The Stolen

5

I listened to the recording of my interview with Daniel on the ride back to the city. I tried to focus as much on Danny

Linwood's cadences, his voice inflections, as what he actually said. I'd spoken to abducted children before, as well as men and women responsible for kidnapping children.

The children were always withdrawn, as if a piece of their soul had been sucked out. Only they never knew why. The luckier ones, the ones that were found quicker, had withdrawn into a shallower hole. Eventually they could rejoin society, restart their lives. The ones like Daniel, who were removed for years, they weren't so lucky. It was fortunate enough they beat the tremendous odds to survive, but more than likely they'd be stuck in that hole their entire lives. They would spend as much time scrabbling for footing as they did living. With Daniel Linwood, it was as though four-plus years had simply been lopped off clean. No ragged edges to be caught on. Just a gaping hole that left barely a trace.

When Stavros dropped me at Rockefeller Plaza, I entered the Gazette and headed to my desk. First I would have the tape duplicated, then transcribed. I couldn't promise Daniel and Shelly that they would see my story before it ran, but I had given them my word that Daniel would be treated with respect. Right before I left, Shelly

Linwood told me that Paulina Cole had been calling every fifteen minutes, begging her to reconsider giving me the exclusive. Apparently Paulina promised to set Shelly up with the Dispatch 's parent company, which had subsidiaries in television, film and publishing. News would be the beginning. Film deals and book deals would follow. The money would come rolling in.

According to Paulina, "The Linwoods will no longer be victims. They'll be a brand name for survival."

Shelly said their family wanted no part of it. Once my story ran, what she wanted more than anything was for her children to lead normal lives. Shockingly, Haley Joel

Osment cast as Danny didn't fit in.

I sat down at my desk, checked my messages. There was one from Wallace asking me to stop by as soon as I got back. There was another from Jack O'Donnell asking if I wanted to grab a beer and a shot after work. Both sounded like great ideas.

I walked into Wallace's office, found the editor-in-chief balancing the phone in the crook of his neck while simultaneously typing on his keyboard. The receiver fell twice, and finally Wallace gave up, slamming it back in the cradle and offering a string of colorful profanities.

"You know they make earpieces for people just like you," I said.

"No way. Next thing you know I'll have a chip implanted in my cerebellum instead of a laptop. I know I can't stop technology, but I can keep it from plowing me over like a Thoroughbred. I swear, this industry was more efficient before stupid Al Gore invented the Internet."

"Hey, once the Atlantic swallows the city up, the

Internet will be the least of your concerns. So what's up?"

"You talked to the Linwoods?"

"I did," I said, holding the tape recorder out for him.

"Fantastic." He looked at his watch. "How'd it go?"

"I got as much as you can expect from a ten-year-old who fell into a black hole and can't remember the last five years of his life. You get as much from looking at Shelly

Linwood's face as you do hearing the story. Just heartbreaking. Strange, though. The kid disappears for almost five years, yet talks and acts like your typical ten-year-old.

Nobody has any idea where Danny Linwood went, but somehow his body and mind developed like a normal adolescent boy's."

Wallace looked a minimum of disturbed by this, more distracted if anything. I had to remember that Wallace had been in this industry for longer than I'd been alive. He'd seen atrocities like this day after day, year after year. My conscience hadn't calloused over the years. Stories like this still angered me.

"That's good work, Henry. I need thirty inches for tomorrow's page one. I swear, Ted Allen over at the

Dispatch is probably trying to bug this building as we speak to get what's on that tape."

"Shelly Linwood told me Paulina Cole all but offered her body and soul in exchange for this interview."

"Just what the world needs, another forty-year-old woman sleeping with a toddler. For the sake of Daniel's future and his sanity, he's lucky his mother picked us."

"For Danny's sake, sir."

"Danny?"

"That's what Daniel Linwood prefers to be called now. Danny."

"I'm taking it this is a new development."

"Shelly doesn't seem too keen on it."

"Makes you wonder just what happened to Daniel-

Danny-during the past few years," Wallace said. "Speaking of memory lapses, have you spoken to Jack today?"

"Not in person, but he left me a message about grabbing a drink after work."

Wallace's faced showed a mixture of anger and concern. "You're going to politely decline that offer," he said.

I was about to ask why, but didn't need to. Over the past year I'd noticed a change in Jack's drinking habits. Onemartini lunches had turned into three shots of Jim Beam.

