The Target (17 page)

“You did well, kiddo,” Molly said. “You did really well.”

“Can you answer another question for me, Emma?”

The little girl looked at her clearly now. “I don't want to but I know that my mama wants me to, and Ramsey.”

“Yes, but only if it doesn't make you sick afraid. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Was this man who kept you at the cabin for five days the same man who took you?”

“Yes.”

“How did he get you?”

“Mama was taking pictures in the park in front of our house. I was with Scooter—he's the neighbor's dog. Mama said I could get one just like him. I was throwing his stick. It took me a long time to teach him to bring me back the stick because Mama said that Dalmatians weren't genius dogs, just dumb dogs and really cute. I threw the stick and when Scooter didn't come back I went to him. There was a man petting him. I heard Mama call my name and I called back and said I was getting Scooter. Then the man smiled at me and he hit me on the head. I tried to call my mama but I couldn't.”

Ramsey thought: It was that easy. It took just an instant,
just that one instant when the adult believed everything was all right. And then it was too late.

He glanced over at Molly. She looked stricken, guilt ridden. He'd have to shake her out of it. It hadn't been her fault, but he knew just how deeply self-blame could burrow in and corrode.

Then Emma just turned her face in against Ramsey's chest. It was as if she'd frozen, stiff and cold. He held her, kissing her hair.

Molly rose slowly at a nod from Dr. Loo. “Thank you, Dr. Loo.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Santera, Mr. Hunt. I like you, Emma. You've got guts. You've got a good mind. You're going to do just fine. Now, I want us to talk some more when you're feeling less overwhelmed with bad memories. All right?”

Emma slowly turned to face the doctor. She said finally, “I don't know, Dr. Loo. Maybe we can talk next week?”

Ramsey noticed that Molly was flushed with relief.

Emma slipped off his lap and went to her mother. She took her hand and held it hard. She dragged Molly out of the office.

“Mr. Hunt, just a moment, please.”

He turned and smiled. “You did that very well. I was wondering about your approach, but it worked.”

“Emma's a smart child. You've always got to take a chance, though, on your initial reading. I don't know your part in all of this, but Emma certainly trusts you. So, whatever you and her mother have done, it's been good. It's up to me to get it all out of her so she can look at it, dismantle it, study it, then come to terms with it. Are the police in any way involved?”

He shook his head. “Not right now. Neither Molly nor I wanted to give her over to strangers. This is just for Emma. She's had some doozy nightmares.”

“No wonder. I understand you had her examined?”

“Yes, the pediatrician put her under, at our request, then
examined her. She'd been sexually abused, she'd been beaten, as we thought, but she's healed nicely, at least on the outside. Oh, yes, one other thing. A couple of times, coming out of a nightmare, Emma said things about this man. She talked about him tying her up with twine because she was just a little girl. She mentioned that he told her he needed her more than God needed him.”

“Now that's a real lead. Give the FBI this information, Mr. Hunt, if you haven't already.”

“I will.”

Dr. Loo nodded. “Just you and Mrs. Santera keep doing what you're doing. I'll see you on Tuesday?”

“Yes, that's fine.” It was only four days away. “There was something else.”

She reached out to pick up a scratching stick. He watched her ease it down into the cast. She smiled. “Ah, that feels good. You never realize how important scratching is until it's a pain to be able to do it. Now, your something else—you think I'm going too fast. I am. But you see, you want to get all the poison out of her as quickly as possible before it has a chance to fester. Talking about all the hideousness is like the psychological equivalent of using a stomach pump. Don't worry, I'll pull back if I think it's too much at a time.”

She stuck out her hand. “Tell her mother she's doing a great job. Tell her mother, too, that if she continues to blame herself for what happened then she won't be much good to Emma in the long run. All right, Judge Hunt? Don't look so surprised. You're a famous man.”

“I'll tell Molly what you said.” He turned, then said over his shoulder, “Dr. Loo, what I am really is a very frightened man.”

M
OLLY CAME OUT
of the kitchen to see Emma standing beside a hallway table, one of Miles's chocolate-chip cookies in her hand, staring up at her father. Louey looked profoundly discomfited.

“I remember you,” Emma said slowly, and took a bite of cookie. “You're my papa. Mama said you were coming to see me.”

“Yeah, well, here I am all right. You've really grown, kid.”

“You haven't seen me for a long time,” Emma said, staring at a man she dimly recognized. He looked tired and nervous. “Mama says I grow taller than a Dr. Pepper can every month. That's my favorite drink.”

“You look pretty tall to me. Look, Emma, I've got to go. I've got to see some people, do some things, you know?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. “I know.”

Molly caught up to Louey in the upstairs hallway just after she'd tucked Emma into bed an hour later. He was just coming out of his bedroom. Gunther stood some twenty feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, chewing on a toothpick.

“You saw Emma for all of two minutes, Louey. The first time you've seen her, I might add, in two years. I was thinking that you could have her play her new piano for you. You'll be impressed, I promise.”

