"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've been straight for six months. No weed, no beer, going to church every Sunday, working eight-to-six in my daddy's restaurant. Peggy Sue told me if I didn't clean up my act, she'd divorce me and get sole custody of my daughter. And I've been doing good, until today."

"Do you blame yourself for what happened?"

He nodded, still looking down. "I was watching her."

"Tell me what happened.

From the beginning."

"We came out of the 'It's a Small World' exhibit. Peggy Sue got on line to buy snacks, and me and Shannon went looking for hidden Mickeys."

"Hidden what?"

"Hidden Mickeys."

"Is that a game?"

"There's hundreds of hidden images of Mickey Mouse in the park," he explained. "They're in tables and on buildings and sometimes you see them in shadows at certain times of the day. We're staying at a Disney hotel, and they've got a promotion if you find a certain number of them. Shannon was looking at a hidden Mickey carved in a shrub, and I went to help Peggy Sue with the snacks. When I came back, my baby was gone."

"How long did you leave your daughter?"

"Half a minute."

"Do you consider Shannon's disappearance your fault?"

Tram choked up. "Yeah."

"So you screwed up."

"I've been doing that my whole life."

"Answer the question."

"Yeah, I screwed up."

"But you didn't sell her to someone."

Tram shook his head, and tears flowed down his cheeks. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. But I wanted wanted to believe him, and sometimes that's the best emotion to run with. I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder, and he looked up at me hopefully. to believe him, and sometimes that's the best emotion to run with. I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder, and he looked up at me hopefully.

"Okay," I said.

Tram and Peggy Sue were reunited, and Sally drove them to the front entrance of the Magic Kingdom in a golf cart. I followed in a separate cart, watching Tram from a distance. The kid was still bothering me, and I wondered if he was high on something when his daughter disappeared. That would explain his hyped-up behavior.

We reached the entrance, parked, and got out. There were ten turnstiles. A pair of Disney security guards stood at each turnstile, holding a picture of Shannon Dockery while watching people pa.s.s through. Characters in Mickey Mouse costumes also stood by the turnstiles. Sally must have heard about Shannon's fascination with hidden Mickeys and decided this would be a good way to draw the child out.

I stood with Tram and his wife and Sally on a patch of gra.s.s beside the entrance. Sally asked Peggy Sue what kind of shoes her daughter was wearing. She explained that while the abductors had probably changed Shannon's clothes, they wouldn't know what size shoes she wore and would have to leave those on her feet.

"Pink Reeboks," Peggy Sue said.

"You sure she wasn't wearing her flip-flops?" Tram asked.

"She wanted to wear her flip-flops, but I wouldn't let her," Peggy Sue said. "My daughter's wearing pink Reeboks."

Sally went to each pair of guards and instructed them to be on the lookout for a child wearing pink Reeboks. Ten minutes pa.s.sed, and hundreds of families walked by. Everything was being done by the book, but there was a problem. Too many small children were walking past to let the guards get a good look at each one. I pulled Sally aside.

"This is only going to get worse as the park starts to clear out," I said.

"What should I do?" Sally asked.

"Slow the lines down."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Half the people inside the Magic Kingdom are infants," Sally explained. "These kids have to eat, go to the bathroom, take a nap. If the lines start backing up, they'll start screaming, and we'll have a full-blown catastrophe on our hands."

Sally was starting to sound desperate. She'd done everything she could, yet knew it wasn't good enough. I stared at the families pouring through the turnstiles. Fort Lauderdale also had theme parks, and I had lost a four-year-old girl on my watch two years earlier that I would forever lose sleep over. Her disappearance was a total mystery until a maintenance man told his bosses about some odd things he'd discovered in the trash.

"Can you get me into the park?" I asked.

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"I want to search the area where Shannon was abducted."

"I'll get one of the guards to drive you," Sally said.

I pointed at Tram standing nearby, holding his wife's hand.

"I want him to come with me," I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

A Disney security guard drove us inside the Magic Kingdom in a golf cart. I sat behind Tram and watched him jerk his head at every infant we pa.s.sed. He was crazy with worry and called out his daughter's name several times. Disney security guard drove us inside the Magic Kingdom in a golf cart. I sat behind Tram and watched him jerk his head at every infant we pa.s.sed. He was crazy with worry and called out his daughter's name several times.

