It Only Takes a Moment (27 page)

I
t Only Takes a Moment
is the story I’ve wanted to tell but was afraid to write because it deals with kidnapping, a subject that has frightened me since I was young, for reasons beyond the normal ones.

My father was a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, assigned to high-profile kidnapping and extortion cases. While my father would never, at the time, tell us about his cases, it was easy enough to read about them in the newspaper or hear about them on the radio and television. And because I knew my father was working on solving these crimes, I paid a lot of attention to the details at an impressionable age…details which fascinated me while at the same time terrified me and led to a shivering dread that has followed me throughout my life.

Until now, it’s always felt as though writing about a kidnapping might somehow tempt fate. But today my children are grown and I don’t worry (as much) about anyone stealing them. My father is eighty-one years old, and there was no time like the present to harvest his memories…memories which fed my imagination and led to this story. So, first of all, let me thank Frederick V. Behrends, my dad; and my mother, Doris Boland Behrends, who met and married while working at the FBI.

My parents had two daughters, so I suppose if there was no FBI there
would have been no me. The FBI also went on to assist me by training Margot Dennedy and Cathy Begley, special agents past and present, who generously lent their expertise for this story. I appreciate their considerable knowledge; I treasure their loyal friendship.

Another law enforcement pro, Stan Romaine, former director of CBS Corporate Security, came through for me yet again, this time providing the background on what a television network would do if the child of one of its stars was kidnapped. Thank you, Stan, for consistently answering my questions and sharing your wealth of experience.

In just another instance of the support he has given me over almost twenty years, Dr. Steve Simring offered his prescription for the best drugs to accomplish what I needed to get done in the story.

Phil Doyle gave me a tutorial on paintball warfare. Thank you for that, Phil, and for being such a good sport when your character had to die.

Beth Tindall and Colleen Kenny continue to inject their skill and creativity into www.maryjaneclark.com. Nice work, ladies.

Through the marvels of the Internet, Father Paul Holmes was able to provide his invaluable help all the way from Italy, where he was on sabbatical trying to get his own book written.
Tante, tante grazie, Paolo.

Editor Carrie Feron, a mother herself, understood my terror of kidnapping. She shepherded the book through its stages, asking the right questions and contributing her smart thoughts to make the story better. Tessa Woodward paid exacting attention to so many, many details. Sharyn Rosenblum is the most enthusiastic and savvy publicist any author could want. There are so many talented and dedicated people at William Morrow/HarperCollins and I worry that I will leave someone out when thanking them for what they’ve done. Apologizing in advance for overlooking anyone, I’m grateful to Lisa Gallagher, Michael Morrison, Jane Friedman, Lynn Grady, Liate Stehlik, Adrienne Pietro, Debbie Stier, Tavia Kawalchuk, Lauren Naefe, and Kristie Macrides. Josh Marwell, Carla Parker, Brian Grogan, Mike Brennan, and Mike Spradlin constitute a powerful sales force.

Special thanks to Victoria Mathews, who did a fine job of copyediting, and Thomas Egner, who designed such a haunting cover.

Much gratitude as well to Rachel Brenner, Mark Gustafson, Michael Morris, Rhonda Rose, Jeff Rogart, Dale Schmidt, and Donna Waitkus for placing those important orders.

Peggy Gould, I thank God every day for you and the other devoted and extraordinary people at SHS. Without you, I couldn’t write the book.

Finally, some things may only take a moment, but building a publishing career isn’t one of them. My deep appreciation to Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and Joni Evans, who continue to guide mine.