Louey Santera looked more harassed than scared at the moment, and he knew he had good reason to be scared. “Look, Molly, I saw her. What was I supposed to do, for God's sake? She's just fine. Oh, all right. The next time I see her, I'll ask her to play that ridiculous piano.”

“All right, how about this after she's played for you—how about telling her you love her? You are her father, and she needs you, although that's a concept that never really took root in your brain.”

“You wanted her, I didn't. You were a lot more fun before you had a kid, Molly. Remember those photos you took of me that
Rolling Stone
featured? Now those could have made you, but what did you do? You just laughed and said they were okay, not all that great. The editor at
Rolling Stone
said you were terrific, but you wouldn't hear about doing any more work for them.”

“Louey, you're not remembering quite right. I was pregnant with Emma at the time and puking my toenails up on a very regular basis. I've been getting back into it since Emma's older.”

“No one has ever photographed me as well as you did.”

So that was it. As usual, Louey was thinking about himself. She wanted to roll her eyes and smack him. She did neither, just smiled at him. She really didn't hate him most of the time, actually; she really didn't even think of him except rarely, and even on those rare occasions she felt only mild dislike simply because she understood the bone-deep fears that always festered beneath the surface in him. They occasionally even overwhelmed his remarkable conceit and ego. Because she was sometimes so weak-headed, she forgot about the damage he could wreak. It was fear that was driving him now and so she said without rancor, “You're an excellent subject, Louey. You know how to mate with the
camera. Don't be impatient. There are lots of terrific photographers out there, but that's neither here nor there.” She stopped, then just shook her head. “Never mind. Sometimes I'm a fool. Now, tell me what you know about Emma's kidnapping, if you want me to help you before my father gets nasty. And he will, Louey, he'll get nastier than anything you can begin to imagine, nastier than he was to you in Denver three years ago.”

“You weren't in Denver when he showed up three years ago, so just how would you know what your dear daddy does?”

“I remember one summer when I was here. I was twelve years old and I woke up late, probably about midnight, and walked downstairs to the kitchen. I saw a light under his study door and I could hear men's voices. I pushed the door open and looked inside.” She shuddered from the force of the memory, but she said only, “Tell him, Louey. Don't be cute. When he sets a goal, his focus never falters. His patience is formidable, but when it's gone, it's well and truly gone. Tell him. Or tell me. How were you involved in this? Tell me the names of the men you owe money to.”

Ramsey pulled back around the corner. He'd just come up the stairs to go to bed. It was late. There stood Molly and Louey Santera facing off like two gunslingers in the hallway outside his bedroom door. He'd heard her last few words. He knew she didn't really think that Louey had had anything to do directly with Emma's kidnapping. But he was involved indirectly. She was covering all the bases, which was really smart. He wondered if Louey was buying it.

Louey cast a furtive look at Gunther, who hadn't moved a muscle, then leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “I sure made a big mistake marrying you, didn't I? You were Little Miss Sweet Innocence with a big crook for a father. But I found that out too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want some truth? I'll give you some truth.” He
stared down at her, his mouth twisting. “I wanted to fuck you, Molly, not marry you. But your daddy found out about us. He left me no choice.”

“That's not true, Louey, you know it's not. He didn't even know I was dating you until I told him we were going to get married. Stop looking at me like I'm an idiot. I tell you, he didn't know a thing until I told him. I remember the surprise on his face. I'm not making it up. He
was
surprised.”

He laughed, a nasty laugh that nearly froze Molly where she stood.

“It's not true,” she said again. She was crumbling inside. Was nothing as it had seemed in her life? “You're making this up, after all these years, just to hurt me.”

“Sure, Molly Dolly, sure I am. It turns out your old man had us followed—you didn't know that, did you? Of course you didn't. Yeah, and he had me followed to protect his little girl from the scummy coke-snorting rock star. He probably knew to the minute when you lost your virginity to me. And I got a visit from him the very next day. That was the day I really understood who your daddy actually is.”

“You're not lying? My father made you propose marriage to me?”

“You don't think it was because I could have possibly wanted a wife, do you? Come on, Molly, even you're not that stupid. I always liked fresh-faced eager girls. You looked at me like I was a god. I wasn't about to deny myself. So I had to be patient and play a few games with you so that you'd fall on your back for me. I wanted to take your virginity. I've always preferred virgins. And so I did, but then there was Daddy standing at my front door just after you left that morning.” Louey shrugged. “I remember one of his goons—a guy who got his head shot off a while back—he had huge hands. He grabbed my neck between his hands and lifted me off the ground. Then your daddy told me how things would be. He told me I'd better be real sincere when I proposed to his daughter. He told me if I
wasn't faithful to his daughter, he'd make my face so ugly nobody would want to see it. I believed him.”

“You were very sincere,” she said, and wondered how she could even form the words, much less get them out of her mouth. “I remember that evening very well. But you slept with lots of women.”

Louey shrugged. “Yeah, well, what was I supposed to do when I was married to you? Finally, I called your daddy and confessed that I was having sex on the side. I told him you just weren't interested. What was I to do?”

