Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [62]
“It's good to see you, Jack,” she said.
“It's good to see you, too,” I said.
“I'm scared about this one.”
“I know. That's why I came.”cSally led me into a four-story glass-and-concrete building with no markings. It was painted an earthy green and blended into the lush landscaping that towered around it. The security for Disney's theme parks happened here, though few people knew it. At Disney, buildings were either part of the experience or invisible.
A basement hallway echoed our footsteps, and we entered a small carpeted room with a one-way mirror covering one wall. On the other side of the mirror sat a young couple crying their eyes out. The girl was pleasantly plain and covered with freckles, while the boy had a pinched face and an old-fashioned crew cut. Both were small of stature and dressed in simple country clothes.
“Meet Peggy Sue and Tram Dockery,” Sally said. “We kept them apart and interrogated them. Their stories are consistent.”
My breath fogged the mirror. “That his real name?”
“Yes. Hails from Douglas, Georgia, which is about two hundred and fifty miles from here as the crow flies. He manages a barbecue restaurant that his father owns. First thing he told me was he'd done a stint in prison for selling weed, and had been on the straight and narrow ever since.”
“Believe him?”
“He offered up the information. Yes, I believed him.”
“His wife looks young,” I said.
“Her driver's license says she's nineteen.”
“How old is their little girl?”
“Nearly three.”
“So he got her pregnant when she was sixteen.”
Sally didn't respond. She'd already looked at the facts and decided the Dockerys hadn't orchestrated their daughter's disappearance and sold her for money to buy crack, or to pay off a loan shark, or put a down payment on a new car, or any of the other insane reasons that couples give when they get caught selling their children.
I continued to stare through the glass. Something about Tram's behavior didn't feel right, and after a few moments I realized what it was. Parents who lose kids do nothing but worry, and worrying is a manufactured fear. Tram's fear wasn't manufactured. It was real, and it told me that he knew something the rest of us didn't.
“Can I talk to him without the wife?” I asked.
“Be my guest,” Sally said.
The couple were separated. I entered the room and introduced myself as park security without giving my name. Tram jumped out of his chair and pumped my hand. He was small and wiry, maybe one-forty soaking wet, with dozens of tiny black moles visible beneath his crew cut. The words Jimbo's Homestyle BBQ were stitched in flaming red over the pocket of his denim shirt. He didn't look old enough to shave.
I told him to sit down and gave him my best no-nonsense look.
“I need to ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Dockery.”
“It's Tram,” he said.
“Mine's Jack. Let me get right to the point. We think the person who nabbed your daughter is a pro. More than likely, he'll try to leave the park when it closes and tens of thousands of people are going home. That gives us time to figure out a strategy.”
“Great,” he said.
“That's the good news,” I said. “The bad new is, it won't be easy figuring out which child is yours. Your daughter's appearance will be drastically altered, and she may not look like a little girl anymore.”
“I'll do whatever you want,” Tram said.
“Good. Now, I want you to level with me. Did you sell your daughter to someone in the park and not tell your wife about it?”
Tram leaped out of his chair, and I reflexively jumped back. He threw his arms into the air while tears streamed down his face. “No! I'd never do that! You think I'm some kind of criminal—I can see it in your eyes! I'd never sell my daughter, not even to the richest man in the entire world.”
“Sit down,” I said.
“Do you believe me?”
I pointed at his chair.
“Do you?”
“Sit,” I ordered him.
Finally he sat.
“No, I don't believe you,” I said flatly.
“But I'm telling the truth,” he wailed.
“Something's bothering you, son, and I want to know what it is.”
Tram