The two bicycle cops emerge from the woods, without a suspect, and head our way. I stop them, tell them my son is missing, and they immediately get on the radio. In my panic, I stop others and ask them to help.

Two more bicycle cops arrive. The area around the Landing is now a panic zone; everyone knows a kid is missing. The police are trying to lock down the entire park, to keep anyone from leaving, but there are a dozen points of entry and exit. Patrol cars arrive. The urgent wail of sirens only adds to the alarm. I see a man in a red sweater. I think I saw him enter the men’s restroom. He says yes, he was there, and he saw a kid at the urinal. Everything seemed fine. No, he did not see the kid leave. I jog up and down the sidewalks that weave through the park, asking everyone along the way if they’ve seen an eight-year-old boy who seemed lost. He was wearing jeans and a brown sweatshirt. No one has seen him.

As the seconds tick by, I try to calm myself. He has just wandered off. He has not been abducted. It doesn’t work; I am in full panic.

This is the awful story you read about but think it can never happen to you.

16.

After half an hour my mother is ready to collapse. A medic sits beside her on a park bench and tends to her. The police ask me to stay with her too, but I cannot sit still. There are cops everywhere. God bless them.

A young man in a dark suit introduces himself as Lynn Colfax. He is the detective in the Missing Children Division, City Police. What kind of sick society needs an entire section of its police department dedicated to missing children?

He and I walk through the final moments. I stand exactly where I was standing when Starcher left for the restroom, less than a hundred feet away. I kept my eyes on him until he went inside, then I was jolted by the sound of gunfire. Step by step, thought by thought, we go through it all.

The men’s restroom has only one door and no windows. It is inconceivable to me, and to Detective Colfax, that someone could grab an eight-year-old boy and physically remove him from the premises without being seen. But, at that moment, most of the people hanging around the Landing were either crouching behind benches or shrubs or flat on the ground as the bullets were fired. Other witnesses verify this. We estimate the diversion lasted fifteen, maybe twenty seconds. Plenty of time, I guess.

After an hour, I finally admit that Starcher has not simply wandered away. He has been taken.

17.

The best way to tell Judith is to make her see for herself. If something bad happens to our son, she will never forgive me, and she will always maintain that since I am such a lousy parent, am in fact thoroughly derelict in all areas of parental guidance, that his disappearance was and is completely my fault. Great, Judith. You win; I’m to blame.

It might help her to see the crime scene, especially with all the cops around.

I stare at my cell phone for a long time, then make the call. She answers with “What is it?”

I swallow hard and try to sound calm. “Judith, Starcher has disappeared. I’m at the Landing in City Park, with his grandmother, and with the police. He disappeared about an hour ago. You need to get down here now.”

She yells, “What?”

“You heard me. Starcher is missing. I think he’s been abducted.”

Again she yells, “What! How! Were you watching him?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I was. We’ll argue later. Just get down here.”

Twenty-one minutes later, I see her racing along the sidewalk, obviously a woman who’s scared out of her mind. As she approaches the Landing and sees all the policemen, then me, then the yellow crime scene ribbon strung around the restrooms, she stops, throws a hand over her mouth, and breaks down. Lynn Colfax and I walk over to her and try to calm her.

She grits her teeth and says, “What happened?”

She wipes her eyes as we go through it again. And again. She says nothing to me, as if I’m not a part of the drama. She won’t even look at me. She grills Colfax until all questions have been asked. She takes complete charge of the family’s side of things, even informs the detective that she is the custodial parent and all communication will be through her. Me, I’m viewed as nothing more than a negligent babysitter.

Judith has a photo of Starcher on her cell phone. Colfax e-mails this to his office. He says that posters will go up immediately. All alerts and warnings are already in play. Every policeman in the City is looking for Starcher.

18.

We eventually leave the Landing, though it is painful. I would prefer to sit here all afternoon and throughout the night, just waiting for my little boy to appear and ask, “Where’s my boat?” It is the last place he saw his father. If he’s just lost, then maybe he’ll find his way back. We’re sleepwalking through this, numb and stunned and telling ourselves that this is not really happening.

Lynn Colfax says he’s been through this before, and the best move right now is for us to meet at Central, in his office, and talk about how to proceed. It’s either an abduction, a disappearance, or a kidnapping, and all three pose different problems.

I take my mother to my apartment, where she is met by Partner. He’ll take care of her for a few hours. She’s blaming herself for not being more attentive, and she’s griping because that bitch Judith wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence. “Why did you ever marry that woman?” she asks. It wasn’t by choice. Really, Mom? Can’t we discuss this later?

Colfax has a neat desk and a calm, soothing presence. It means nothing to us—Judith and me. Ava, the third parent, is out of town. He begins by telling us a story about an abduction, one of the few with a happy ending. Most end badly, and I know this. I’ve read the summaries. With each passing hour, the chances of a good outcome get slimmer and slimmer.

He asks if there is anyone that we know of who might be a suspect? A relative, a neighbor, the pervert down the street, anyone? We shake our heads, no. I’ve already thought about Link Scanlon and I’m not ready to bring him into this. A kidnapping does not fit his profile. All he wants from me is $100,000 in cash, a refund, and I cannot believe he would resort to kidnapping my son for ransom. Link would prefer to break my right leg this week and my left leg the next.

Colfax says it’s useful to immediately promise a reward for information. He says a good starting point is $50,000. Judith, the sole parent, says, “I can handle that.” I doubt if she could stroke a check for that amount, but go, girl. “I’ll split it,” I say, as if we’re playing cards.

To make an unbearable situation even worse, Judith’s parents arrive and are escorted into the office. They grab their daughter and all three have a long cry. I stand against a wall, as far away as possible. They do not acknowledge my presence. Starcher lives with these grandparents about half the time, so they are very attached to him. I try to understand their grief, but I have loathed these people for so long I cannot stand the sight of them. When they settle down, they ask what happened and I tell them. Colfax helps me out with a few facts here and there. By the time we get through with the narrative, they are convinced everything was all my fault. Great—now we’re getting somewhere.