If Angels Fall

SIXTY-SIX

Some days,when the mid-afternoon sun hit it just right, the Bay Bridge glowed like a portalto paradise. For an instant, its majestic span and spires changed from flatsilver to a surreal white against the blue-green waters of the Bay a fewhundred feet below.

Today, its beauty was lost on Tom Reed. For him, thebridge had become a tangible span of despair between everything he had donewrong and the futility of his future. It was his third crossing, and with eachtrip, his emotional freight increased, unraveling the worn thread by which hislife was swinging. Reed was rushing east on the lower deck and wondering howmuch more crap a man was supposed to stomach in one day.

His marriage lay in ruin, he was fired from his job,he was an alcoholic, or on his way to becoming one. He had caused the suicideof an innocent man and very nearly accused another. And now Zach pulls a firstand funs away. Nine years old and he takes off.

Could it get any worse?

Sunlight strobed through the bridge’s steel girders.Reed glanced over his left shoulder at San Francisco’s skyline, then at themesmerizing whitecaps below. Why not end it all? He had considered it when hearrived at his room in Sea Park after the blowup with Ann. It was a dumb-assnotion, supplanted by his need to get into his room and reacquaint himself withJack Daniel’s. Lila had not returned. So, he kicked the door. It opened withlittle damage on his second try. He’d pay for that move when Lila got back.

Reed collapsed in the sofa chair, his head pulsating.What was he going to do? Leave town? Chicago? He had some buddies at the Tribuneand the Sun-Times. He could beg for a job. He could see Molly tonightafter she finished her shift. She wasn’t the answer and he knew it.

Reed decided to take the care of his immediate needs: shaving, showering, and changing into better-smelling clothes, ignoring theflashing red light of his telephone answering machine until he finished, whichwas half an hour later.

The first call he played back was the most recent one.

“Reed, Walt Sydowski. Give me a call a soon as youcan.” He left his cell phone and pager numbers.

Sydowski? Reed sneered. Likely found out he had beenfired and wanted to relay condolences from the Homicide Detail. Sure, I’ll getback to you, Walt.

Next, came a panicked message from Ann: “Tom, is Zachwith you? I can’t find him! I think he’s — ”

The phone rang. Reed stopped the machine and grabbedthe call.

“Tom, do you have Zach?” Ann was hysterical.

“No, Ann, I don’t. What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t find him! It’s my fault. He ran away. He tookhis school backpack with some of his favorite stuff and his savings, about ahundred dollars. I’m so scared!”

Ran away? He must have heard us. “How long has itbeen?”

“An hour, forty-five minutes, I don’t know.”

“Did you call Jeff and Gordie’s parents?”

“But they’re in San Francisco.”

“That’s likely where he’s headed.”

“I’ll call them!”

“Call all the Berkeley cab companies. Call BART security.He may try to cross the Bay that way.”

“All right. I already called the police. They saidthey put out a description and will send a car over.”

“I’m on my way.”

Now, as Reed guided his Comet along the interstateoff-ramp for Berkeley, he could not stop blaming himself for dragging Ann andZach into the cesspool of the self-obsession which blinded him to the toll itwas taking on Zach. He would talk to Ann, tell her everything. Make one lastintelligent effort to work things out before it was too late. If anything,anything happened to Zach, he’d never forgive himself. He glanced at the waterbelow.

When Reed turned on Fulton, the hairs on the back ofhis neck stood up at the sight of a Berkeley patrol car parked in front ofAnn’s mother’s house.

Ann was sitting at the kitchen table, talking througha crumbled tissue to a uniformed officer who was taking notes.

“Oh Tom!” she sobbed, hugging him tight. Letting himknow that she needed him. Truly needed him. Reed’s eyes stung. When was thelast time he held Ann in his arms?

“Mr. Reed?” the officer asked.

“Yes.”

“Officer Pender, Jim Pender, Berkeley PD. We’vealready got a description of your son out to radio cars. I’d like to talk toyou.”

“Certainly.”

“Alone, please, sir.”

Pender was a tall, black officer, at least six-four.He had a cropped goatee and exuded calm capability. His utility belt andholster gave leathery squeaks when he stood, his polished badge over his heartgleamed. The shoulder mike of his radio crackled, and Pender turned it down asthe two men talked in the living room.

“Tell me what you think happened, sir.” Pender saidsoftly.

Reed told him everything. The officer’s eyebrows shotup when he told him he was the reporter behind the Tanita Marie Donnercontroversy and had been fired that morning. When Reed finished, Pender said,“Okay, there’s stress in your household. Zach overhears his parents arguing anddecides to head out on his own. To his friends in San Francisco, you figure?”

Reed nodded. “Or my place in San Francisco.”

