The man and the girl were holed up in an apartment in downtown Manhattan on the thirteenth day.
The photograph had changed everything.
The moment he had seen it on TV the previous day, he had packed their duffel bag, jammed the ball cap over the girl’s head, and had grabbed her by the hand and hustled out.
He didn’t bother checking out. Leaving was imperative.
He had peered cautiously on the street and when he didn’t see anyone yelling, or looking in his direction and pointing, he had brought the girl out.
He had joined a bunch of tourists and had taken the subway to Central Park.
He took the girl into the depths of the park and when he came to a secluded area, he brought out a pair of scissors.
He grabbed her by the shoulder and looked her in the eye. ‘I need to cut your hair.’
The girl squealed and protested, but settled down when she saw the look in his eyes.
He chopped her hair, made it short like a boy’s, and collected the loose hair in a baggie.
He asked her to hold a mirror for him and when she did so, he cut his hair.
He dressed her in a pair of trousers that he had bought for just such contingencies.
She looked different when they emerged from Central Park; more like a boy than a girl.
He wasn’t bothered about his own looks. He knew people would be looking for a young girl with a man. It was the girl that people’s eyes would be drawn to.
The girl didn’t look like one anymore.
He walked down Broadway, holding her hand and when he reached Times Square, he found a fast food joint.
He ordered a burger and fries for her, a milkshake to wash them down with, and saw her eyes light up in delight.
He connected to the establishment’s WiFi, went to an apartment rental site and booked one using one of his fake credit cards.
The apartment was near Trinity Church and was expensive. It was worth the expense, he figured. Cops would be looking for hotels and motels near train and bus stations.
The thirteenth day was gray and overcast and when he peered out of the window, the pavement gleamed, freshly washed from a burst of rain.
He padded to the bathroom, showered, and went to the living room where he brought out his laptop and went onto the internet.
He brought up maps and train routes and made calculations. This time the trip would take longer. There would be transfers and car rentals, however, with the girl looking like a boy, he was sure he could pull it off
It was time to teach the cops and the Petersens a lesson.
Chuck Keyser stayed at home on the thirteenth day, watching the news, his Glock within easy reach.
His phone didn’t ring. No one busted his door down.
The news went into an endless loop and he knew the picture would not be broadcast the next day. There were scandals to be covered and politicians to be torn into. A missing girl was important only for a day.
Morning became afternoon. He made a simple meal for lunch. Eggs. Toast. Boiled potatoes. A beer to wash everything down.
He had been to the world’s most dangerous hotspots and seen and done things that most people couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t acquired the taste for fancy food.
He eyed the phone and wondered if he should make the call and set things in motion.
He clicked his teeth in impatience at his indecision. He was a leader. Leaders didn’t prevaricate.
He dialed a number from memory and spoke briefly. He wasn’t worried about his phone being tapped or his calls being monitored. No one would understand what he had said.
The man and the girl took the Amtrak Cardinal Service early the next day, the fourteenth day.
The service originated from Penn Station and ended in Chicago a full twenty-six hours later.
The man didn’t intend to travel twenty-six hours.
The girl bounced in her seat in another Viewliner bedroom and chattered excitedly. Her stories were building up; there would lots to tell Lizzie and Peaches.
He didn’t disillusion her.
Twenty hours later, on the fifteenth day, after riding through horse country, rivers, valleys, and mountains, the train stopped at a small town.
It was still dark, very early in the morning, when the man carried the girl and stepped out on the small platform.
There were no benches, no seating area and he and the girl were the only two people to step out.
Once the train departed with a mournful cry, it felt like he and she were the only humans on the planet.
He placed his duffel on the pavement and sat with his back against a wall, the girl burrowed in his neck.
The message was on Beth and Meghan’s phones when they returned from their run early morning on the fifteenth day.
No progress had been made in the previous five days. The leads from the hotline had proved to be false. No girl and man were found in any of the locations.
‘It’s a city of eight million people,’ Chang was defensive when Meghan had brought up the lack of forward movement. ‘That’s a lot of people to search through.’
She was in the shower when she heard the pounding.
Beth. Who else could it be?
She drew a towel around her and opened the door. ‘You heard of polite knocking?’
‘You checked your phone?’
‘No.’
‘Obviously! I shouldn’t have asked.’
Beth showed Meghan her phone.
Maddie was smiling back at her, standing in front of Connersville train depot.