Part 2

Eleven a.m. TWO HOURS AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES MISSING

Samantha chewed on a pencil, scanned the list and was about to pick up the phone, when it rang. She viewed the series of numbers in the call window and relaxed.

"Jack?"

"Anything?" the senior man asked, heading for a meeting with the parents.

"Nobody fitting her description in any of the local hospitals or the morgue. I'm checking the surrounding areas. "

"Okay, what about mom and dad?" He eyed the distraught parents through the glass wall of the principal's office.

"Clean," she noted of any records. "He's been with the same firm since college. Very well liked, active in the local community theater and sports teams. She's only been working two years, but a real go-getter. Her secretary implied that Mr. Anderson often disagreed with his wife's work schedule."

"Okay, keep at it," he eyed the clock, "After Vivian and I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, we'll round up the boys and head back, go over all pieces."

He flipped his phone shut and knocked once, got a nod from the principal and entered.

**************************

Danny blew his nose, tossed the tissue away and washed his hands. He doused his face with cold water, while taking in his reflection.

"Man, you look nasty," he told the figure in the glass, whose runny eyes and red nose were standing out. He dried his face and eyed his watch. He flipped out his phone, plunked a dollar into the vending machine and got a coke. Pressing the cold can against his hot face, he ambled back into the crowded cafeteria.

"Hey, you get anything on Murray yet?" he asked his blonde teammate.

"Nothing local, but the state and federal checks aren't in yet." She eyed two more lines lighting up. "I gotta go. Calls are backing up." She flinched when his sneezed sounded loudly. "And Danny? Don't sit near me, okay? I've got plans for this weekend and I don't need to catch that creeping crud."

"You know, a little sympathy wouldn't hurt." He frowned as the dial tone came on. "Women," he shook his head, sat down and then jumped back up when a voice hollered at him.

"HEY!! You're sitting on my pipe!"

"Huh?" Danny turned around and eyed the chair, picking up a wooden prop, "Sorry. Watch out for splinters." He eyed the group of young children, all dressed for the play. The tallest boy, with a shock of short red hair and bright eyes, glared up at him.

"Hey, Miles Standish?" He guessed of the famous pilgrim. The coppery head nodded. The severe dark clothes, right down to the hat and the buckled shoes, looked perfect. "You look great!"

"Thanks," the boy offered his hand, "I'm really Patrick Kelly." He saw the silver badge pinned to the lean man's belt and his blue eyes went wide, "Are you a policeman?"

"F.B.I." Danny ruffled the short dark hair of a younger pilgrim, whose dark eyes smiled back, "Danny Taylor."

"Nicky Chin," the boy shook his hand, "Are you looking for that lost girl?"

"Yeah," he squatted down in the center of the group, "Did you guys know Emily?" He fished the photo from his pocket and showed it to them.

All four heads shook negatively. Taking his role seriously, 'Miles Standish' spoke for the group.

"Miss Graziani said she was lost. It's an awfully rainy day to be lost? Don't you think?"

"I do!" he agreed, winking at a sweet-faced Indian maiden whose front two teeth were missing, "What grade are you guys in?"

"Second."

He chuckled at the monotone chorus and tugged on the braided wig of the princess.

"You guys look great! What's the play called?"

"By the Blessing of God," the smaller pilgrim announced.

"Cool name!" he assessed, warming up to them.

"It's from a letter from Edward Winters," the sleepy little princess announced while yawning, "He was at the first Thanksgiving."

"Winslow!" Miles Standish corrected, rolling his eyes and clucking his tongue, "Girls..."

"That about says it all, my man!" Danny laughed at the pained look.

"We don't got the letter," little pilgrim Chin piped up, staring up at the tall agent and grinning.

"No?" Danny chuckled, completely charmed by the quartet

"But Mrs. Farber saw it," the princess said of her teacher, "She read it too." She paused, wrinkling her brow, "She wasn't there, neither."

"She wasn't?" Danny bit back a laugh, the little maiden was so serious.

"No, it was from a book...about...uh...the...Mayflower..." She sighed, staring up at the handsome man.

"Ah," he nodded wisely, winking at the giggling child. "So I guess they had turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie and stuff, right?" he asked, testing their knowledge.

"No, they hadda eat fishes and reindeers," the little pilgrim announced, "YUCK!" He wrinkled his nose and made a face.

"They weren't reindeers, Nicky," Miles Standish corrected, shaking his red head, "Reindeers live in the North Pole with Santa. They ate ven...ven..."

"Venison?" Danny guessed.

"YEAH!" the tall boy nodded.

"Do you eat that?" the little pilgrim asked, tugging on the policeman's leg.

