Michael
Mitch is in the nursery as we arrive, working on… something… A stack of ripped-up glossy magazines to one side, she works through a mass of wires, strings and multi-coloured somethings-or-other…
She smiles as we enter, glancing up but not really looking. “Jenny showed me how she makes those little paper birds she does.” She waves across to where the Christmas tree is half-decorated, still waiting for tinsel, but with Charlotte’s kaleidoscopic creations dotted through the branches.
“They’re so pretty, so I looked up other kinds.” She lifts the contraption up, untangles a couple of wires and then displays it, a swirling display of birds, fish, unicorns and more. “It’s a mobile for over Cara’s cot. I thought it would go well with the larger one from the ceiling.”
Then she finally looks at us. “So, how did it go…” Her smile dissolves. “What’s wrong?” She looks past us, out to the hallway. “Where’s Jenny?”
James is having trouble speaking, his breathing short and quick as his mouth works. “Mitch, there’s something we have to tell you.”
Her colour is draining. “I can see that. What is it? Is it Jenny? Oh, God…” She presses fingers to her mouth. “Has she lost the baby?”
“No… No, it’s nothing like that. Mitch, sit down please.” He cups her elbow with his palm, trying to steer her to the rocker by the window, but she resists.
“Just tell me.” There’s a touch of panic in her voice, her glorious green eyes – so like her daughter’s – beginning to swim. “Jenny? Has there been an accident?”
“Mitch, please, sit.”
She’s wide-eyed, but her pupils are pricking smaller by the moment.
James hunkers down beside her, settling on his haunches as he takes her hand in his. “Mitch, Charlotte’s been kidnapped.”
She whistles in a breath: a sharp corrosive sound. “Kidnapped? How? When?” Her head twists, zeroing on James. “Where were you?”
“At the hospital…” James swallows, his mouth working. “She went to the bathroom. I… I was only in the waiting room… But she didn’t come back… And…”
I break in. “That’s enough. Both of you. This wasn’t James’ fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault except whoever’s taken her.”
“Whoever?” Mitch launches herself out of the chair, hissing, “Larry! He promised. He…” Her voice breaks. “He promised…” And the tears come; a surge of weeping, her body shaking, wracked by sobs.
I cover the distance between us in two strides, wrapping my arms around her, rocking her to and fro. “We’ll get her back, Mitch. I promise you. We’ll find her and we’ll get her back. Not just for you. For all of us.”
James stands, looking shaky.
*****
Mitch paces, circling the room, muttering to herself. “They drugged her? When she’s pregnant? And about to deliver?” She stops, tears welling again. “What if the drug affects the baby?”
What do I say?
I have no idea.
I could mouthe soothing clichés that I’m sure everything’s going to be okay and we’ll soon have her back…
… them back…
… And I’d be lying, and everyone would know it.
Who needs insipid platitudes?
So I hold my tongue.
James straightens up. Head tilted back he swipes hands through his hair, takes a couple of deep breaths. “Right. Enough of this. The police are on the case. We’re on it too. Michael…” He jabs a finger at me. “Get plenty of logs, stack up the fire. We’re in for a long night. Mitch…” The finger swings onto her… “Make coffee, tea… whatever everyone wants. There’s casserole in the freezer. Get it defrosting. We need quick, easy food…”
She’s nodding, fingers pressed to her temples. “Yes, of course. What are you going to do?
“I am going to check my messages and emails for the security videos and get copies onto laptops for everyone here. Stanton was right. We need eyes on what information we have. The more eyes the better.”
Mitch inhales, exhales again. Breathes in deep, lets it out. “Yes…” She heads for the door, then pauses. “If I knew how to find that bastard right now, I’d slit his throat and laugh about it.”
James and I exchange glances. “Klempner?” he says.
“Who else?”
James doesn’t look convinced. “It might not be him, Mitch. It wouldn’t be the first time Charlotte and Beth have been confused for one another. And Beth’s much more of a target for ransom.”
She snorts, her face twisting. “Yeah… Right.”
*****
James
I’ve cleared the dining-room table. The best dinner set and cutlery, candlesticks, red and green napkins and the Christmas log sit tumbled together on the dresser. We sit, each with a laptop and a bowl of re-heated casserole.
Mitch holds a spoon in one hand, but her stew is untouched. “Mitch,” I say. “Eat.”
She looks at the dish, then puts down her spoon. “I don’t want it. I don’t think I could hold it down.” She looks ill, her complexion now, not just pale, but pasty.
Michael picks up the spoon and scoops up a chunk of chicken, offering it to her. “You have to eat, Mitch, even if it’s just a little.”
She recoils, turning her face away. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t.”
I level a finger at her screen where the drama of everyday hospital life plays: white-coated doctors with clipboards and stethoscopes; nurses, walking briskly, carrying stainless steel bowls and trays, and weird-looking pouches of fluids; a patient on a trolley draped in a green blanket. “If you don’t eat, Mitch, you can’t think straight. And if you can’t think, you might miss something. Some detail that might help us.”
She blinks, then nods. Reluctantly, she accepts the spoon, chewing the meat over and over before swallowing.
“More,” I say. “Even if it’s only the broth.”
Michael spoons up his food with the air of a job to do, all the while his eyes fixed on his screen. “You never actually get a real view of their faces, do you,” he comments. “Those two orderlies. They have their backs turned all the while.”
I watch my own screen. “I’m sure it was planned that way. Entering from out-of-shot the way they did. But they can’t do that everywhere, not with all the cameras.”
He perks. “You’ve got something?”
I rock my hand. “Yes and no. I’ve got the pair of them here entering the waiting area from the main corridor, but they’re wearing surgical masks.”
“You’d think people thought that was a bit odd. Porters wearing masks.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you. People are looking, yes, but it’s not apparently odd enough to keep their attention.”
Returning to my watching, I turn up the playback speed.
*****