Unseen. Part 2

He wished he could do the same, but there was something bizarre happening, and there was no ignoring it. Children didn't just vanish from a busy office, or show up out of the blue for that matter.

Jake heard the elevator ding and turned to see Debbie stepping though the doors. Next to her, with the broadest grin he had ever seen, was the little boy.

"Deb!" he blurted.

She was still talking to the accountant who was standing outside the elevator, but she looked up and acknowledged him.

"DEB!" he shouted again, and took off down the aisle.

She glanced again and gave him a look as if to say, whatever your game is, I'm not playing.

"No, Deb! Hold the door!"

Both of them were looking at him now, but that didn't stop her from letting the elevator doors close.

Jake rounded the corner and stopped. "Really? Really, Deb?"

The accountant laughed.

Jake ignored him and ran to the stairwell. Bob's office was only two floors up. If he pushed it, he might be able to get up there as she was stepping out. He took the stairs two at a time, gripping the rail and swinging himself around at each turn. In seconds he was on the fourth floor, pushing through the door and down the hall. Debbie was just stepping out of the elevator, the doors stood open behind her. As Jake barreled down the hallway, she turned toward him. Her arms crossed on top of her belly, and a look of irritation formed on her face.

Jake slowed himself and thrust his hand between the closing elevator doors. The b.u.mpers squeezed against his flesh, and the doors reversed direction.

"I've never seen someone run up two floors to catch an elevator," she said. "You know it does go back down."

Jake scanned the inside, but the little boy was gone.

"I have a lot of work today, Jake. I'm about to go on maternity leave..."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" he said, still staring into the hollow innards of the elevator.

He could feel her eyes probing him, noticing the sweat on his temple, the tightness of his jaw, the intensity of his expression.

"You're serious." Her voice broke when she said it.

He swallowed. "Something strange is going on. I could have sworn I saw a little blond boy in here with you."

"You ran up two flights of stairs because you thought there was a little boy in the elevator with me?"

He turned toward her, realizing by her expression, that he had probably said too much already. If he didn't implement some damage control soon, he might find himself the subject of endless water cooler discussions, or worse, fired. It was too late to deny what he had said, and there was no way to shrug it off as a joke-his only hope was to allow her to shrug it off as a joke.

"Do you believe ghosts can haunt a building?" he pressed.

"Yeah." Her eyes got big. "Ghosts of little blond boys are haunting Data Tech."

"I've heard about some strange things around here: doors opening by themselves, shadows on the stairwell wall, noises coming from empty rooms..."

She pressed her lips together and glared.

"Now ghosts on the elevator." He shot her an intense look. "Did you feel his presence?" He secretly hoped she would give him a straight answer, but knew her well enough to know she wouldn't.

"You dope." She punched his arm. "I actually thought you were serious."

He grinned, and rubbed his arm.

"You think it's funny scaring pregnant women?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "It's kinda funny."

"I hope Bob buries you in leads."

Bob! Jake had completely forgotten his meeting with Bob! He took off down the hall, scooted through Deb's office, and knocked on Bob's door.

Bob's voice was m.u.f.fled. "Come in, Jake."

Jake stepped into the office. Bob sat behind his desk motioning for Jake to have a seat. Where were the sales papers? Jake noted the somber look on Bob's face, and fear clawed at his heart. This wasn't a sales meeting. It was something far worse. Jake took a seat and attempted to mask his nervousness.

Bob took his gla.s.ses off and set them on his desk. "Jake, as you know, money has been tight, and we've all been working hard to make up the difference." He looked Jake in the eye. Then looked away. "But we just haven't been able to pull out of this downward trend." Bob's defeated expression spoke volumes. This wasn't about the ping pong table or the cafeteria incentives. Jake was about to lose his job.

"I'm sorry it's come to this. You're a hard worker, Jake." He paused. "Truth is, you're a great programmer, but I need great sales guys. I need guys who can squeeze blood from a stone."

