If Angels Fall

THIRTY-SEVEN

San Francisco’s skyscrapers and the surging whitecaps of the Bay wheel slowly underthe California Highway Patrol chopper approaching the south end of the GoldGate Bridge near the Presidio.

It had been assisting the San Francisco police in theabduction investigation, hovering over Golden Gate Park, the Sunset, andRichmond districts. It had returned to its Oakland base to refuel when itsradio crackled. An off-duty CHiPS patrol car spotted a pickup matching thedescription in the Nunn kidnapping, northbound on 101 near the Palace of FineArts. The chopper lifted off within forty-five seconds of the call.

The suspect truck was a Ford, the driver Caucasian,bearded. Passenger was a girl, five to eight years old, her head barely visiblefrom the rear. A small dog was in the cab. The cruiser couldn’t get closer forthe truck’s tag without being noticed.

Traffic on 101 near the Golden Gate looked like a setof toy cars from the air. The CHiPS chopper nearly invisible, lingering aquarter mile or so south. The spotter locked onto the pickup throughhigh-powered binoculars. The truck was now on the bridge.

Police radios sizzled with dispatches as cars fromseveral jurisdictions headed to the area. No stop would be made on the bridge.Too risky. It would happen at the viewpoint exit on the north side. The suspectwas considered dangerous and possibly armed.

They would hold him for the SFPD.

Weaving through traffic on the Golden Gate, Turgeonand Sydowski monitored the takedown on their radio.

“Yeah, we’ve got him,” huffed a CHiPS officer. “Noproblem here. No weapons.”

Turgeon and Sydowski arrived minutes after the arrest,with Turgeon blasting the siren, jolting slow-moving rubberneckers out of theirway. Half a dozen officers were at the scene, four cruisers with front doorsopen, emergency lights pulsating, surrounded the pickup, radio calls competingwith the chopper above.

An officer was talking to a man in the backseat of onecar. In the front of another car an officer talked with a little girl, while ablond dog panted in the rear seat behind the cage. Motorists slowed to gawk. Afew tourists nearby watched with worried, puzzled faces as officers searchedthe interior of the pickup’s cab. Sydowski clipped his shield to his jacket andgroaned. Also watching were TV news crews and newspaper photographers.Reporters were talking to people, taking notes.

“Those guys are fast.” Turgeon shook her head.

The Chevy’s Michelin radials screeched as they skiddedto a halt next to the pickup. Sydowski had his door open before the car stoppedand a highway officer glanced at his shield.

“San Francisco PD?” The officer shouted over thechopper.

“That’s right,” Sydowski said, noticing the stripesand the name plate of Sergeant Marvin Miller.

“This is Inspector Turgeon,” Sydowski said. “Mind ifwe talk to these people?” Turgeon went to the car holding the driver, Sydowskiwent to the car with the little girl, opened the cruiser’s passenger door, andsquatted beside the girl. She was terrified.

“Excuse me, officer.” Sydowski did not take his eyesfrom the girl. “Hi there. I’m Inspector Sydowski. I’m a police officer, too.”

She nodded.

“I bet this has got you pretty scared, sweetheart?”

She nodded. Her chestnut brown hair was in a neatponytail, tied with a pink bow. Her face darkened. “Was Daddy driving too fast?He says police will stop you if you drive too fast.”

“Well, that’s true,” Sydowski said. “People shouldn’tdrive too fast. You’re a pretty smart girl to know that. Can you tell me yourname and how old you are?”

“My name is Jennifer Corliss. I’m seven years old andI live at 7077 Brownlington Gardens. Where’s my daddy?”

The dog barked. A retriever pup.

“This your dog, Jennifer?” Sydowski asked, reachinginto his jacket for the Polaroids of Gabrielle Nunn.

“His name is Sonny Corlis. He lives with me and mydaddy and mommy and my little brother, Ethan. Where’s Daddy? We have to go now.Mommy and Ethan are waiting at the cabin.”

Sydowski held up that morning’s birthday partysnapshot of Gabrielle for Miller. Not even close.

“Daddy’s right over there, Jennifer.” Sydowski noddedto his left. “We’re going to take you to him in a minute. Meanwhile, why don’twe let you sit with Sonny, while we talk to your daddy, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sydowski and Miller started for the second cruiserwhere Jennifer’s father was being questioned.

“Say, you Sydowski, from Homicide?”

“Yup.”

A smile grew on Miller’s face. “The legend himself. Ithought I’d recognized you from the news.”

Turgeon stopped Sydowski before he got to the car.

“I don’t think he’s our boy, Walt.”

“Uh-huh. Well that’s not Gabrielle Nunn back there.”

