Without Trace Page 21

  Camelia soothed, “Si, Mi Amor, yes, keep breathing. You are with friends at last. Con amigos.”

  What seemed like minutes later, both Susan’s blond and the little red head of the other woman began to breath and pump on their own.

  Susan noticed that Merl and Augusto were helping the other cars back out of Fifth Avenue. “Make room for ambulances,” they told the other drivers.

  Soon, two ambulances barreled up Main Street, slowed and came onto the sidewalk to get around the traffic jam.

  **

  In his car, Pastor Jim kept talking to Sheriff Adalberto Mendez on his Bluetooth.

  “We’ve got a roadblock ahead, Jim,” Adalberto said. “Slow down. We’ve got this.”

  Jim slowed, backing off the yellow van, but he said, “Berto, up in Oregon, the roadblock caused a roll over.”

  “Yup. I know. We’ve got ambulances and helicopters hovering.”

  “Wish I’d told you my suspicions of that building.”

  “Yeah,” Adalberto said. “Been looking for these vans for days. Truckers Against Trafficking were right on about this company. Been telling me they suspected. I’ve people entering that building right now.”

  “Good. May be more kids in there.”

  “Here he comes, Sheriff Mendez hollered.”

  **

  Jim pulled in, far behind the van. “Stay inside,” he said to his student friends.

  The van stopped. The sheriff bull horned “Everyone out of the van with your hands up.”

  Slowly, the driver’s door opened. The driver stepped out, hands in the air.

  “Passenger out,” the sheriff said.

  Out flew a handgun, then a rifle. Everyone outside tensed. The driver crouched, shouting, “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.”

  The sheriff announced, “Passenger step out and away from the van.”

  The second man stepped out, hands in the air.

  “Both of you, on the ground, arms out.”

  They lowered themselves slowly, stretched out and waited. The sheriff approached, reached into the van and pulled out the keys.

  At the back door, the sheriff called out, “You men cuff those two and then let the medics in.”

  The sheriff opened the door and found one girl on top of another. Five girls in all. One he recognized.

  “Oh, Rosie,” he seemed to whine. Then he hollered “Get the medics over here quick.” And he climbed in, cradling his goddaughter in his arms.

  **

  That same morning, in Holly Hill Retirement, the guys took Violeta’s clean-up shift, Leneld scanned the dining room. He knew this was a retirement home, but it surprised him to find African Americans growing old here, not just white folks. He watched as people got slowly up from their chairs, waited a moment and then started walking. That was how his grandma had become. “Creaky” she called it.

  He liked what he saw, though. People enjoying each other, waiting for each other’s slowness with a walker or a bum hip. Joking with each other as they moved out the door from the dining hall and into the hallway, the sitting room or on down to the library.

  He noticed one man who didn’t seem to have any friends, so he watched to see if any came up to him. There was something familiar about that short and roundish man, maybe like somebody Leneld had known in church, or the old version of a teacher he once had in school.

  Judson came up beside him and seemed to notice who Leneld watched. “Alzheimers’, it looks like. Bad way to end.”

  “Yeah, my grandpa had that,” Leneld said. “Made my mom and grandma old, just making sure he didn’t get lost.”

  “Did you know your grandpa?”

  “When I was little. He could still play games. So, we had a fine time. Maybe remembering Grandpa’s kind of blank stare, maybe that’s why I recognize that guy.”

  “Yeah, the blank stare.” Judson looked at Leneld and said, “What’s with the rap group? I like the beats, but why the fast talk instead of a tune?”

  Leneld smiled, “You ever see the movie My Fair Lady?”

  “Sure. Chick flick.”

  “With music.”

  “Yeah, good music.”

  “You know that professor guy?” Leneld got a nod from Judson. “Professor, he was rapping whenever he had a song.”

  “Naw.”

  “Yep, had something to say, and said it in rhythm. That’s rap.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll listen more when you’re down there.”

  “Boy, I hope we get back to it. This hunting for these girls and Trace, that’s become scary.”

  “Sure has. Just working the sidelines, I’ve been scared for Violeta and her sister.”

  Leneld nodded. “Glyn’s grandma shouldn’t be doing this stuff.”

