his pocket. âOkay, hereâs what weâre going to do. Since we donât have a suspect vehicle, we canât post anything to the changeable message signs on the highway that allow us to communicate with motorists. But weâll issue a âBe on the Lookout,â and we can prepare a description of Timmy and the circumstances of his disappearance and fax it to the media. Theyâll put the BOLO out on all area radio, TV, and cable systems, where it will be seen and heard by millions of listeners.â
Iâd seen those messages beforeâother peopleâs children, never oursâsad details about their abduction crawling along the bottom of our television screen. A school picture, a candid photo of the child, slightly out of focus. I wondered how many of those stories had happy endings.
âAnd weâre bringing in a tracking dog from Baltimore County.â
âWhat kind of dog?â Paul wanted to know.
âWeâve requested a bloodhound. Bloodhounds will be able to pick up Timmyâs scent even if he was carried away in somebodyâs arms.â
âWhat good will that do?â Emily was sobbing again. âIf the kidnapper took Timmy away in a car, the trail will stop at the parking lot, right?â
âBloodhound noses are many times more sensitive than German shepherdsâ,â Powers pointed out. âIt was a bloodhound that tracked Laci Petersonâs scent down the center of a highway, if you remember, proving she left the house in a vehicle, not on foot, as her husband had claimed.â
Laci Peterson. Another victim who didnât make it. This wasnât encouraging.
Dante slouched in his chair, hands pressed tightly between his knees. âYou know what really bothers me?â he told the officer. âI never asked Emily to sign for anything today. As far as I know, there was no delivery.â
Emily looked up, face blotched from crying. âThen whoâ¦?â
âYou didnât recognize the voice on the telephone?â I asked.
Emily bit her lower lip. âJust a womanâs voice. I assumed it was one of the staff.â
âHey, everybody!â The head of a white stuffed tiger lunged into the room, followed immediately by the equally white head of my sister, Ruth. âWhatâs with all the police cars, anyway? I had to sneak in through the loading dock. Look what I brought for Puddle Ducks,â she chirped, not pausing long enough for anyone to answer her question. She galloped the super-sized toy along the chair rail. âThis will solve the problem.â
CHAPTER 7
Greeted by a silence so heavy it was palpable, still cradling that ridiculous white tiger, Ruth froze. âWhat? What did I say?â
âTimmyâs missing,â Dante snapped.
Ruth looked from Dante to the tiger and burst into tears.
I wasnât due at Hillsmere Elementary to meet Chloe until three-ten, but I decided I couldnât bear another torrent of tears when I could barely control my own. âI need to pick up Chloe and Jake,â I announced, suddenly rising from my chair. I was desperate to get outside. Maybe breathing the fresh salt air would revive me. I consulted Officer Powers. âIs that okay?â
âWho are Chloe and Jake?â he wanted to know, as if they were suspects he needed to add to his interview list.
After I explained that Chloe and Jake were my grandchildren, he nodded permission. With a reassuring squeeze of my hand from Paul, and a barely audible thank-you from my son-in-law, I managed to escape the spa.
Getting out of the grounds wasnât as simple. As I stepped onto the concrete apron that surrounded the parking lot, someone said, âItâs Hannah, isnât it?â
I turned. Roger Haberman.
I had been charting a course straight for my trusty LeBaron, and I didnât want to be delayed by Roger Haberman or anyone else.
âIs everything all right?â Roger
Robert Asprin, Lynn Abbey