Prodigal Blues

"That's kind of an odd coincidence, isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You working on this kidnapping case and my last name being 'Ransom'.  Kinda odd, wouldn't you say?"

Jesus, I hoped the nurse didn't say yes to this poor sap.  "Now that you mention it, yes, yes it is.  I'll have to make sure to mention that in my report."  I leaned closer.  "My boss enjoys little tidbits of information like that.  He says it gives our reports 'verisimilitude'—whatever that means."

Officer Ransom and I shared a professional chuckle over that one.

"Listen," I said, pulling him farther away from the two former Lucy fans, "I'd really appreciate it if you could keep a close watch on her until the rest of my team arrives.  We're very close to nabbing this bastard and she's the only one who can positively identify him.  That's why they've got to do their best for her, understand?  They've got to make her better.  She's a sweet girl and"—I felt myself starting to choke up and couldn't stop it—"and she's been through too much for it to end like… like this… I'm sorry…."

"Hey, no, I understand, sir, really, I do."  He put his hand on my shoulder.  "I imagine it gets to you, seeing a kid like that who's been taken from her family and subjected to God-only-knows what at the hands of her kidnapper."

I wiped my eyes and patted down my pockets for some tissue, but then the sap Officer Ransom handed me his unused handkerchief.  "It gets to me sometimes, too, you know?  Seeing some of the awful things done to kids that're brought in here."

Okay, he wasn't a sap.  Shame on me for thinking that.  I wiped my eyes again, blew my nose, and offered back the handkerchief; to my surprise, he took it without a flinch and shoved it into his pants pocket.  "You okay, there?  Want me to maybe get you a cup of coffee?  The crap from the vending machines tastes like old motor oil, but the stuff they make in nurse's lounge—hoo-boy!  That's some mighty fine joe."

"Yes," I said.  "I'd appreciate that.  And if you could check with the nurses and doctors back there about Rebecca's condition"—I bit my lip too late, her name was out—"I'd really appreciate that."  Then I added, for what reason I still couldn't tell you:  "And the office tends to remember those local law enforcement officers who cooperate as well as you are, Officer Ransom."

"Daniel," he said, shaking my hand.  "I'll check on the girl and the coffee.  Anything you need, sir, just give the word."

"Thank you.  Listen, if I'm not out here when you get back, don't worry—I'll just be out in the car, contacting other team members.  I'll be back in here soon enough."

He nodded.  "You're the boss."

I shook his hand again and smiled at him as he left; was it my imagination, or was his walk a little taller?

I really hoped that nurse said yes.

I turned around and almost knocked over Arnold, who was standing right behind me with his shoulder-bag dangling halfway down his arm.  "Watch it there, Grace.  I seen enough of your chest and belly for one night."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see another great performance.  Man, you could cause some serious shit with that badge if you put your mind to it."

By now the couple had apologized to Lucy for ignoring her, and were back at attention just as Fred Mertz was flipping out, screaming that Ethel Mae Roberta Louise Potter Mertz was going to have a tasty knuckle sandwich for lunch if she didn't zip it.  Personally, I'd always felt that Ethel could ream Fred's ass seven ways from Sunday—she'd feel awful about it afterward, probably even make him a big juicy steak di

I pulled Arnold aside.  "What are you doing in here?"

He hesitated for only a moment:  "I'm staying with her."

"You can't do that!"

"Why not?  You think they're go

"I sure hope so.  I think we caught her before she crashed really bad.  We sure got here fast enough, though, didn't we?"

"They'll be peelin' those tire tracks off the road for a week."  He looked back at me.  "Look, Mark, I got everything we need right in here"—he patted his shoulder bag—"and they're go

"What's in the bag?"

"Hundred thousand dollars in cash.  We agreed that we'd split Grendel's money even between us.  Don't worry, it's all wrapped up inside my shirts and pants and socks.  You gotta get out of here before your buddy comes back or her makeup starts coming off."

I reached out and touched his cheek.  "What makes you think I'd leave you two at a time like this?"

"Because if you don't, then Christopher's go

"Eleven, twelve years?"

"You bet.  People can change a lot over that long.  They can… they can forget about things if forgetting makes it easier for them to go on living."

I smiled at him.  "You know, you sure as hell don't sound like a twelve-year-old."

"I ain't never been twelve, which is okay—I hear it ain't such a hot age to be, anyway."  He looked away for a moment, considering something.  "You know, it never occurred to me before—Christopher's been missing as long as I've been alive.  Damn, that's sad."  He looked back at me.  "You gotta go with him.  He can't be by himself, he'll chicken out or do something stupid.  Please go, Mark.  Do it for Rebecca and me.  I'll make sure she knows you're the one who brought her in, and that you didn't want to leave us.  She'll understand.  She understands about most things.  She's pretty cool that way."

I couldn't help it; I started crying again.

"Aw, now—what'cha wa

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry, my ass—you can't wimp out on me now.  This is almost over.  You gotta be the one to finish this for us, Mark.  Christopher ain't too good unless he's got someone around he thinks he's in charge of.  He ain't been taking his pills like he's supposed to—that's why he keeps changing the way he acts—and if you don't go with him, he'll keep not taking it and then he'll really go crazy and I don't want that to happen, that's not him, he's not really that way. We'll be—ah, well, shit!"  He started crying, too.  "Ain't this a bitch?  Standing here bawling like a couple of old ladies at a funeral."