NINE

They settle on three million dollars. It’s a lot of money, but it won’t ruin Richard and Alice Dries. The couple has millions more. They can afford it.

Less than twenty-four hours after they first reported their baby missing, early Saturday evening, Anne and Marco face the media again. They have not spoken to the press since seven o’clock that morning. Once again they have carefully crafted a message at their coffee table with the help of Detective Rasbach and then gone out onto the front steps to give a statement.

This time Anne has changed into a simple but chic black dress. No jewelry, save pearl earrings. She has showered, washed her hair, even applied a small amount of makeup, trying to put on a brave face. Marco has also showered and shaved and changed into a white shirt and clean jeans. They look like an attractive, professional couple in their thirties, blindsided by tragedy.

When they step out onto the small porch, just before the six-o’clock newscasts, the cameras flash as before. Interest in the case has built throughout the day. Marco waits for the hubbub to die down and then addresses the reporters. “We would like to make another statement,” he says loudly, but he is immediately interrupted before he can begin.

“How do you explain the mix-up in what the baby was wearing?” someone asks from the sidewalk below them.

“How could you make a mistake like that?” another voice demands.

Marco glances at Rasbach and then answers, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “I believe the police already issued a statement about that earlier, but I’ll tell you again.” He takes a deep breath. “We put Cora down earlier in the evening in the pink onesie. When my wife fed her at eleven o’clock, the baby spit up on her sleeper. My wife changed her into a different one, a mint green onesie, in the dark, but then in all the distress of her being taken we simply forgot that.” Marco’s manner is cold.

The crowd of reporters is silent at this, digesting it. Suspicious.

Marco takes advantage of the silence and reads from his prepared text. “Anne and I love Cora. We will do anything to get her back. We beg whoever took her to return her to us. We are able to offer the sum of three million dollars.” There is a gasp from the crowd, and Marco waits. “We are able to offer three million dollars to whoever has our baby. I’m speaking to you, to whoever has Cora—call us and we will talk. I know you are probably watching. Please contact us, and we will find a way to get the money to you in exchange for our daughter’s safe return.”

Then Marco lifts his head and says directly to the cameras, “I say to the person who has her, I promise you there will be no charges. We just want her back.”

He has gone off the prepared script with this last bit, and Detective Rasbach’s right eyebrow rises slightly.

“That’s all.”

The bulbs flash furiously as Marco lowers the piece of paper in his hand. The reporters pepper him with questions, but he turns his back on them and helps Anne into the house. Detectives Rasbach and Jennings follow them inside.

Rasbach knows that regardless of Marco’s message, the kidnapper, whoever he or she is, will not be immune from prosecution. The parents don’t get to make that call. The kidnapper no doubt knows it as well. If this is in fact a kidnapping for ransom, the trick is to get the money into the hands of the person who has the baby and get the baby back unharmed without anybody panicking and doing something stupid. But the crime of kidnapping is a serious one, so for a kidnapper, if things go south, the temptation to kill the victim and dump the body to avoid being caught is strong.

Back inside the house, Rasbach says, “Now we wait.”

 • • • 

Marco is finally able to persuade Anne to go upstairs and try to get some rest. She’s had some soup and crackers—all she’s had to eat all day. She’s had to pump her breast milk periodically, retreating to the baby’s room to do this in privacy. But pumping is not as effective as nursing a suckling baby, and now she is engorged, her breasts swollen, hot to the touch, and sore.

Before she tries to nap, she must pump again. She sits in her nursing chair and is overwhelmed with tears. How is it possible that she is sitting in this chair and instead of looking down at her baby girl at her breast—opening and closing her little fists and staring up at her mother with those big round blue eyes, those long lashes—she is pumping out her milk by hand into a plastic container to be dumped down the bathroom drain? It takes a long time. First one breast, then the other.

How is it that she can’t remember changing the baby out of the pink onesie? What else can she not remember about that night? It’s shock, she’s sure. That’s all it is.

Finally she is done. She rearranges her clothing and gets up out of the nursing chair and makes her way to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. As she dumps the breast milk into the sink, she stares at herself in the fractured mirror.

 • • • 

Rasbach walks a few blocks from the Contis’ home to a street of fashionable shops, galleries, and restaurants. It is another hot, humid summer evening. He stops for a quick meal and reviews what he knows. The babysitter unexpectedly canceled at 6:00 p.m.—he has to assume the baby was alive at that time. The Contis were at the neighbors’ by seven o’clock, probably giving them insufficient time to kill and dispose of the baby between the call from the babysitter and going next door. Also, no one appears to have seen either of them leave the house between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m. the day before, with or without the baby.

Both Marco and Anne say that Marco had checked on the baby—using their back door—at twelve thirty. Marco claims that the motion detector was working at that time. Forensics has found fresh tire tracks in the garage that don’t match the Contis’ car. Paula Dempsey witnessed a car without headlights going quietly down the lane away from the Contis’ house at 12:35 a.m. The lightbulb in the motion detector had obviously been loosened.

Which means either the kidnapper struck after twelve thirty—sometime between when Marco checked on the baby and when the couple returned home—and the car Paula Dempsey saw was irrelevant, or Marco was lying and had disabled the light himself and taken the baby out to the waiting car. The baby didn’t fly to the garage. Someone carried her, and the only footprints in the yard belong to Marco and Anne. The driver, or accomplice, if there had been one, likely never got out of the car. Then Marco returned to the party and sat casually smoking cigarettes in the neighbors’ backyard and flirting with the neighbor’s wife.

There’s one problem: the babysitter. Marco could not have known that the babysitter would cancel. The fact that there was supposed to be a babysitter in the home argues against this being a carefully planned kidnapping for ransom.

But—he might be looking at something more spontaneous.

Had the husband or wife killed the baby accidentally, in a fit of anger perhaps, either between six and seven—perhaps the baby was harmed during their argument—or at some time when they were checking on her through the night? If something like that had happened, had they then hurriedly arranged for someone to help them dispose of the baby in the early hours of the morning?

It bothers him, the pink onesie. The mother says she tossed it in the laundry hamper beside the changing table. But it was found hidden underneath the pad of the changing table. Why? Perhaps she was sufficiently drunk that she hadn’t stuffed the soiled sleeper into the laundry hamper but instead shoved it underneath the pad. If she was drunk enough to think she’d put the onesie in the hamper when she hadn’t, was she drunk enough to drop the baby? Maybe she dropped her, and the baby struck her head and died. Maybe the mother smothered her. If that’s what happened, how had the parents arranged so quickly for someone to take the baby away? Who would they call?

He has to find the possible accomplice. He will get the Contis’ home- and cell-phone records and find out whether either of them called anyone between six and twelve thirty on the night in question.

If the baby hadn’t been killed, either accidentally or deliberately by either one of the parents, would they stage a kidnapping?

Rasbach can guess why they might. There’s three million dollars to be had. Possibly more. Motivation enough for almost anybody. The ease with which the child’s grandparents offered the money to the distressed parents was telling.

Rasbach will soon know as much as it is possible to know about Anne and Marco Conti.

Now it’s time to interview the neighbors.