THE STREET PERFORMER WAS GOOD. BY THE TIME I GOT there, he was balancing on stilts, juggling half a dozen balls, and keeping up a patter that made the audience laugh. I didn’t see Gwen and the kids at first, so I wandered around until I spotted my sister, who held Justin up on her shoulders. Zack had pushed his way to the front of the crowd. When the juggler asked for a volunteer, he ran out into the performance area, and the juggler laughed and told him he needed someone a little bigger. Zack puffed out his chest and yelled in his loudest voice, “I’m big!” The juggler pointed to a burly six-foot man, who stepped forward. Zack smacked himself in the forehead and yelled, “But not that big!” He was getting more laughs than the juggler. So the juggler told him to wait and he’d have a job for him. After the trick—which involved climbing up on the big guy’s shoulders, juggling some dangerous-looking flaming torches, then doing a backflip to the ground—he gave Zack a hat and told him to make sure everyone put something green in it. Zack swaggered around the edges of the crowd yelling, “Put something green in. That means money! No frogs and no spinach. I want dollar bills—lots of dollar bills!”
I edged over to Gwen. “That young man has a future in sales.”
She smiled, keeping an eye on him while she swung Justin down from her shoulders and perched him on her hip.
“Where’s Maria?” I asked.
“She’s right over there.” She tilted her head to the right, then yelled, “Zachary Evan Santini, you give the man his money!”
I looked to the right but didn’t see Maria. Zack came running over, a dollar grasped in his fist. “Look what the man gave me for helpin’ him! He said I collected more money than he got all day!” His eyes shone. “Mom, where can I learn how to juggle?”
“We’ll talk about it when we get home. Where’s your sister?”
“How am I supposed to know? I was in the act!” He turned to me, waving his dollar and beaming. “Aunt Vicky, did you see me?”
“Maria!” Gwen called. There was no answer. She twisted one way, then the other, looking for her daughter. The crowd had dispersed, and there was no sign of a thin, blonde, ten-year-old girl.
“Oh, God, where is she?” Gwen grabbed Zack’s hand and dragged him as she ran toward the performer, who was packing up. “Did you see my daughter?” she asked. “She’s blonde, about this tall . . .”
“Sorry, ma’am. There are a lot of kids around.”
“Maria!” Justin piped up, pointing.
I followed the chubby finger. A hundred feet away, a tall blonde woman was leading a girl toward Commercial Street. The girl was about Maria’s height, but with so many people between us it was hard to tell from the back whether it was her. The woman leaned down and said something to the girl, then tugged her arm so hard it nearly made her fall. The girl looked back at us and waved, her mouth moving, but the woman grabbed other her arm and lifted the child off her feet. When I saw her face, even from a hundred feet away, there was no doubt. It was Maria, and she looked terrified.
I was after them like a shot.
“Maria!” Gwen screamed, and started running. She still held Justin and had Zack’s hand. Zack couldn’t keep up with her, and he fell, shrieking. Gwen stopped, but I ran harder. They were at Commercial Street now. Good. Traffic was against them. I’d catch them before they could cross. I put all my strength into it, pumping my arms, yelling at people to get out of my way.
But they didn’t cross the street. Waiting at the curb was a dented black van. The side door opened. Arms reached out, grabbed Maria, and pulled her inside. The woman leaped in behind her. The door slammed shut. I was almost there. I was reaching for the door handle. But the van screeched out into the traffic, sideswiping a Jeep, and my fingers closed on empty air.
25
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING?” Gwen’s voice edged upward to a hysterical pitch. “We know who took her—Sheila Gravett. She forced my daughter into that van; I saw her. And Vicky got the license plate number. Why the hell haven’t you put out an Amber Alert? Every second that passes—Oh God, I want my baby.” She broke down in tears, but she didn’t look away. She stared at the officer, her face contorted with suffering, demanding an answer.
“Mrs. Santini, I understand you’re upset, but we can’t help you unless you remain calm.”
“You’re not helping me! You’re letting that bitch abduct my child!”
“We can’t take action until we’ve determined whether in fact a crime has taken place.” What the cop meant was that they weren’t sure whether Maria was classified as a human or a PA. For a human child, they’d be broadcasting an Amber Alert, calling in the FBI, alerting Massachusetts and New Hampshire state troopers—the whole deal. But if Maria was classified as a PA, they didn’t have to lift a finger. You can’t kidnap something that’s not human.
