"Timothy Burton, age five, was last seen at one PM this afternoon in the back yard of his home in Warwick, Rhode Island." The announcement went on to describe what the young boy was wearing and listed a tip line phone number to call with information. Betsy looked at Howie beseechingly. "You have to go there! It's perfect."
My heart was in my mouth and I saw fear on Martha's face. I'd not told my wife about Howie's sister Annie's abduction and murder. Neither Martha nor I knew what details Howie knew of the event.
"I can't do that," he stammered.
"Why not?" Betsy asked.
Howie looked to Martha. "It's like how Annie died, isn't it? Ma won't even talk about it but I read some old newspapers."
Martha nodded. "If doing this would be too painful . . ." Surprisingly, Quinn said nothing.
Before Howie could answer the game broke for half time and a news bulletin followed. It described how Timothy's mother had left her son in their enclosed yard to answer a phone call. It was a hang-up but when she returned moments later, she heard a car leaving the alley behind her house. A solid fence prevented her from seeing the vehicle. Her son was missing. The toys they were both playing with remained. The police were treating the manner as abduction. A news camera showed the home from across the street.
Betsy's look repeated her plea while we all remained silent, looking to Howie.
"Maybe I should try it; like in memory of Annie. Do you think I should?" he asked in a quaking voice.
"Yes," said Martha emphatically. "Do it for Annie." She began to cry. Quinn remained uncommitted.
I tried to ease the tension that bound the room like a noose. "I can't see what harm it could do. Just think if it's successful."
Betsy raced up to the bedroom and returned with her lap top computer. "I'll find the exact address," she said as she turned on the machine.
Without a word, Howie crossed to the basement stairs, with Quinn close behind. Martha wiped her eyes and tried to smile. She followed while I waited for my wife. It wasn't long before she found the information. She shouted out the address as we climbed down the stairs and joined the others below.
"I . . . I don't think I can fall asleep. I'm far too nervous."
Martha took her cousin's hand. "Try, Howie. Try really hard."
"All set," Quinn said as he stepped outside the room. Betsy turned on the tape recorder and followed him.
I turned to Martha. "Why don't you stay with Howie? You're used to bedside duty." She nodded her approval and I stepped outside and closed the door.