After what seemed like hours the police had finally finished all the
forensics work in Sharona's apartment. Stottlemeyer approached Sharona and
Monk as all the other police officers left.
"We're pretty much done here, Sharona," he said, feeling deep sympathy for Sharona. He hated when cases got so personal, and he didn't want to think about the statistics. He knew the ratio of missing kids in San Francisco to found kids wasn't very appealing. He just hoped Ben would turn up alive. "We got some prints. Most of them are yours or your son's. Some of them are probably Monk's. We're checking them out." Sharona just nodded her head as he continued. "You should stay here just in case Ben shows up here, or if he calls. Or if the kidnapper calls. I'm going to head back to the station, get Ben's picture passed around and try to nail down some leads. Oh and, uh, I'm sending a guy over to put a tap on your phone. If the kidnapper calls, we'll be able to trace it."
"Thank you," Monk offered, glancing worriedly over at Sharona, who was just staring at the table.
Stottlemeyer nodded his head and turned to go out the door. "I'll be back in an hour or so."
Once he had left it was only Sharona and Monk in the apartment. They just sat in silence for a while, Monk watching Sharona as she continued to stare at the table. He almost thought she was sleeping with her eyes open until she blinked. He decided he had to break the silence.
"Sharona-"
"I need a shower," she interrupted him. She stood and moved quickly to her bedroom. She grabbed her robe and then went into the bathroom without saying another word.
Monk heard the shower come on and he knew she would probably be a while. She had gone into the shower to be alone. So he busied himself by cleaning. Forensics had gotten dust all over the place, and the bowl of spaghetti-o's had bothered him ever since he entered the apartment. He started by using a wipe to grab Ben's backpack and carry it back to his bedroom. He paused as he passed the bathroom door. He could hear Sharona crying. He bowed his head and wished he could just make things right for her. But like everyone else, he had no idea who would want to hurt Ben or Sharona. He didn't have the answer this time. He didn't have the slightest inkling of a suspect. Usually he had something. But this time, when it mattered most, he had nothing.
He hadn't realized how long he had been standing by the bathroom door until he heard the shower shut off and he looked at his watch. She had been in there for 40 minutes, which meant he had been standing there for 40 minutes. He quickly put Ben's backpack in his room and hurried back to the kitchen to start cleaning dishes. She joined him 20 minutes later after changing and making her hair somewhat presentable. For someone who had the flu and whose son had been kidnapped she looked pretty good. He looked up to see her wearing jeans and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. She forced a smile when she saw what he was doing.
"Always cleaning," she said, her voice still scratchy from her sore throat. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and leaned against the counter.
"Yeah," he said. They made eye contact briefly and he went back to scrubbing the same bowl for the fifth time. "Do you feel better?"
"The shower helped," she replied. "I don't feel feverish anymore. Still congested."
Monk continued scrubbing for a moment and then he paused. "So you didn't hear anything?" Sharona looked down at the floor and he tried reassuring her. "I'm not implying that you're a bad mother or anything. Because you're not. I was just . . . I want to make sure I know everything there is to know."
"No, I didn't hear anything," she replied. "I was out cold till I woke up and found out he was gone."
"And you can't think of anybody who would do this?"
"Nobody," she said. She walked across the kitchen and just stared out into the living room. "I mean, there's no one that I know of that doesn't like Benjy or me. His father's a deadbeat but he would never just kidnap Benjy. I just don't know why this is happening."
"You're not a bad mother," Monk said again after a short pause. Sharona turned and smiled a little. He was so sweet, doing everything he could to make her feel better.
"Thanks," she said. They both froze when the phone rang. Sharona quickly set her orange juice on the counter and picked up the phone. "Hello."
"So, you finally woke up, huh?" the male voice on the other end asked. He laughed a little and she knew immediately that he had taken her son. "I knew you were sick, but I didn't think it would really work. I surely thought you would hear something."
"Where's my son?" she demanded, not wanting to take part in his banter.
"Now, hang on a second," he said. "You can't rush these things, Sharona. That's not how this works."
"Look, what do you want from us? I don't have any money," she said.
"I don't want money. Please. Don't you think I'd pick a better target?" he asked. "I'm not stupid."
"Then what do you want?" she asked. She glanced over, seeing that Monk was listening intently to her side of the conversation.
"Revenge."
The click on the other end sounded in her ear and she slowly set her phone down. Monk was waiting for her to tell him what the kidnapper had said.
"He said he wants revenge," she said simply. Monk didn't say anything. He just watched Sharona close her eyes, knowing what she was thinking. Just like him, she was thinking that she would never see her son again.
