Far behind me, the bright lights of the first responders glow against the low hanging clouds. Soon, a team will be sent to help me find the kids. I break branches on purpose, marking my trail to help them follow me.
That’s if I’m even headed in the right direction. My senses aren’t foolproof. Maybe I just want to believe I can find them, want to believe I can be a hero.
Maybe I’m fooling myself.
I duck under a stand of pine trees that offers some protection against the wind. Several footprints are easily seen here. The kids had taken shelter under these pines as well. I have no idea how long of a head start they have on me. How long their mom laid broken and bleeding before we found her. I shout for them, hoping they are close by.
The wind howls in response. Two sets of prints wander from under the pine tree. The older boy must be carrying the toddler.
It reminds me of the “Footprints in the Sand” plaque Grandma Dot has hanging in her bathroom. A poem about how God carries us when we need it most. I say a quick prayer that he’s carrying the kids now and carrying me to them.
After breaking a large branch from the pine tree to direct the police search team, I follow in the direction of the kids.
My tattoo sizzles with pain so hot I cry out in pain.
Faster, run, hurry.
I push against the vines and branches, jog through the open areas. “I’m going as fast as I can,” I yell into the wind. “I’m doing my best.”
The light on my phone only illuminates so far, and the pale moonlight doesn’t help much under the trees. I don’t see any more footprints or other signs of the kids. Desperate now, I crash along, hoping my feet will find the right path.
The moonlight behind the trees grows brighter, where the wooded area gives way to an open field.
Almost there, run.
I shove my phone in my pocket and sprint as fast as I can for the edge of the woods. In the dim light, I don’t see the wire fence line. The ancient fence has been smooshed to only a few feet tall, and is buried in years of leaves and fallen branches.
The top wire hits me just above my knees and I fall flat on my face in the snow. It takes me a moment to realize what happened. I lift my face from the snow and look across the open field.
Far across the field two shadows hurry. One small shape that must be the girl and an awkwardly shaped one that must be the older boy carrying the toddler.
Still lying in the snow, I scream for the kids, but they’re too far away to hear me
With my eye locked on the shadows, I scramble to get up. The barbed wire at the top of the fence has caught on my jeans. I shake my leg, kicking to get free. The rusty wire digs into my skin.
I look away from the kids and concentrate on releasing my leg from the barb. Finally free, I jump up and run through the snow.
We’ve travelled one country block and the next road north of the wreck site cuts through the fields near the kids. Headlights cut through the blowing snow on that road. The car is driving slowly, too slowly even considering the weather.
I sprint as fast as I can through the field, the snow and the corn stubble beneath catching on my dress boots.
“Wait,” I yell into the wind.
The car stops near the kids.
I pound as fast as I can. I jog at the park regularly, so I’m in fairly good shape, but soon my lungs ache and my legs burn. I don’t give in to my weakness. My tattoo urges me forward.
The driver gets out of the car and waves to the kids.
Everything in me screams, “Don’t do it!”
The driver looks up suddenly, as if they heard me, then focuses back on the kids.
The children hurry to the driver. The older boy hands the toddler to the driver, then helps his sister up the small bank of weeds at the edge of the field.
I continue to run, panicked, desperate to stop the kids from leaving. Gasping and struggling through the snow, I watch the kids climb into the car willingly.
Nothing seems dangerous. The kids don’t seem scared.
The car pulls away, driving much faster than it was when it arrived.
The kids are gone.
They should be safe.
My entire body screams, “No!”
With no reason to keep running, I fall to my knees in the snow.
The tingling of my tattoo has stopped.
The hurry, faster, run, in my head has stopped.
The wind has even stopped.
I kneel alone in the center of the field. A heavy cloud covers the moon and the stars. It’s so dark, I can barely see anything.
Tears of frustration and shame squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. I wipe angrily at them. Stickers and thorns and various pieces of the woods have snagged onto my thin cotton gloves, and scratch my face.
I deserve the pain, deserve the scratches.
It looks like the kids are now safe.
I know they’re not. I was too late. I didn’t save them.
Whoever ran their car off the road, killing that man and probably their mother has the kids.
She told them to run. She told me to save them.
The kids ran, but I didn’t save them.
Chapter 3
LUCAS
I’m not surprised when Gabby runs off into the freezing woods alone. She’s the most stubborn and impulsive woman I’ve ever known.
And dangerous. She’s right, God does guide her, but I’ve had to help her out of serious scrapes on more than one occasion. If she’d just listen to me once in a while, or let me help her, it would be better for everyone.
But if she did that, she wouldn’t be Gabby. I might as well try to stop the wind from blowing. I’d get the same result as trying to control Gabby.
