The Hunted

33

Lauren and Nick Bradley arrived at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport at six in the morning. They were both exhausted, since neither had slept well during the flight. Lauren’s dream of her father had degenerated into a nightmare, and after that she was unable to fall back to sleep.

They rented a Chevy Malibu and drove to the small Best Western hotel rooms Bradley had reserved for them. The day they arrived, Bradley checked in with some of his contacts, a handful of private investigators and law enforcement people he had come to know over the years. Meanwhile, Lauren visited the mall where Michael had been when he sent her his message. Only a year ago, a simple visit to a mall would have been a devastating experience. Now, however, although her situational anxiety was still present, it was largely manageable.

Lauren had touched the panel of the GlobalNet kiosk and imagined her husband sitting there, his fingers playing across the keyboard, typing out the message that had given her hope and perhaps the will to survive while being held captive.

Lauren then spoke with merchants in each store, small and large, in an attempt to uncover some morsel of information she could add to the puzzle. Due to the number of sales staff and the many shifts and days off, however, she knew her efforts were going to be inefficient and incomplete.

After five hours, her most promising lead was a woman in Dillard’s department store who remembered a man who had stolen a customer’s credit card. When she provided a description that sounded like Michael, Lauren showed her his photo — and received a big nod from the employee. “That’s him, that’s the guy. I have to notify security. They never did catch him.”

Sensing more trouble than it was worth, Lauren stopped the woman as she was reaching for the phone. “I’ll just go to security and tell them myself. I’m sure they’ll have a lot of questions for me.”

The woman directed her to the security office on the lower level. Lauren headed toward the elevator, then abruptly turned and walked out of the store. She called a cab and went back to the hotel, where she waited for Bradley to return.

The following morning, Lauren and Bradley pored over a map and set a course of action for canvassing the surrounding area.

“Isn’t this a long shot?” Lauren asked.

Bradley smiled. “Welcome to the world of private investigation. It’s not easy work, but at least we’ve got a really solid lead. We know he’s here somewhere. If we stick to our plan, we should have some answers in a few days. I’ve put the word out on the street that we’re looking for him, and you’ll be camping out at the mall. Unless he can get on the Internet somewhere else, he’ll have to go back there to see if ‘Just Rose at Hotmail’ wrote him back.”

Lauren agreed that they were at least being proactive, even though she was becoming aware that finding Michael in Washington or Virginia was akin to looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

The only encouraging thought was that this particular needle wanted to be found.