* * *
Stottlemeyer returned, along with Lt. Disher and a technician to install the phone tap. While that was being done, Sharona described her brief phone conversation with the kidnapper.
"Revenge for what?" Disher asked, not sure what Sharona could have done to anyone to warrant him wanting this kind of revenge.
"I don't know," Sharona said sharply. She blew her nose and Monk cringed from across the room. "Like I've been saying for the last four hours, I don't know."
"You didn't recognize the voice on the phone?" Stottlemeyer asked. Sharona shook her head. "Well, we got four sets of prints. Like we expected, three sets were yours, Ben's and Monk's. We couldn't identify the fourth set. Whoever took Ben doesn't have a police record."
"Do people do that? Do they just pop up and suddenly decide to kidnap someone's kid after leading a completely normal life?" Sharona asked.
"There's some crazy people out there," Disher said. He noticed the technician had finished the phone tap. "We're all set with the tap. Now we'll just have to hope he calls again."
"He'll call again," Monk said. The others waited for him to explain. "Revenge is a game to him. He's toying with her."
The phone rang and they all jumped. Sharona looked to Stottlemeyer who nodded his head. She picked up the phone while the technician started recording the call.
"Hello." She sighed when she heard the voice that responded. "Mom, it's a little early."
"Well, I'm four hours ahead of you," she replied. The technician stopped recording the call. "You can't expect me to always remember time zones."
"What's up mom?" Sharona asked, wanting to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
"You sound sick, or upset. Which is it?" she asked.
"Both," Sharona replied honestly. She took a deep breath and prepared to break the news. "Mom, Benjy's been kidnapped."
"What? How? When?"
"I woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone," she explained. "I have to get off the phone. The kidnapper might call."
"Somebody broke into your home? I told you that you weren't safe there."
"No, they didn't break in."
"What do you mean? How did they get in?"
"I don't know," she replied. "But there was no forced entry."
"You didn't hear anything?"
"No, I didn't," Sharona said sharply. She was getting impatient and she really didn't want to get into this with her mother. "Mom, I've gotta go."
"How could you not hear anything?"
"Mom, please," she pleaded. "I can't tie up the phone."
"Fine," her mother said sharply. "You call me when you know more."
"Okay, mom," Sharona said. "Bye."
She quickly hung up the phone and shook her head. "You know what she's thinking right now? She's thinking, 'How did my daughter turn out to be such a horrible mother?'"
"No she's not," Monk said, defending Sharona from her own self-doubt.
"Yes, she is," Sharona said firmly. "She'll take any chance she can get to be disappointed in me."
"You shouldn't beat yourself up over this Sharona," Stottlemeyer said. "This isn't your fault."
They all looked over when the phone rang again. The technician was ready and gave Sharona the go ahead to answer the phone.
"Hello."
"Hi, Sharona," the kidnapper said with a slight lilt in his voice. "How's it going?"
"What did I do to deserve your revenge?" she asked, wanting to get right to the point.
"It's not what you did, sweetheart," he said. "I'm just using you."
"Let me talk to Benjy. Let me know that he's okay."
"Making demands already? I thought that was my job," he taunted. "You just don't get it do you? The whole point is not knowing. If you knew he was dead, it wouldn't be so hard. At least you could mourn. It's the not knowing. That's what kills you."
"Please, give me my son back," she pleaded.
"Sorry, can't do that," he said. "Is Mr. Monk there?"
Sharona looked over at Monk, wondering why the kidnapper would want know if he was there or not.
"He is," he said. "Get him on the phone. Just remember to disinfect it first."
Sharona pointed to the other phone at the end of the couch. "Adrian, he wants to talk to you."
They all looked confused, but Monk picked up the phone and held it by-but not on-his ear. "This is Monk."
"Well, there you are," the kidnapper said. "It's been so long since I've heard your voice, Monk."
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"Not personally," the kidnapper replied. "We might have met once. Briefly."
"What do you want?"
"To make you suffer, Monk. I want you to suffer just like I have," the kidnapper said. He paused for a moment. "Although, I suppose I have made you suffer already."
"What are you talking about?" Monk asked, still confused by what this man had against him.
"I mean, I had intended to get you. You probably figured that out already, but I suppose that would've been too quick for you," he said. "The fact that the bomb got your wife instead was just a pleasant surprise."
Monk's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe it at first. Was he really talking to Trudy's killer?
"You're lying," he forced out. He made eye contact with Sharona, who was still listening. Her eyes were wide and she was waiting for him to truly react as she expected him to. "Anybody could have read about my wife's death in the newspaper. Anybody could find out she was killed in a car bomb."
