Midnight Rambler: A Novel of Suspense

“How old is their little girl?”

“Nearly three.”

“So he got her pregnant when she was sixteen.”

Sally didn't respond. She'd already looked at the facts and decided the Dockerys hadn't orchestrated their daughter's disappearance and sold her for money to buy crack, or to pay off a loan shark, or put a down payment on a new car, or any of the other insane reasons that couples give when they get caught selling their children.

I continued to stare through the glass. Something about Tram's behavior didn't feel right, and after a few moments I realized what it was. Parents who lose kids do nothing but worry, and worrying is a manufactured fear. Tram's fear wasn't manufactured. It was real, and it told me that he knew something the rest of us didn't.

“Can I talk to him without the wife?” I asked.

“Be my guest,” Sally said.

The couple were separated. I entered the room and introduced myself as park security without giving my name. Tram jumped out of his chair and pumped my hand. He was small and wiry, maybe one-forty soaking wet, with dozens of tiny black moles visible beneath his crew cut. The words Jimbo's Homestyle BBQ were stitched in flaming red over the pocket of his denim shirt. He didn't look old enough to shave.

I told him to sit down and gave him my best no-nonsense look.

“I need to ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Dockery.”

“It's Tram,” he said.

“Mine's Jack. Let me get right to the point. We think the person who nabbed your daughter is a pro. More than likely, he'll try to leave the park when it closes and tens of thousands of people are going home. That gives us time to figure out a strategy.”

“Great,” he said.

“That's the good news,” I said. “The bad new is, it won't be easy figuring out which child is yours. Your daughter's appearance will be drastically altered, and she may not look like a little girl anymore.”

“I'll do whatever you want,” Tram said.

“Good. Now, I want you to level with me. Did you sell your daughter to someone in the park and not tell your wife about it?”

Tram leaped out of his chair, and I reflexively jumped back. He threw his arms into the air while tears streamed down his face. “No! I'd never do that! You think I'm some kind of criminal—I can see it in your eyes! I'd never sell my daughter, not even to the richest man in the entire world.”

“Sit down,” I said.

“Do you believe me?”

I pointed at his chair.

“Do you?”

“Sit,” I ordered him.

Finally he sat.

“No, I don't believe you,” I said flatly.

“But I'm telling the truth,” he wailed.

“Something's bothering you, son, and I want to know what it is.”

Tram held his head with both his hands and looked down like there wasn't enough floor to stare at.

“Tell me,” I said.

“This was my last chance, and I blew it,” Tram said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I've been straight for six months. No weed, no beer, going to church every Sunday, working eight-to-six in my daddy's restaurant. Peggy Sue told me if I didn't clean up my act, she'd divorce me and get sole custody of my daughter. And I've been doing good, until today.”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?”

He nodded, still looking down. “I was watching her.”

“Tell me what happened.

From the beginning.”

“We came out of the ‘It's a Small World’ exhibit. Peggy Sue got on line to buy snacks, and me and Shannon went looking for hidden Mickeys.”

“Hidden what?”

“Hidden Mickeys.”

“Is that a game?”

“There's hundreds of hidden images of Mickey Mouse in the park,” he explained. “They're in tables and on buildings and sometimes you see them in shadows at certain times of the day. We're staying at a Disney hotel, and they've got a promotion if you find a certain number of them. Shannon was looking at a hidden Mickey carved in a shrub, and I went to help Peggy Sue with the snacks. When I came back, my baby was gone.”

“How long did you leave your daughter?”

“Half a minute.”

“Do you consider Shannon's disappearance your fault?”

Tram choked up. “Yeah.”

“So you screwed up.”

“I've been doing that my whole life.”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah, I screwed up.”

“But you didn't sell her to someone.”

Tram shook his head, and tears flowed down his cheeks. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. But I wanted to believe him, and sometimes that's the best emotion to run with. I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder, and he looked up at me hopefully.

“Okay,” I said.

Tram and Peggy Sue were reunited, and Sally drove them to the front entrance of the Magic Kingdom in a golf cart. I followed in a separate cart, watching Tram from a distance. The kid was still bothering me, and I wondered if he was high on something when his daughter disappeared. That would explain his hyped-up behavior.