Tick Tock (Michael Bennett 4)

“Really?” Cavuto said. “Sounds great. Give me five minutes to get ready.”

Berger checked his flashy white-gold Rolex and made a face.

“Ah, but I’m already late, and it starts off with a guided tour for the kids. The ex-wife will lay into me if I’m not right there video-recording every millisecond of it.”

Berger fished into his pocket and handed Cavuto his Red Lion Investments business card.

“How’s this?” Berger said. “You and Angela can skip the animals and meet us for cake.”

“But, Daddy! Animals! The monkeys! I want to see the monkeys,” Angela said, tugging at her father’s shirt and on the verge of tears.

“There I go again. Me and my big mouth,” Berger said sheepishly as the girl actually started crying.

Berger snapped his fingers.

“I feel terrible, Ken. If you want, Angela and I can start ahead so she doesn’t miss the tour. Then when you’re ready, call us and we’ll tell you what animal we’re up to.”

This was the do-or-die moment, Berger knew. Hang with the boss versus parental paranoia. Berger was banking on the fact that the unemployed analyst wasn’t that used to being a stay-at-home dad, was still unsure of himself, still unsure of his instincts. And of course, if he said no, Berger would quickly switch to Plan B. Stun-gun the father, chloroform the girl, and get out of there.

“Yeah?” Cavuto finally said.

Berger held his breath. The fish was on the hook. Time to reel it in slowly.

“You know, on second thought,” Berger said, checking his watch as he retreated a step down the stairs. The girl, sensing his departure, broke into full-fledged sobs.

“It’s not too much of a pain?” Cavuto said.

“Of course not,” Berger said, reaching out for the little girl’s hand with a smile. “Bethany will be so happy to make yet another brand-new best friend.”

“I won’t be long,” Cavuto called, fingering the fake business card as they started down the sidewalk.

Oh, yes, you will, Daddy, Berger thought as he waved good-bye. Longer than you’ll ever know.

He turned around when they got to the corner. Cavuto had already gone inside. Instead of heading straight for the park and the zoo, he made a left, searching for a taxi.

“Hey, Angela. You thirsty? Want a juice box?” Berger said, taking out the Elmo apple juice that he’d laced with liquid Valium.

“Is it ’ganic?” the white-blond-haired tot wanted to know. “Mom only likes when I drink ’ganic.”

“Oh, it’s ’ganic, all right, Angela,” Berger said as a taxi pulled to the curb. “It’s as ’ganic as ’ganic can be.”

Chapter 41

THAT AFTERNOON BACK IN THE CITY, I glued

my butt to my squad room office chair and did nothing but go through Berkowitz’s fan mail.

It was unbelievable. There were curiosity seekers, people who wanted autographs, softhearted and softheaded religious people wanting to save the serial killer’s soul. Some old cat lady from England had sent him a feline family picture along with a check for $300 to buy himself “some gaspers,” whatever they were. I’d have to run it by the Geico lizard next chance I got.

I had just gotten through all the stuff from the 2000s and was tossing my desk for some aspirin when my boss called from a Bomb Squad meeting in the Bronx.

“Something nuts just came out of Brooklyn,” Miriam said. “A little girl was abducted from her dad in broad daylight. We got Brooklyn Major Case running over, but I need you to see what in the hell is going on. From the little I’ve heard, it’s completely bizarre, which makes it par for the course for our guy. But I mean, it can’t be our bastard, right? How could a child abduction have something to do with the Mad Bomber or the Son of Sam?”

The address was in a pricey part of Brooklyn not too far from the art museum and Prospect Park. Blue-and-whites blocked both sides of the brownstone-lined street as I double-parked and headed toward an elaborately refurbished town house. A funereal-faced female lieutenant from the Seventy-eighth Precinct met me in the bright front hallway.

“How we doing here, boss?” I said.

“We’ve activated an AMBER Alert and sent Angela’s picture to all the media outlets, but so far nothing,” she said, lowering the static on her radio. “The missing girl is four. Four. The father was totally out of it when the first unit showed, just glassy-eyed. They’ve got him in the back bedroom now with the mother and a doctor and a priest. A Brooklyn DT went in about five minutes ago.”