Ransom

Sam stood and stared at it for a long time, as his mother had. There was something about Waters's eyes that hooked you into them in an eerie way, even on paper. And Ted knew after his visit to him in Modesto the day before that Waters's eyes were even colder in person. Ted said nothing to distract the boy, he just stood quietly and waited, while both adults watched him with interest. Sam was clearly thinking and combing his memory for some sign of recognition, and finally he handed the photograph back and shook his head, but he still seemed to be thinking. Ted noticed that too.

“He looks scary,” Sam commented, as he gave Ted back the mug shot.

“Too scary to say you've seen him?” Ted asked him carefully, watching his eyes. “Remember, you're a deputy now. You have to tell us what you remember. He's never going to know you told us, if you did see him, Sam.” As he had Fernanda, Ted wanted to reassure him, but Sam shook his head again.

“I think the man had blond hair like him, but he didn't look like him.”

“What makes you say that? Do you remember more about what the man on the street looked like?” Sometimes things came back later. It was a phenomenon that happened to adults too.

“No,” Sam said honestly. “But when I look at the picture, I know I don't remember seeing him. Is he a bad guy?” Sam asked with interest, and he didn't look frightened. He was safe at home with his new police detective friend, and his mother, and he knew that nothing could harm him. Bad things had never happened to him, except for losing his dad, but it never even occurred to him that someone would want to hurt him.

“A very bad guy,” Ted responded to his question.

“Did he kill someone?” Sam found it extremely interesting. To him it was just an exciting story, there was no reality to it. And as a result, no sense of danger.

“He killed two people, with a friend.” Fernanda looked instantly worried by what Ted told him. She didn't want Ted to tell Sam about the two children they had harmed as well. She didn't want Sam to have nightmares, as he had frequently since his father died. He was afraid she would die too, or even that he would. It was age appropriate for him, but also normal after what had just happened to his father. Ted instinctively knew that. He had children of his own, and was not going to frighten Sam unduly. “They put him in prison for a long time for it.” Ted knew it was important to tell him that he had been punished for it. He wasn't just a random killer roaming the streets, without consequences for his behavior.

“But he's out now?” Sam asked with interest. He had to be, if Ted thought he had been walking down their street on Sunday and wanted to know if Sam had seen him.

“He got out last week, but he was in prison for twenty-four years. I think he learned his lesson,” he continued to reassure him. It was a fine line to walk with a child his age, but Ted was doing his best. He had always been good with children, and loved them. Fernanda could see that, and guessed that he must have kids of his own. He wore a wedding band on his left hand, so she knew he was married.

“Then why did you think he blew up the car?” Sam asked sensibly, which was another good question. Sam was a bright boy, and had a strong sense of logic.

“You never know when someone will turn up where you don't expect them to. Now that you're a deputy, you'll have to learn that, Sam. You have to check out every lead, no matter how unlikely it seems. Sometimes you get a big surprise, and find your man that way.”

“Do you think he did it? The car, I mean?” Sam was fascinated by the process.

“No, I don't. But it was worth coming over here to check it out. What if this photograph was the man you'd seen and I hadn't bothered to show it to you? He might have gotten away with it, and we don't want that to happen, do we?” Sam shook his head, as the two adults smiled at each other and Ted put the mug shot back in the manila envelope. He hadn't thought Waters was dumb enough to do something as obvious as that, but you never knew. And now he had an additional piece of information from Sam at least. He knew the suspect was blond. A small piece of the car bombing puzzle had fallen into place. It didn't hurt. “I like your room, by the way,” he said congenially to the boy. “You've got a lot of great stuff.”

“Do you have kids?” Sam asked, looking up at him. He was still holding his star, as though it was now the most precious thing he owned, and to him, it was. It had been a thoughtful gift from Ted, and Fernanda was touched.

“Yes, I do.” Ted smiled at him and ruffled his hair in a fatherly way. “They're all big guys now. Two of them are in college, and one works in New York.”

“Is he a cop?”