your mom on your home phone?”
“Yes. I did. Honest.”
“You have to call her cell phone, too. Even if she gets mad. You have to tell her.”
“But I can’t. I told you. She’ll kill me.” Grace looked Lynnette in the eye. “And she’ll call the cops. Report me missing. She’ll tell them I’ve been kidnapped because she won’t want to tell them she put me on a plane and didn’t make sure my dad would be there at the other end and that I got there okay. They’ll put out an Amber Alert and show my picture on TV. And Mom will go running home so the reporters can find her and she can do one of those Mommy interviews where she sobs for the camera and begs for the kidnappers to return her baby girl. And if they find me, Lynnette, they’re going to think you stole me.”
“But you’ll tell them otherwise, won’t you, Grace?”
Grace stood defiantly with her jaw set and her arms folded across her chest.
“I don’t think it’s a problem,” Blue said.
“Oh, it’s a problem,” said Lynnette.
“No, if Grace leaves messages on her mom’s phone every day, and also calls her dad every day, they’ll be sure she’s safe. And if anyone wants to blame you, I’ll testify that you tried to protect Grace because she threatened to run away if you told. It’s not safe for little kids to be on their own anywhere, but especially a big city like Denver.”
Lynnette shook her head. “This is a stupid move.”
Grace said, “But you’ll let me stay with you, right? Can we look up the train schedules on the Internet now?” She glanced at Blue. “Just to make sure Blue told us the right thing.”
Lynnette glanced around, looking for a wireless access sign. She seemed to be the only person in the bus station with a laptop computer. Now that she considered the other passengers more carefully, she realized few of them had real luggage. Some carried backpacks, some had suitcases, but many were surrounded by cardboard boxes and black trash bags, presumably full of their possessions.
Lynnette, Grace and Blue still sat at the table just outside the snack bar. Lynnette’s purse sat firmly wedged between her feet, her carry-on bag rested on the floor between her and Blue, and her computer case leaned against the table leg, propped against her foot. She leaned over and reached for the handles, found one, pulled the case out and started to unzip the side that held her laptop. She froze, her hand trying to make sense of the one-zippered case when hers had two zippered compartments. She grabbed the handgrips and lifted, staring at the case for a moment. Finally, she set it in her lap.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.
“It’s not mine. How in God’s green earth did I get the wrong computer case? My cell phone is in that case, my flash drives, CDs. Files, financial stuff.” She set the case on the floor by Grace’s feet and took a deep breath, surprised she could breathe at all. Her chest felt as though she’d swallowed marshmallows. Her stomach, too.
When had she put the bag down long enough for someone else to pick it up? She thought back to the cab, paying the cabbie, going inside the airport, her stop at the restroom, the ticket counter, Security . . . Security. The fat man who sat next to her to put on his shoes. The shithead who copped the attitude because her case took up the only available seat.
Oh, no. The fat man has my laptop case!
What if he was on his way to Los Angeles? How would she ever find him? There had to be something inside the case that identified the owner. She unzipped it and methodically checked its contents. A small Toshiba laptop. A brown envelope, fastened only by its clasp. A bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills. A cell phone. Lynnette turned on the phone.
It can’t get much better than this, Sammy thought, as he perused Lynnette Hudson’s brokerage statement. Her account totaled $475,722.37 as of December 31. And the woman had penciled some words labeled “User ID” and
“Yes. I did. Honest.”
“You have to call her cell phone, too. Even if she gets mad. You have to tell her.”
“But I can’t. I told you. She’ll kill me.” Grace looked Lynnette in the eye. “And she’ll call the cops. Report me missing. She’ll tell them I’ve been kidnapped because she won’t want to tell them she put me on a plane and didn’t make sure my dad would be there at the other end and that I got there okay. They’ll put out an Amber Alert and show my picture on TV. And Mom will go running home so the reporters can find her and she can do one of those Mommy interviews where she sobs for the camera and begs for the kidnappers to return her baby girl. And if they find me, Lynnette, they’re going to think you stole me.”
“But you’ll tell them otherwise, won’t you, Grace?”
Grace stood defiantly with her jaw set and her arms folded across her chest.
“I don’t think it’s a problem,” Blue said.
“Oh, it’s a problem,” said Lynnette.
“No, if Grace leaves messages on her mom’s phone every day, and also calls her dad every day, they’ll be sure she’s safe. And if anyone wants to blame you, I’ll testify that you tried to protect Grace because she threatened to run away if you told. It’s not safe for little kids to be on their own anywhere, but especially a big city like Denver.”
Lynnette shook her head. “This is a stupid move.”
Grace said, “But you’ll let me stay with you, right? Can we look up the train schedules on the Internet now?” She glanced at Blue. “Just to make sure Blue told us the right thing.”
Lynnette glanced around, looking for a wireless access sign. She seemed to be the only person in the bus station with a laptop computer. Now that she considered the other passengers more carefully, she realized few of them had real luggage. Some carried backpacks, some had suitcases, but many were surrounded by cardboard boxes and black trash bags, presumably full of their possessions.
Lynnette, Grace and Blue still sat at the table just outside the snack bar. Lynnette’s purse sat firmly wedged between her feet, her carry-on bag rested on the floor between her and Blue, and her computer case leaned against the table leg, propped against her foot. She leaned over and reached for the handles, found one, pulled the case out and started to unzip the side that held her laptop. She froze, her hand trying to make sense of the one-zippered case when hers had two zippered compartments. She grabbed the handgrips and lifted, staring at the case for a moment. Finally, she set it in her lap.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.
“It’s not mine. How in God’s green earth did I get the wrong computer case? My cell phone is in that case, my flash drives, CDs. Files, financial stuff.” She set the case on the floor by Grace’s feet and took a deep breath, surprised she could breathe at all. Her chest felt as though she’d swallowed marshmallows. Her stomach, too.
When had she put the bag down long enough for someone else to pick it up? She thought back to the cab, paying the cabbie, going inside the airport, her stop at the restroom, the ticket counter, Security . . . Security. The fat man who sat next to her to put on his shoes. The shithead who copped the attitude because her case took up the only available seat.
Oh, no. The fat man has my laptop case!
What if he was on his way to Los Angeles? How would she ever find him? There had to be something inside the case that identified the owner. She unzipped it and methodically checked its contents. A small Toshiba laptop. A brown envelope, fastened only by its clasp. A bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills. A cell phone. Lynnette turned on the phone.
It can’t get much better than this, Sammy thought, as he perused Lynnette Hudson’s brokerage statement. Her account totaled $475,722.37 as of December 31. And the woman had penciled some words labeled “User ID” and
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