Silent Night (11 page)

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, when they left Cally's apartment, Mort Levy was carrying the bulky gift-wrapped package that held the guard's uniform.

Shore joined them in the squad car and impatiently fired questions at Mort. As they were driven downtown, they agreed that the search for Jimmy Siddons would be based on the assumption that he might be trying to reach Canada.

“He's got to be in a car,” Folney said flatly. “There's no way he'll travel on public transportation with that child.”

Cally had told them that from the time he was twelve years old, Jimmy could hot-wire and steal any car; she was sure he must have had one waiting near the apartment.

“My guess is that Siddons would want to get out of New York State as soon as possible,” Folney said. “Which means he'd drive through New England to the border. But it's only a guess. He could be on the Thruway, headed for I87. That's the fastest route.”

And Siddon's girlfriend was probably in Canada. It all fit together.

They also accepted Cally's absolute certainty that Jimmy Siddons would not be taken alive and that his final act of vengeance would be to kill his hostage.

So they were faced with an escaped murderer with a child, possibly driving a car they could not describe, probably headed north in a snowstorm. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Siddons would be too smart to attract attention by speeding. The border was always mobbed with holiday traffic on Christmas Eve. He dictated a message to be sent to state police throughout New England as well as New York. “Has threatened to kill the hostage,” he emphasized.

They calculated that if Siddons had left Cally Hunter's apartment shortly after six, depending on driving conditions, he'd be between two and three hundred miles away. The alert that went out to the state police contained Cally's final certainty:
On a
chain around his neck, the child may be wearing a
bronze St. Christopher medal the size of a silver dollar
.

*   *   *

Pete Cruise watched as the detectives emerged from Cally Hunter's building some twenty minutes after arriving there. He noted that Levy was carrying a bulky
package. Shore immediately jumped out of the van and joined them.

This time Pete got a good look at the third man, then whistled silently. It was Bud Folney, chief of detectives and in line to be the next police commissioner. Something was breaking. Something big.

The squad car took off with its dome light flashing. A block away its siren was turned on. Pete sat for a moment, debating what to do. The cops in the van might stop him if he tried to go in to see Cally, but obviously something major was going down here, and he was determined to scoop everyone on this.

As he was wondering about looking for a back entrance to the building, he saw the woman he knew to be Cally's baby-sitter leave. In a flash he was out of the car and following her. He caught up with her when she turned the corner and they were out of sight of the cops in the van. “I'm Detective Cruise,” he said. “I've been instructed to see you safely home. How is Cally doing?”

“Oh, that poor girl,” Aika began. “Officer, you people have to believe her. She thought she was doing the right thing when she didn't phone you about her brother kidnapping that little boy . . .”

*   *   *

Even though Brian was hungry, the hamburger was hard to swallow. His throat felt like there was something
stuck in it. He knew that Jimmy was the reason for that. He took a giant swallow of Coke and tried to think about how Daddy would beat Jimmy up for being so mean to him.

But now when he thought about Daddy it was hard to remember anything except all the plans they had made for Christmas Eve. Daddy had planned to come home early, and they were all going to trim the tree together. Then they were going to have dinner and go around their neighborhood singing Christmas carols with a bunch of their friends

That was all he could think about now, because that was all he wanted, to be home and have Daddy and Mommy smiling a lot the way they always did when they were together. When they came to New York because Dad was sick, Mom had told him and Michael that their big presents, the ones they really wanted, would be waiting for them when they got back home. She said that Santa Claus would keep the presents on his sleigh until he knew they were in their own house again.

Michael had said, “Yeah, really,” under his breath to Brian. But Brian believed in Santa Claus. Last year Dad had pointed out marks on the roof of the garage where Santa's sleigh had landed and where the reindeer had stood. Michael told him he heard Mom tell Dad it was a
good thing Dad hadn't broken his neck sliding around on the icy roof and making tracks all over it, but Brian didn't mind what Michael said, because he didn't believe it. Just like he didn't mind that Michael sometimes called him the Dork; he knew he wasn't a dork.

He knew things were bad when you wished your jerk brother, who could be such a pain in the neck, was there with you, and that was just how he felt now.

As Brian swallowed over that feeling of something in his throat, the plastic container almost jumped out of his hand. He realized Jimmy had switched lanes fast.

Jimmy Siddons swore silently. He had just passed a state trooper's car stopped in back of a sports car. The sight of a trooper made him sweat all over, but he shouldn't have switched lanes like that. He was getting jumpy.

Sensing the animosity that bristled from Jimmy, Brian put the uneaten hamburger and the soda back in the bag and, moving slowly so Jimmy could see what he was doing, leaned down and put the bag on the floor. Then he straightened up, huddled against the back of the seat and hugged his arms against his sides. The fingers of his right hand groped until they closed around the St. Christopher medal, which he had laid on the seat next to him when he opened the package of food.

With a sense of relief he closed his hand over it and mentally pictured the strong saint who carried the little kid across the dangerous river, who had taken care of his grandfather, who would make Dad get better and who . . . Brian closed his eyes . . . He didn't finish the wish, but in his mind he could see himself on the shoulders of the saint.

B
arbara Cavanaugh was waiting for Catherine and Michael in the green room at Channel 5. “You both did a great job,” she said quietly. Then, seeing the exhaustion on her daughter's face, she said, “Catherine, please come back to the apartment. The police will get in touch with you there as soon as they have any word about Brian. You look ready to drop.”

