Dad and The Babe were home, and the big dog was sleeping with his head on our father’s lap. The snoring pup didn’t even open his eyes when I walked over to pet him.
“What happened to you?” I asked The Babe. He whimpered, rolled over and stuck his face as close to Dad’s stomach as he could.
“Is he okay?” asked Lena.
“Definitely showing signs of anxiety,” said Dad.
I sat down next to him. “Where did they find him?”
“Not that far from where we were last night. Over the hedges across the Great Highway, running up and down the beach, never getting too far away from that spot.”
“Who found him?” asked Lena.
“A ranger. Guy works for Golden Gate National Parks. He sometimes doubles as a lifeguard at Ocean Beach. He was out walking his dog and saw The Babe running around, frantic.”
“We’re so glad you’re safe,” I said, patting his large square head.
Lena and I walked into the kitchen, searching for something to eat. My cell phone rang. I answered and put it on speakerphone as I continued my journey through Earl’s refrigerator.
“Trish, where are you?” It was the driver of my carpool for work. “We’ve been waiting for you for fifteen minutes. Aren’t you working today?”
“Oh, crap, I completely forgot. Sorry. Things are falling apart over here. Go ahead. Drive in without me.”
“Okay,” said the woman on the phone. “Think you’ll make it before the game starts?”
“I have no idea.”
My next call was to my supervisor. I left a message that I would be late but didn’t give a reason.
“I work tonight! I completely forgot. Have to go get ready,” I said to Lena.
She grabbed two sodas, walked out to the living room, sat down next to Dad and to petted the dog. “Poor Babe,” I heard her say as I sprinted up the steps to my bedroom. I dove into the closet. No uniform. On the chair by my desk? Nope. There was only one place left to check. I rummaged through my dirty clothes hamper and found everything I needed, from pants to shirt to vest. Even my knee-high black socks. The wrinkles gave them a lived-in flair, not quite up to the professional standards of my employer. I walked into the bathroom and struggled to straighten out my shirt collar. It would have to do. I grabbed my badge hanging on the doorknob and slipped it around my neck.
“Ready.”
Lena needed to get back home to Little T, so she and I walked outside and down the front steps together in silence. Dad came out and watched us leave.
“Tell them you had dog problems,” he called after me.
When we were far enough from the house, I asked Lena for a favor.
“Can you do a check on something for me?”
“What do you need?”
“I want to find the year when Popolare and Earl started working together. It was at least a decade ago. Maybe you can dig up when they met and where. Also, do a search on the publication Cybersecurity Economics. They co-authored an article for it.”
“Why is that important?”
“I’ve been thinking about why they teamed up again. To me, it’s got to be somewhere between random and planned.”
“I’ll do a search and see when their names appear together. I can’t promise anything.”
“Thanks. You’re a good sister,” and I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
My start time for work came and went during the drive to the ballpark. I pictured all the Guest Services employees in their assigned sections, waiting for the gates to open.
I was thirty minutes late. Instead of moving toward my assigned spot, I headed in the opposite direction… to the radio broadcast booth. I wanted to find Jan. She sat there, staring at a wide monitor, the red light that indicated that she was on the air unlit. I knocked on the window. Startled, she came to the door. Her purple hair had mutated to a brilliant green and was cropped above her ears. “What’s up?” she asked.
“That’s what I want to know. Have you heard from Tyler?”
She shook her head.
“It’s not just him anymore. It’s his grandfather, too.”
She shook her head again.
“Thought I’d check. Just in case.”
“Gotta go.”
She moved back into the booth and locked the door. Tyler had picked an excellent person to confide in. If she knew where he was, she wasn’t saying. I walked back down the hallway swarming with fans in orange and black, carrying blankets, and wearing warm beanies. I passed by the Giants clubhouse into the employees-only hall and the crowds disappeared. Ahead was my supervisor.
“Sorry about being so late. I had a problem with—”
He cut me off. “They need you at the Marina Gate. Go help with the giveaways.”
“Sure thing,” I said, relieved that the conversation was so short.
Stacked cardboard boxes of orange and black tote bags with the SF Giants logo printed across the front and back, reached shoulder high.
“Things have been slow so far, but the ferries are on their way. We’re going to be slammed. That line is yours,” said one of the giveaway employees as I walked up.
I walked over to my mountain of boxes, ripped off the top, grabbed an armful of totes and waited. The fans approached me in a flood, their hands outstretched, reaching for the tote bags. The job moved fast and everyone laughed and joked with me. If this giveaway was like all the others, when we ran out, our guests became a little testy.