“Okay, we’ll add this new info to the alert we’vealready got out on your son. We’ll notify SFPD and campus police.” Penderchecked his notes as they returned to the kitchen where Ann sat, face buried inher hands.

“Mrs. Reed, we’ll do everything we can to find Zach,”Pender said. “I’ll ask you both again to try and put yourself in his shoes. Isthere any material thing he wanted, a type of toy or something? Or any place hewanted to go, an arcade, a certain movie? Or any individual he would turn to?Give it some thought that way.”

The Reeds agreed.

“Most kids who run away mad at Mom and Dad turn upwithin a few hours, especially the young ones,” Pender said.

Ann tried to smile, but swallowed it. “At least thepolice shot the kidnapper yesterday in San Francisco,” she said.

Pender nodded, but Reed caught something in his face.

“If the family is going to look for Zach, please keepsomeone here in case he returns or more information surfaces. I’m going to callthis in. Then I’d like to search the house. Sometimes kids will crawl into ahiding spot to cool off for a while.”

“Thank you, officer.”

“Ann.” Reed took his wife’s hand. “I’m going to searchthe area between here and the BART station. I’ll call you every few minutes.”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.

“We’ll find him, Ann, I swear. ” Reed hugged her, thencaught up with Pender outside. He was in his cruiser entering his notes intohis mobile computer terminal.

“What’s up, officer?”

“How do you mean?”

“Your face registered something a moment ago when mywife mentioned SFPD shooting the kidnapper.”

Pender contemplated whether to tell Reed whatever itwas he knew.

“You’re a police reporter, right?”

“That’s right.”

Pender scratched his goatee. The police radio blurtedcoded dispatches. “You reported on the big abduction cases of Danny Becker andGabrielle Nunn across the Bay, right?”

“That’s what got my ass fired, officer. Please.”

Pender tapped his pen on his notebook, thinking.“Okay, I’m going to show you something. Get in.”

Reed slipped into the passenger side, watchingPender’s big hands dwarf the computer’s tiny keyboard as he typed in commands.“SFPD and the FBI put out a new alert on the case. It’s hot. I got it justbefore I got this complaint. Here you go. Says the task force now has a numberone suspect in the Nunn-Becker cases and they’re hunting him. Ever heard of aguy named Keller? Edward Keller?”

Reed was stunned. “Edward Keller — yes, I, Christ — ”

“Nobody knows I showed you this.” Pender pivoted theterminal to Reed, who devoured the short bulletin.

Edward Keller of no fixed address was wanted on awarrant for the kidnappings of Daniel Raphael Becker and Gabrielle Nunn.

“I was fucking right all along!”

“You know this guy?”

“I met him recently and thought he was weird, so I didsome digging into his past.” Reed shook his head in disbelief.

“Mr. Reed, do you think there’s any link to your son’srunning away and Mr. Keller?”

Reed’s heart stopped. No. There couldn’t be. “No, Ithink it is a coincidence. Zach ran off because he heard us arguing about ourproblems. We had reconciled and we were on the brink of getting back together.Zach wanted that with all of his heart. But it fell apart this morning.”

“I see. You said you started digging into Mr. Keller’spast. Is there anything about him that you know that may be useful to the taskforce across the Bay? Anything we should pass on?”

“No. He’s a lunatic, a Bible thumper. I met him on astory about university research on parents of dead children. He lost three along time ago and babbled about resurrecting them with God’s help. He was nuts.I tried to find him again, but I couldn’t.”

“Why did you want to find him again?”

“I had a gut feeling. But I wanted to find out what Icould about him on my own before going to the task force, having been stungbadly the last time I followed a hunch.”

“Did you go to the task force?”

Reed shook his head. “And I was fired because my paperthought, given my track record, I was dangerous with my theories. It’scomplicated. Look, officer, I’m going to find my son. I have some ideas wherehe might have gone. Any other day, I’d be calling my paper, tipping them withthat alert.” Reed nodded to the computer terminal. “But fuck them. I was right.They were wrong and I don’t work for them anymore. I’ve got more importantthings on my mind.”

Reed moved to leave.

“Hold on there.” Pender was friendly.

Reed waited. Pender stared at him. A streetwise copwith impeccable instincts, he was not going to let Reed leave him.

“Where’s the first place you’re going to look?”

Reed sighed. “Next to us getting back together, Zachwanted to buy a model of a ship.”

“A hobby store then?”

“Thought I’d start with the nearest one.”

“Buckle up.”

“What?”

“There’s one on University. I’ll take you.”

“Officer, I can take myself.”

Pender started the engine and slipped the transmissioninto drive. “I think we should go together, Tom.”

