Back Spin (1997) (2 page)

"He's the man Cissy told me about." Buckwell said.

"Who's Cissy"" Myron asked.

Win`s mother."

"Oh." Myron said. "Right."

Linda Coldren said. `l don't want him here. Get rid of him."

Linda. listen to me. We need help."

"Not from him."

"He and Win have experience with this type of thing."

'Win." she said slowly., is psychotic."

. Ah." Myron said. `Then you know him well?"

Linda Coidren finally turned her attention to Myron.

Her eyes. deep and brown. met his. 'l haven't spoken to Win since he was eight years old." she said. "But you don`t have to leap into a pit of flames to know it's hot."

Myron nodded. "`Nice analogy."

She shook her head and looked back at her father. l told you before: no police. We do what they say."

"But he's not police her father said.

"And you shouldn't he telling anyone."

"l only told my sister,|| Bucky protested. "She'd never say anything.

Myron felt his body stiffen again. Wait a second."

he said to Bucky. "Your sister is Win's mother?'

"Yes."

"`You're Win's uncle." He looked at Linda Coldren.

"And you're Win's first cousin."

Linda Coldren looked at him like he`d just peed on the floor. "With smarts like that," she said., "I'm glad you"re on our side.

Everyone's a wiseass.

"If its still unclear. Mr. Bolitar, I could break out some poster board and sketch a family tree for you.

Could you use lots of pretty colors?" Myron said.

I like pretty colors."

She made a face and turned away. On the television.

Jack Coldren lined up a twelve-foot putt. Linda stopped and watched. He tapped it; the ball took off and arched right into the hole. The gallery applauded with modest enthusiasm. Jack picked up the ball with two fingers and then tipped his hat. The IBM leader board flashed on the screen. Jack Coldren was up by a whopping nine strokes.

Linda Coldren shook her head. "Poor bastard."

Myron kept still. So did Bucky.

He's waited twenty-three years for this moment."'

she continued. "And he picks now."

Myron glanced at Bucky. Bucky glanced back. shaking his head.

Linda Coldren stared at the television until her husband exited to the clubhouse. Then she took a deep breath and looked at Myron. "You see, Mr. Bolitar, Jack has never won a professional tournament. The closest he ever came was in his rookie year, twenty-three years ago. When he was only nineteen. lt was the last time the U. S. Open was held at Merion. You may remember the headlines."

They were not altogether unfamiliar. This morning`s papers had rehashed it a bit. "He lost a lead, right?"

Linda Coldren made a scoffing sound. "That's a bit of an understatement, but yes. Since then, his career has been completely unspectacular. There were years he didn't even make the tour."

He picked a hell of a time to snap his streak." Myron said. "The U. S. Open."

She gave him a funny look and folded her arms under her chest. `Your name rings a bell," she said. "You used to play basketball, right'?"

"Right."

"In the ACC. North Carolina?" , "Duke," he corrected.

' 'Right, Duke. I remember now. You blew out your knee after the draft." , Myron nodded slowly.

"That was the end of your career, right?"

Myron nodded again.

"It must have been tough," she said.

Myron said nothing.

She made a waving motion with her hand. "What happened to you is nothing compared to what happened to Jack."

"Why do you say that?"

"You had an injury. It may have been tough, but at least you weren't at fault. Jack had a six-stroke lead at the U. S. Open with only eight holes left. Do you know what that's like? That's like having a ten-point lead with a minute left in the seventh game of the NBA finals. It's .

like missing a wide-open slam dunk in the final seconds to lose the championship. Jack was never the same man after that. He never recovered. He has spent his whole life since, just waiting for the chance of redemption." She turned back to the television. The leader board was back up. Jack Coldren was still up by nine strokes.

"If he loses again . . ."

She did not bother finishing the thought. They all stood in silence. Linda staring at the television. Bucky craning his neck, his eyes moist, his face quivering near tears. .

"So what's wrong, Linda?" Myron asked.

"Our son," she said. "Somebody has kidnapped our son." .

Chapter
2

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Linda Coldren said.

"He said he'd kill him."

"Who said?"

Linda Coldren took several deep breaths, like a child atop the high board. Myron waited. It took some time, but she finally took the plunge.

"I got a call this morning," she said. Her large indigo eyes were wide and everywhere now, settling down on no one spot for more than a second. ' 'A man said he had my son. He said if I called the police, he would kill him."

"Did he say anything else'?'

"Just that he'd call back with instructions."

"That's it'?"

She nodded.

' 'What time was this?" Myron asked.

"Nine, nine-thirty."

Myron walked over to the television and picked up one of the framed photographs. ' 'Is this a recent photograph of your son?" '

' 'Yes.' '

"How old is he?"

"Sixteen. His name is Chad."

Myron studied the photograph. The smiling adolescent had the fleshy features of his father. He wore a baseball cap with the brim curled the way kids like to nowadays. A golf club rested proudly on his shoulder like a minuteman with a bayonet. His eyes were squinted as though he were looking into the sun. Myron looked over Chad's face, as if it might give him a clue or some rare insight. It didn't.

' 'When did you first notice that your son was missing'?' '

Linda Coldren gave her father a quick glance, then straightened up, holding her head high as if she were readying himself for a blow. Her words came slow.

"Chad had been gone for two days."

