Robin’s body is shaking, and when she speaks, there is a quiver in her splendid voice. “Stop this Gabe. I want my daughter back.”
“Why? So that one day you can tell her that she no longer meets your needs? For the past six months, I’ve spent every waking hour trying to figure out what happened between us. I’ve talked to a colleague of ours in psychiatry who knows you. In fact, he was one of your conquests. He says you have a fear of being abandoned—that’s why you always leave other people before they can leave you.”
“I will never leave Kali.”
“Oh, but you will. Mastery is as necessary to you as oxygen. One day, you’ll decide that Kali hasn’t turned out quite the way you hoped—she’s too tall or too awkward or too dull or just inconvenient. You’ll tell her it’s time she moved along— that you’ve found this great boarding school for her. She’ll plead with you. She’ll promise to change. She’ll vow to do whatever it takes to become the person you want her to be. That’s when you deliver the coup de grâce and tell her that there is nothing she can do that will make you love her again. There is simply no place for her in your life.”
“Gabe, I swear to you…”
“You’re not trustworthy, Robin. You’ve broken your word before.” There’s no anger in Gabe’s voice—just sorrow. “You offer Kali death by a thousand cuts,” he says. “I offer her oblivion. You tell me which is the real act of love?”
Robin stands so abruptly that her headset is pulled off and clatters noisily onto the desk.
“For God’s sake,” she says. “Why isn’t anybody doing anything?”
Nova’s voice over the talkback is urgent. “Help her, Charlie. We’ll go to music. Dr. Harris chose Verdi’s Requiem when we did the pre-interview. We’ll play the opening.”
“Got it,” I say. I turn back to Gabe and our other 150,000 listeners.
“We all need a chance to let our pulse rates slow. Verdi’s Requiem—the choice of our guest expert tonight—should do the job.”
“That will be pleasant,” Gabe says. “Kali and I like Verdi, don’t we?”
I can hear Kali’s giggle. So can Robin. She buries her face in her hands. I flip off the button that controls my microphone and move my chair closer to hers.
“I know this is hard,” I say, “but try to keep it together. Our producer has been on the phone with the police since we heard Kali’s voice. They figure Gabe’s using his cell phone, but they’re having difficulty tracking his location. You and Gabe were close. Where do you think he would he feel safe with Kali?”
Robin shrugs. “I don’t know—his new condo maybe. He gave me the address, but I didn’t put it in my book. The hospital will have it.” She frowns. “He wouldn’t take her there. He knows that’s the first place the authorities would look.”
“Was there someplace he and Kali liked to go?”
“Alligator Sam’s. It’s near my house. They have slides, play structures, toys—the kinds of things children enjoy. Gabe said they have a little coffee bar where parents can chat while their children play. Gabe and Kali loved it.”
“It’s late, Robin. A place for kids would be closed by now.”
“Maybe the hospital…? That was always like home to Gabe.”
“Which hospital?”
“Lakeshore.”
“Okay, I’ll pass that along to Nova, but Lakeshore’s huge. Where would they even begin?”
“We have codes to alert staff. Code black indicates a personal threat—a hostage situation—a threat of injury or attack. The police will know.”
“Good. But, Robin, I have to tell you. I don’t think Gabe took Kali there. Hospitals are noisy places, and I didn’t pick up any background noise on Gabe’s end of the call.”
“That’s not right,” Robin says. “There was that bell sound. You noticed it, but I didn’t at first. I think it was just one of those noises I was so used to hearing that it barely registered.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and hear it again,” I say. “We’re going back on the air now. Robin, give Gabe whatever it takes to keep him on the line. Listen for that sound. Try to identify it. It’s the only hope we have.”
She doesn’t move. She seems frozen.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
Robin Harris runs her fingers through her shining auburn hair.
“I’m fine,” she says. “I just hate that Gabe is being allowed to control the situation.”
I’m dumbfounded.
“This isn’t about control,” I say. “This is about finding your daughter. If you gave me your daughter’s class picture, I couldn’t pick her out. All I know about Kali is that she has pajamas that she believes are magic and she knows how to sing ‘You Are My Sunshine.’ She’s a stranger to me, but there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Gabe Ireland on the line because as long as he’s talking to me, he’s not telling your daughter that the injection he’s about to give her won’t hurt a bit.”
Robin Harris stares at me, absorbing what I’ve just said. Then she extends her hands palms up in a gesture of helplessness.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
I shake my head.
“You are the proverbial riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” I say. “Dr. Harris, I don’t get you. How difficult can it be to make Gabe believe that you love your daughter? That your life will be destroyed if anything happens to her? That a six-year-old child deserves to live?”
She turns, so that once again, I’m confronted with her perfect and distant profile. I’m not a guy who feels he needs to make a point by pounding the table, but tonight, confronted by the lack of comprehension on Dr. Robin Harris’s lovely face, I pound the desk.
“Just say the damn words, Robin.”
“I can’t beg.”
Disgust rises in my throat.
“Then fake it,” I say. “Because we’re back on the air.”