"True. You've got me there, Monk," the kidnapper said. "But could anybody know how the bomb was triggered? That wasn't released to the press was it?"
Monk didn't respond. He remembered exactly how the bomb was triggered. It was very unique. And it was the one thing that hadn't been released to the press.
"I mean, most people set car bombs up and have the trigger in the ignition, or they make it pressure sensitive in the driver's seat. Some people even put the trigger on the gas pedal," the kidnapper said. "But I decided to have a little fun with it. How many people would set the bomb to go off when you turned on the radio? Pretty ingenious, huh?"
"You son of a bitch," Sharona said. She watched as Monk's face tensed and his grip started to loosen on the phone.
"Hey Sharona, no need to get vulgar," the kidnapper said. He directed his next comment to Monk. "At least you know that your wife is dead, Monk. It's the not knowing that kills you."
He hung up at the same time that the phone fell from Monk's hand to the floor. Sharona quickly set her phone down and moved over to him just as he was about to collapse. His breathing was fast and shallow. He was hyperventilating.
"Oh God, Adrian," she said as she did her best to guide him to the couch. Stottlemeyer and Disher were confused. But Sharona wasn't worried about them. She grabbed Monk's wrist and started taking his pulse. "Deep breaths, Adrian. Take slow deep breaths."
"I . . . can't . . ." he said between gasps. "Oh God."
"You have to or you're going to pass out," she said.
"What happened? What did the kidnapper say?" Stottlemeyer asked.
"Trudy . . . God, Trudy . . ." Monk said. He closed his eyes and his breathing was even faster. Sharona was caught off guard. It had been a long time since he had had a panic attack that was this bad. Finally she just grabbed his face and forced him to look at her.
"Adrian, open your eyes and look at me," she said. He complied but his breathing didn't improve. "You need to calm down. Please. Deep breaths."
His breathing slowed a little bit and he spoke slowly. "Sharona . . . you're touching me. You're sick."
She smiled a little and let go of his face. "You're going to be okay." She stood. "Deep breaths. If you feel dizzy, put your head between your knees. I'll get you some water."
Monk nodded his head as his breathing started to return to normal. Sharona headed for the kitchen with Stottlemeyer and Disher following her, waiting for answers.
"The kidnapper is the same bastard who set the bomb in Adrian's car," she said as she pulled a Sierra Springs bottled water out of her fridge. "He killed Trudy."
"We're pretty much done here, Sharona," he said, feeling deep sympathy for Sharona. He hated when cases got so personal, and he didn't want to think about the statistics. He knew the ratio of missing kids in San Francisco to found kids wasn't very appealing. He just hoped Ben would turn up alive. "We got some prints. Most of them are yours or your son's. Some of them are probably Monk's. We're checking them out." Sharona just nodded her head as he continued. "You should stay here just in case Ben shows up here, or if he calls. Or if the kidnapper calls. I'm going to head back to the station, get Ben's picture passed around and try to nail down some leads. Oh and, uh, I'm sending a guy over to put a tap on your phone. If the kidnapper calls, we'll be able to trace it."
"Thank you," Monk offered, glancing worriedly over at Sharona, who was just staring at the table.
Stottlemeyer nodded his head and turned to go out the door. "I'll be back in an hour or so."
Once he had left it was only Sharona and Monk in the apartment. They just sat in silence for a while, Monk watching Sharona as she continued to stare at the table. He almost thought she was sleeping with her eyes open until she blinked. He decided he had to break the silence.
"Sharona-"
"I need a shower," she interrupted him. She stood and moved quickly to her bedroom. She grabbed her robe and then went into the bathroom without saying another word.
Monk heard the shower come on and he knew she would probably be a while. She had gone into the shower to be alone. So he busied himself by cleaning. Forensics had gotten dust all over the place, and the bowl of spaghetti-o's had bothered him ever since he entered the apartment. He started by using a wipe to grab Ben's backpack and carry it back to his bedroom. He paused as he passed the bathroom door. He could hear Sharona crying. He bowed his head and wished he could just make things right for her. But like everyone else, he had no idea who would want to hurt Ben or Sharona. He didn't have the answer this time. He didn't have the slightest inkling of a suspect. Usually he had something. But this time, when it mattered most, he had nothing.
He hadn't realized how long he had been standing by the bathroom door until he heard the shower shut off and he looked at his watch. She had been in there for 40 minutes, which meant he had been standing there for 40 minutes. He quickly put Ben's backpack in his room and hurried back to the kitchen to start cleaning dishes. She joined him 20 minutes later after changing and making her hair somewhat presentable. For someone who had the flu and whose son had been kidnapped she looked pretty good. He looked up to see her wearing jeans and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. She forced a smile when she saw what he was doing.