Jake stared out the window. He didn't believe his day could get any worse-but he couldn't have been more wrong.

"I have to let you go until things pick up."

There it was. He knew the words were coming, but they stung anyway. Four years he'd spent building a career in software development, and now what was he going to do? There was nothing in Sunbury. Data Tech was the only software company in the area. And he didn't have the resources to move to a larger city. His credit was maxed. How would he ever match his current salary working at a retail outlet? A smothering heaviness settled on his chest.

"I'm sorry, Jake. It's beyond my control."

Jake looked at his lap, then at Bob. "If things turn around, can you give me a call?"

"You'll be the first one."

Jake stood up and offered his hand. Their eyes met as they shook, and Jake hid the fact that his world was crumbling around him.

Chapter 5.

The cramped downtown apartment was alive with activity, but Holly Paris was utterly alone. Everything that mattered to her in the world was gone. Six years ago, she couldn't have imagined her life with a child in it. But now, she couldn't imagine living without one.

Her little boy was the only person in this whole G.o.d-forsaken world who saw her as more than white trailer trash. There was no judgment behind his beautiful green eyes. There was no condemnation in the creases of his lips. And there was no expression of pity. That was the look she hated most. Poor pitiful Holly-can't get her life together. It was the same look the slightly overweight blond FBI agent was giving her now as she spoke with a neighbor in the doorway. Holly scratched her wrist compulsively. She'd hated this world before Gabe entered it. Now the horror of living without his hugs and his smile was more than she could bear.

The officer she knew as McConnell came out of the kitchen and whispered something into the ear of the agent. The agent nodded, checked her notepad, then looked at Holly while still speaking to the neighbor in the doorway. "Thank you, Mr. Jackson. If you see or hear anything, you have my number."

The man produced a set of uneven yellow teeth that still seemed bright against his dark leathery skin. "Yes, Ma'am, I do. And I'll let you know, because I'm like that. I'm a law abiding citizen. You ask people. They tell you."

"You're free to go, Mr. Jackson."

The old black man bowed several times in jerky motions, then backed his way out of the apartment. Holly wished she could do the same. She dreaded the attention she was getting. There was no way she could have covered all her tracks; they were bound to stumble onto something she didn't want them to see. Then it wouldn't matter if they found her son, because the same people who came as rescuers would turn on her without hesitation and rip her child from her desperate hands. They wouldn't see how much she needed her son, or how much he needed her. They would only see an unfit mother and a child in need of protective services. It was all rules and regulations with these so-called "civil servants." Her thumbnail dug into the already torn skin on her wrist. She never should have called them. She should have handled this herself.

Sergeant McConnell turned toward her. "Holly, this is Special Agent Grant. She is here to help you get your son back. Please give her your full cooperation."

Agent Grant slid aside the flipped tips of her retro bob hairstyle, and produced a smile. Her hazel eyes didn't feel as piercing and judgmental as Holly had expected, but she was still not comforted. She was beyond comforting. The shock of losing her son had left her a hollow sh.e.l.l.

"Agent is so formal. Please, call me Angela." She offered her hand. "I know you're scared, but I need you to be brave."

Holly nodded.

"As you know, your son is not the first to be taken. Sergeant McConnell told me you've been watching the news."

Holly swallowed.

"You have to get that out of your mind. Each of these cases has been different, and you're already off to a good start. You called us right away, and we were able to respond quickly. We've learned some things about how this kidnapper works and are going to do everything we can." She looked Holly in the eye. "I believe we can get him. Do you understand this?"

Holly scratched her wrist and nodded.

Agent Grant took a seat in a kitchen chair that had been moved into the living room, looked at her watch, and waved to one of the officers waiting patiently behind her. He placed a laptop on the black formica coffee table between them, turned it toward Holly, and stepped back.

"I'm going to ask you to do something now, Holly, something hard. You don't have to do it. But, if you do, you could help us get your son back. You do want to get your son back, right?"

A shiver caused Holly's body to quake.