The EMTs soon appear and take over caring for the injured woman. After her few muttered words, she has been quiet. Her pulse is steady and her breathing is steady. Her head is bleeding, but it looks like the air bag may have taken the worst of the impact.
With the EMTs in charge, I step away from the crushed car and survey the rest of the scene. Gabby said the car was run off the road on purpose. The tracks down the bank from the road do match that scenario.
The car seats and things in the back seat make it obvious that there had been kids in the car at some time. The woman did mention kids.
Who would run an entire family off the road on purpose on Christmas Eve?
I’m so focused on surveying the scene I don’t notice Dustin until he’s at my side.
“What’ve you got so far?” my best friend and partner asks.
I fill him in on the few details I have. Dustin’s shoulders rise in tension as I explain how we came to find the wreck in the first place and how Gabby knows about the car being forced down the bank and into the trees.
“Leave it to my sister,” he grumbles. He scans the scene. “Where is she, anyway?”
I hadn’t told him that part yet, knowing he’d be angry. Angry at her for running off and angry at me for letting her go alone. I explain what happened and Gabby’s theory about the missing children.
Dustin huffs in disapproval. He’s tried hard the last month or so to be more understanding about his sister and how she operates. His brush with death put things in perspective, I guess.
Dustin starts barking orders. Technically, he’s still on medical leave and not on duty, but that doesn’t stop him from taking charge. As other officers join the scene, he puts together a search party.
“Gabby McAllister has gone off this way,” Dustin motions with his arm that’s still in a sling from being shot a few weeks ago, “Supposedly to find three children that ran away from the scene.”
A few grumbles filter through the group at the mention of Gabby. Dustin’s tone and ‘supposedly’ doesn’t help matters any.
I step up and take over. “Just before the woman victim lost consciousness, she asked Gabby to find her children.” The group quiets and takes the situation more seriously. “She started off in that direction. Judging b
y the items in the car, we are looking for a baby, a preschooler and an older child.”
The team starts off into the trees and brush. I’m anxious to go with them, but Olivia is still alone in my car up on the road. “Is Alexis and Walker with you?” I ask Dustin.
“She dropped me off and headed home.” Dustin looks towards the road. “You still have Olivia up there, don’t you?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Would she mind?”
“Not at all. She gets it.”
After a short conversation with Alexis, he hangs up. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
I hate to put off searching for Gabby, but I have to put my daughter first right now. I push through the brush and up the bank to my car.
Olivia is sitting in the back seat, her head leaning against the window. Amidst all the lights and activity, she’s fallen asleep. My heart hurts looking at her. I’m surprised as I always am at the massive rush of love that courses through me. She is the most precious thing.
And I’ve left her on the side of the road at a crime scene on Christmas Eve.
She deserves better.
I open the back door and slide in next to her. The running car is overly warm after kicking around in the blowing snow in my dress coat and slacks. The sudden gust of cold and my presence wakes her.
She opens her eyes and leans sleepily against my shoulder. “Can we go home now?” she asks. “Santa’s coming.”
“We can’t go home yet, Ollie-bug. But how about you go with Aunt Alexis and Walker and wait for Santa there?”
She pushes away from my shoulder. The tiny space of air between us stings.
“You’re not coming with me? But it’s Christmas.” She fights to keep the whine out of her voice.
“I know, baby. I’m really sorry. But someone got hurt down there. And some little kids got lost in the snow storm. I have to stay and help find them.”
“Can Gabby take me home? We can wait for you at your house.”
I think about my answer for a moment. “Well, see, Gabby went out looking for the missing kids already. We’re kind of looking for her, too.”
Olivia sits fully upright. The tilt of her chin reminds me of her mom, Amber. The space of air between us grows. “Did she have another one of her psycho things?” Her sweet voice has a hard edge to it now.
“It’s psychic, and yes, something like that.” How do I explain Gabby to an eight year old? “Gabby sensed the kids were in trouble, so she went to help. That’s what Gabby does. She helps people.”
“Then she should be a cop like you,” Olivia says sensibly.
“We all help people in our own way.” Alexis’s minivan pulls close to my car, saving me from a deeper discussion. “Look, Olivia, I’m really sorry. I truly am. But think of the little kids out there in the cold. It’s Christmas for them, too. At least you’ll be safe and warm with Alexis and Walker.”
Olivia opens her door. I think for a minute she’s going to climb out of the car without another word. She stops, though, thinking. She suddenly throws her arms around my neck.
“Go save those kids, Daddy. And find Gabby. I hope they’re all okay.” She snuggles her face into my neck and my heart melts.
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper into her ear.