Drinks after work turned into drinks during work. Veins began popping up where I hadn't seen them before, the old newsman's equilibrium always seeming a little off. It was clear Jack was developing a problem. Either that, or the problem was already here and we'd just been enabling him, turning a blind eye for months.

"Anytime Jack requests your company for a drink,"

Wallace continued, "make it clear you don't approve and you're more than aware. A little humiliation goes a long way for a proud man. That's all we can do short of sending him to rehab."

"Would that be such a terrible thing?" I asked.

"Actually, yes. Our circulation has been flat since your reporting on William Henry Roberts last year. Paulina Cole has the Dispatch breathing down our necks, and Ted Allen is using every dirty trick in the book to up their numbers.

Giving out more free newspapers than high schools give out condoms, dropping thousands of copies in Dumpsters and recording them as part of their circulation."

"But if the numbers are inflated," I said, "who cares?"

"Advertisers," Wallace said. "Not to mention subjects who, unlike Shelly Linwood, truly care about maximizing their publicity. If our top writer goes into the detox, it's one less leg for us to stand on, one more piece of ammo for

Paulina's slime cannon."

"I'll ease off with Jack," I said. "I need to cut back on my own extracurriculars as it is."

"Glad to hear you say that, Henry. Don't think I'm unaware that you seemed to have mistakenly thought your desk came from 1-800-MATTRESS. Speaking of social lives, how's that girlfriend of yours? Amanda, right?"

I toed the floor. Looked away.

"We aren't seeing each other anymore," I said. "Haven't talked in a while, actually."

"That's a shame. Remember you talking about her from time to time. In a good way."

She was worth talking about, I wanted to say. Instead,

I let my silence speak for me. It was an issue I couldn't talk about with Wallace. Or Jack. Or anyone. I wasn't fully ready to face it myself. Knowing the woman I loved was out there in the same city walking the same streets, it was enough to tear me apart if I thought about it too much.

Knowing what I'd let-what I'd forced away.

"Not to get too parental, but you'll meet someone nice,"

Wallace said. "All these bylines, your name in the paper, lots of girls would probably kill to go out with a hotshot journalist."

"Yeah, nothing sexier than a guy with half a dozen cartons of half-eaten Chinese food, who makes less money than a public school teacher and doesn't own a mattress cover."

I could tell Wallace didn't find that funny. I decided to change the subject.

"Hey, know who showed up at the Linwoods' place today? Gray Talbot."

"No kidding?"

"In the flesh. Or suit."

"The savior of suburbia checking on his constituents."

"What do you mean, savior?"

"After Daniel Linwood disappeared, Gray Talbot came in and rattled the cage until someone changed the lining.

Made a big stink about how the town was becoming a cesspool, how the crime rate was simply unacceptable. He got state and federal funding to rebuild Hobbs County pretty much from the ground up. Nearly doubled the police force, turned a hellhole of a town into a damn fine place to raise a family. There's still work to be done, but that place is pretty unrecognizable compared to what it was."

I thought about what Wallace said, and agreed with him. Even Stavros, the driver, had said the same thing.

"Daniel Linwood's kidnapping was a terrible thing, but the silver lining is he forced change," he continued. "That boy basically returned to a brand-new, safer home and community. That's all Gray Talbot. Rumor has it he contributed close to a million from his own coffers to aid the effort."

"I thought his suits looked nice. Guess he's got enough money for them."

"I have Gray's home phone number. It'd be great to get him on record for this story as well. He's got a lot invested in Hobbs County, both in time and money, and I'm sure he's expecting a heck of a story from you as well. You don't construct a house and then not care how it's decorated. Get to it," Wallace said. "All story, all the time. I want to see ink on your eyeballs. If I hear you had a single drink with Jack, you'll be reporting on the passing of venereal diseases in the champagne room. Show me the copy before you send it to Evelyn."

"No problem," I said.

"Then tomorrow morning, I'll send over a copy of the paper with a fruit basket to Ted Allen and Paulina Cole."

"Do me a favor, leave my name off the card,' I said.

"Enough people in this town hate me."

"If they hate you it's because you're doing a good job.

You're getting the scoops they want. So go make some enemies. Just make sure they're the right enemies."

"Operation Piss People Off to commence immediately, sir."

I gave Wallace a halfhearted salute and returned to my desk. I sent Jack a quick e-mail declining drinks.

I pushed all that aside and got to work. Punching keys.

Making enemies of the right people. Something still didn't sit right with me about the interview. I needed to pinpoint it. To do justice to the story. To give justice to Danny Linwood.