If Angels Fall

SIXTY-FIVE

The hobby shop was small, its two rows of shelves were crammed with model ships,racing cars, fighters, rockets, trains, landscapes, paints, and brushes. Aneagle-sized P-51 Mustang was suspended in a dive by fishing line tacked to theceiling. Soaring near it was a British Spitfire, a Japanese Zero, and a Messerschmitt.The air was pungent with plastic, balsa wood, and airplane glue.

A sixty-year-old man, with thick sideburns drifting tohis jaw, a Caesar’s crown of white hair, and horn-rimmed bifocals, washunched over the glass counter, tinkering with a dragster. The two inches ofash on the Marlboro hanging from his pursed lips was dangling perilously overthe cockpit. His bowling-ball gut strained the buttons on his stained shirtwhen he straightened to eye the ID and shield of Randall Lamont.

“I’m looking for a boy, about ten years old, blondhair, backpack, sneakers. He was seen in this area within the last half hour.”Keller’s face was somber behind his dark glasses.

The old man dragged hard, squinted through a smokycloud and nodded to the corner. “Could be the fella you want, drooling over theKitty Hawk there. He just came in.” The man coughed. “Anything to dowith that gang shooting in Oakland?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter.” Kellersnapped his ID shut. He went to boy, who was kneeling before the bottom shelfand a huge boxed model of and aircraft carrier.

Keller crouched next to him. “Are you Zachary MichaelReed?”

Zack’s gaze darted over him, blinking before henodded.

“Your mother is Ann Reed and your father is Tom?”

Zach was suspicious. What was this? Who was this guy?Was this because he ran away? Was he one of those school cops Dad used to tellhim about, the kind that chased runaway kids?

“It’s all right. I’m Randall Lamont, a statedetective.” The man reached inside his jacket and showed him his badge.

A detective?

“I’m a friend of your dad’s. He’s a reporter with the Star.We’re friends from way back. I live in Berkeley.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all.” Keller dropped his voice in aconfidential tone. “Zach, your dad sent me to find you. We’ve got a problem.”

“A problem?”

“It’s your mom.” Keller put his hand on Zach’sshoulder. “She’s had an accident.”

“What? So fast? How could — I just left.”

“Your dad went with her in the ambulance. I livenearby and he called me to find you.”

“Wha — I - what happened?” His voice was trembling.“Is she — ”

“Tell you on the way. You have to come with me to thehospital.”

Zach grabbed his pack. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I’ll tell you all I know on the way, son.”

They left the store, hurrying to Keller’s rental van.Zach froze when he recognized it. It was the same van he had seen parked nearhis grandma’s for the past couple of days. The guy unlocked the passenger doorand swung it open. Zach didn’t like those sunglasses. Wasn’t he the guy had seenhanging around down the street? Something didn’t feel right. But didn’t he sayhe lived down the street? Still something didn’t feel right.

“Why didn’t grandma come find me?”

“She’s on her way to the hospital, Zach.”

“Well, how did you know where to find me?”

“I saw the direction you left in just before your dadcalled me.”

A distant siren sounded his dad’s warning aboutstrangers.

Never go with a stranger, no matter how smooth theirline is. They may say I’m hurt, or Mom’s hurt, or there’s some emergency. Theycan make it sound real bad. And they’ll be the nicest people — they won’t looklike creeps. Trust your instincts. If you don’t know the person then don’t go,Zach. Don’t go!

“Are you scared because you don’t know me, Zach?”

That was it. But Zach didn’t know how to say thetruth. He looked at his feet, agonizing about his mom.

The man removed his sunglasses and smiled. A friendlysmile.

“Tell you what son, we can go back to the store, callthe hospital and leave word for your dad or grandmother to come for you. I’llwait with you if you like?”

Zach looked at him. “All right.”

Keller patted Zach’s head and they started back to thestore. No problems, no protest, which led Zach to conclude, this guy was forreal. A bad guy would not take you back. He’d try some scam to get you in tohis car while he had you on the street. He’d never take you back.

Zach stopped. “I changed my mind.”

“You’re sure, son?”

He nodded. “Tell me what happened.”

Keller bent down, eye to eye with him.

“It may be her heart. She collapsed after you left. Iguess she managed to get hold of your dad.”

Zach’s chin crumpled. “A heart attack?”

Keller put his hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know.Your dad didn’t tell me any more than that. We should get to the hospital, ifyou still want me to take you.”

He did.

“I think it’s my fault,” Zach mumbled, bowing his headto sob as he let Keller help him into the van and buckle his seatbelt.

“The whole thing with my mom and dad is my fault.”

Keller climbed behind the wheel, slipped on his darkglasses, turned the ignition, felt the engine come to life with gloriousvictory, and pulled away.

Zach had drawn his knees to his chest, hiding his faceon them under his arms, crying softly. Keller stole glimpses as he drove southon Interstate 80 to Oakland.

He radiates with the light of one million suns.

His face buried, Zach did not know where they weretraveling. “Is she going to die?” He sniffled from under his arms.

Keller did not answer. They approached the Bay Bridge.

“Mister, is my mom going to die?”

The new van hummed silently, save for the tires — rhythmicallyclicking along the freeway. Keller touched Zach’s shoulder.

Heaven’s warrior.

Keller kept his eyes forward. “What is it like to lookupon the face of God?”

Zach recoiled.

“Serpent slayer, chief of Heaven’s army.”

Zach’s mind gathered speed, his eardrums pounded intime with his beating heart, for suddenly he knew. He knew what happened.

Kidnapped. He had been kidnapped by a psycho.

“You are my light and my salvation.” Keller smiled. “Ipraise you, beloved of God.”

As the van moved west along the upper deck of thespectacular bridge to San Francisco, Keller reached under his seat for theplastic bag and the chloroform-soaked cloth.