The guard parked near the "It's a Small World" exhibit, and we hopped out. This had been my daughter's favorite ride when she was little. If prompted, Jessie would sing the entire song from memory, although it had been years since I'd asked. I hummed the chorus and saw Tram stiffen.

"You trying to be funny?" he asked.

"No, just trying to stay calm. Mind my asking you a question?"

Tram didn't answer me.

"What are you on?" I asked.

Tram swallowed his Adam's apple.

"I ain't on nothing."

"Stick to telling the truth. You're better at it."

"I am telling the truth," he said defensively.

I was close enough to him to smell his breath. It was mint flavored with a hint of something acidic: The smell was one I'd encountered countless times before. He'd been drinking, and I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

"Stop lying to me, you stupid little son of a b.i.t.c.h," I said. "You've been hitting the sauce, haven't you?"

His defiant att.i.tude melted away. "I had a couple of beers for breakfast, that's all."

"Then what was the bulls.h.i.t line about you quitting?"

"I slipped."

"How many is a couple?"

"A six-pack."

"Does your wife know that?"

Tram shook his head.

"So you were drunk when your daughter got s.n.a.t.c.hed."

Tram's face twisted with agony. With many missing children cases, there was often another crime behind the abduction. Sometimes the crime was excusable, like a parent bowing to a child's demand to go inside a store alone. Other times, the crime was so d.a.m.ning that it could never be excused. In this case, Tram Dockery was not a fit parent, and didn't deserve the second chance the world had given him.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you, son," I said.

I made Tram take me to the last place he'd seen Shannon. The guard tagged along and stood dutifully to one side. He was an older black man with wispy hair and watery eyes. His expression said he'd seen many like Tram before.

"Shannon was right here the last time I saw her," Tram said.

We were standing by an enormous bush carved to look like Mickey Mouse. Tram pointed at a concession stand thirty feet away.

"Peggy Sue was over there carrying two cardboard trays, and I went to help her," he said. "When I came back, my baby was gone."

I did a three-sixty revolution and looked for places where a person could have taken Shannon without being spotted. I was suspicious about the fact that Shannon wasn't heard during her abduction, until the doors to the "It's a Small World" exhibit opened. Then, five hundred noisy kids and their parents poured out, and I realized that Shannon could have been screaming her head off and not been heard.

"What's your name?" I asked the guard.

"Vernon," the guard replied. "People call me Vern."

"Vern, where's the closest restroom?"

"There are several," he said.

"Do they all have family restrooms?"

"No, only the restroom around the corner has that."

"Show me," I said.

Vern led us to a small redbrick building right off the main drag. It had three doors-His, Hers, and Family-and was a perfect place to bring a child to. I banged on the door for Family. Getting no answer, I went inside.

Like everything at Disney, the bathroom's interior was spotlessly clean. In the corner sat a metal trash can, and I dragged it outside onto the gra.s.s. Pulling off the top, I rummaged through the smelly diapers and other garbage stuffed inside.

"What you doing?" Tram asked.

"Looking for your daughter's clothes."

"You think they changed her, huh?"

"Yes, I do."

Tram started to help. His face was milk white, and he was sucking down air. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought he was having an epiphany and going through a life-altering experience. But more than likely, it was all the beer he'd drunk burning through his system. I held up a child's ripped T-shirt.

"This look familiar?"

Tram squinted at the piece of clothing and shook his head.

"No, that ain't hers."

We kept searching. Vern was a step ahead of us and pulled trash containers out of the two other lavatories, dumping their contents onto the gra.s.s as well. By the time we were done, garbage was strewn everywhere. Vern made a call on his walkie-talkie and told someone to send people to clean up our mess.

"There's another place we should check," Vern said.

"Lead the way," I told him.

We followed Vern a hundred feet down a path. He stopped at a trash container designed to look like a Chinese paG.o.da. Yanking open a metal door, Vern removed an enormous garbage bag and dumped the contents onto the walkway. We started to sift through the pile.

Mostly it contained wrappers with half-eaten food or juice containers. Near the bottom, Tram found a plastic bag with its mouth tied in rabbit ears. Tearing the bag open, he let out a shout. Stuffed inside were a child's pink shorts and matching pink shirt.