They Disappeared

Behind them Sarah and Cole browse at the vendor’s souvenir cart. They move closer to the road. Bit by bit they are exiting the frame.

“Can you slow it down some more?”

The footage slowed to near frame-by-frame speed.

Now, Sarah and Cole are almost out of the picture. All Jeff can make out are their feet, up to their knees, and the lower portions of cars passing by.

One stops near Sarah and Cole with such suddenness.

It just appears.

Doors open, other legs emerge from it, shoes, black shoes, or boots. Military style? Three sets? They move fast, positioning next to Sarah and Cole. Right beside them. Too close. A moment passes, then they all move to the vehicle two steps away.

Doors open.

Sarah and Cole vanish.

Doors close.

The white vehicle pulls from the curb, the rear right quarter, rear bumper, plate flash. Then someone’s head, a passerby, blocks the view; the plate is obscured. The vehicle disappears.

It’s over.

“Hold it!” Jeff pressed his finger to the screen as if to grab the image and stop time.

Chad froze the frame.

“That plate. I need that license plate!”

“Hold on.”

Chad froze the footage, then frame by frame he reversed and forwarded it until he had the best view on the plate.

“Hold on.”

Chad enlarged the plate until it was clear enough to read.

“I need something to write with,” Jeff said.

Mandy passed him a pad and pen and Jeff copied down the New York State license number.

“Can I use your computer to get online?” Jeff asked.

Chad and Mandy traded worried glances, obviously concerned that they were already too involved in whatever was going on.

“No.” Chad returned the security surveillance system to its normal state and his keys jingled. “That’s all you’re going to get from us.”

“Please.”

“We’re done.” Chad locked up the console.

“You saw what happened!” Jeff said.

“I don’t know what happened,” Chad said.

“Those people took my wife and son! I have to run this plate!”

“I don’t know what I saw, but we’re not getting involved.”

“I just need a computer.”

“We’re done,” Chad said.

Jeff looked at Mandy.

“There’s an internet café three blocks west of here,” she said. “I’ll draw you a map.”

9

New York City

In the minutes after Jeff had left the Fourteenth Precinct, Detective Vic Cordelli resumed staring at the pictures of the Griffins.

Juanita Ortiz stopped reading her notes and shifted her gaze to him.

“What is it, Vic?”

Cordelli brooded as mistrust gnawed at him and he shook his head.

“I just don’t know about this one, Juanita.”

Ortiz tapped her pen against her notes, sighing to herself.

“You got a lot going on—” Ortiz picked up her landline “—but I need you to help me get to work and run this thing, okay?”

Ortiz called the Real Time Crime Center downtown at One Police Plaza. The RTCC operated a vast computer network, including hundreds of surveillance cameras and plate readers in all boroughs. She’d requested all footage covering the time and location of Sarah and Cole Griffin’s abduction.

While that was being processed Cordelli ran the Griffins through the National Crime Information Center, which held active records on millions of cases, ranging from thefts, to missing persons, fugitives and terrorists. The query rang no bells—no arrest, warrants, nothing.

As Ortiz checked with other local, state and regional databases, Cordelli got on the phone to Montana. He hooked up with Detective Blaine Thorsen of the Laurel Police Department, who was puzzled at why the NYPD was calling about Jeff and Sarah Griffin.

“No.” Thorsen’s keyboard clicked as he consulted local computer records for Cordelli. “There’s no complaint history here. No custody orders. It’s a damn shame that they lost their baby a while back.”

“What was the cause?”

“The coroner said it was SIDS. We investigated and had no reason to believe otherwise. They’re nice people. Why are you checking? What’s going on in New York?”

“They’re here on vacation,” Cordelli said. “Jeff’s reported that Sarah and Cole were abducted less than two hours ago near Times Square.”