Page 38 of Rescuing Sara

Celia Masters rigid features relaxed slightly. “I’d like that,” she said.

Upstairs, Patrick got the women’s order and brought it back to the table. Danni, he noticed, had chosen a table as far away from the staircase as possible. He gave them their hot chocolates from the cardboard holder, removed his own coffee and put the holder in a nearby recycle bin.

Danni had already engaged Mrs. Masters in conversation about the Museum and he was glad she’d waited to start the “interview” until he joined them.

“Your e-mail said that your daughter Robin vanished this past Tuesday,” Danni began with the facts. “I saw the TV report this morning. Is that right, Mrs. Masters?”

“Call me Celia, please.” The woman’s hand visibly shook as she picked up her chocolate. “She’ll be eleven on Valentine’s Day next year and is in the fifth grade in Maryville where we live.”

“I hear Maryville is lovely,” Patrick put in, wanting Mrs. Masters to feel his support. “Good college, nice parks.”

“Until Tuesday I would have said it was the safest place to raise a family.” Now it was Celia’s voice that trembled. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that someone would take my daughter. And in broad daylight too!”

She stared into her cup and then put it on the table, giving Danni and Patrick enough time to exchange looks. “Was Robin coming home from school?” Danni asked.

“It was a half-day for school that day,” Celia explained. “But there’s a book box around the corner from our house. Robin loves to read so she’ll go there sometimes and put in a book she’s already read and get out another. It’s sponsored by the local library association and called ‘The Little Library Box’.”

“Did Robin go there that day?” Patrick asked.

Tears began to run down Celia Masters’ cheeks. “It’s my fault, she choked. “I’ve always let her walk there by herself and come back, as long as she’s gone no more than fifteen minutes. It makes her feel so grown up.”

“Ten is an important age to feel that way,” Danni agreed. “They want to be more grown up than they are and it’s hard to know how much freedom is safe to give them.”

“When she wasn’t back in fifteen minutes, I went looking for her,” Celia continued through her tears. “My husband calls me aworrywart but now he’s furious and said Robin being taken is all my fault.”

I don’t remember the TV report saying anything about Robin Masters being taken, just that she was missing.A throbbing began in Patrick’s shoulder, right where the bullet had grazed him. Another quick side long glance at Danni’s expression showed she didn’t remember that either. “Taken?” Patrick asked.

“A woman in the neighborhood who was raking leaves said she saw Robin at the book box when a car pulled up and Robin started talking to someone inside. She got excited and climbed into the back seat and they drove away. That was about two o’clock this past Tuesday.”

“Could the woman describe the car?” Danni asked.

“Only that it was a black four door Honda.” Celia wiped her face with a paper napkin. “I never should have let her go by herself after reading about what happened to Sara Turner,” she whispered. “I thought we were safe.”

“Do you think Sara Turner was ‘taken’?” Danni asked.

“What else could it be?” Celia demanded. “This is like what happened to those older kids this past autumn. Someone has taken her and my Robin.”

“Was you husband home at the time?” Danni asked and Patrick recognized the shift in her tone that suggested her thoughts were taking on ideas that were dark and unpleasant. He sipped his coffee and waited.

“No,” Celia said and for the first time, sounded irritated. “We separated last September after he joined this men’s group that espouses what they call ‘traditional values’ meaning men are the head of the household and all that. He even wanted me to quit my job as a graphic artist after his promotion two years ago, because he started making lots more money than he ever had. But that’s no reason for me to stop working at a job I love, isit? I’m not making what he does at LBM, but it’s still a decent salary.”

Thoughts running a mile a minute, Danni stirred her chocolate before asking “Your husband works for La Belle Monde? What does he do there?”

“He got a big promotion about six years ago and now runs the Advertising Department as some kind of VP. Helps determine what kind of advertising is done worldwide.”

“And the Maryville police of course, know all this?” Patrick asked.

“Yes, but my husband Charles is adamant about not talking to them too much or to the press.” Celia began to cry again. “He says we need to wait to see if someone demands a ransom but how can I wait? She’s my only child! My nerves are a wreck.”

She began to sob so hard that Danni moved to sit beside her and hold her. Passers-by glanced their way in a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. It seemed a long time before Celia stopped crying.

“I need t-to go,” she stuttered. “I just needed to talk to someone I thought would u-understand. Your article about S-Sara Turner was so sympathetic I thought you would–you know.”

“I’m glad I was able to meet with you,” Danni said. “And I would really try to work with the police as much as you can, no matter what your husband says.”

“Hmmph!” A flash of defiance crossed Celia’s face. “That stupid philanthropic men’s organization he joined wants to set women’s progress back a hundred years. Even the counselor we saw seems to think our marriage would be happier if I were a more ‘traditional’ wife.”

“And with advice like that, how many times did you see the counselor?” Danni withheld her chuckle at the barely suppressed laughter in Patrick’s question.

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