The computer technician plowed through the crowd, then turned and flashed a sign that looked suspiciously like an upraised middle finger. Thank heavens it was fast and Mason didn't wear a police department uniform.
"This is Dr. Grace McKenna. Please leave a message."
"It's Matt again. Hope you're okay." He flipped the phone closed. Damn. According to Josh, she and Brittany Morgan had not yet returned from their search for the gorillas. Was he going to have to mount a search for the two women, too?
Grace turned in place in the middle of the woods, gritting her teeth in frustration. Neema and Gumu had simply vanished. Again. She'd always been afraid of what the gorillas might do if they were freed, and now she had her answer. They'd run; they'd climb; they'd be wild gorillas within minutes. She couldn't blame them; who wouldn't choose racing through the woods over being locked up in a pen? They might last until their food supply ran out, the first snow of winter fell, or they were killed by a hunter.
She and Brittany spent hours spiraling out from the homestead site, looking for any sign of frolicking apes. Grace was fully dressed and wore her backpack, afraid to leave it behind in case the gorillas raided their campsite in their absence. Brittany wore the T-shirt and shorts she'd slept in, along with her hiking boots. The rest of her clothes were in her pack, wherever that was.
"Along with my new cell phone," the girl kept reminding her.
A helicopter buzzed overhead, and Grace pulled Brittany into the cover of a Douglas fir. "What are you doing?" Brittany screeched. "Why don't you want them to find us?"
The girl seemed on the edge of hysteria. Grace explained her reasoning. If the media found them, if anyone found them, the resulting barrage of helicopters and people would make the gorillas bolt for new territory.
"If we just stay here, I think they'll come back," Grace said.
"But you don't
know
that," Brittany retorted. "You don't know what will happen next. They could be gone for good and then I'll never find Ivy."
Grace had no answer for that. She barely had enough food for herself and Brittany to spend another night in the woods, let alone to lure the gorillas back.
By noon, they'd found Brittany's jacket and water bottle. By dark, they found a pair of jeans and the remains of her backpack. The gorillas had ripped it open, breaking the zipper, to get at the food inside.
No cell phone. That seemed to upset Brittany more than losing the gorillas. She knelt by the shredded backpack, sobbing. "What's the use of trying anymore? We're never going to find the gorillas and I'm never going to get Ivy back."
Wonderful
, Grace thought. She was stuck in the woods with a teenager who had already tried suicide once. She didn't have any weapons or pills, but she wondered if she should remove the shoelaces from their boots before turning in. Or stay up all night to keep watch on the girl.
"C'mon, Britt," she gestured to their makeshift camp beneath the willow, trying to sound light-hearted. "Let's eat dinner and turn in. Tomorrow will seem brighter." Please let it be so, she prayed.
Grace left the girl under the branches, sitting on her sleeping bag, despondently rummaging through their meager food supplies. Stepping outside of the umbrella of branches, she turned on her cell phone and called Josh. She related the events of the day, and told him that she and Brittany were okay but would not be back today.
"I'm betting Neema and Gumu will show up again tomorrow morning," she said.
He'd been out with the search crews all day, he reported. She could hear television news in the background. Her cell phone blinked, warning that the battery was getting low. She hadn't had a chance to recharge it before hopping on the helicopter yesterday. "Can you call Brittany's parents for me?" she asked.
"Uh," he said.
"Josh? Did you hear me?"
"How far do you think you are from the highway?"
Her heart lurched. "Maybe a mile and a half. Why do you ask?"
Josh's voice was tight. "A semi driver reported hitting two large animals on the highway. The camera is…uh… showing these two black … lumps in a ditch right now."
"Oh please no," she said, "Are they—?"
"What?" Brittany, eavesdropping on Grace's side of the conversation, had crawled out from under the willow and now tugged at her arm. The girl's eyes were already filling with tears in anticipation of bad news.
"Can't tell," Josh told Grace. "They're filming with a spotlight from a helicopter, and waiting for highway patrol to arrive. And now they've gone to commercial."
Her phone blinked again.
"You have internet on your phone, don't you?" he said. "Check KEBR's website; they'll have the latest." His words were clipped and there was no trace of his usual humor.
"Tell me," Brittany begged at her elbow. "Just tell me."
Grace's cell phone flashed its warning again, then the message
Shutting Down
appeared. "Gotta go, Josh," Grace said. "See you tomorrow, whatever happens." The readout went black. Grace stuck the useless phone back into her pocket. Thank god the GPS was a separate device; she needed it to get them back to the van.
"Just tell me," Brittany moaned. "Is Ivy dead?"
"That was nothing to do with your baby," Grace told her.
"The gorillas are dead, then?"
"No. Neema and Gumu are not dead." Grace hoped she was telling the truth.
Chapter
24
Nineteen days after Ivy disappears
After a day spent pawing through hundreds of files and scanning anything that appeared promising, Finn had a list of Jimson employees who had worked in the last six months at the three schools where babies had disappeared. With the help of Miki and Mason, the pertinent data had been scanned in and compared with police records. True to the New Dawn philosophy, most were ex-cons with records of petty but repeated drug or theft offenses. None was considered violent.
Finn paced the floor of the courthouse conference room while the other two were at lunch. What now? Interview all the staff at all the schools, ask if any of them had snake bracelets and if they knew Charlie Wakefield? Yeah, right. The Captain would go berserk with a request for that much time and manpower. He had to link Jimson employees to Jimson cars somehow.