"Always cleaning," she said, her voice still scratchy from her sore throat. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and leaned against the counter.
"Yeah," he said. They made eye contact briefly and he went back to scrubbing the same bowl for the fifth time. "Do you feel better?"
"The shower helped," she replied. "I don't feel feverish anymore. Still congested."
Monk continued scrubbing for a moment and then he paused. "So you didn't hear anything?" Sharona looked down at the floor and he tried reassuring her. "I'm not implying that you're a bad mother or anything. Because you're not. I was just . . . I want to make sure I know everything there is to know."
"No, I didn't hear anything," she replied. "I was out cold till I woke up and found out he was gone."
"And you can't think of anybody who would do this?"
"Nobody," she said. She walked across the kitchen and just stared out into the living room. "I mean, there's no one that I know of that doesn't like Benjy or me. His father's a deadbeat but he would never just kidnap Benjy. I just don't know why this is happening."
"You're not a bad mother," Monk said again after a short pause. Sharona turned and smiled a little. He was so sweet, doing everything he could to make her feel better.
"Thanks," she said. They both froze when the phone rang. Sharona quickly set her orange juice on the counter and picked up the phone. "Hello."
"So, you finally woke up, huh?" the male voice on the other end asked. He laughed a little and she knew immediately that he had taken her son. "I knew you were sick, but I didn't think it would really work. I surely thought you would hear something."
"Where's my son?" she demanded, not wanting to take part in his banter.
"Now, hang on a second," he said. "You can't rush these things, Sharona. That's not how this works."
"Look, what do you want from us? I don't have any money," she said.
"I don't want money. Please. Don't you think I'd pick a better target?" he asked. "I'm not stupid."
"Then what do you want?" she asked. She glanced over, seeing that Monk was listening intently to her side of the conversation.
"Revenge."
The click on the other end sounded in her ear and she slowly set her phone down. Monk was waiting for her to tell him what the kidnapper had said.
"He said he wants revenge," she said simply. Monk didn't say anything. He just watched Sharona close her eyes, knowing what she was thinking. Just like him, she was thinking that she would never see her son again.
* * *
Stottlemeyer returned, along with Lt. Disher and a technician to install the phone tap. While that was being done, Sharona described her brief phone conversation with the kidnapper.
"Revenge for what?" Disher asked, not sure what Sharona could have done to anyone to warrant him wanting this kind of revenge.
"I don't know," Sharona said sharply. She blew her nose and Monk cringed from across the room. "Like I've been saying for the last four hours, I don't know."
"You didn't recognize the voice on the phone?" Stottlemeyer asked. Sharona shook her head. "Well, we got four sets of prints. Like we expected, three sets were yours, Ben's and Monk's. We couldn't identify the fourth set. Whoever took Ben doesn't have a police record."
"Do people do that? Do they just pop up and suddenly decide to kidnap someone's kid after leading a completely normal life?" Sharona asked.
"There's some crazy people out there," Disher said. He noticed the technician had finished the phone tap. "We're all set with the tap. Now we'll just have to hope he calls again."
"He'll call again," Monk said. The others waited for him to explain. "Revenge is a game to him. He's toying with her."
The phone rang and they all jumped. Sharona looked to Stottlemeyer who nodded his head. She picked up the phone while the technician started recording the call.
"Hello." She sighed when she heard the voice that responded. "Mom, it's a little early."
"Well, I'm four hours ahead of you," she replied. The technician stopped recording the call. "You can't expect me to always remember time zones."
"What's up mom?" Sharona asked, wanting to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
"You sound sick, or upset. Which is it?" she asked.
"Both," Sharona replied honestly. She took a deep breath and prepared to break the news. "Mom, Benjy's been kidnapped."
"What? How? When?"
"I woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone," she explained. "I have to get off the phone. The kidnapper might call."
"Somebody broke into your home? I told you that you weren't safe there."
"No, they didn't break in."
"What do you mean? How did they get in?"
"I don't know," she replied. "But there was no forced entry."
"You didn't hear anything?"
"No, I didn't," Sharona said sharply. She was getting impatient and she really didn't want to get into this with her mother. "Mom, I've gotta go."
"How could you not hear anything?"
"Mom, please," she pleaded. "I can't tie up the phone."
"Fine," her mother said sharply. "You call me when you know more."
"Okay, mom," Sharona said. "Bye."
She quickly hung up the phone and shook her head. "You know what she's thinking right now? She's thinking, 'How did my daughter turn out to be such a horrible mother?'"