"Gone'?" Myron Bolitar, Grand lnquisitor.

' 'Yes.' '

"When you say gone "

"l mean just that," she interrupted. ' 'I haven't seen him since Wednesday."

"But the kidnapper just called today'?"

' 'Yes.' '

Myron started to speak, stopped himself, softened his voice. Tread gently, fair Myron. Ever gently. ' 'Did you have any idea where he was'?' '

' 'I assumed he was staying with his friend Matthew,"

Linda Coldren replied.

Myron nodded, as if this statement showed brilliant insight. Then nodded again. "Chad told you that?"

' 'No.' '

"So," he said, aiming for casual, "for the past two days, you didn't know where your son was."

"I just told you: I thought he was staying with Matthew.' '

"You didn't call the police.,"

"Of course not."

Myron was about to ask another follow up question, but her posture made him rethink his words. Linda took advantage of his indecisiveness. She walked to the kitchen with an upright, fluid grace. Myron followed.

Bucky seemed to snap out of a trance and trailed.

"Let me make sure I'm following you," Myron said, approaching fiom a different angle now. "Chad vanished before the tournament'?' '

"Correct," she said. "The Open started Thursday."

Linda Coldren pulled the refrigerator handle. The door opened with a sucking pop. "Why? ls that important?"

"lt eliminates a motive," Myron said.

"What motive?"

"Tampering with the tournament," Myron said. "If Chad had vanished today with your husband holding such a big lead I might think that someone was out to sabotage his chances of winning the Open. But two days ago, before the tournament had begun . . ."

"No one would have given Jack a snowball's chance in hell,' ' she finished for him. "Oddsmakers would have put him at one in five thousand. At best." She nodded as she spoke, seeing the logic. "Would you like some lemonade?" she asked.

"No, thanks."

"Dad'?"

Bucky shook his head. Linda Coldren bent down into the refrigerator.

"Okay," Myron said, clapping his hand together, trying his best to sound casual. "We've ruled out one possibility. Let's try another."

Linda Coldren stopped and watched him. A gallon glass pitcher was gripped in her hand, her forearm bunching easily with the weight. Myron debated how to approach this. There was no easy way.

"Could your son be behind this?" Myron asked.

"What?"

"It's an obvious question," Myron said, "under the circumstances." .

She put the pitcher down on a wooden center block.

' 'What the hell are you talking about? You think Chad faked his own kidnapping?"

"I didn't say that. I said I wanted to check out the possibility. ' '

"Get out."

"He was gone two days, and you didn't call the police,"

Myron said. "One possible conclusion is that there was some sort of tension here. That Chad had run away before."

"Or," Linda Coldren countered, her hands tightening into fists, "you could conclude that we trusted our son.

That we gave him a level of freedom compatible with his level of maturity and responsibility."

Myron looked over at Bucky. Bucky's head was lowered.

"If that's the case "

"That's the case."

"But don't responsible kids tell their parents where they're going? I mean, just to make sure they don't worry."

Linda Coldren took out a glass with too much care.

She set it on the counter and slowly poured herself some lemonade. "Chad has learned to be very independent,"

she said as the glass filled. "His father and I are both professional golfers. That means, quite frankly, that nei-ther one of us is home very often."

"Your being away so much," Myron said. "Has it led to tension?"

Linda Coldren shook her head. "This is useless."

"I'm just trying "

"Look, Mr. Bolitar, Chad did not fake this. Yes, he's a teenager. No, he's not perfect, and neither are his parents.

But he did not fake his own kidnapping. And if he did - I

know he didn't, but let's just pretend for the sake of argument that he did then he is safe and we do not need you.

If this is some kind of cruel deception, we'll learn it soon enough. But if my son is in danger, then following this line of thought is a waste of time I can ill afford."

Myron nodded. She had a point. "I understand," he said.

' 'Good. ' '

, "Have you called his friend since you heard from the kidnapper? The one you thought he might've been staying with'?' '

"Matthew Squires, yes."

"Did Matthew have any idea where he was?"

' 'None. ' '

"They're close friends, right?"

"Yes.' '

"Very close?"

She frowned. "Yes, very."

"Does Matthew call here a lot'?"

"Yes. Or they talk by E-mail."

"I'll need Matthew's phone number,' ' Myron said.

"But I just told you I spoke to him already."

"Humor me," Myron said. "Okay, now let's back up a second. When was the last time you saw Chad'?' '

"The day he disappeared.' '

"What happened?"

She frowned again. ' 'What do you mean, what happened? He left for summer school. I haven't seen him since.' '

Myron studied her. She stopped and looked back at him a little too steadily. Something here was not adding up. "Have you called the school," he asked, "to see if he was there that day?"

"l didn't think of it."

Myron checked his watch. Friday. Five P. M. ' 'I doubt anyone will still be there, but give it a shot. Do you have more than one phone line?' '

' 'Yes.' '

' 'Don't call on the line the kidnapper called in on. I

don't want the line tied up in case he calls back."

She nodded. "Okay."

' 'Does your son have any credit cards or ATM cards or anything like that'?' ' +

' 'Yes."

' 'I'll need a list. And the numbers, if you have them."

She nodded again.

Myron said, "I'm going to call a friend, see if I can get an override Caller ID put in on this line. For when he calls back. I assume Chad has a computer'?"