Maggie set out for the library first thing the next morning. She immediately began to research old newspapers from Margate, New Jersey. She went back to August 3, nine years prior. Nothing. She looked on August 4. Nothing. Then she looked at August 5, and there on the front page was a mother and father. The mother was crying, and the father looked to be comforting her. The headline read:
“Margate Mayor and Wife Plead for the Safe Return of their Child.”
Maggie was whizzing through the article, looking for indications that their child was a boy. Bingo! She found it. It was a boy who was missing. Next, she glided through the paragraphs looking for the name of the child…Stefano Frey. Her excitement waned. No match.
Then Maggie stared hard at the picture of the missing boy. The newspaper had a black-and-white picture of a toddler in a sailor suit. His hair had been combed down, and he was wearing a sailor cap on his head. The boy had chubby cheeks, and he looked as though he’d been crying right before the picture was taken. Shit, shit, shit, she thought. This isn’t a picture of Seth. He must have been taken to see Lucy the Margate Elephant on vacation. Her excitement, the only excitement she’d experienced since Seth became ill, vanished.
Later that night, in the lap dance room, she told Colby about Lucy the Margate Elephant. “I just wanted so badly to be able to let him see his mom and dad,” Maggie explained.
Colby just listened in silence. The agony Maggie felt was palpable. She was tormented by the thought of losing Seth. He, too, had grown fond of the boy in the brief interactions they’d had over the years. Colby didn’t dare ask how she thought Seth got AIDS; he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
Maggie left him and went downstairs to look for Emma. There was a lot of commotion among the girls. They all left the dressing room, one after the other. Maggie followed along, back up the stairs, and out the back door. She stood and watched as Emma was handcuffed and placed into a police car.
Maggie grabbed Shiver’s arm. “What the hell is happening?”
“I don’t know, sugar,” Shiver said. “Something ain’t right here,” she said as she kept her eyes glued on Emma.
As the police car pulled away, Maggie could see that Emma’s jaw was set hard. Her eyes looked as if they were glowing. Emma looked over at Maggie, who was crying, and she gave her a nod, as if to say thank you.
Word of Emma’s arrest spread through the bar like an untamed forest fire. When Colby heard the news, he frantically looked around for Maggie, but couldn’t find her. When she appeared on stage, Colby watched her closely. She looked as if she was running on autopilot. Her eyes were dull, and her movements were rigid.
Colby felt like a useless, dried-up piece of shit. First, Maggie’s son, for all intents and purposes, was diagnosed with stage-three AIDS. Now, her closest friend at the bar had been hauled off in a police car. Not good; not good at all. He took a quick guzzle from the bottle of Budweiser sitting in front of him on the bar. There had to be something he could do to help get Maggie through all of this. There just had to be something. Then it came to him.
Two days later, Colby was in his car, driving to Margate. He set out to visit the Freys, the people whose son was stolen from them around same time that Maggie and Seth were taken. He’d found out that after the kidnapping of their child, the Freys, who were well-off, to say the least, had spent most of their time working to help missing and exploited children. They had agreed to meet Colby when he told them that he also worked to stop the criminals and pedophiles who snatched children from their families.
Colby pulled his car into the driveway of the Frey mansion. Before he was out of his car, a man and a woman in their mid-forties rushed out the front door to meet him. Even though both of the Freys were dressed in jeans and sweaters, Colby could tell they were from money. They were perfectly groomed—perfect hair, nails, and jewelry. They looked athletic and healthy.
Colby extended his hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Frey, nice to meet you in person.”
“Likewise,” Mr. Frey stated, and gave Colby a welcoming handshake that immediately put him at ease.
It wasn’t until they were well into eating lunch that Mr. Frey began to talk about their son, Stefano, who was taken. He informed Colby that their son had been playing with the dog in the front yard. Mr. Frey had gone back into the house to grab two glasses of lemonade. In the time it took Mr. Frey to return, Stefano had moved close to the road.
Colby thought about the mile-long driveway to their house. The boy had been taken just about twenty feet from the road. Mr. Frey was sprinting toward his son when he saw a man pick the boy up and run back to his vehicle. But it was too late; Stefano was gone. There was never a request for ransom, and no evidence turned up, other than a few tire tracks. The Freys both lived their lives trying to help other children, and they still blamed themselves for what happened to their son.
“He was the only child we had,” Mrs. Frey explained. “After Stefano was taken, we couldn’t conceive another child. At first, we believed that God was punishing us for acting so recklessly with our son. Then we got involved with missing and exploited children. We now realize that this can happen to the most overprotective parents. It’s very difficult to lose a child and never know what has become of him. On our best days, we imagine him living with a family that wanted a child and paid some thug to steal one for them. On our worst days, we imagine our child being a drug addict or lying in a shallow grave where no one will ever find him. Being the parent of a missing child makes you appreciate time. Every minute, from the moment the child is stolen, feels like an eternity. Nothing ever tastes the same, looks the same, or sounds the same. All the little pleasures you enjoyed, even sex, become somewhat dulled and bland. However, helping others has enabled us to heal just enough so that we don’t wish we were dead every day of our lives.”
Colby was stunned by Mrs. Frey’s openness with him. He was inexperienced in dealing with the parents of missing children. But now, Colby recognized how terrible it was for the parents, too. He hadn’t given it much thought before Mrs. Frey enlightened him. What she described sounded like a slow, agonizing death.
