Free Willow Pond by Carol Tibaldi

it with one long finger.
    “Where are you, little one?”
    Setting the picture aside, she picked up her phone and dialed the police commissioner, Tony Jaeger. She was surprised when his deep tenor voice answered the phone.
    “Is your secretary napping?” she asked, trying not to sound flirtatious. She hoped this conversation didn’t end the way all their recent conversations had, with his proposing marriage and her gently letting him down. It would be so inappropriate for them to be anything other than lovers.
    “She's filing her nails. Listen. What's going on with that crazy family of yours? Everyone's talking about how bad things went last night. I didn’t know Phillip Austin had the guts, him being an actor and all.”
    “I'm as surprised as you are. But never mind him. Talk to me about the kidnapper.”
    “Well, he was smart enough to wear a disguise, so maybe he knows what he's doing. At least he knows that'll make him difficult to find. Thanks to Austin, he now has quarter of a million bucks. He can go anywhere and do whatever he wants. Only trouble is, no matter where he goes, folks are gonna recognize that baby.”
    “You think he’s still holding Todd?”
    “The kid's gotta be somewhere. He hasn’t turned up anywhere else.” He hesitated, then added, “Yet.”
    She shuddered. “Just thinking about the possibility that something’s happened to him is killing me,” said Virginia. “I can’t imagine what Laura must be going through. I need to know where the kidnapper’s hideout is, and I need to know fast.”
    “So do we all, sweetheart. We’re working on it. Both ransom letters were mailed from a post office in Bayside, Queens. I’ve got men searching the area as we speak.”
    “Dammit, Tony, he can’t get away with this.” Her voice quivered and she struggled to control it. “I don’t give a damn what we have to do. That little boy – Christ.”
    “I hate to hear you like this, Virginia.”
    “Does that mean you’ve had a change of heart since yesterday?” she said wryly, recalling the lousy dinner she'd had in the jail cell.
    “I heard what that S.O.B. Wilson put you through. I gave him hell this morning. He’ll go easy on you from now on. Otherwise I’ll see to it he’s out of a job.”
    “The man is an idiot. He has no idea what he’s doing.”
    “Let’s have dinner tonight. You pick the restaurant.”
    “Soon, Tony, I promise. Just … please get me the information. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
    “How long do I have to wait before you make an honest man of me?”
    “Oh, Tony. You know damn well I can’t marry you.”
     
    ***
     
    The farm was in a middle class residential community in Bayside, Queens. Traditional farmhouses shared the northern sections with generic-looking new tract homes; Tudor style mansions occupied the southern sections. After four days of searching the area, the police got a tip about a farmhouse on 28th Avenue and 201st Street. A man and a woman had recently been seen coming and going at odd hours.
    Wilson interviewed one of the neighbors, a short, stocky man in his fifties.“What makes you think this house might be what we're looking for?” Wilson asked.
    “Before this, the house had been empty for two months,” the man said with a shrug.
    “Are you positive about this?” Breaks in the case were few and far between. Wilson wasn’t in the mood for a wild goose chase.
    “I’m telling you, I know what I saw.
    “In that case, why don’t you describe these people for me?”
    “Afraid I can’t help you there. They never went out during the day, just at night. So nothing stood out about them.”
    Wilson sighed, drumming his fingers on the man's kitchen table. “So you know what you saw, but you didn’t see anything.”
    “What I saw was a man and a woman who might as well have been vampires, Detective.”
    Wilson sighed. “What about the owners, then?”
    “The Pierces? They retired and moved to North Carolina. Their son,