"NO WAY!" He laughed, high-fiving the boy and ruffling his hair again. He immediately rose a notch in their book. "Fish huh? That's rough...why was that?"

"It snowed lots and lots the year before and people died -- lots of 'em. So...so...they needed....the Indians to help them learn about growing stuff...to eat...so they wouldn't starve no more."

"Excellent!" Danny patted the back of the speaker, who was the lone female and was taking her job as princess seriously.

"They hadda eat stewed pumpkins. They didn't have a store for the pies," Chin noted proudly.

"That's a shame," Danny agreed, "Me, I love pumpkin pie with a whole can of whipped cream!"

"ME TOO!" the Indian agreed, smitten with her new hero.

"...fruit...cheese...and...and..." Miles thought for a moment. "Corn. Lots of corn."

"You guys really did your homework!" he lauded, congratulating them all. It was then he noticed a solemn boy to the side, undersized and seemingly shy. His sandy hair was wavy and his eyes were wide and blue. He looked terrified, his fingers clutching a paper in a deathgrip. Taylor moved over a few feet, offering his hand.

"Hey, little guy, I'm Danny. I work for the F.B.I. I'm trying to find Emily Anderson. Do you know her?" He showed the picture, but the blond head shook no. "Sure? " He saw the head move again, lifting briefly and then dropping down again. "Okay," he paused, pocketing the photo. He winced at the shaking, long exhale from the tiny child. "You in the play?"

"That's Scott Westfall," the redheaded leader announced, "He got to pick a poem from the teacher's poetry book...and...and...he's gonna read it."

"Yeah?" Danny's voice went up. "That's very hard to do. You must be a very brave boy," he lauded quietly, watching the blond head dip further down.

"He's been practicin' real hard," the Indian maid announced.

"Yeah?" Danny squatted down, meeting the small boy at eye level, "What's it called?"

"Nothing Gold Can Stay," he whispered, "by Robert Frost." He paused, studying his feet.

"You like poems?" the dark-haired agent prodded gently and the sandy head nodded slowly. "Me too! Can I hear it?"

"REALLY?"

Danny's eyes widened in startled amazement at the boy's sudden burst of life. He was bowled over by the saucer-like blue eyes . He could almost feel the tiny heart hammering in the boy's chest.

"Said so, didn't I?"

"Okay." Scott tried, he really did. Twice he took a deep breath, but twice it escaped. His shoulders slumped. Then he looked up at the warm encouragement in the brown eyes of the man with the badge and he found his courage.

"NothinggoldcanstaybyRobertFrost."

"WHOA!" Danny chuckled, put his hand up and smiled. "Slow, little brother, slow and easy. It's not a race."

"Sorry."

"That's okay. Deep breath," he took a breath with the boy and nodded, "Go on..."

************************

THREE HOURS MISSING:

"Okay," Jack sighed, rubbed his neck, and turned to the weeping mother, "The last time you saw Emily, she was right behind Jessica Dunne."

"Yes," the sobbing mother nodded, "Emily called out to her. Jessie stopped. Em...ily...caught up to her. Jessie went forward...her hand was on the door knob..."

"Then you turned away, briefly," Vivian encouraged.

"Yes..." She took a deep breath, "there was an accident...at the inter...section. The brakes screeched...there was a horrific crash. It startled me. When I turned back, both girls were gone. I assumed they went inside..."

"How far behind was Emily?" Jack asked.

"A few feet, maybe..." the mother guessed.

"Did you notice anybody nearby? Somebody on the grounds?" Vivian inquired.

"No. Just the Dunne's car in front of mine. I recall that...because Emily was upset at being late. There wasn't anybody outside, then Irene dropped Jessie off."

"Did you notice anybody behind you?" Malone pressed, observing both parents intently.

"No. Where could she be?"

"Well," Vivian rose, walking to the window, and eyed the rain falling outside. Dozens of policemen with flashlights were scouring the school grounds. Some had dogs with them. "They're covering every inch --" She heard the stifled sob and returned to pat the anxious mother's hand, "I have a boy, Reggie, he's twelve." She gave a squeeze of sympathy. "No news is good news. You keep thinking positive."

"How could Jessie not have seen her?" Mike Anderson lifted his head. His voice was thin and wavering. "Rose said Emily hollered to her and she stopped."

"She was wearing headphones...and a CD player," Malone recalled of the upset child's testimony, "She turned it down when she got close to the school. She stopped again to put it away. She was very shook up."

"She never even heard Emily," The mother's voice died.