Louey laughed, actually laughed. “Your daddy finally gave me his permission. He told me to be discreet.”

Humiliation and rage mingled and flowed over. She drew back her arm and struck him as hard as she could with her fist in his belly. The air whooshed out of him. He gasped, clutching his stomach, bent over.

“You bastard,” she said low. “You complete and utter bastard. You'd do anything, wouldn't you? It's true that you're the only man I've ever slept with so I have no comparisons, but let me tell you, Louey, it wasn't ever any fun at all. From what I hear from other women, you were a pig at sex, and I bought it because I didn't know any better.

“You have nothing in you but greed and ego. And you've got street smarts, enough anyway to keep you alive, enough to realize that my father would have annihilated you if you hadn't done what he told you to do. Did you have Emma kidnapped? You need money. You always need money. You knew Mason would be the one to pay for her release, but you didn't care where it came from.” She paused, panting, then smacked her palm against her forehead. “How could I be so stupid? You didn't want my dad involved. You wanted me alone to pay the ransom. You viewed it as getting your money back.

“I really didn't think you'd done it, but I've changed my mind. You don't owe big bucks to anyone, do you? No, you're the one who had her kidnapped. You wanted your money back.”

She hit him again in his stomach. “And you got a child molester to take her.
You did that to your own daughter!
What kind of a man are you?”

She punched him yet again. He was still bent over, gasping for air. “No,” he managed to get out. “I didn't. Don't hit me again, Molly, I mean it. Remember how I hit you three years ago? I'll do it again.”

“You just try it, you worm, just try it.” She started to say something else, then just shook her head and walked away.

Ramsey didn't move for some time. People did the most incredible things to each other. He, Judge Ramsey Hunt, without hesitation, walked quickly down the corridor to where Louey Santera was still standing, alternately looking at Gunther and at his own toes.

“Hey, Louey. How's tricks?”

Louey managed to raise his head. “What do you want, you prick?”

Ramsey smiled at him and said in the mildest of voices, “Molly creamed you good. I knew she was strong, but that was quite a demo. You must have really pissed her off.”

“She's really tough when her father's nearby or one of his goons. Can you imagine what Gunther would have done if I'd so much as breathed too hard on her? She knew. I had to stand here and let her hit me.”

Ramsey kept that smile on his mouth. He lifted Louey Santera up by his shirtfront, straightened him, and sent his fist into his jaw. Louey yowled, staggering back. Ramsey let him go and he hit the wall.

“You're a real piece of work, you know that, Louey? There, that should give you something else to think about. I can't wait to see the back of you. And Molly's right, you know. Mason's just about ready to snap. I have a feeling that when he does, you'll be dead meat.”

“You're a bloody judge, a bloody federal judge, and just listen to you. Some officer of the court you are. I'll get you for assault and battery. I'll get you impeached and disbarred, you bastard. I'll get you.”

“Hey, you want to try to get me now? I'd sure welcome that, Louey. Anytime you want to play some more, you just come see me.” He shook his head. “It looks right now like you hired a child molester to kidnap your own daughter. You probably didn't know that, but it just shows what a real winner you are. You're going to do big time for this, Louey, if you're involved, and that, only if you're lucky. Who knows, maybe I'll see you in my courtroom.”

“You're in San Francisco, idiot.”

“Yeah, but I've got lots of judge friends.” Ramsey walked away whistling. He said over his shoulder, “Sleep well, Louey. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

He went to his bedroom. He didn't bother turning on the lights. He knew his way around now. He walked to the bed, lay down, and stared up at the black ceiling. Was Louey involved? It seemed fantastic to him. But on the other hand, the man didn't seem to have a moral bone in his skinny body.

“You heard everything he said, didn't you?”

He jerked to a sitting position. “Molly? Why are you here, in the dark?”

“Waiting for you. I saw you lift him off the ground and hit him in the jaw.”

“Between the two of us pounding him, just maybe he might dredge up a bit of humanity, although I doubt he can. Why did you ever think you loved him?”

“I was nineteen years old and stupid.”

“And he was the big rock star.”

“Yes, and I was super-impressed. A friend of mine who knew him introduced us. You heard him. The only reason he asked me to go out with him was because I was Little Miss Sweet Innocence. I didn't go to bed with him that first night, and that was probably why he asked me out again. I didn't go to bed with him at all until one night I smoked marijuana, drank too much— Oh God, that sounds pathetic. Anyway, I just floated off with him to his bed.” She shuddered with the memory of it.

“Just leave it be, Ramsey. At least he gave me Emma. I would have danced with the devil if the result was Emma.”

“Of course you would have,” he said, and rose from the bed. He could see her now, standing by the open window. There was a quarter moon, sending just a sliver of white light into the bedroom.

She turned to face him. “You did hear everything he said, didn't you?”

“Yes. It felt good to hit him, Molly. He's a miserable human being.”

“Do you really think he had something to do with Emma's kidnapping?”