In Desperation

11

Phoenix, Arizona, Mesa Mirage

C ora was terrified by what she had done.

Now that she had defied the kidnapper’s orders, would they carry out their threat to kill Tilly?

Forgive me, Tilly. I didn’t know what else to do.

Cora also feared that her appeal to find Tilly would resurrect her dangerous secret and make things worse.

Returning home after the press conference, she was exhausted, as if a lifetime had passed since Tilly was taken. FBI crime scene experts were still processing parts of her house and agents had set up additional lines to run off Cora’s home and cell phones.

Hackett opposed talk of sealing her entire home as a crime scene. He wanted her in the house in case, by some miracle, Tilly got free and called. Or the kidnappers called, or Galviera surfaced. The FBI would be listening and ready to take command of her line, or clear it.

As expected, the press coverage had yielded a steady number of tips to the FBI’s hotline. They were screened by analysts at the Phoenix office and assessed by agents for follow-up.

But most leads lacked detail. One caller said: “I saw that missing kid. She was walking near a Wal-Mart, or Target? Not sure which, but check it out.” Another said, “I saw a dude with a scar like the kidnapper’s in a bar.” One email said, This was foretold in the Book of Revelations. And then there was a woman claiming special powers who wanted to “spiritually channel your visions on the kidnapping.”

Tilly’s distraught friends and neighbors called. So did people from her church. All offered Cora kind words and prayers. Other support was more tangible, like the swift help that came from the American Network for Vanished and Stolen Children. The Phoenix chapter worked with police, creating flyers and marshaling volunteer search parties at the Mesa Mirage Shopping Center. News cameras recorded the response to Tilly’s kidnapping from her schoolteachers and worried parents. They quoted criminologists, expert on the nature of drug cartels.

The press also kept a vigil at Cora’s home.

Satellite trucks and media vehicles lined her street in front of her bungalow. Some two dozen in all, but the number grew along with the requests for interviews. All the networks wanted Cora to appear on breakfast and prime-time news shows. Their enquiries were handled by advisors from the volunteer group, one of them a retired news assignment editor.

“Cora’s not making any more statements today, folks,” he said. “The next media briefing might be tomorrow, if the FBI has any updates.”

Though Cora’s number was not listed, some news organizations managed to obtain it. Those that tried to call in to Cora were deflected by the FBI, except for one reporter outside, standing among the pack.

She didn’t call Cora.

Inside the house, Jack Gannon’s cell phone rang.

“Gannon.”

“Jack, this is Henrietta Chong with WPA’s Phoenix bureau. Melody Lyon in New York gave me your number and told me to call.”

“Did she?”

“I am so sorry about what’s happened to your niece. I hope she comes home safe.”

“We all do.”

“I hate doing this, but you’re going in the story. AP and Reuters are making reference to you being Cora’s brother. We have to do the same.”

“I figured.”

“Jack, New York wants me to interview Cora. Can you help me with that?” Then she clarified, “Melody wants me to talk to her, exclusively.”

After a long pause, Gannon told Henrietta he would have to call her back. Hanging up, he looked across the room at Cora resting on the sofa and approached her with the request. After considering it, she said, “Just two minutes over the phone.”

At that moment Hackett materialized, eyeing Gannon.

“Two minutes with whom and for what?”

“A short interview with the WPA,” Gannon said.

Hackett weighed it. “As long as she only repeats what she said earlier. I’ll be right here, listening.”

Gannon called Henrietta Chong on his phone, then passed it to Cora. As he watched and listened, ambiguity gnawed at him. He knew he was exploiting his sister. But he rationalized it. After all this time, she’d called him. Some twenty-two years had passed between them. There was so much he didn’t know about her and it had kept him ambivalent toward her, torn over whether he should be consoling her or questioning her account of what was really at work with Tilly’s kidnapping.

Why had Cora asked him if she was being punished for past sins? What did she mean?

I knew dealers.

What had happened in her past? Was this somehow linked?

At that moment an agent rose from the worktable where he had been listening to his cell phone while working on a laptop. His face taut, he tapped Hackett’s shoulder.

“We just got something.”