  “Yeah, should be retired,” Judson said.

  **

  Working in the kitchen, or really just moving plates around in the sink, Violeta felt her fear rising again. Where was Rosie? And why couldn’t she get ahold of Mamá and Papá?

  Suddenly her phone rang. She didn’t even dry her hands before she hauled it out of her pocket.

  “Mamá?”

  “We have her.”

  “Oh . . . oh!” Violeta sat hard on a stool. “What’s that noise?”

  “We are on a life-flight to Portland. Rosie has the Ketalar. Ten girls, so far . . .”

  Violeta heard her mother crying amidst the whap-whap of a helicopter noise and the soothing sounds of her Papá.

  “Where? When?”

  “Chico. Adalberto sends his love. He pulled her from the van.”

  “Oh, Mamá. Oh, Mamá.” Violeta could hardly believe. “Is Rosie . . .”

  “The medics say she will be all right. She will be all right.”

  “I come to . . .”

  “Emmanuel Hospital.”

  “I come.”

  “Come at eight this evening. That’s when we will land.”

  A few moments later, Leneld wheeled Glyn into Holly Hill retirement center the back way, so Glyn could see Violeta in the kitchen. Judson saw what was about to happen and stepped out to let them have their moment.

  She turned from the soapy sink, a big bright smile on her face.

  “They have Rosie.” She cried. “Flying from Chico to Emmanuel.”

  Glyn’s laughter exploded from him. “Woah! How?

  “She will be okay. She will be safe! Oh, Glyn!”

  Leneld said, “Good God! What a day. What great news.”

  Glyn shouted. “Wahoo! Rosie!”

  Violeta looked at Glyn, reaching to touch his hair, his shoulder, his arm. “You are home.”

  “Yeah,” Glyn said softly.

  Leneld watched Glyn duck his head in shy glee at her greeting. He tapped Glyn upside the head, saying “He means “I’m glad to see you.”

  Violeta brushed Leneld’s comment away. “Lenny, I know what he means. He doesn’t have to say it.”

  Not one of them noticed that Judson had left them alone, until Violeta turned around, she said, “Where’d that Judson go?”

  “Out to check the potatoes,” Leneld said. “And that’s what I need to do.”

  After Glyn and Violeta watched him go, Violeta grabbed a towel, dried her hands and then put her hand on Glyn’s slicked down wet hair. “I was so afraid for you all,” she whispered.

  He looked up, his eyes glistening. “I thought my sister might die. After the roll over, I thought I might never see you again.”

  She leaned down to hug him. “Mamá and Papá are flying back with Rosie. Your mother and father are driving back from Chico. They all thought the police should not skip the clue about Chico.”

  “I know,” he leaned into her. “I tried to talk them out of it, but they just knew something. Your Papá used to work there, no?”

  “Si, I was born there. So was Rosaria.”

  “I’m sorry all of this has happened, Honey,” Glyn said, and then realized what he had said.

  Violeta remained silent, breathing into his hair. At
last, she said, “I found something. Captain Reese said I shouldn’t tell anyone, but I tell you to keep you safe.”

  He looked up at her. “What?”

  **

  Soon after Violeta described Geneva’s letter to Glyn, Leneld realized his friend needed to get back in bed, but Glyn didn’t want Violeta alone.

  “You come up to the rooms with us,” Glyn said.

  She shook her head, “I need to find your Grandma Willie and tell her about the note so she will also be safe”.

  “Where the heck is she now?” Glyn asked.

  Leneld said, “Ask Henry. He’s her wheels.”

  Violeta said, “Can Leneld take you and me to Emmanuel when they land at eight this evening? I will finish getting serving dishes ready for dinner and then come up, maybe Willie will return by then.”

  Leneld pushed Glyn’s wheelchair to the elevators. As they passed the mailbox alcove, Leneld saw that same man on a telephone. He looked again. Something more than vacant stare made the man seem familiar, but he couldn’t place the reason.

  “Did you see that guy on his cell phone?” he whispered to Glyn.

  “Who do you mean?”

