In Desperation

9

Phoenix, Arizona

T ick. Tick. Tick.

The clock on the wall of the FBI’s office was all Cora could hear.

Time counting down on Tilly’s life.

Or was that Cora’s heart racing under the fierce light of cameras?

Some fifty news people had gathered for the press conference at the FBI’s Field Office. They adjusted lenses, tripods, checked BlackBerry phones, made notes and last-minute cell phone calls while Cora and other officials took their places in front of the crowd.

The announcements would start momentarily.

Prior to arriving, Cora had slept for an hour but adrenaline still rushed through her. She’d refused sedatives from the paramedics and had managed to eat saltine crackers to quell her stomach butterflies after she’d agreed to make a live statement to the press.

Hackett and Gannon had convinced her that it was critical to reach out to the kidnappers and that this was the best way to speak directly to them, to Tilly, to Lyle, and to get the whole world looking for them. It could lead to a break in the case. Her plea would be distributed everywhere on the air and online.

Jack had helped her compose a few sentences. They were printed in large font on the folded sheet of paper she now held in her hand.

Cora clasped her hands over it to steady her nerves as a thousand disconnected thoughts shot through her mind; her fear for Tilly juxtaposed with the absurdity of deciding how to dress for the press conference.

What do I wear to plead for my daughter’s life?

She’d decided on her charcoal jacket and matching pencil skirt, what she would have worn to work or a funeral. What about makeup? A female FBI agent had offered to help fix her face, but Cora had declined. Somehow it seemed wrong.

My daughter’s life is at stake.

The conference began.

Gannon was standing a few inches to her right and the Special Agent in Charge of the Phoenix FBI was a few inches on her left, gripping the podium. She noticed his wedding band but had forgotten his name. Lewis something. He’d given it to her with a crushing handshake.

As the agent spoke, Cora struggled against a state of unreality. Her child had been abducted by a drug cartel. How could this be happening? She was a single mother, a secretary. She wanted her daughter back. She thought she knew Lyle. Where was he? Was he dead? Five million dollars! What had he done?

What had she done?

The kidnappers’ warning flashed.

“Lyle must return our money or your daughter will die. And if you go to the police, your daughter will die…”

Cora heard her name.

The FBI man finished his opening remarks and had turned to her.

“Now, Tilly’s mother, Cora Martin, will make a brief statement. But please-she will take no questions.”

He gestured and she stepped in front of the cameras. The intense light glared like a judgment. Beside the podium she saw the tripod bearing enlarged photos of Tilly and Lyle. Next to it stood another tripod bearing a sketch of one of the suspects and a picture of Lyle’s pickup truck.

This was real.

Cora’s mouth went dry. She glanced at her brother. He nodded encouragement.

She had to do this for Tilly.

Cora unfolded her paper. The cameras tightened on her, the lines on her face, her bloodshot eyes: the anguished mother. News networks were broadcasting live with Breaking News flags. Some carried a graphic at the bottom of the screen: Drug Gang Kidnaps 11-year-old Girl From Phoenix Home Demand $5 million.

Cora started.

“To the people who have my daughter, Tilly, I beg you, please, do not hurt her and please return her to me.” Cora stopped, then resumed. “Sweetheart, if you can see me or hear my voice, I love you. We’re doing everything to bring you home safely.”

She paused, kept her composure and continued.

“Lyle, if you see this, please help us. Go to the police, wherever you are. Please. We need your help. And I beg anyone who has any information to please contact the police. Thank you.”

As the agent took her shoulder and Gannon helped her retreat from the podium, several reporters fired questions. Above them all, they heard the voice of Carrie Cole, a news celebrity known across America for her nationally televised crime show based in Phoenix.

“Mother to mother, Cora! One question, please!”

Cora stopped, looked at the famous face and lifted hers, inviting the question.

“I know this must be a horrible, gut-wrenching time. No one can know what you’re going through, but please share with us the last words your little girl spoke to you and when?”

Cora glanced at the FBI and her brother. The FBI man nodded.

“It was early this morning, after the kidnappers took Tilly. They called me and put her on the phone.”

“What did she say to you?”

Cora hesitated.

“‘Mommy, please help me!’”

Cora covered her face and turned away sobbing. The reporters shouted more questions, but the agent raised his palms and resumed control.

“To recap and conclude, as you know we’ve just issued a national alert. The FBI is asking for the public’s assistance in locating Tilly Martin and Lyle Galviera. I want to stress that Mr. Galviera is not a suspect but a person of interest. He was last known to have been destined by air travel for California on business. He has not been located. All vehicles registered to him have been located except for his red Ford F-150 pickup truck pictured here. You have details. We are also seeking any information concerning the unknown suspects fitting the artist’s sketch and details. There is still no description of the suspects’ vehicle involved in this case. That is all we can release for now. Anyone with information is strongly urged to call the Phoenix FBI or your local police. We’ll keep you apprised of any developments. Thank you.”