Prodigal Blues

"…oh, my God…"

"Mr. Theilbar, do you now believe that I am who I say I am?"

"Where's Thomas?  Where's our son?"

"I need for you to stay calm, sir."  That was Christopher's biggest order:  Say whatever you have to, but keep them calm.  I don't want this turning into a circus that's going to wake all the neighbors.

"Calm, my ass!  Do you have information about Thomas or not?"

I could hear his wife's voice in the background—"Thomas?  Jim is that someone calling about Thomas?"

"Mr. Theilbar, please tell your wife that I need for the both of you to remain calm."

"Yes, yes, of course… I'm… I'm sorry, it's just… we've had so many crank calls about Thomas since he disappeared, or tabloid reporters trying to get a story, or people wanting reward money before they'll give us any information…"

"I understand.  Thomas is alive, Mr. Theilbar.  Tell your wife."

He did.  I expected her to start crying, but this was a woman made of strong stuff who didn't base her behavior on tired movie clichés; she said, in a firm, steady voice:  "Tell him we want to see our son."

"Mr. Theilbar, does your phone have a speaker?"

"Yes."

"Put me on it, please."

I heard the click and hiss.  "Can you both hear me now?"

"Yes," they replied.

"Mr. and Mrs. Theilbar, Thomas is alive.  Got that?"

"Good Lord, yes," said Mrs. Theilbar.  "What… what do we have to do now?  Please, tell us."

I stepped out from behind the tree and walked under the cone-shaped glow of the streetlight.  "Turn off your bedroom light and come to the window."

The light snapped off and I saw the shadow-movement of the curtain being pulled aside.  I held up the wallet, making sure that the light reflected off the badge.  "Can you see me?"

"Yes."

"Mr. and Mrs. Theilbar—Jim and Melinda, may I call you that?"

"Yes…?"

"Jim and Melinda, it's important you understand that we can't afford to draw any attention to this.  I need you to come down to your front porch, and promise me that you will remain calm and quiet, can you do that?"

"Of course."

"Come on down.  Don't turn on your porch light."

I closed the phone and slipped it into my pocket as I approached the house.  I stopped when I got beside Thomas, who took my hand and said, "Are they coming to get me now?"

"Yes.  They'll be here in a second.  I'm guessing they have to put on their robes and slippers."

"Mommy doesn't wear slippers."

"Oh."

He squeezed my hand.  I could feel his trembling.

The front door opened.  Jim and Melinda stepped out onto the porch.

"Remember, buddy," I said.  "Bill and Dale."

"Bill and Dale.  Gotcha."

They came down off the porch.  Melinda Theilbar—a small, blonde-haired woman with soft, attractive, round features that my mom would have called "pixie-ish"—was on the second step when she paused, leaned forward, and then gasped.  Her face lit up with a smile so bright it was almost enough to restore your faith in the human race.  She ran past her husband, arms outstretched, and slid down onto her knees in front of the wheelchair.  Now she was crying.  I couldn't blame her.

"Oh, God, Thomas!  Oh, my baby!  Oh, honey, I'm so glad to see you!  So glad, so glad, so glad…."

Ten feet away.  She'd been ten feet away, the light was at our backs, she couldn't be fully awake yet… ten feet away at three in the morning and she recognized him instantly.

She's his mother, she'll know who he is.

Jim Theilbar walked toward us very slowly, one hand over his mouth, his eyes glistening with tears.  He recognized his son, as well.  He looked at me, then knelt beside his wife and embraced Thomas, too.

I took a few steps back and looked down at my feet.  I had to wait.  This wasn't over yet.

After a couple of minutes, Mrs. Theilbar rose to her feet and crossed to me.  I held up the badge once again but she only gave it a quick glance.  "I don't know how to thank you."

"We need to talk, Melinda."  I took her by the elbow and led her up toward the front porch.  On the walk, Thomas and Jim were whispering and hugging.  Jim laughed.  So did Thomas.

"He seems like he's… well, like his mind's okay," said Melinda.

"It is.  He's been through nine different kinds of hell, but that's one tough boy you raised."

"What… what happened to him?"

"The man who abducted Thomas has been responsible for at least forty other abductions over the last fifteen years.  Most of them, he killed.  We were able to get Thomas and the other survivors out of there before he had the chance to—how much of this do you want to hear?"

Melinda wiped her eyes and pulled in a deep, unsteady breath.  "As much as you want to tell me."

I gave her the Cliff's Notes version.  The man who took Thomas was a psychopath who got off on domination and physical torture; yes, Thomas had been sexually molested, as had all of the other victims; no, I couldn't give her any specifics about the rescue at this time; yes, I was of the opinion that Thomas was going to need emotional counseling for probably the rest of his life; yes, the amputations were clean, so there was every chance that artificial legs would very much be in order.

"The two grocery bags Thomas has," I said, "are filled with medications that he will need; painkillers, antibiotics, etc.  There's a list of what medicines need to be given, and when, as well as several jars of salve for his burns."

By this time Jim had pushed Thomas up beside us, and stood listening.  "We need to take him to the hospital right now," he said.

"No," snapped Thomas.  "You gotta keep this a secret for a little while."

Melinda looked at him, then at me.  "Why do we have to do that?"

"The man who abducted Thomas and the other children doesn't know yet that we have them; he thinks they're still chained up in his basement."  At hearing that, Melinda's eyes widened in disgust and sorrow, but she got a handle on it right away; no showing weakness in front of her husband and son for this gal, no, sir.  Damn, I liked her.

"He has a pattern of leaving them alone for several days at a time," I continued.  "We have agents waiting at his house for him to return, but this is a smart man.  He has a lot of other people with… similar interests as part of his network.  These people monitor police bands, wire services, radio broadcasts…   If you were to take Thomas to the hospital right now, I can guarantee you that the man who abducted him will know about it before morning rush hour.  Information like that isn't the private matter it once was."

"And I feel okay," Thomas added.  "Really.  I got medicine for everything, and bandages, and all that stuff."

I nodded.  "Everything you need to take care of his medical needs for the time being is in those bags.  All I'm asking, Melinda and Jim, is that you wait seventy-two hours before doing anything—after that, you can show him off to the world and tell as many people as you want.  But I've got three other children to return to their families and my superiors want to keep this under the radar for as long as possible."  God, I hoped I wasn't laying it on too thick.  "By then he'll either be in our custody or dead—and between us, I don't care which one."

"Good for you," said Melinda, squeezing my hand.  "Good for you."