  Leneld turned the wheelchair, but by that time, the man must have walked back toward the Gift Shop or the dining room, so Leneld said, “Well he’s gone now. Just feel I should know him.”

  Once in the elevator with other residents, Leneld pushed the button for the eighth floor.

  **

  After Captain Reese saw the note that Violeta had found, he called Willie’s phone.

  When he asked, she said she was watering the plants in Geneva’s apartment. She didn’t mention that she snooped while there.

  He read the note to her.

  “Well,” Willie said, “I’m glad she knew I wasn’t the cook. But I should have been listening more carefully to what she said.”

  “This means that someone with access to apartments in Holly Hill knows what Geneva knows. They might know she tried to tell you, too. So, you be careful.”

  “I am careful,” she said, “and I’ll call you if I recognize who that might be.”

  As soon as Reese hung up, Willie moved carefully through the books and papers in Geneva’s room. Willie felt certain she’d missed something important.

  She moved each book out, rifled its pages and then put it back exactly where it had been.

  It was the books on the Holocaust that broke Willie’s heart. She should have understood what Geneva tried to tell her about the warehouse and the train. She shouldn’t have assumed so easily that Geneva’s mind was slipping entirely back into those times.

  Yes, Geneva had been shocked to find that warehouses near railroad tracks were used to store the kidnapped children. And the shock had made it hard for her to stay in the present.

  But Willie knew Geneva before the shock, and she should have trusted that her friend had discovered something.

  After the book search, Willie got into Geneva’s closet. She found a small file box that Geneva had hidden in one of many shoe boxes on her shoe rack. She got out her finger-nail file and started to work on the box’s lock.

  Moments later, she had found what had sent Geneva from her job.

  A receipt for concrete work under the building on Second Avenue included a note to install cages and hooks for chains strong enough to contain “feral dogs”.

  The dogs... Geneva had often mentioned dogs as guards at Mittlebau-Dora.

  And under that receipt, deeds that showed International Relocation Services owned the building at second and several other buildings up and down the coast. In a fold of several badly xeroxed papers, Willie discovered that Hiltown Transfer and Storage and Larson Lumber were also owned by International Relocation Services, or IRS. All of these deeds and ownership papers were signed by Donald Corrigan CEO of IRS, and Christopher Rylant, Chairman of the Board.

  So, Willie realized, Geneva, in her position as secretary at Larson Lumber had never met the CEO or the board chair of International Relocation. She wouldn’t have known that Corrigan and Rylant were waiting to see what she knew.

  That first dinner where Geneva accused her of being the cook, she had also let loose with her accusations about the uses of the warehouse near the railroad. Her agitation and her loud fear had brought on the threats.

  Willie was glad Geneva trusted Doctor Sartan, and that no one else knew where she had gone.

  And Corrigan was no Alzheimer’s patient.

  Willie poked sat her cell phone, calling Captain Reese.

  **

  Twenty minutes after getting the dinner set-up prepared, Violeta stood in the eighth-floor hall, getting ready to visit Glyn in Willie’s apartment and then go to Emmanuel Hospital for the family reunion.

  As the last of the residents went into their rooms to get ready for dinner, Old Mr. Corrigan came up beside her.

  “I need to get into my room, Miss. Could you unlock it for me? I think I left my key on the library table.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Corrigan. You are in room eight?”

  “No, right here in fourteen.”

  “Oh no, sir,” she said, remembering his forgetfulness. “I am certain you are in room eight.”

  “Young lady,” he said, expanding his arms and blocking her path, “Don’t pretend you don’t know me. I have been in room fourteen for two months now.”

  Violeta knew this was Geneva Oppenheim’s room. She backed up past the room where Willie and Glyn lived.

  Mr. Corrigan followed her closely. “I know you have the key to my room,” he said. You must give it to me now or I will complain to the manager.”

  “Then you will have to complain, Mr. Corrigan. Fourteen is not your room.”

  She turned around in the hall, intending to walk quickly away from this man, who seemed ever more out of control. By now, she was beyond Glyn’s room and so was the man who followed her.

  As she turned to check his pursuit, he pulled a small gun from his pocket. “You will give me the key, Miss.”

