at the clock on the night stand and was surprised to see it was already a quarter to four. He had picked the file up off the floor with the intent of putting it away, but then he had sat down on the bed and started thumbing through the pages.
It surprised him to discover that the initiating date on the file was May 27th of last year. That was the anniversary of his father’s death. In all the turmoil, Walt had somehow never made that connection before. He supposed that was because he had still been dealing with the death at that time. Even though two years had passed by then, he still often found himself regretful of things never said, questions never asked. The third anniversary was coming up shortly. He made a mental note to visit his father’s graveside. It was the least a son could do. No matter what the relationship they might have had together.
Sarah Boyle. She was Richard’s ex-wife, the one who had made the initial inquiry about hiring Walt to find her children. The police, she had said, had been of little or no help. They hadn’t seemed the least bit interested, she said, and Walt understood that better than most. He had been part of it in his own time.
Richard Boyle was a man she never should have married. She was young, she said, and not as wise as maybe she should have been. Perhaps even more telling was the fact that her parents had taken such an immediate dislike to Richard. That had been all Sarah needed to love him all the more.
What they said about love being blind, well, that was truer than most such sayings. At the ripe old age of twenty, Richard had already done his fair share of prison time. He had been convicted of auto theft on two separate occasions, and once for manslaughter when a fight broke out at a pool hall and he struck the man over the head with a cue.
Richard Boyle was not the kind of man young girls dreamed about marrying one day. But Sarah had married him anyway. And they had two children and more fights than Ali and Foreman combined. And gradually, what little love there had been between them—if any at all—had worn away completely, leaving nothing more than a raw and mutual hatred.
From love to hate.
From family to kidnapping.
Jesus.
Walt closed the file and carried it into the living room where the filing cabinet sat in the corner. He had been on the case for nearly a year now and his trip to the Bay Area had been as close as he had come to putting it to rest. He was going to have to start all over now. And Sarah Richards was going to have to carry on awhile longer without her children.
It was always the innocent, it seemed, who suffered the most.
He closed the filing cabinet and grabbed his keys off the counter. A little luck with the traffic lights, and he could still make it to the plaza a couple of minutes ahead of Teri.
[61]
“FBI?” Teri inquired, only partially comprehending what was happening.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did Walt send you? Walter Travis?”
“Would you come with us, please?”
She glanced back at the two men—who had caught up with them now—wondering if this was everything it appeared to be. Appearances could be deceiving; her last foster mother had liked to say. But it felt right, and maybe more than that, Teri was tired of running, tired of hiding. Maybe this was going to be the end of it.
“Please, Mrs. Knight, we don’t want you exposed any longer than necessary.” The agent tucked his badge back into his jacket, and smiled. “We have a car waiting for you. If you’ll just follow me.”
Gabe looked up with concern. “Mom?”
“It’s okay,” she said.
They followed the agents up the steps and across the square in front of City Hall. At the far end, on First Street, three cars were parked at the curb. The engines were already running. One of the agents opened the back door and assisted Teri into the middle car. Gabe sat in front, the driver on one side, another agent on the other. All three cars pulled away from the curb in perfect formation.
“Where are we going?” Teri asked.
“Where you’ll be safe,” answered the agent to her left.
“Someone’ll have to tell Walt.”
“It’s been handled.”
“Is he going to meet us there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, that’s good to know.”
“I’m sure it is.”
She glanced out the window at the scenery rushing by. They were heading north, through the downtown section, past the Farmers Market and the Prescott Pavilion and McKinley Park. She watched an old woman dressed in rags, pushing a shopping cart down the street, and a Yellow Cab without a fare pass in the opposite direction.
“Where did you say we were going?”
“Somewhere safe, ma’am.”
“And where did you say that was?”
“I didn’t.”
An almost spontaneous unease swept through her. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all. She sat forward in her seat and studied the car in front. It was a late model Ford, black, like the others, carrying California plates. There appeared to be two men riding in the vehicle, both in the front seat.
Why don’t they have government plates? she wondered.
She turned and studied the car bringing up the rear, and suddenly it became all too clear to her. These weren’t government cars. And these weren’t FBI agents. And they sure as hell weren’t here to make sure that she and Gabe were kept safe. This all came rushing at her in a wave of realization. And the clincher, if she had needed such a thing, had been this: Mitch was driving the follow-up car.
“Oh, my God.”
The man sitting to her left stared out the window, unimpressed, no reaction one way or the other. The man to her right, however, turned and grinned.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Knight.”
“This is kidnapping, you know. You’re taking us against our will.”
“Do you know there’s a warrant out for your arrest? It seems after your little accident at the mall the other day, you forgot to go back and get your car. The cops are looking for you. How’s that for ironic?”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“Yes, we will. That’s the whole point.”
The car turned west on Grove Street and made its way through an old section of town where there were a number of abandoned commercial properties for lease or sale. Teri glanced back to see if Mitch was still trailing behind. He was.
“Why are you doing this? What do you want with us?” A surge of panic rose like bile at the back of her throat. She swallowed it back, knowing it would soon come up again.
“Just settle down and relax, Mrs. Knight. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Then why don’t you let us go?”
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
She made an abrupt and feeble lunge across the man’s lap at the door handle. He caught her short and easily shoved her back into the seat, making little effort to be gentle about it. For several days to come, her arms were going to be showing dull, discolored bruises as an aftereffect.
“Stay put, Mrs. Knight.”
“Let us out!”
In the front seat, the car phone rang, and the driver picked it up. There was a short pause before he answered, “She’s a little hysterical at the moment.” Then another pause, before the driver called over the seat, “He wants to know if you think we should sedate her.”