The Girl from the Well

She turns in the direction I pointed and, because she can think of no other alternative, follows this road.

She stops again along a boulevard, her path lost. A pedestrian light turns green across the street. Once again she catches sight of the woman in white gliding through the rush of people, and I do little to blend in. I lift my head momentarily and the teaching assistant glimpses black hair streaming down past sightless eyes, before I am once more gone in the maze of briefcases and shopping bags.

The young woman makes her decision. She takes off after me, following the bread crumbs I am strewing in her path. Her pace quickens as her certainty grows, and she pauses only to call out apologies and excuses as she jostles against other men and women scurrying past.

She finally catches sight of the tattooed boy. He sits inside a white car. His eyes are half closed, and his head lolls against the seat. But the man closing the door beside him is not his father. It is a blond man with bright eyes and youthful features, and he is smiling.

“Wait!” The girl is frantic. Heads turn in her direction as she fights against the flow of people walking past: an old man in a wheelchair, a dog walker with three German shepherds, two baby carriages. “Wait! Stop him! Tarquin!”

But the man starts the car and drives away, leaving her helpless by the curb. Inside the car, the teenager turns his head, puzzled.

“Did someone call me?” he asks, his voice slurred.

“I didn’t hear anyone,” the Smiling Man says gently. “Go back to sleep.”

The car speeds on. The young woman watches it leave before she looks around and does the next best thing.

“Taxi!”

? ? ?

“For the last time, Jen—this is not a joke.” She speaks into her phone with a mixture of annoyance and agitation, as the taxi speeds down the street in pursuit of the white car. “I think Tarquin Halloway has been kidnapped by a man in a white Ford, and I want you to call the police. No, I don’t have their number just lying around. Yes, 911’s been busy for the last five minutes, and I’m not entirely sure why. That’s why I want you to call instead while I…Yes, I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out where they’re heading. No, I don’t know what the hell happened with those birds. Yes, I’ll be back as soon as I find Tark.”

“Is this for real, lady?” The taxi driver looks alarmed. “We’re after some pervert on the run?”

“I don’t know yet.” The young woman’s eyes are glued to the white car just ahead, which is turning onto a smaller, quieter street at the outskirts of town. They lose it for a few minutes after it speeds up and turns a sharp corner, and it takes some more searching before she finally catches a glimpse of the car as it turns into a small driveway, almost hidden by a tall grove of trees. She gestures at the driver to stop at the opposite side of the street.

“I’ll be getting off here. Keep the change.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stick around, miss?”

She pauses. “Can you use your radio to call the police?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I can radio my boss and he can—”

“Do that.” She hands him a couple of bills and gets out of the car.

“I think you ought to wait for the cops to get here, miss. If there’s some wacko on the loose, I don’t think you ought to be looking for him alone…”

“I don’t think I can wait that long. Just call the police as quickly as you can.” She runs toward the row of houses, while the taxi driver picks up his radio and speaks hurriedly into it. But by the time he gets out of the car, intent on following the teaching assistant, he stops. She is nowhere to be seen.