Pender double-parked his cruiser on University at asliver of a store front called Dempsey’s Hobby amp; Crafts. His head camewithin inches of the transom when he and Reed entered. The bald, potbellied,old man who ran the place was on the telephone.

“Yeah, Saturday’s good. Sure — ” he noticed Penderand Reed. “I told you, it’s fine with me … Yes … listen, Burt, I gotta go …Yes, it’s good. Burt, I gotta go now. I’ll call ya later.”

He hung up and spread his hands over the glasscountertop in a bartender’s what’ll-it-be? fashion. He peered over his bifocalswith the unpracticed seriousness of a shopkeeper unaccustomed to adultvisitors, nodding to Pender because the shop was on his beat.

“Hello, Jim. How are things in local law enforcement?”

“George,” Pender said, “I need your help.”

George Dempsey’s eyes shot to Reed, then to Pender.

“This about that gang shooting in Oakland?”

“’Fraid not.” Pender leaned on the counter and intoDempsey’s personal space. “This is Mr. Tom Reed. He’s looking for his son,Zachary.” Pender studied Dempsey’s face. “He may have come in here within thelast ninety minutes. Nine years old and how tall, Tom?”

Reed held a hand to his chest.

Pender continued. “That tall, blond hair, newsneakers, school backpack, and interested in model ships.”

Dempsey tugged thoughtfully at his fluffy sideburns.“Ships? Sure, was a kid like that in here a while ago.”

“How long!” Reed stepped to the counter. Pender raisedhis big hand to warmly caution him.

“How long, George?” Pender repeated, softer.

Dempsey twisted his sideburns before guessing. “Hour?”

“An hour?”

“Yes, then he left with that other cop.”

“What?” Reed said. “They found him!”

“What other cop, George?” Pender took out hisnotebook, glancing at his watch. “Think.”

“He was plainclothes, uh, special state investigator,white guy, six foot.”

“He definitely said special state investigator? Yousure?”

“Absolutely.” Dempsey scratched his chin. “Flashed hisbadge, name was Lamer? Lampson? No — Lamont, Randall Lamont.”

“He left with the boy?”

Dempsey nodded.

“Which way?”

“Well, I didn’t see. Say, what’s this about?”

“Tell me exactly how it happened.”

“Not much to tell. Kid walks in, goes to the shelfthere all doe-eyed over the Kitty Hawk, the this Lamont comes in a fewminutes later asking — yeah just like you — asking if I’d seen a kid. Then hegoes to him, they have a little chat, then leave together.”

“What was the boy’s demeanor?”

Dempsey blinked and looked at the ceiling. “Scared,like he just got some bad news.”

Reed felt the first stirrings in his gut. His worryabout Zach’s running off was about to be swallowed by a greater terror.

Pender scanned the shop. “George, you ever do anythingabout your shoplifting problem, like I told you?”

“I did. I got security video installed couple monthsago. It works just fine and — I see what you’re askin’.”

“Let’s run that tape, George.”

Dempsey hoisted a small black-and-white video monitorto the counter, angling it so Pender and Reed could see.

“I was plagued by little thieves until I got this.”Dempsey grunted, squatting to operate the video controls from a low shelfbehind the counter. A montage of ball-capped boys coming, going, and buyingthings, swam in super-fast motion on the monitor. “Glue, paints, scale modelracing cars, electric motors. One kid stuffed the Titanic under hisshirt. It all adds up. There he is!”

Dempsey slowed the tape, Reed watched Zach enter thestore and sit on the floor before a shelf of models. Dempsey advanced the tapeto the entrance of a man in a suit, wearing dark glasses, showingidentification.

“You know this guy?” Reed said to Pender.

He shook his head without removing his gaze from themonitor. “You?”

“No,” Reed said as the man approached Zach. Theytalked, then left together. Reed’s face flushed. His heartbeat quickened. Hecouldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“George, take it back to when the cop walks in,”Pender said.

Dempsey reversed the tape.

“You have any audio?” Pender said.

Dempsey nodded. The tinny sound of homemade videos,with hard noise amplified and monotone voices, hissed from a tiny speaker onthe monitor: “I’m looking for a boy, about ten years old, blond hair, backpack,sneakers. He was last seen in this area within the last half hour.”

“Could be the fella you want, drooling over the KittyHawk there. He just came in. Anything to do with that gang shooting inOakland?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter.”

Pender was staring at Reed. A fist covered Reed’smouth, the veins of his neck were pulsing.

“You recognize that voice, don’t you, Tom?”

“It’s Edward Keller.”

Where was Keller’s beard and long hair? Realitystabbed Reed with switchblade suddenness. Keller had Zach. Had his son!

Have you ever lost a child? No. You have children?A son, Zach. He’s nine. My eldest boy was nine when he died.

Pender seized his portable police radio.