Turgeon’s face was taut. “Mr. Corliss is not thrilledwith this attention. He’s pissed off.” Turgeon looked at a business card.“Thoren J. Croliss, executive with a downtown investment group.”

Sydowski saw Corliss several yards away, out ofearshot outside the police car leaning against its front right fender, armsfolded resolutely across his chest, ignoring the officer talking to him.Corliss was in his late thirties, early forties. Trim build, thick sandy hair,and a beard, tanned chiseled cheeks. Faded jeans and a navy Ralph Lauren poloshirt. Wayfarers hung from his neck. A man who was always in charge. A man whosealed deals on squash courts, knew his way around most foreign capitals. A guywho carried a phone with him everywhere. Likely called his lawyer already,Sydowski thought.

“He’s demanding to speak to somebody in charge.”Turgeon said.

“Oh, is that right?” Sydowski said.

“We ran his name and made some calls,” Miller said.“He’s clean. Checks out. Just picked up his seven-year-old daughter, Jennifer,from school and they’re on their way to the mother and son at their cottage atBel Marin. That’s their dog, too, a retriever. They fit the damn descriptioncirculated. We told him that. Told him the situation.”

Sydowski rubbed his chin, told Miller his people madethe right call, then nodded to the reporters.

“Marvin, anybody here talk to the press yet?”

“No. It’s your show.”

Sydowski turned to Turgeon. “You up to it, Linda?”

“What have you got in mind?”

“What have you got in mind?”

“Talk to those guys and set the record straight. Tellthem we stopped a subject matching the description in the Nunn kidnapping.Don’t give Corliss’s name or any details about the abduction. We’ll give themmore at the press conference later.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Talk to the old man here. Send him on his way.”

Turgeon was uneasy. A few minutes ago, Sydowski washolding Gabrielle Nunn’s traumatized mother, staring into her eyes. She didn’tlike the way his jaw was fixed, the way he regarded Corliss.

“Don’t rough him up, Walt,” she joked.

Sydowski shoved a Tums into his mouth.

Thoren J. Croliss drew himself to his full height,standing nearly eye to eye with Sydowski.

“And who the hell are you?” Corliss snapped.

Sydowski handed him his badge and identification.

“Homicide?” Corliss stared at Sydowski. “What isthis?”

“We’re investigating the recent abduction of a littlegirl, Mr. Corliss. Unfortunately your truck, with yourself, your daughter, andyour dog, fit the description of the suspect’s vehicle.”

“I can’t believe this!”

“I can only offer you our apology. You are free toleave now.”

“I cannot believe this has happened!” Corliss threw uphis hands. “Is this assuring police work? Arresting innocent people?”

He tossed Sydowski’s shield back at him. “I’m notleaving until I speak to my lawyer.”

“Why? You haven’t been charged with anything.”

“I’ve just been arrested. My rights have beenviolated.”

“You have been inconvenienced, sir. That is all.Again, I thank you for your cooperation and understanding of the gravity of thesituation. Please, Mr. Corliss, I suggest you leave.”

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I’m going to lodgea formal complaint over this matter. I’ll go to the media, and I’ll sue.”

Sydowski said nothing.

“Four police cars pounced on us. My daughter saw herfather forced at gunpoint to step out of our truck with my hands in the air andlie on the ground. Like a low-life criminal. We were publicly humiliated. Therewas a goddamn helicopter hovering over our heads for Christ sake. We’reinnocent people. I’m a law-abiding taxpayer and I won’t stand for this kind ofharassment.”

Sydowski had enough and stepped closer to Corliss,invading his personal space. “I’ve eaten about as much of this as I can stand,sir. A few hours ago a little girl, about the same age as your daughter, waskidnapped from her mother by a man with a beard, like yours, driving a pickuptruck, like yours. He used a dog, like yours, to lure the girl away. A few daysago, a man kidnapped a boy from his father on the subway. These children aregone. Their parents are crazy with fear. The last time this happened, we foundthe child, a two-year-old girl. She was stuffed in a garbage bag.” Sydowskimoved closer to Corliss. “Her throat was cut. I know. I held her corpse.”

Corliss blinked.

“Now, why don’t’ you just trot over there to the pressand tell them how outraged you are. Tell them what a terrible injustice thishas been for you. I’m sure the parents of the kidnapped children will thankyou. And think what a hero you’ll be to everyone who knows you.”

Corliss adam’s apple bobbed as he absorbed Sydowski’sadvice.

They heard a child’s voice and saw Jennifer Corliss.

“Daddy!”

Corliss picked her up in a crushing hug.

“The police said it was a false alarm. We can go now,Dad.”

Corliss studied his daughter’s face, kissed her, thenhe turned to Sydowski. “Then I guess we’ll be on our way.”