  She stopped walking away and faced him. “Mr. Corrigan remember that you forget sometimes. It is very frustrating.”

  She backed a little and continued talking, understanding that this was not forgetfulness, and he was not what he had seemed for so long. Now she had to get to the metal fire door at the end of the hall. From behind that door, she could safely call Captain Reese.

  Corrigan followed.

  She said, “I will be glad to open eight for you.”

  As she backed up, a door behind Mr. Corrigan silently opened and a wheelchair poked out into the hall.

  Now, she feared for Glyn and had to keep this man facing this way and following her.

  She decided to pretend he wasn’t really threatening her, and that she thought he suffered an Alzheimer’s moment.

  “Mr. Corrigan, do you remember Mrs. Kleiner’s little dog that is so cute?”

  He stopped. “Why?”

  “She lives next door to you, remember?” Violeta tried to keep her gaze on Mr. Corrigan as Glyn and his chair rolled quietly toward them.

  Behind Glyn, Leneld came out into the hall.

  And beyond the elevator doors, so did Henry Crick from room thirteen, and then Grandma Willie, from room fourteen – Geneva’s room.

  Facing Violeta, Mr. Corrigan seemed unaware of the others. “Not putting up with your stalling, get down to that room.” He waved the gun and started to turn back toward room fourteen.

  At that moment, Glyn rammed Corrigan’s legs with the wheelchair and his board-stiff leg.

  “Gahhh!” Glyn shouted and doubled over his leg.

  Corrigan fell to the floor but got off one shot that ricocheted off a metal door jamb and into Leneld’s leg. Glyn backed and roared his wheels into Corrigan’s chest. Violeta’s foot came down on the gun hand. A second shot slammed into the wall outside Mrs. Kleiner’s room. Inside, her dog barked.

  As the dog noise grew frantic, Violeta leaned all her weight on Corrigan’s gun wrist. Leneld
reached over, grabbed the gun. and took it from Mr. Corrigan’s now-paralyzed hand.

  Mrs. Kleiner opened her door and stared in horror at the young black man outside her apartment.

  Violeta yelled, “Missus. Please call the police. Mr. Corrigan has shot Leneld.”

  The door slammed shut.

  Leneld put the gun on the ground away from Corrigan, saying “Dang. She won’t believe that story.”

  Violeta hauled out her cell phone. “But Captain Reese will believe it.”

  At that moment, the elevator door opened. Mr. Corrigan’s nephew, Mr. Rylant, stepped out.

  He seemed only to see Violeta and Glyn attacking his colleague, Corrigan. He pulled a gun, aiming at Glyn.

  Grandma Willie lifted her walker. He heard her motion and started to turn.

  Violeta screamed, “I’ll shoot you.”

  He turned back in her direction, just as Willie beaned him. His collapse was slow. The look on his face completely confused.

  “Never under-estimate the aged,” she said as she hit him once more. He dropped flat.

  “Go, Willie!” Henry shouted, as he picked up Rylant’s gun.

  Leneld limped closer and took another look at Mr. Rylant. His eyes grew wide. “I know you.” He turned to Glyn to explain. “And I know that guy,” he said, pointing at Corrigan.

  But Glyn shook his head. “Don’t.” And then he spoke in rap rhythm to Leneld.

  “Little communicatin’

  Not guess our cogitatin’ ”

  Leneld snorted. He grabbed at his bleeding leg. Even in pain, he glanced at Violeta, and he answered Glyn in rhythm.

  “That tyco’s tough.

  Keep her on your side,

  Cause she’ll go far and...”

  Violeta interrupted the rapping, “Sit down, Len. ‘fore you fall down. Captain Reese is on his way.”

  She kept her foot on Corrigan’s arm. Corrigan panted, “You got this all wrong. I’m trying to get to my room. You can’t just ...”

  Glyn said, “Give it up, Corrigan.”

  Willie said, “Lenny, you’d best be rolling up those pants and stopping that bleeding.”

  Glyn whipped a handkerchief from his back pocket. “Mostly clean,” he said, and handed it to Leneld.

  Willie looked at Corrigan and said, “As a fellow actor, I have to give you points for your depiction of a forgetful man.”