The brisk wind raced off the Bay and blew through the gates. Between fans, I wrapped a scarf around my neck and zipped up my jacket. I was on automatic: “Here you go. Thank you for coming. This is for you. Enjoy the game.” I repeated the words over and over with a smile. I’d said the same thing hundreds of times, and I normally meant it. This time, my smile was stiff and artificial. My mind stayed on Earl, Tyler and my missing neighbors. The more I worried, the faster I handed out the tote bags, the fake smile fading with my mental health.
“Could I have a bag for my brother?” requested a woman wearing an orange and black fright wig.
“Sorry, only one per ticket.”
“He’s coming, but he’ll be late. He really wants one of these.”
“I’m sorry. I hope he gets here before we run out.”
Clearly dissatisfied with my answer, the woman repeated her demand and stepped closer, but my supervisor, standing behind me, smiled and firmly explained our giveaway policy. The guest gave me a nasty look and walked past me, mumbling to herself.
Another ferry moved slowly next to the pier. Fans stood on both its upper and lower decks, ready to be released into Seal’s Plaza and make a dash into the ballpark. The deckhands tied up the boat and the crowds zigzagged down the gangway. I grabbed another armload of totes in anticipation of the crush when I sensed a presence behind me.
I turned to find Burk standing there. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I want those papers.”
“Well, I want my friends back. You and your hacker buddies get nothing until Earl and Tyler are safe.”
The fans crowded the plaza and started streaming through the gates. Burk didn’t leave. “You don’t know the trouble you’re in.”
“Go away. I’m working,” I said in a loud voice. My supervisor was at my side immediately.
“Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” said Burk. “Misunderstanding, that’s all,” and he walked away.
“You okay?” asked the supervisor.
“I need a minute.”
“Sure. I’ll take over. You go.” He slid easily into my spot and handed out the totes.
I walked along with the crowds, scanning for Burk. Fans packed the wide entrance hall, but he had disappeared. A deep red flash of heat crept up my neck to my face. I wanted to find Burk and throttle him. I walked into the Garden with its vegetables, herbs, and sweet smelling fruits and pre-game fans. No Burk there, either.
I glanced up at the bleachers that butt against the Garden. Five guys, ranging from around ten to forty, stretched across the barrier, reaching for every ball hit during batting practice. Burk stood off to one side, staring not out at the field, but down at me. I turned around and jogged out of the Garden, then up the ramp to the stands where I had seen him.
He stepped behind the cable car parked at the Arcade. I darted after him. As I passed in front, he grabbed my arm and forced me to walk me to the railing overlooking McCovey Cove. He glanced out at the Cove, a narrow body of water crowded with anchored boats and kayaks manned by fans eager for a home run ball. These guys were the die-hards. Burk held me tightly with one hand; in the other was the paper ticket he’d used to enter the ballpark. He crumpled it up and tossed it into the Bay.
“Where are they?” I asked. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to the police.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Get me the papers. This is the last time I’ll ask you,” he demanded. With that, he turned to walk away. I reached for his arm.
“Or what? What are you going to do? By the way, I know what’s on them, you hacking scumbag. You want them? Give me back my friends!”
His eyes narrowed as he scowled at me. He carefully took my hand off his sleeve and bent it backward. I winced with pain and my knees buckled. The fans walking on either side of us began to blur. I closed my eyes and bright blue streaks of light flashed behind my eyelids. Four hands grabbed my other arm before I dropped to the concrete deck and Burk let go. When I opened my eyes, two teenagers dressed in Giants hoodies struggled to keep me standing. Burk was gone.
“Bro, that’s not okay,” the chubby teen with a mouthful of braces yelled after him.
“Are you all right?” asked the taller boy, a sixteen-year-old with jet black hair and a bad case of acne.
“I think so.”
“The guy went that way,” he said, pointing into the crowd flowing along the walkway. I tried to concentrate on the people moving around me, but I couldn’t. He had disappeared.
“Want us to call someone? The police, maybe?” asked the chubby one.
“Thanks for your help. I’ll get Security.”
They walked away, occasionally looking back at me before they turned into the bleachers.
The fans rolling by, bumping into me on either side, didn’t help my spinning head. I tried to drown out the noise of the fans behind me while I shook my hand and wiggled my fingers until they began to feel normal. It took a good five minutes before my breathe in—breathe out mantra took effect.
My head centered, my heart rate somewhat close to normal, I headed back down to the Marina Gate. For some unknown reason, I couldn’t force myself to seek out ballpark security. At least, not yet.
“Better?” my supervisor asked. Before I could answer, he scooted past me through the gates to help with the last ferry coming into the pier.
“No,” I said under my breath. “Not the least bit.”