"No she's not," Monk said, defending Sharona from her own self-doubt.
"Yes, she is," Sharona said firmly. "She'll take any chance she can get to be disappointed in me."
"You shouldn't beat yourself up over this Sharona," Stottlemeyer said. "This isn't your fault."
They all looked over when the phone rang again. The technician was ready and gave Sharona the go ahead to answer the phone.
"Hello."
"Hi, Sharona," the kidnapper said with a slight lilt in his voice. "How's it going?"
"What did I do to deserve your revenge?" she asked, wanting to get right to the point.
"It's not what you did, sweetheart," he said. "I'm just using you."
"Let me talk to Benjy. Let me know that he's okay."
"Making demands already? I thought that was my job," he taunted. "You just don't get it do you? The whole point is not knowing. If you knew he was dead, it wouldn't be so hard. At least you could mourn. It's the not knowing. That's what kills you."
"Please, give me my son back," she pleaded.
"Sorry, can't do that," he said. "Is Mr. Monk there?"
Sharona looked over at Monk, wondering why the kidnapper would want know if he was there or not.
"He is," he said. "Get him on the phone. Just remember to disinfect it first."
Sharona pointed to the other phone at the end of the couch. "Adrian, he wants to talk to you."
They all looked confused, but Monk picked up the phone and held it by-but not on-his ear. "This is Monk."
"Well, there you are," the kidnapper said. "It's been so long since I've heard your voice, Monk."
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"Not personally," the kidnapper replied. "We might have met once. Briefly."
"What do you want?"
"To make you suffer, Monk. I want you to suffer just like I have," the kidnapper said. He paused for a moment. "Although, I suppose I have made you suffer already."
"What are you talking about?" Monk asked, still confused by what this man had against him.
"I mean, I had intended to get you. You probably figured that out already, but I suppose that would've been too quick for you," he said. "The fact that the bomb got your wife instead was just a pleasant surprise."
Monk's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe it at first. Was he really talking to Trudy's killer?
"You're lying," he forced out. He made eye contact with Sharona, who was still listening. Her eyes were wide and she was waiting for him to truly react as she expected him to. "Anybody could have read about my wife's death in the newspaper. Anybody could find out she was killed in a car bomb."
"True. You've got me there, Monk," the kidnapper said. "But could anybody know how the bomb was triggered? That wasn't released to the press was it?"
Monk didn't respond. He remembered exactly how the bomb was triggered. It was very unique. And it was the one thing that hadn't been released to the press.
"I mean, most people set car bombs up and have the trigger in the ignition, or they make it pressure sensitive in the driver's seat. Some people even put the trigger on the gas pedal," the kidnapper said. "But I decided to have a little fun with it. How many people would set the bomb to go off when you turned on the radio? Pretty ingenious, huh?"
"You son of a bitch," Sharona said. She watched as Monk's face tensed and his grip started to loosen on the phone.
"Hey Sharona, no need to get vulgar," the kidnapper said. He directed his next comment to Monk. "At least you know that your wife is dead, Monk. It's the not knowing that kills you."
He hung up at the same time that the phone fell from Monk's hand to the floor. Sharona quickly set her phone down and moved over to him just as he was about to collapse. His breathing was fast and shallow. He was hyperventilating.
"Oh God, Adrian," she said as she did her best to guide him to the couch. Stottlemeyer and Disher were confused. But Sharona wasn't worried about them. She grabbed Monk's wrist and started taking his pulse. "Deep breaths, Adrian. Take slow deep breaths."
"I . . . can't . . ." he said between gasps. "Oh God."
"You have to or you're going to pass out," she said.
"What happened? What did the kidnapper say?" Stottlemeyer asked.
"Trudy . . . God, Trudy . . ." Monk said. He closed his eyes and his breathing was even faster. Sharona was caught off guard. It had been a long time since he had had a panic attack that was this bad. Finally she just grabbed his face and forced him to look at her.
"Adrian, open your eyes and look at me," she said. He complied but his breathing didn't improve. "You need to calm down. Please. Deep breaths."
His breathing slowed a little bit and he spoke slowly. "Sharona . . . you're touching me. You're sick."
She smiled a little and let go of his face. "You're going to be okay." She stood. "Deep breaths. If you feel dizzy, put your head between your knees. I'll get you some water."
Monk nodded his head as his breathing started to return to normal. Sharona headed for the kitchen with Stottlemeyer and Disher following her, waiting for answers.
"The kidnapper is the same bastard who set the bomb in Adrian's car," she said as she pulled a Sierra Springs bottled water out of her fridge. "He killed Trudy."
