U Is for Undertow

market, where Burberry and London Fog were the only competition. Now we sell through all the luxury department stores; Neiman Marcus, Bloomingdale’s, Bergdorf Goodman. We have a huge worldwide presence as well. London, Rome, Prague, Tokyo, Singapore. ‘When foul weather threatens your day, take a Rain Check.’ ”
    “I love those ads,” I said. “You know how to run a business?”
    “I’m learning,” she said. She popped the last bite of biscuit in her mouth and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “After Daddy died, I changed my major from social work to business and got my MBA. I have a team of experts holding my hand, and we’ve done well so far. Knock on wood.”
    “I am totally amazed.”
    “You’re not the only one,” she said. “Anyway, I know your primary interest is the kidnapping—abduction, or whatever.”
    “I’m curious about the experience.”
    “It was fine. Really. I was four. I didn’t know what was going on so why would I react badly?”
    “No unpleasant associations?”
    “Not at all. The guys were nice. I got to play with this adorable yellow kitten. The only thing I was ever upset about was not getting to keep her when it was all over with.”
    “There were two guys?”
    “Two that I saw. One was Santa and the other was just this goofball who wore glasses with cardboard eyes in the frames and a big plastic nose. He had a wig, too—bright red fake hair like Raggedy Andy. There might have been other guys, but I doubt it.”
    “Your mother says they made you a house out of a cardboard box.”
    “That was great. They put in a pile of blankets for a bed and they cut windows along one side so I could look out. That’s where I slept, though I didn’t do much of it. They kept coaxing me into drinking lemonade laced with something. I’d get sleepy for a while, but I didn’t stay down long. Whatever it was, it had the opposite effect. Instead of tired, I’d get wired. The more they gave me, the more amped I got.”
    “But no aftereffects?”
    “None.”
    “What about the box? Was it a carton an appliance might have come in?”
    “I guess. Not big enough for a refrigerator or a stove. I was little, but even then the box didn’t seem gigantic. I’d say more or less the size of this table. Longer, but about as wide.”
    “You didn’t miss your mom?”
    “Some, but they told me my mother wanted me to be a good girl, just for a little while, and then they’d take me home.”
    “And they stayed with you the whole time?”
    “One or the other did. Usually not both. I think that’s why they wanted me asleep—to make their job easier. One would keep an eye on me while the other one left, probably to call my folks.”
    “Did you have nightmares afterward?”
    “Nope. Honestly, there was nothing traumatic about it. Weird as it sounds, I had a lot of fun.” Her expression shifted when she caught sight of my face. “What?”
    “I have trouble reconciling your experience with Mary Claire’s disappearance. Clearly, these guys weren’t thugs or hardened criminals. I can’t believe they were kiddie-killers either, at least from what you’ve said. It sounds like they wanted money and not very much of it at that. Somehow they were spooked into abandoning the twenty-five thousand dollars, which was more than they got for you.”
    “You think something went wrong?”
    “I can’t imagine any other explanation for the fact that you were released while she vanished forever.”
    “I feel guilty about that and I have for years. If there’s anything negative in the aftermath, it’s knowing I escaped with my life. She wasn’t as lucky and look at the price she paid.”

24

    WALKER MCNALLY

    Monday, April 18, 1988

    Walker took a seat near the back of the small conference room at the city recreation center. There was a separate door on the side of the building, its purpose to promote privacy. The furnishings were plain—folding chairs set up in ordered rows, a lectern that had been removed from its stand and placed on the floor. Wooden tables had been herded into a corner where they’d be out of the way. There were maybe twenty people in attendance, most keeping a chair or two between themselves and others. This was the third AA meeting he’d sat in on. The air smelled like construction paper and library paste. As an after-school project, the kids had cut out a number of tree silhouettes that were pinned to the bulletin board. THIS IS MY FAMILY TREE was written across