Gwen howled and launched herself at the cop. Three others closed in on her. Thirty seconds later, she sat restrained in the back of a police car. When they shut the car door, Zack started to cry. Then Justin joined him. The both wailed for their mother while a female cop bent over, shushing them. I tried to go to the kids, but a cop barred my way.
“Those are my nephews—”
“For God’s sake, Morelli, let her go to the kids,” said a voice behind me. The cop glanced past my shoulder, then nodded and stepped aside.
I turned to see Daniel, looking grim, his mouth set in a thin line. He wore jeans and a leather jacket, so he must be off-duty. I didn’t know what he was doing there, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to get to the boys. “Thanks,” I said, and rushed over to them. Justin climbed up my legs and into my arms like a monkey, while Zack sobbed into my hip. “Why are the police hurting Mommy?” Zack said between hiccups. “Did she do something bad? Why did that lady take Maria?”
“Shh, Zack, it’s okay,” I said, smoothing his hair with my hand.
“Your mom didn’t do anything wrong,” Daniel said. “I’ll get her for you.”
Zack raised his head to watch Daniel walk to the police car and speak with an officer. Justin buried his face in my shoulder.
“Here she comes!” Zack’s voice was an excited scream. “Mommy!” He took off running to Gwen, who caught him up in her arms and pressed her face into his hair. I handed Justin over to her, and while she hugged her boys I went over to talk to Daniel.I.
“Maria hasn’t been classified yet,” I told him. “We won’t know whether she’s human or demi-human until she reaches puberty. That means she should be treated as a human.” I wished Kane were here. He’d nail these idiots on the legali ties.
“I agree. But I’m not in charge on this—I’m not even supposed to be here.” He pushed both hands through his blond curls, looking frustrated. “Chief Hampson is a Baldwin supporter. He’s dragging his feet because he doesn’t want to waste resources on a PA.”
“What if she’s fully human?”
“He’s betting she’s not.” He paused, like he was wondering whether he should stop there, then decided not to hold back. “New Hampshire troopers stopped the van.”
Gwen had come up behind me. She broke in, her voice excited. “The cops have Maria? When are they bringing her home?”
Daniel shook his head. “I’m sorry, but they let the van go. They said Sheila Gravett showed them a paper, signed by you, stating that Maria is paranormal and giving Gravett Biotech legal custody of her.”
“That’s a lie!” Gwen’s face was gray, with bright red splotches on her cheeks.
“You didn’t sign anything like that, Mrs. Santini?”
“Of course not. I only—Oh, my God.” She caught her breath, and her eyes widened with horror. “It was just a formality. That’s what that bitch said. She said she needed my permission to draw a blood sample. I . . . I didn’t read the paper, but I signed it.” Gwen grabbed Daniel’s arm. “That can’t be legal, can it? She tricked me!”
Daniel opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Nick appeared, looking worried and confused. Gwen collapsed against him, and both his sons started crying again. “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.
I explained the situation while Daniel went over to talk to another cop. After a few minutes, he returned with some new information. “We have an address, Mr. and Mrs. Santini. It’s near Seabrook, not far over the state line. Two officers checked on her there, and she’s all right. She’s a little scared and wants to come home, but Gravett wouldn’t dare do anything to mistreat her.”
Not yet, I thought. Not until her legal status was resolved. But I couldn’t say that in front of Gwen.
“You know where she is?” Nick said. “So go get her and bring her home.”
“New Hampshire doesn’t recognize PA rights, Mr. Santini. We can’t just go in and take her; we have to determine her classification.”
“Why?” Gwen wailed. “You’re acting like my daughter is . . . is that woman’s property.”
“In New Hampshire, I’m afraid that’s what the law considers her to be.”
Gwen screamed. Her knees sagged, and her face was dead white.
“Daniel, don’t,” I said. “We don’t know yet how the law will play out. Kane will be all over this when he gets back.” But that wouldn’t be until Monday—and I had no intention of waiting that long. God, what a time for a full moon.
“I’ll get my lawyer on it right now,” Nick began, then Gwen collapsed at his feet. He crouched down and held her, speaking softly.
“Take Gwen home first, Nick. And the boys.” He looked up like he was going to argue with me, but he must have seen something in my expression, because he nodded.
When Nick had loaded his family into a taxi and left, I turned to Daniel. “Where is she? I want the address.” I was already calculating how long it’d take to get to the garage and pick up the Jag before I could drive north. But—damn it all. The garage closed at noon on Saturdays. Well, that didn’t matter. I’d break in if I had to.
