The Stolen - Jason Pinter [8]
recognized as the Gazette. I checked my watch. Late jobrelated calls were no longer a nuisance; they were a part
of my life. Perhaps that's why I turned down another beer.
Somehow I had a feeling I'd have to return someone's call
while relatively sober.
I walked down to the corner and bought a pack of Certs,
slipping one in my mouth to try to remove the beer aftertaste. Then I dialed the Gazette. Wallace Langston, editorin-chief, picked up his private line on the first ring.
"Henry, Christ, where the hell've you been?"
"It's a Friday night. You don't pay me enough to have
a 24/7 retainer."
"Okay, you don't want to answer your phone, I have
half a newsroom of reporters who'd drop their off days
faster than a hot iron for what I'm about to tell you, so let
me know if this is an inconvenient time."
"What if I said it was?"
The Stolen
29
"I'd say two things," Wallace said. "First, you're a liar.
It sounds like you're standing on the street, which means
you can't be that busy. Second, I'd say I don't give a crap
because if you turn down this assignment, I can find
another reporter who'll grab it faster than you can hang
up."
"Sounds like a hot one," I said. "So maybe I'm interested."
"Hot isn't the word," Wallace said. "Scorching. Actually no, forget that. The only appropriate word is exclu-
sive. "
"Oh, yeah? What kind of exclusive?"
"You hear about this Daniel Linwood case up in
Hobbs County?"
Immediately my buzz wore off. "Kid who was kidnapped
five years ago and suddenly reappeared on his parents'
doorstep, right?"
"So you follow the news. Glad to know we pay you for
something. Daniel Linwood was five years old when he
disappeared from his parents' home in Hobbs County,
New York. That was five years ago. One moment he's
playing outside, then all of a sudden he's just gone. No witnesses, nobody saw or heard anything. His disappearance
shakes the Hobbs County community to its roots. There's
a media frenzy, politicians come out of the woodwork to
show their support, but the cops come up empty. Then last
night, Daniel shows up at his parents' house like he's been
at the movies. Not a scratch on him. And get this--the kid
has as much memory of the past five years as I have of my
first marriage. He doesn't remember where he's been, who
took him or how he even got home. Half the known world
is waging war to talk to Daniel and his parents and get the
story, but up until now it's been radio silence."
30
Jason Pinter
"Until now?" I said.
"Until you," Wallace said. "I've been calling the Linwoods for twenty-four hours nonstop."
"I bet they appreciate that," I said snidely.
"Shut up, Parker, or I'll smack that booze right off your
breath."
"You don't know I've been drinking," I said, regretfully
slurring the last word.
"I've worked with Jack O'Donnell for more than twenty
years. You can't fool a professional bullshit detector. Anyway, tonight I get a call from Shelly Linwood out of
nowhere. She says she's ready to talk. And before I can say
another word, she says she and Daniel will talk to you, and
only you."
"Me?" I said. "Why?"
Wallace said, "Shelly knows she can't keep silent
forever, that at some point she and Daniel will need to
speak to the press. So she said when he does speak to
someone, she wants it to be to a reporter he won't be intimidated by. Someone who doesn't remind him of his
parents. She wants Daniel to talk to someone he can trust,
whom she can look in the eye and know he won't exploit
her son. Between all of that, I offered you. And she
accepted."
"Holy crap, are you serious?" I said. "This is a major
story, Wallace. We're going to make a lot of reporters
pretty jealous."
"And I'm going to revel in it," Wallace said. "This is
your story now, Parker. Daniel Linwood has probably been
through a kind of hell you and I can't even imagine, and
his parents have spent almost five years assuming their
oldest son was dead. Be gentle. Daniel is ten years old, and
we still don't know the full psychological damage he's