The Stolen - Jason Pinter [110]
metal, inspected it. It was well cared for. No graffiti. No
damage. It was doing its duty without any interference.
Illuminating a world that was, for better or worse, now a
safer place.
"You think they're asleep?" Amanda asked.
"No way. At that age I fought tooth and nail for every
extra minute. I'd sneak an AM/FM radio into bed so I
could listen to ball games, maybe a book and a flashlight.
I hope kids haven't outgrown that."
"Not outgrown it," she said. "They just have more
options now. Portable video games, iPods, televisions the
size of a quarter. It's a miracle they don't spend half their
time choosing which one to watch."
We stepped up to the porch. I saw the wind chimes
again. In a moment they'd be ringing their tune.
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I pressed the doorbell, heard a chime go off inside the
house. There were footsteps, a woman's voice shouting
something. Then the screen door opened, and Shelly
Linwood was standing right in front of us.
She was wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe, her hair done
up in rollers. I saw a child run past behind her. Tasha, if I
remembered correctly.
"Henry? Henry Parker?" she said, unsure of what to
make of this late-night visit.
"Mrs. Linwood," I said. "I need a minute of your time."
"I was just doing my hair," she said. She looked eager to
get back to that, but the look on my face told her we weren't
leaving anytime soon. Resignedly, she said, "Come on in."
She held the door open for us, and we walked inside.
"Mrs. Linwood, this is Amanda Davies. She works for
the New York Legal Aid Society. She's a good friend of
mine, and I just thought it would be good for her to meet
Danny. Danny might have some questions she can answer.
And if not, he'll make a new friend."
I saw a mop of hair peek from behind a doorway.
Shelley turned around, said, "Danny, come in here. You
remember Henry, right?"
Daniel Linwood tentatively stepped into the room. He'd
gained a few pounds since I last saw him, his hair a little
longer. His eyes seemed more frightened, his gait more
awkward.
"Danny," I said. "This is Amanda."
She stepped forward, knelt down slightly so she was
at his level.
"Hey there," she said. "I'm Amanda. Mind if we chat
for a bit? I'd love to see your room."
"Show her your Xbox," Shelly said. Danny nodded reluctantly, led Amanda past us and up the stairs.
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"Can we sit?" I said. Shelly nodded.
We went into the living room, sat on the same couch
where I'd interviewed Danny not too long ago.
"How is he?" I asked.
Shelly sighed, scratched her neck.
"I get a call from his school almost every day. Kids
picking on him. Giving him wedgies. Stealing his lunch
money. It wasn't like this before."
"He's a different person now," I said. "It's going to take
a long time for him to find himself."
"I know," she said. "God, I know."
"Mrs. Linwood," I said. "I want you to hear this from
me. And only from me. I want you to know what I know."
She looked up, her eyes big and brown and watery. "Yes?"
"You knew about Daniel's kidnapping. You knew it
was going to happen. You knew he would be taken. And
you probably told them when they could do it. Know that
I know. Because you'll have to live with that. Live with
everyone knowing what you did."
Her mouth fell open. She stared at me, shaking her
head, openmouthed.
"No," she said. "My Danny, I didn't--"
"Shelly," I said. "You've been lying too long. I know
why you did it. I know you met Raymond Benjamin."
Shelly just sat there, her lower lip trembling.
"When I spoke to Danny, you even brought him a tray
of food. Vegetables that would help replenish the thiamine
levels that were so low in his brain. Food high in vitamin
B1. Did Petrovsky tell you to do that?"
Shelly sat there, stone silent.
"Did he come to your house? Raymond Benjamin."
She continued to stare, then a tear streaked down her
cheek as she nodded.
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"Yes," she said.
"What did he say?"
"He told me," Shelly