They Disappeared. Rick Mofina

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      2

      New York City

      Their taxi merged onto the Grand Central Parkway and the driver lifted his head to his rearview mirror, which had a rosary hanging from it.

      “Welcome to the capital of the world. Where are you coming in from?”

      “Montana,” Jeff said.

      “Cowboys and land spreading out to the mountains,” the driver said.

      “That’s right.”

      “Is this your first time to the Big Apple?”

      “No, I’ve been here for a few conventions over the years, and—” Jeff glanced at Sarah. “We were here together, a long, long time ago.”

      “Well, you picked a good time to return.”

      “Why’s that?” Jeff asked.

      “We got the president and about one hundred world leaders coming into town over the next few days for the UN meeting. Lots of security, sirens and helicopters. Messes up traffic.”

      “Yeah, we saw that in the newspapers.”

      “The president and helicopters, wow,” Cole said.

      “It’s a huge show and a glorious pain.”

      The road clicked under the taxi’s wheels as they moved onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Sarah looked out her window at the endless flow of apartment buildings, warehouses, factories and billboards. One showed a laughing baby’s face next to a smiling young woman in a graduation cap and she thought of their daughter, Lee Ann.

      They were moving west toward the Midtown Tunnel when they came to a gently sloping segment. The tip of the Empire State Building emerged in the haze ahead as Manhattan’s skyline rose before them.

      “Look at that! I gotta take a picture!” Cole said. “Oh, no, Mom, I put my camera in my backpack and it’s in the trunk. That was dumb, oh, no!”

      “Here, use mine.”

      Sarah fished her small digital camera from her bag. Cole, a technical master, clenched an eye, took a photo and showed his parents.

      “Oh, this is awesome!” Cole said.

      Moments later the taxi slowed. An overhead freeway sign guided three lanes to the great stone mouth of the Midtown Tunnel. Lines of traffic moved through the tollgates. The tunnel gleamed in brilliant orange and yellow as it curved under the East River to Manhattan.

      Cole took more pictures until they surfaced somewhere near Fortieth Street and Third Avenue. As they looked at the skyscraper-lined canyons and the shining high-rise condos, Jeff’s cell phone rang. The call was a 646 area code with a number he didn’t recognize.

      “Hello?”

      He heard nothing and after several seconds of static he hung up.

      “Who was that?” Sarah asked.

      “Wrong number, I guess.” Jeff shrugged.

      The sidewalks were a bazaar of action with streams of people hurrying, waving at taxis amid sirens, horns. Steam plumes curled from the hot dog stands. People panhandled and street merchants argued with delivery truck drivers while motorists screamed at jaywalkers who blocked streets.

      They were a world away from Laurel, Montana.

      Their hotel, the Central Suites Inn, was on West Twenty-ninth Street in the two-hundred block, not far from Madison Square Garden. They checked into their twelfth-floor room. It was large with two double beds.

      “I need to freshen up,” Sarah said.

      “All right, Cole and I will unpack and get changed,” Jeff said. “Then we can go out for dinner and maybe walk to the Empire State Building.”

      Cole claimed the bed nearest to the window. He unzipped his backpack at the foot of it and dumped its contents. T-shirts, shorts, a chocolate bar, a bag of potato chips, maps of New York, a hoodie and socks fell out. All of it was unfamiliar, especially the man’s shaving kit.

      “Uh, Mom, Dad?” Cole said.

      Sarah set her things down and surveyed the heap. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, he’s got the wrong bag.” She inspected the backpack. The luggage claim bar code was torn. The blue name tag was faded and smudged. “I thought you guys checked this?”

      “It looks exactly like Cole’s bag.” Jeff looked it over.

      “A little, but the zippers are different.”

      “What are we going to do, Mom?” Cole said. “I need my stuff.”

      “We’ll call the airline, don’t worry, honey.” Sarah pulled a printed page from her bag and went to the room’s desk. “See, I put this paper inside all our bags. It has our hotel and cell phone numbers, so whoever has your bag can call us.”

      While Sarah and Jeff searched their airline tickets for a lost luggage number, Cole turned to the strange belongings. One item drew his interest.

      A tiny plastic toy jet.

      He СКАЧАТЬ