"No, she didn't," Vivian replied, picking up her raincoat. "I'm gonna check outside," she eyed her boss, indicating the search team. He nodded and eyed the clock, every second passing all too swiftly.

"Okay, get an update, then head in. I'll finish up here and check on the boys."

********************* After getting the address from Vivian, Martin went to speak with the security guard as well as an electrician who had been working in the building earlier. Now, he was taking his newfound information to his partner.

His hand froze on the handle; he heard the voices inside and the winds of time threatened to sweep him away again. Another school, another storm, another parade of scarecrows and pilgrims screamed at him. Thunder and lightning...darkness and cold...no way to escape... The knuckles on his hand went white with repressed fury, as a man's memories of a boy's terror came slashing back.

He shook it off, took a deep breath and entered. His eyes scanned the room until he spotted Danny talking to some small children. He tried to get the other man's attention while keeping his body in the doorway. The cardboard pilgrims on the walls seemed to scowl at him. Danny didn't see him. Sighing, he took another breath, blocked them out and moved towards the group.

"Nothing Gold Can Stay," the little blond boy said, then paused, took a deep breath and felt his fear leaving, looking at the dark eyes of the F.B.I. agent, "by Robert Frost." Taking another deep breath, he began, "Nature's first green is gold. Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; but only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes down today. Nothing gold can stay."

Danny was silenced momentarily by the sad overtones the poem held. Moreover, he saw that same melancholy in the blue eyes of the child. Recovering, he smiled and squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"That was great. I really like it. You did a fine job, Scott."

"Thanks...I picked it...special..."

"Why's that?" the agent inquired, seeing a light in the boy's pale eyes far older than his years.

"It reminded me of my Grandpa." He dropped his chin to his chest. "He's in heaven now."

"I'm sorry about that," Danny consoled, keeping his hand in place, "So is my Grandpa."

"Yeah?" The eyes looked up again, in curious fashion. "You think, maybe, they know each other?"

"I think so!" Danny agreed.

"I miss him," the boy whispered, wincing as his chest hurt.

"I know. It hurts, huh?" He saw the sandy head nod.

"He took me to the park. We would collect the pretty leaves, red and gold, and save them. Sometimes, there was so many they were like snow..."

"Yeah," Danny nodded, smiling. "Close your eyes and go back to the park. Go on," he paused until the tiny features softened, "See it?"

The curly blond head nodded and the wise agent continued, "See your grandfather? He's right there. With those red and gold leaves."

"Hey...hey..." Scott smiled, his eyes still shut, "I can see him. Thanks, Mister."

"It's Danny," he ruffled the sandy locks, "and you're welcome. Good luck with the play." He saw the teacher coming over and flashed his winning smile. She was a very attractive, petite blond with huge green eyes. "You're kidding. Isabella Graziani?"

She laughed and shook the hand extended, "What can I say? My father's people were from Northern Italy."

"Must have been way north!" Danny teased, "Like Norway."

"Come on, now, we have a play to get to and Mr. Taylor is a busy man. Say goodbye."

"Goodbye, Danny."

"See you, Danny."

"Thanks, Danny.

He kept his eyes on them until they got to the door. From the corner of his eye he saw Martin's body nearby. Then the small blond boy turned around.

"Hey, Danny? Will you come? To the play? It's on Wednesday night, seven o'clock."

The haunted eyes and the poem still with him, the federal agent found himself nodding. Something about the boy's painful shyness had melted his heart.

"I'll try, Buddy, okay?"

"Thanks!"

He smiled at the audible sigh of relief and turned to face his partner. His smile died at the odd sight. Martin was standing several feet away, his face as white as snow. His eyes were wide and full of blue fear, his fists clenched painfully and his jaw locked.

"What the hell..." His voice died away and he turned, following the line of Fitzgerald's pained gaze. It was on the spot Scott Westfall had stood when he read the poem. He moved closer, noticing that the other man seemed lost to all around. "Hey." He waved a hand in front of the unblinking sky gaze. "Hey. Earth to Martin," he tried, waving again, "You with me, Harvard?" He tapped the brown leather jacket sleeve and the body jerked. A short hiss escaped the tense lips and the eyes went wide and frantic. Then they blinked rapidly, scouring the room as if seeing it for the first time. A hand started up toward the pale face, wavering badly before going back into a fist.

"You okay?" he tried again, laying a hand on the sleeve.

"Fine!" Martin hissed, jerking his arm away and not liking this lack of control one bit.

"You don't look it..."

"I SAID I'M FINE!" he declared in a molten tone, turning rapidly, "Let's go. I got an address."

"Great," Danny slumped, wondering about the bizarre behavior, "It's gonna be a long fuckin' day."