Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [8]
Suddenly there was a knock at the bathroom door.
And the three women looked over.
Chapter Six
Filling the newsroom were fifty-odd L-shaped desks furnished with computers, multiline phones, and atmospheric clutter, but only a few were occupied. Ellen had been at the paper long enough to remember when all the desks were full and the newsroom had the self-important hustle-bustle depicted on TV and the movies. There had been an electricity in the air then, from working at the epicenter of breaking news. Now the epicenter of breaking news had moved to the Internet, leaving too many of the desks vacant, now one more. Courtney’s.
The room felt so much emptier to Ellen, even though she knew it wasn’t possible. Mostly everybody had gone out on assignment, fleeing the scene of the crime. Sharon Potts in Business and Joey Stampone in Sports were at their desks, writing away and avoiding each other’s eyes, stricken with survivor’s guilt. Only Sarah chatted happily on her cell phone, the sound incongruous as laughter at a funeral.
Ellen set down her cold coffee and sat at the computer, checked her email, and opened her address book. She was supposed to be starting her follow-up story and looking for Susan Sulaman’s phone number, but she felt shaken. Courtney hadn’t shed a tear when she’d packed her desk, which only made it harder, but they’d hugged and promised to stay in touch, even as they both knew they’d get too busy.
You’re single, he’s single, and life is short. I say, go for it.
Her thoughts circled back to Timothy Braverman, and she reached into her purse, slid out the white card, and looked at the photo in the middle. The likeness between Will and Timothy struck her again as unmistakable, even for an age-progressed depiction. The bottom of the card read ACMAC, and she Googled it, then clicked through. American Center for Missing and Abducted Children, read the screen, and Ellen skimmed “About Us.” ACMAC was a national organization to recover abducted children and runaways, and the page listed Amber Alerts.
She found the search button, typed in Timothy Braverman, and pressed Enter. The screen changed.
And Ellen almost gasped.
Chapter Seven
On the screen was a color photo of Timothy Braverman as a baby, and his features were identical to Will’s, especially the eyes. Timothy had blue eyes, a shade she had never seen in anyone’s eyes but Will’s.
My God.
She read the webpage. The top said, Timothy Braverman, and underneath were two photos, side by side. On the right was the black-and-white thumbnail, the age-progressed picture from the white card, but on the left was the color baby photo of Timothy that had made Ellen gasp.
Timothy at one year old, read its caption. The photo had been cropped, a close-up of the baby’s face in excellent focus, and it was taken outdoors in front of a lush green hedge. Timothy’s blond hair caught the light, his highlights ablaze in the sun, and he grinned broadly, with his mouth turned down on the right, showing only two front teeth. Ellen had seen that very same grin on Will, after he’d finally got healthy.
She studied the screen, wondering what Will looked like when he was that little. She hadn’t met him until he was a year and a half old, and the shape of his face then had been more elongated than Timothy’s, due to his illness. He had been paler, his skin thin and curiously aged. Timothy had the exact same face, only healthier, his cheeks a rosy hue under a cheery layer of baby fat.
Ellen read on, avoiding a creeping sense of unease. The page said, For further information, please see www.HelpUsFindTimothyBraverman.com. She clicked on the link. The screen changed, and the top of the page read: Help Us Find Our Beloved Son, Timothy Braverman. It was a homemade website with Thomas the Tank Engine chugging around the perimeter. Her heart fluttered, then she dismissed it. It didn’t mean anything that Will loved Thomas the Tank Engine, too. All little boys did, probably.
She scanned the webpage. It showed the same baby picture as the ACMAC site, but the photo