He stared out the window, willing a solution to come. The protestors had already dwindled to only two on the anti-gorilla side, which he now thought of as the anti-Finn side, because the department switchboard received a dozen calls a day to poke fun at the gorilla man or to complain about Finn's harassment of Jimson.
Finn flicked on the television in the corner of the room. Or maybe it was a computer. He had a hard time telling the difference these days. All he knew was that it received the major television channels and could play DVDs inserted into a slot on its side.
The discovery of gorillas rampaging through the countryside had been the major news story of the year for the local station, and they were still determined to pump it for all it was worth. Last night the mayor and the county executive were on the local news.
"First Detective Finn was after my son," Travis Wakefield had said to the reporter. "And now he's hanging out with gorilla keepers and trying to pin something on Jimson industries? Seems like the police department is 'winging it' instead of doing real police work these days."
On the screen now was a young interviewer deep in obviously scripted conversation with a gray-suited guest identified as Dr. Neville Orburton in a label at the bottom of the picture.
"It's called
anthropomorphic fallacy
," the guest said.
The interviewer appeared fascinated by his statement. "Can you explain that for the rest of us, Dr. Orburton?"
"Anthropomorphic fallacy means attributing human characteristics to animals. This has happened over and over again. There have been many cases where it seemed as though animals could understand language and respond, but it's always been proven that the animal was merely performing a trick in anticipation of getting a treat."
"And how would that be tested?"
"Well, there are many ways, but the easiest is this: if only the animal's usual handler can understand the animal's 'language' "—Orburton put the word in air quotes—"then it's not real language; it's an anthropomorphic fallacy."
"The most famous case is Hans the Clever Horse. He was rumored to be capable of solving math problems and answering various questions, but eventually it became obvious that he was merely responding to his trainer's cues, not actually thinking on his own. The trainer didn't even realize he was giving the horse those cues. That's probably what is going on in Dr. McKenna's so-called language project, too."
"So you believe that Dr. McKenna's research is suspect?"
"I didn't say that. But I'm not so sure that Dr. McKenna can be considered a reliable witness. If she saw something that could help solve the disappearance of Ivy Rose Morgan, why did she wait until now to reveal it to the police?"
"So you think her
timing
is suspect?"
"It's my understanding that Dr. McKenna's research project is on the chopping block right now, and her job may be as well. Choosing to point the finger at a well-known figure like Reverend Jimson guarantees plenty of media coverage."
The host leaned toward him. "You mean that Dr. McKenna might be doing this to gain public sympathy and support for her project?"
Dr. Orburton tilted his head and gave the host a smug smile. "You never know."
Finn snorted. The media obviously thought
Grace
was the witness who had fingered Jimson Janitorial Service. Wait until they found out that a
gorilla
had accused Jimson. But it might be a moot point if Grace didn't get Neema back.
The door squeaked open, and he quickly flicked off the television, expecting Miki back from lunch break. Instead, catty Ms. Dvorak closed the door and then leaned against it. "I hear you've reached the dead end I predicted."
Finn squeezed the television remote so hard it emitted a cracking sound. He relaxed his fingers. He walked to the table, picked up a printed page and handed it to her. "We are requesting detailed timesheets for the last six months on these employees."
She scanned the page. "Timesheets were not spelled out in the subpoena."
"Covered under employee records."
"We'll see what the judge has to say about that," Dvorak replied primly.
Finn had an urge to throw the remote at her. He made himself put it down on the table. "We will also need the names of all the people who had access to these vehicles, and the times at which they had access." He handed her the list of green Jimson-owned trucks and cars.
"Definitely not covered by the subpoena." Her tone was icy. "I'll speak with our attorney, but I can guarantee you're not getting that data without another subpoena. I'm not sure we even keep vehicle checkout information." Without lifting her eyes from the pages in her hand, she turned and left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Finn threw his hands into the air. "Bitch!"
The door opened. Under her drawn-on eyebrows, Miki looked at him through thick mascara and eyeliner. "What?"
"Nothing." He lowered his hands and shoved them into his pockets. "Talking to myself." He paced his well-worn route in front of the windows—seven steps between the squeaky tile and the wall in one direction, eight in the other. There had to be a way around the company's stall tactics.
Snake arm baby go cucumber car…
The green company car was the key.
"Miki," he said. "Can you run the plates of all those green vehicles with Jimson logos against the court records database?"
One painted eyebrow rose. "You mean, like for criminal traffic citations in Evansburg?"
"Like for speeding tickets, accident reports, anything in Washington, Oregon or Idaho." Aside from parking tickets, any report of the vehicle should also carry information about the driver.
She stared at the computer as if considering its capabilities. "That's not a typical query. I don't know if that can be done. I mean, the systems aren't even the same in those three states."
Damn! Finn gritted his teeth. If the public knew how often criminal cases were shot down by lame computer systems, they'd lynch the software CEOs.
"But Mason could probably figure out a way," Miki finished.
By mid-afternoon, the gorillas had not shown up at the old homestead site. Grace's cell phone could not be revived. Could it be true? Were Neema and Gumu the two large animal 'lumps' reported on the news last night? Her gorillas didn't understand what a highway was, and they certainly couldn't anticipate the consequences of running out in front of a semi. How could she ever forgive herself?
Grace spent the morning combing the woods around the clearing, but there were no signs or sounds of apes. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest, and she struggled to keep her voice from cracking. "Neema! Gumu! Candy! Banana!"