“I can't, Mother,” Catherine said. “I know it's foolish to wait on Fifth Avenue. Brian isn't going to get back there on his own, but while I'm out and about I at least feel as though I'm doing something to find him. I don't really know what I'm saying except that when I left your
apartment, I had my two little boys with me, and when I go back they're going to be with me, too.”

Leigh Ann Winick made a decision. “Mrs. Dornan, why not stay right here at least for the present? This room is comfortable. We'll send out for some hot soup or a sandwich or whatever you want. But you've said yourself, there's no point in just waiting on Fifth Avenue indefinitely.”

Catherine considered. “And the police will be able to reach me here?”

Winick pointed to the phone. “Absolutely. Now tell me what I can order for you.”

Twenty minutes later, as Catherine, her mother, and Michael were sipping steaming hot minestrone, they watched the green room's television monitor. The news bite was about Mario Bonardi, the wounded prison guard. Although still critical, his condition had stabilized.

The reporter was with Bonardi's wife and teenage children in the waiting room of the intensive care unit. When asked for a comment, a weary Rose Bonardi said, “My husband is going to make it. I want to thank everyone who has been praying for him today. Our family has known many happy Christmases, but this will be the best ever because we know what we so nearly lost.”

“That's what we'll be saying, Michael,” Catherine said determinedly. “Dad is going to make it and Brian is going to be found.”

The reporter with the Bonardi family said, “Back to you at the news desk, Tony.”

“Thanks, Ted. Glad to hear that it's going so well. That's the kind of Christmas story we want to be able to tell.” The anchor's smile vanished. “There is still no trace of Mario Bonardi's assailant, Jimmy Siddons, who was awaiting trial for the murder of a police officer. Police sources are quoted as saying that he may be planning to meet his girlfriend, Paige Laronde, in Mexico. Airports, train stations, and bus terminals are under heavy surveillance. It was nearly three years ago, while making his escape after an armed robbery, that Siddons shot and fatally wounded Officer William Grasso, who had stopped him for a traffic violation. Siddons is known to be armed and should be considered extremely dangerous.”

As the anchorman spoke, Jimmy Siddons's mug shots were flashed on the screen.

“He looks mean,” Michael observed as he studied the cold eyes and sneering lips of the escaped prisoner.

“He certainly does,” Barbara Cavanaugh agreed. Then she looked at her grandson's face. “Mike, why don't you close your eyes and rest for a little while?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “I don't want to go to sleep.”

It was one minute of eleven. The newscaster was saying, “In an update, we have no further information
about the whereabouts of seven-year-old Brian Dornan, who has been missing since shortly after five o'clock today.

“On this very special evening, we ask you to continue to pray that Brian is safely returned to his family, and wish you and all of your loved ones a very Merry Christmas.”

In an hour it will be Christmas, Catherine thought.
Brian, you have to come back, you have to
be found. You have to be with me in the morning
when we go see Dad. Brian, come back. Please
come back
.

The door of the green room opened. Winick ushered in a tall man in his late forties, followed by Officer Manuel Ortiz. “Detective Rhodes wants to talk to you, Mrs. Dornan,” Winick said. “I'm outside if you need me.”

Catherine saw the grave look on the faces of both Rhodes and Ortiz, and fear paralyzed her. She was unable to move or speak.

They realized what she was thinking. “No, Mrs. Dornan, it isn't that,” Ortiz said quickly.

Rhodes took over. “I'm from headquarters, Mrs. Dornan. We have information about Brian, but let me begin by saying that as far as we know he's alive and unharmed.”

“Then where is he?” Michael burst out. “Where's my brother?”

Catherine listened as Detective Rhodes explained
about her wallet being picked up by a young woman who was the sister of escaped prisoner Jimmy Siddons. Her mind did not want to accept that Brian had been abducted by the murderer whose face she had just seen on the television screen. No, she thought, no, that can't be.

She pointed to the monitor. “They just reported that that man is probably on his way to Mexico. Brian disappeared six hours ago. He could be in Mexico right now.”

“At headquarters we don't buy that story,” Rhodes told her. “We think he's heading for Canada, probably in a stolen car. We're concentrating the search in that direction.”

Suddenly Catherine could feel no emotion. It was like when she was in the delivery room and was given the shot of Demerol and all the pain miraculously stopped.
And she'd looked up to see Tom
wink at her. Tom, always there for her. “Feels better doesn't it, Babe?” he had asked. And her mind,
no longer clouded with pain, had become so clear
. It was that way now, as well. “What kind of car are they in?”

Rhodes looked uncomfortable. “We don't know,” he said. “We're only guessing that he's in a car, but we feel sure it's the right guess. We have every trooper throughout New York and New England on the alert for a
man traveling with a young boy who is wearing a St. Christopher medal.”

“Brian is wearing the medal?” Michael exclaimed. “Then he'll be all right. Gran, tell Mom that the medal will take care of Brian like it took care of Grandpa.”

“Armed and dangerous,” Catherine repeated.

“Mrs. Dornan,” Rhodes said urgently. “If Siddons is in a car, he's probably listening to the radio. He's smart. Now that Officer Bonardi is out of danger, Siddons knows he isn't facing a death sentence. Capital punishment had not been reinstated when he killed the police officer three years ago. And he did tell his sister that he'd let Brian go tomorrow morning.”

Her mind was so clear
. “But you don't believe that, do you?”

She did not need to see the expression on his face to know that Detective Rhodes did not believe that Jimmy Siddons would voluntarily release Brian.