They Disappeared

“Picked up? What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw it from the corner of my eye. I wasn’t focused on it, but it looked like two guys picked them up.”

“What two guys?”

“Two guys sorta helped them into a van or an SUV and they drove off.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“It happened real fast, like everyone was in a hurry.”

“Where?”

“Right there.” He nodded to the spot where Jeff had left them.

Nothing was making sense. Jeff shook his head.

“I doubt that. My wife wouldn’t go with anyone. She doesn’t know anyone in New York.”

“It looked like they were pulling your boy and your wife was trying to stop them and then they took her, too. It was real fast and smooth.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“I’m telling you what I saw.”

“Hold on.”

Jeff went to the ponytailed man selling souvenirs from the cart where Sarah and Cole had browsed moments ago. The man was wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and dark glasses.

“Who?” the man said after Jeff had explained.

“My wife and son. They were just here looking at your cart a few minutes ago. Did you see them go into a store?”

The ponytailed man scratched his three-day growth, then shrugged.

“Sorry, pal. It’s hectic here with people and traffic. People get picked up and dropped off around here every two seconds. I didn’t see anything.”

Jeff turned back to the wheelchair man.

“I think you saw someone else,” Jeff said. “I think they’re in a store.”

“No, it happened.”

“Did they say anything—where they were going, or who they were?”

“Sir, I don’t know.”

“What about the vehicle? What color was it?”

“Silver, white, I’m not sure…white, yeah, maybe white.”

Jeff ran his hand through his hair, unable to dismiss his unease over what this wheelchair guy claimed to have seen.

It just doesn’t make any sense.

“I think you’re mistaken and that you saw someone else.”

“I know I saw it out of the corner of my eye, but listen to me—it happened. It didn’t look right. I’m just telling you what I saw because you seem like a nice family. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s your choice.”

The man clamped his hands on his wheels and rolled away.

No, Jeff thought. I don’t want to believe you because this can’t be real.

Jeff took a quick breath, reached for his phone and tried Sarah again. But before he pressed her number, he saw something small and shiny in the street, near the curb.

A key ring.

Its clasp was open.

He picked it up. It was looped to a miniature novelty blue-and-white New York license plate with a name on it.

COLE.

Cole’s key ring.

It was in the gutter, where it would’ve fallen if he’d gotten into a vehicle.

Oh, Christ, it’s true! Oh, Jesus, no!

My wife! My son! Abducted from the street!

Why? Who would do this? Why?

Jeff trembled at the absurdity, the horror, as he looked in every direction searching for something, anything, to subdue the wave of alarm rising around him. This was the edge of Times Square—the crossroads of the world.... The concentration of people, the comings and goings, the enormity of it all, was dizzying.

He pulled his fingers into a fist around Cole’s key ring.

6

New York City

New York City police officers Jimmy Hodge and Roy Duggan were walking the beat: extended Times Square.

Earlier that morning, at the top of their tour, they’d helped two other cops corner a perp after he’d tried to boost a Mercedes on Seventh Avenue. Duggan happily let those two do the paperwork because he and Jimmy had good numbers this month—no danger of a white shirt breathing down their necks for stats.

Now they were back on patrol and a coffee break was overdue.

Duggan, a third-generation uniform with twenty-three years on the street, was telling young Jimmy, his rookie partner of four months, about a deli on Forty-seventh when a white guy in his thirties rushed up to them.