16

Barbara Cavanaugh was waiting for Catherine and Michael in the green room at Channel 5. “You both did a great job,” she said quietly. Then, seeing the exhaustion on her daughter’s face, she said, “Catherine, please come back to the apartment. The police will get in touch with you there as soon as they have any word about Brian. You look ready to drop.”

“I can’t, Mother,” Catherine said. “I know it’s foolish to wait on Fifth Avenue. Brian isn’t going to get back there on his own, but while I’m out and about I at least feel as though I’m doing something to find him. I don’t really know what I’m saying except that when I left your apartment, I had my two little boys with me, and when I go back they’re going to be with me, too.”

Leigh Ann Winick made a decision. “Mrs. Dornan, why not stay right here at least for the present? This room is comfortable. We’ll send out for some hot soup or a sandwich or whatever you want. But you’ve said yourself, there’s no point in just waiting on Fifth Avenue indefinitely.”

Catherine considered. “And the police will be able to reach me here?”

Winick pointed to the phone. “Absolutely. Now tell me what I can order for you.”

Twenty minutes later, as Catherine, her mother, and Michael were sipping steaming hot minestrone, they watched the green room’s television monitor. The news bite was about Mario Bonardi, the wounded prison guard. Although still critical, his condition had stabilized.

The reporter was with Bonardi’s wife and teenage children in the waiting room of the intensive care unit. When asked for a comment, a weary Rose Bonardi said, “My husband is going to make it. I want to thank everyone who has been praying for him today. Our family has known many happy Christmases, but this will be the best ever because we know what we so nearly lost.”

“That’s what we’ll be saying, Michael,” Catherine said determinedly. “Dad is going to make it and Brian is going to be found.”

The reporter with the Bonardi family said, “Back to you at the news desk, Tony.”

“Thanks, Ted. Glad to hear that it’s going so well. That’s the kind of Christmas story we want to be able to tell.” The anchor’s smile vanished. “There is still no trace of Mario Bonardi’s assailant, Jimmy Siddons, who was awaiting trial for the murder of a police officer. Police sources are quoted as saying that he may be planning to meet his girlfriend, Paige Laronde, in Mexico. Airports, train stations, and bus terminals are under heavy surveillance. It was nearly three years ago, while making his escape after an armed robbery, that Siddons shot and fatally wounded Officer William Grasso, who had stopped him for a traffic violation. Siddons is known to be armed and should be considered extremely dangerous.”

As the anchorman spoke, Jimmy Siddons’s mug shots were flashed on the screen.

“He looks mean,” Michael observed as he studied the cold eyes and sneering lips of the escaped prisoner.

“He certainly does,” Barbara Cavanaugh agreed. Then she looked at her grandson’s face. “Mike, why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a little while?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

It was one minute of eleven. The newscaster was saying, “In an update, we have no further information about the whereabouts of seven-year-old Brian Dornan, who has been missing since shortly after five o’clock today.

“On this very special evening, we ask you to continue to pray that Brian is safely returned to his family, and wish you and all of your loved ones a very Merry Christmas.”

In an hour it will be Christmas, Catherine thought. Brian, you have to come back, you have to be found. You have to be with me in the morning when we go see Dad. Brian, come back. Please come back.

The door of the green room opened. Winick ushered in a tall man in his late forties, followed by Officer Manuel Ortiz. “Detective Rhodes wants to talk to you, Mrs. Dornan,” Winick said. “I’m outside if you need me.”

Catherine saw the grave look on the faces of both Rhodes and Ortiz, and fear paralyzed her. She was unable to move or speak.

They realized what she was thinking. “No, Mrs. Dornan, it isn’t that,” Ortiz said quickly.

Rhodes took over. “I’m from headquarters, Mrs. Dornan. We have information about Brian, but let me begin by saying that as far as we know he’s alive and unharmed.”

“Then where is he?” Michael burst out. “Where’s my brother?”

Catherine listened as Detective Rhodes explained about her wallet being picked up by a young woman who was the sister of escaped prisoner Jimmy Siddons. Her mind did not want to accept that Brian had been abducted by the murderer whose face she had just seen on the television screen. No, she thought, no, that can’t be.

She pointed to the monitor. “They just reported that that man is probably on his way to Mexico. Brian disappeared six hours ago. He could be in Mexico right now.”

“At headquarters we don’t buy that story,” Rhodes told her. “We think he’s heading for Canada, probably in a stolen car. We’re concentrating the search in that direction.”

Suddenly Catherine could feel no emotion. It was like when she was in the delivery room and was given the shot of Demerol and all the pain miraculously stopped. And she’d looked up to see Tom wink at her. Tom, always there for her. “Feels bet ter doesn’t it, Babe?” he had asked. And her mind, no longer clouded with pain, had become so clear. It was that way now, as well. “What kind of car are they in?”

Rhodes looked uncomfortable. “We don’t know,” he said. “We’re only guessing that he’s in a car, but we feel sure it’s the right guess. We have every trooper throughout New York and New England on the alert for a man traveling with a young boy who is wearing a St. Christopher medal.”

“Brian is wearing the medal?” Michael exclaimed. “Then he’ll be all right. Gran, tell Mom that the medal will take care of Brian like it took care of Grandpa.”

“Armed and dangerous,” Catherine repeated.

“Mrs. Dornan,” Rhodes said urgently. “If Siddons is in a car, he’s probably listening to the radio. He’s smart. Now that Officer Bonardi is out of danger, Siddons knows he isn’t facing a death sentence. Capital punishment had not been reinstated when he killed the police officer three years ago. And he did tell his sister that he’d let Brian go tomorrow morning.”

Her mind was so clear. “But you don’t believe that, do you?”

She did not need to see the expression on his face to know that Detective Rhodes did not believe that Jimmy Siddons would voluntarily release Brian.

“Mrs. Dornan, if we’re right and Siddons is heading for the Canadian border, he’s not going to get there for at least another three or four hours. Although the snow has stopped in some areas, the roads are still going to be something of a mess all night. He can’t be traveling fast, and he doesn’t know that we know he has Brian. That’s being kept from the media. In Siddons’s mind, Brian will be an asset-at least until he reaches the border. We will find him before then.”

The television monitor was still on with the volume low. Catherine’s back was to it. She saw Detective Rhodes’s face change, heard a voice say, “We interrupt this program for a news bulletin. According to a report that has just been broadcast by station WYME, seven-year-old Brian Dornan, the boy who has been missing since this afternoon, has fallen into the hands of alleged murderer Jimmy Siddons, who told his sister that if the police close in on him, he will put a bullet through the child’s head. More later, as news comes in.”