"Yes, he did. Did you happen to see what happened to him once he made the retaining wall?"
The woman shook her head. "No, I was looking right here."
"It happened so fast," Betty said, running up. Bop was pushing his head against Ramsey's legs, the Frisbee in his mouth. "From one instant to the next. She was just gone. I'm so sorry."
The woman didn't say anything more, just gathered her two little girls close. "We're leaving," she said.
The children whined and argued, but the woman had a firm hold on their arms and dragged them away.
"Do you want me to call the cops?"
"No," Ramsey said, slowly rising. He still held Emma tightly against him. He was kissing the top of her head. "I'm so sorry, Emma, so sorry." He turned to Betty Conlin. "Bop can have the Frisbee and the sandwiches."
The police would question the people on the beach, all the people on the sidewalk at the top of the retaining wall, but Emma was burrowed against him, she was shuddering, he had to get her home. He kept her pressed against him even in the front seat of his old Porsche. It was a tight squeeze but he didn't care.
He was still holding her when he stood at his desk, calling Virginia Trolley. When she came on the line, he said, "Ramsey here. A man just tried to steal Emma on the beach near Cliff House. He dropped her when he saw I was about to catch him. I couldn't go after him because Emma was down. He was wearing a long brown overcoat, scuffed black-and-white running shoes, a brown knit cap on his head, dark sunglasses. He moved like he was over forty. No, not all that tall, maybe five-ten. Yeah, he was white. If you could send some people over there to find someone who saw the bastard. Yeah, thanks.
See you in a few minutes."
He was still holding Emma when he hung up the phone. "Now, sweetheart, let me take a look at your head."
"Mama," Emma said against his jacket. "Mama."
"You're right. Let's go see that she's all right."
But Molly wasn't there.
Ramsey stared dumbly down at the empty bed. The water bottle beside the bed was empty. He yelled her name. He even looked in the bathroom shower.
"Molly!"
"Where's Mama, Ramsey?"
"I don't know, Emma, I don't know."
He ran back downstairs, Emma clinging to him like a limpet. He called her name again and again.
What the hell had happened?
He ran outside. There were two older people walking on the sidewalk. They knew him and waved. He waved back, even as he was turning to look the other way. No one else was around.
Emma was shuddering in his arms, crying, deep and low, harsh ugly sobs. "It's all right, Emma. She must have gone for a walk, that's all." He continued speaking nonsense to her, and that's what it was-nonsense. Where was Molly? He'd never been so afraid in his life.
Virginia Trolley pulled up with a young cop in her white Plymouth.
"Molly's gone," he said. "She's just gone."
Virginia Trolley saw the shock on his face, saw the little girl nearly hysterical in his arms. She said quietly,
"Let's go inside and make some calls. It will be all right, Ramsey. Come along."
Virginia got on the phone. Ramsey started rocking Emma in his big desk chair. They heard a woman yell.
"Mama!"
Emma jerked out of Ramsey's arms and ran to the front door. It opened and Molly nearly fell inside, the young cop right behind her, his arm outstretched to grab her.
"Mama!"
Molly was on her knees in the foyer, Emma crying against her neck. The young cop said to Virginia, "I'm sorry, she wouldn't say who she was."
"It's okay. Now that Molly's here, you can go on over to Cliff House, Joe, and join the questioning."
Ramsey stood slowly. He waited until Emma had quieted a bit, waited until Molly finally raised her head.
"What happened to you?"
He sounded furious, at the end of his rope. Molly saw the policewoman standing by his desk. For a moment, she was so relieved she simply couldn't speak. She held Emma close.
"I got a phone call," she said, her voice strained and thin. "It came about ten minutes ago. I was sound asleep. It was a man. His voice was muffled, as though he was talking through a handkerchief. At first I was too asleep to realize what he was saying. But then he said everything again. He said something about the beach and he'd gotten her and I'd never see her again."
"Mama," Emma whispered. For a moment, Molly just held her daughter close. She rose finally, lifting Emma in her arms. She staggered. Ramsey walked to her and gathered them both close. He said against Molly's hair, "Thank God you're all right."
"Yes," Molly said. "What happened?"
Ramsey walked both of them to the sofa and sat down, holding each of them very close. He kissed Emma's forehead, then Molly's. "It's all right. We're all together. What happened is that a man did grab Emma, but I saw him running away with her and got her back. He ran away. Virginia's got police at the beach questioning people." He paused a moment, not releasing his hold on either of them. "But why did he call you? Just ten minutes ago? That means he called you after I got Emma back. Why'd he do that?"
Virginia said, "He did it to terrorize Molly. Now, who would like a glass of water?"
Ramsey started to say that Molly would, but he didn't. He realized that he was feeling very strange, as though his brain had slowed to a stumbling walk.
"I've been stupid," he said. "Even though I asked you about protection and you volunteered a patrol car, I still thought it was all over. I didn't really think there was any more danger. I never thought that man would come back."
"We've all been stupid," Molly said. "I didn't think there was any more danger either. The man's insane."
"That's probably very true," Virginia said. "Now, let's get down to it." Virginia asked him questions. She was infinitely patient, her voice pitched low. Ramsey realized, of course, that she'd played through scenes like this before, only most of them hadn't ended as well as this one had.
They sat close together, Emma on his lap, her face against her mother's shoulder, his arms around both of them.
Virginia said, "Mrs. Santera, please think back. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Virginia Trolley, of the SFPD. I've known Ramsey for a while."
Molly nodded at the woman who was dressed all in black with a bright red blazer. "Call me Molly."
"All right. Good. Now, the man called at about-" She looked at her watch, did some calculations. "He called about ten after three. He said what exactly?"
"He said he had Emma. He said that stupid judge had just left her on the beach, didn't care about her at all, that he was flirting with this girl and throwing a Frisbee for her dog. He said it was a piece of cake.
He said he'd never let her escape him again. He said I'd never see her again. Then he laughed. He said he was going to drive close to the house so maybe I could see him and Emma. He said he'd let Emma wave good-bye to me. Then he hung up. I was staring at the phone. I couldn't think of anything to say. Then I thought if I went outside maybe I could catch him. I ran outside. I've been running all through Sea Cliff.
I'm surprised neighbors haven't called the cops to report a crazy woman."
"He called her after I got Emma back," Ramsey said slowly. "Just to frighten her?"
"Like I said," Virginia repeated, "he wanted to terrorize Molly. He wanted to make himself feel powerful.
He'd failed to get Emma, but by calling Molly, he could win, at least for a while, until the both of you got back here."
His brain was beginning to function again, thank God. He could tell that Molly, too, was getting herself back together. As for Emma, he didn't know what they'd be facing with her. "Emma says he hit her on the head."
Molly patted her daughter's shoulder. "Em, does your head hurt?"