Mr. Frey spoke next. “So, tell us why you’re here. How can we help you?”
Colby coughed to clear his throat. “Well, I’m working with a young woman. She was taken when she was eleven,” he looked down at his lap. “She was put into human sex trafficking along with four other children. Two of them, she watched die; and one was taken to another city. The youngest is a boy that she’s been able to keep with her. Anyway, she just found out that her boy has AIDS. She was throwing him a special party. You see, he wanted to go to the seashore, but in her line of work, that’s out of the question. As part of their party, she had gotten a picture book of New Jersey, and in it was Lucy the Margate Elephant. The boy said he recognized the elephant, and well, it’s his first and only memory from when he was with his family. So the woman I’m working with, she went to the library and researched missing children around the date she and her boy were taken. That’s how she found you. When it wasn’t a match, she felt pretty badly. After she gave me your name, I looked you up and figured that even though you aren’t the boy’s parents, maybe you could give my informant a visit…it might help her. I mean, you know what it’s like to lose a child. That’s the way she feels now.”
“What about treatment for the boy?” Mrs. Frey asked.
“He wasn’t diagnosed until he was already in stage three,” Colby said.
“Oh my gosh,” Mrs. Frey said. Her hand sailed up to her mouth. “That’s horrible. What an incredibly heavy cross to bear for this young woman. How old is she?”
“She’s twenty,” Colby said.
“What’s her name?” Mr. Frey asked.
“I’m sure you can appreciate that we never disclose their names. It keeps everyone safe. But she wouldn’t mind if you called her Jane Doe. She’d probably tell you she’s been called worse,” Colby said, and then wished he’d left off the last part.
Mr. and Mrs. Frey smiled at him anyway.
“I’m sorry. Jane Doe has a pretty good sense of humor. Up until lately that is, when she found out about her Baby Doe. It’s amazing how resilient she and Baby Doe are after all that’s happened to them,” Colby said.
Mr. Frey leaned forward. “So how can we help the two of them? Are you looking for money so they can spend a weekend at the seashore?”
“No, no. I’m not looking for money. Jane Doe would never be able to leave for a weekend. Her pimp would surely kill her,” Colby explained.
Mrs. Frey cringed visibly.
“Well, just tell us how we can help the two of them,” she said with conviction.
“Like I said, I think if you just meet with her, maybe you can give her some comfort,” Colby explained.
“We’d be happy to meet with her, I mean, Jane,” Mr. Frey said.
“You’ll have to go to her apartment. Baby Doe is too fragile to move right now. Besides, it’s not as if she can take a few days off,” Colby said, apprehensively thinking of this couple going into Kensington.
“You seem nervous, Colby. Is there something you aren’t telling us?” Mr. Frey asked.
“Well, the Doe’s live in Kensington. It’s a rather seedy part of Philadelphia,” Colby said hesitantly.
Mr. Frey’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t worry about us. We’ve seen a lot over the years. Shall we request a police escort?”
“That would just bring trouble to Jane Doe. Her pimp is very active and has many people in Kensington working for him. I was thinking we could get you into the apartment in the evening, when it’s dark,” Colby explained.
Mr. Frey put his thumb and index finger on his chin. “OK. What else? I can see there’s something else by the look on your face.”
“Well, you probably want to dress down. I mean no offense, but the two of you would stick out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood. I would suggest visiting the Goodwill store and getting clothes that make you appear…” Colby’s voice trailed off. He suddenly felt as if he was asking too much of the couple.
“Appear poor?” Mrs. Frey finished.
“Well, yes. Poor or homeless would help you blend in,” Colby finally admitted.
“Count us in. When?” Mr. Frey asked.
“As soon as possible,” Colby responded.
“Fine. Give us two days to acquire our outfits. So we’ll be there three nights from now. Does that work?” Mr. Frey asked.
“That would work great. Listen, I really appreciate your willingness to help. Jane Doe hasn’t had too many breaks in her life. She’s already drowning in sorrow over her boy. But remember, please don’t ask too many personal questions,” Colby cautioned them.
“Yes, we understand,” Mrs. Frey said. “Would we be able to leave them some money? You know, for some items that may allow the boy additional comfort during this time?”
“I think that would be fine, but nothing excessive. If Jane Doe’s pimp finds out she’s spending a lot of money, it could raise suspicions. Our goal here is to help Jane Doe deal with everything that’s going on with Baby Doe. She’s extremely vulnerable,” Colby said.
After Colby left the Freys’ house, the couple sat on an overstuffed sofa in their large, plush living room. They were quiet for the better part of an hour. Mrs. Frey reached over and put her hand on Mr. Frey’s leg. He looked up at her slowly and met her eyes.
“This is going to be different,” Mrs. Frey began. “All of the horrible visions we’ve had of Stefano’s fate will probably come crashing over us. We need to be strong for Jane Doe, but we need to be certain that when it’s done, we don’t dwell on whatever it is we’re about to see.”
Mr. Frey nodded in agreement. The Freys fell silent again, each pondering the circumstances they were about to face. The story Colby had shared with them about Jane and Baby Doe sounded horrid. However, they had dedicated their lives to making a difference. Over the years, they’d helped many children and families with monetary donations or by creating organizations in several states to provide the shelter and resources necessary to recover from the trauma associated with missing and exploited children. This would be the first time they were actually meeting two children who had never been found and returned to their families. Would they be able to come out of this experience and cope with their own loss again? That was the only question that plagued them.