The Disappearance by J. F. Freedman Read Free Book Online

isn’t part of the core group and doesn’t need to know the particulars of this. They’ll clue her in regarding Joe’s uncustomary involvement at the last minute.
    “Sixty seconds?” Wes asks, regarding length.
    “Or longer, if needed,” Jane says. She hesitates. “Do we go with footage?”
    The station had a team at Doug’s house last night. Tina Jones, who’s going to be at the Highway 154 scene this morning, did a brief standup, but they didn’t use it on the eleven o’clock news. The footage is innocuous, Jane tells Doug—a dark house with some sheriff’s department cars parked in front. Even people who know Doug’s house might not recognize it.
    Everyone looks at him.
    “I guess so,” he says grudgingly, feeling trapped. He has to—this is public news, particularly since the News-Press has put out a story. “But no footage of me or my wife, and no pictures of my daughter. Or her name,” he adds emphatically.
    “Are you sure?” Wes asks. Meaning, are you sure we shouldn’t be more specific?
    Doug takes a deep breath. “Fuck it. Name us. Just don’t belabor it.” They have to be professional, even if they’re the victims. He has a sudden insight into how people must feel who have had this public scrutiny happen to them. No wonder people hate the media, the way they lay open wounds.
    “You can proof the copy for me,” Joe offers. “If something’s offensive, we’ll excise it.”
    “Write it like it was anyone,” Doug tells him. “We can’t bend this to suit our needs.” He forces a smile. “Okay, people. Let’s go to work.”
    Upstairs in his office, he shuffles through some papers, trying for a few moments to take his mind off what’s happening to him. The office is a small space for a man of his stature. The only vanity touches are a few pictures on the walls of him with various notables—Governor Wilson, Senator Feinstein, Vice President Gore. The nicest feature of this office is the view, which looks down to the city, the harbor, the ocean. On a clear day he can see to the horizon. It’s still too dark now to see much of anything.
    He can’t focus. He’s too antsy. Jesus, he thinks. This is really happening. His child is gone, taken away. Every parent’s worst nightmare.
    Doug calls Sheriff Williams.
    “I saw the News-Press story,” Williams says. “They sure didn’t waste any time,” he says bitingly.
    Doug tells him about the story the local station is doing this morning.
    “I hope we have something by tonight.”
    That’s all Williams can say? Doug is pissed, angry. “No one’s called the house.” There’s an extension of his home telephone here at his office, as there’s one of his office at his house—his public and private lives can’t be divided.
    “I’ll let you know immediately if anything turns up on this end,” Williams says. “I’m going to put a car in front of your house, to keep the lookie-loos and kooks away.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
    He touches base with Hampshire, his lawyer, then calls his house and speaks to Maria. Glenna’s sleeping; she’ll be out for hours with the pill he gave her. She needs to sleep; there’s no point in stressing her out any more than she is. She’ll find out about what’s happened overnight soon enough. “Call me when she wakes up. And don’t let anyone talk to her before I do,” he emphasizes.
    The story goes on the air. It runs two minutes. As soon as it wraps, Doug goes onto the floor and thanks the crew. He and Joe Allison talk briefly. For what it was, it went well. No histrionics, no doomsday predictions. A missing girl whose parents are grieving and worried about her, and hope that whoever carried her away from them will bring her home unharmed.
    Emma Lancaster’s disappearance is the first story after the first commercial break on the Nightly News on NBC, Doug’s home network. It’s seven at night in New York, four in the afternoon in Santa Barbara. Joe Allison does the standup in