They Disappeared

After police and the court returned the truck, Jeff’s grandfather told him something he’d never forgotten.

“The truck could never be as important to anyone as it is to you, Jeff. There are certain things in this world that you just have to take care of yourself, or they’ll never be done right. If you don’t trust your gut in these matters, you’ll have to live with the consequences for the rest of your life.”

A horn blast yanked Jeff back to Manhattan’s traffic and a decision.

So what am I going to do here, now?

He had no choice. He would search for his family on his own.

Where do I start?

He’d go back to the spot where it happened and start looking there.

He tried calling Sarah again and again. It rang to her message. Nothing. It had been about two hours since he’d last seen Sarah and Cole.

Where the hell are you?

Jeff stared at his phone, then, on impulse, he called the number for Hans Beck and got a recorded message saying the number was no longer in service. That’s strange, Jeff thought, unsure what to make of it.

After the cab dropped him off, Jeff allowed himself a moment to entertain the belief that Sarah and Cole had returned. That they’d have some wild explanation and they’d all laugh it off. How sweet the relief would be. He’d admit to her that he’d been a fool, that he was wrong for wanting to separate—no, confused, stupid and so sorry.

He’d tell her that he wanted to keep their family together.

Hold them and never let them go.

But his hope was overtaken by reality as he came to the spot. There was no sign of Sarah or Cole. Freddie, the wheelchair panhandler, was gone. Jeff got out his camera, cued the photo of Sarah and Cole and returned to the ponytailed man selling souvenirs at the pushcart where Sarah and Cole had been. Again, Jeff begged for his help, showing him the photos.

The vendor shook his head, his face a mask of indifference behind his dark glasses.

“They were right here,” Jeff said.

“I told you, pal. I don’t remember them.”

Deflated, Jeff lowered his camera to grapple with a million thoughts, horrible imaginings of what the phantom abductors could be doing to his family at this very moment. Slowly he turned in a full circle in the heart of Manhattan, one of the busiest cities in the world.

He forced himself to remain calm, to think.

Retrace your steps. Re-create the scene.

His attention came to the store where he’d bought the batteries, where it all started: Metro Manhattan Gifts and Things.

He entered.

Not as busy as before. A few browsers checking out the knickknacks; otherwise, a lull. Even the music was subdued. He recognized the same girl at the counter.

A good sign.

She had her nose in her cell phone, thumbs flying.

He needed her. Don’t interrupt her. Not yet.

He assessed the store again, locking in on the security camera mounted on the wall above the counter. It was angled to the door, front window and the street.

Did it capture Sarah and Cole?

He had to see the camera’s perspective.

“Can I help you?”

The clerk had finished with her phone. Her bejeweled nostril sparkled as she smiled—nice bright teeth, sincere. He sensed a good heart.

“I was here a while ago buying batteries.”

“I remember you.”

“You do?”

“Your shirt, says Montana. I’ve visited Glacier National Park. It’s gorgeous.”

“Small world,” he said. “Look, I was hoping you could help me.”

“Depends on what you need.”

“My wife and son, we got separated out front, and I was thinking that maybe your security camera—” he nodded to it “—maybe it recorded them.”

She turned to it and back to him without speaking.

“I just need to see if it records the spot on the street where they were.”

“Why don’t you just look for them?”

“I did and a man who was near them told me they may have been abducted or robbed.”

“What? That’s a crazy scary.”

“I’m worried. I need to see where they went or what happened. Can I just have a look at your camera’s monitor, see it if picked up anything?”

“I don’t really want to get involved.”

“No, nothing like that. Just let me check it out, it won’t take long. No one has to know and I’ll pay you fifty dollars just to see. Just to have a look. If it doesn’t get the angle, then that’s it. If it does, I’ll give you more money to rewind it back?”

“I don’t know, I—”

“Excuse me,” a woman said.

A middle-aged man and woman approached with T-shirts, key rings, postcards. Jeff stepped aside as the girl rang them up.

“Can you tell us how to get to Central Park from here?” the woman asked.