Agent Grant looked up at the officer. He pulled out a plastic evidence bag with a large piece of brown paper bag in it. He laid it on the coffee table and slid it across. Glued to the paper bag was a photo from an ink jet printer. It was a picture of children's blocks, two sets of two numbers stacked on four sets of three numbers.

Holly's eyes widened. "What's this?"

"This note was tucked between your fridge and the wall."

"Yes. That's where I keep my paper bags. I wasn't hiding it. I've never seen this before..."

"We're not implying that you have." She pointed to the plastic bag. "Do you see those numbers? Do you know what they are?"

She looked around at all the faces staring at her, then down at the note. "I don't know." She paused. "Sh- should they mean something to me?" As she stared, a terrifying thought pecked its way through the fog of shock surrounding her brain. Why would this image of blocks be glued to one of her grocery bags? Her eyes flitted up. "Did the person who took my son make this? Was he in the grocery store?" The thought of him stalking her and her son sent a streak of terror rippling through her gut.

"Stay calm, Holly."

"Has he been following us? Has he been watching us?"

"I know this is hard, but I need you to answer my question."

Holly struggled to reign in her thoughts. She had to be strong. "I don't know. I don't know what the numbers are."

Agent Grant pointed with her pencil. "The top two numbers are a time. The bottom four are an IP address, a location on the Internet. The man who has your son is going to post something there at 9:00 a.m. And..."

Holly's eyes shot reflexively to the clock on the living room wall. It was ten till nine. "What's he going to post?" Her eyes snapped back to agent Grant's. "What's he going to post on the Internet?"

"If he does as he has the last three times, he will post a video of your son."

Her belly tightened, followed by an involuntary groan of despair.

"We need you to watch it with us. We need you to look for anything..."

"No. I can't. I can't do it."

"We need you to look for mannerisms, speech patterns..."

"I can't. I can't watch it."

"Your son is counting on you, Holly. You need to do this for him."

Her eyes lit with fire, her hands clenched in desperate fists of rage. "I CAN'T WATCH HIM BUTCHER MY SON!"

Agent Grant's voice was even and tender. "He won't. It's not like that."

A tear trickled down the side of Holly's nose as she gripped her gut. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I can't... I just can't."

"We've seen this before. He's just going to talk to you. He isn't going to hurt your son on the video."

The room was eighty degrees, yet she couldn't stop the shivering in her middle.

"We'll let you leave if he does anything. I promise."

Holly rocked. The tears were flowing and she couldn't stop them. The thought of seeing that man with her son-what he would say. How could she watch it? How could they ask her to watch it?

Officer McConnell interrupted. "We only have a few minutes."

Agent Grant lifted a hand to silence him. "You can do this, Holly." She looked at her notepad. "Do this for Gabe."

Holly struggled to compose herself.

"If you give in to your fear-he wins. Help us get this guy."

Anger boiled in Holly's heart. She wanted this man to pay for what he had done. She wanted to hurt him with her own hands. What kind of monster preys on little children? Who could slaughter a child?

"Help us, Holly. Do it for Gabe."

She bit her lip and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Gabe needed her to be strong. If ever she had a reason to be strong, this was it. This was not a problem she could run away from. She sat up straighter, and, with the little strength she could muster, gave a firm nod.

Officers flooded into the room, and a laptop was turned so all could see. One of the officers placed a small mounted camera in front of the laptop to record the message.

Holly looked confused. Why? She thought. Why make me watch this if it's going to be recorded anyway? Do these people lack the compa.s.sion to at least view it first, to shield me from the worst of it?

After what seemed like an eternity, the black video box came to life on the screen. In the middle of a nondescript room stood a lean man wearing a white prom tuxedo with ruffles on the chest. His bow-tie was bright red and the jacket pocket had a handkerchief of the same color poking out. Dark black eyes peered at her through a white porcelain mask. The emotionless expression made Holly feel sure she was looking into the face of a cold and calculated killer. No sympathy, no remorse, only emptiness. The sight made her recoil.