Alexis appears and helps Olivia out of the car. Dustin’s wife’s eyes meet mine. A mixture of sorrow and annoyance with a heavy dose of resigned acceptance fills her expression.
“Thanks for coming back to get her,” I say lamely.
Alexis shrugs. As a cop’s wife, she’s used to the sacrifices. “We all have to help each other,” she says the words, but there’s little conviction behind them. She looks at Olivia, “Uncle Dustin called Santa and told him you would be staying at our house tonight, so don’t you worry.”
Olivia beams at me. “Did you hear that?”
“I did. Now you better get there and go to bed so he can come.” To Alexis, I mouth, “Thank you.”
She gives me a small smile, and shuts the car door.
I take a short moment alone in the overly heated car to switch mental gears. I reach over the back seat and turn off my car. As I reach, I step on something hard on the back floor board. It’s the book Grandma Dot gave Olivia tonight. I pick up the book and wipe the dirty snow off on my pants. The cover comes clean, but I’ve bent it so badly, a crease cuts through the face of the puppy on the front.
I stare at the ruined book, a physical symbol of Olivia’s ruined Christmas. “Don’t screw this up this year,” Amber had said to me when I picked Olivia up yesterday. “She’s old enough to remember things like a ruined holiday now.”
I’d glared in frustration at my ex-wife then, sure she was exaggerating. “I think I can handle a Christmas,” I’d said as evenly as my damaged pride would allow.
“Let’s hope so.” Resentment seethed behind her words, but she quickly changed to all smiles as Olivia joined us on the front porch.
I rub at the broken book as if my touch could return it to the perfect condition it was in only hours ago when Olivia unwrapped it. I’ll have to ask Grandma Dot where she got it and replace it before Olivia sees the damage.
“You have bigger things to worry about than a puppy book right now,” I say out loud, giving myself a mental shake. I shove the book far under the car seat for now.
I’ve done the best I can for Olivia right now.
One girl I love is safe and warm.
Now I need to find the other one.
With all the fresh footprints from the search team, it’s tricky to know which way to go through the woods. I start in the direction I’m pretty sure Gabby went in. Several yards in, I find a what looks like a recently broken branch.
“That’s my smart girl,” I mutter. “Mark the trail.”
The wind had been quiet for the few minutes I was in the car, but it has picked back up and blasts even harder now. The snow has changed from flakes to tiny chips of stinging ice. They blow sideways, stinging my bare cheeks. My ears strain to hear the shouts or whistles or some signal the children have been found. I only hear the wind and the ice hitting the ground.
I try calling Gabby on her cell, but she doesn’t answer. Until now, I’ve kept my concern on the kids, trusting Gabby to keep herself safe. When she doesn’t answer her phone, I increase my pace.
Can’t hear the phone in this wind, that’s all.
The search party has spread out through the brush and trees, obviously missing the broken branches I’ve been following. The team had taken off in pairs, I find myself alone with my growing fear. Are these broken branches even from her? Maybe an animal broke them, or the weight of the snow. I wish I had a tattoo to guide me the way Gabby does.
I only have my instincts. I trudge on, following the path I’m fairly certain she took.
The light grows beyond the edge of the trees, indicating a field. With my powerful flashlight, I follow what looks like Gabby’s foot prints until I reach a half-downed wire field fence.
A patch of snow on the other side of the fence is flattened. It looks like someone tripped over the fence and fell into the snow.
The tiniest of smiles crosses my lips. Gabby has a way of acting without thinking, tripping and falling in her enthusiasm. The marks in the snow are definitely hers.
A tiny piece of denim fabric clings to one of the sharp points on the barbed wire. I pluck the fabric and tuck it into my pocket.
After carefully climbing over the fence, I scan the field with my light. The beam only reaches so far into the snow covered corn stubble, but I can see a line of footprints in the snow. Flashlights are helpful in the dark, but they also make it harder to see beyond the beam.
I switch off the light and wait until my eyes adjust to the dark. Off to my left I see two officers searching the ground. Far across the field, on the next country road, I see a bump that looks out of place.
The bump moves.
My heart sinks as I recognize the shape of the bump even in the dark. Gabby
is on the road.
Following her prints in the snow, I sprint across the field as fast as I can. I radio that I’ve found Gabby, but direct the search party to keep looking for the kids.
The blood pounds in my ears as I run and my dress shoes slide through the snow. The bump on the road continues to move. That’s a good thing. If she’s been hit by a car or something, at least she’s still alive.
As I grow closer, I realize that the shape is Gabby on her hands and knees.
“Gabby,” I shout once I’m close enough for her to hear over the blasting wind.
She looks up guiltily, but doesn’t stand.
I climb through the weeds at the edge of the field. “What are you doing in the road? Are you hurt?”
Her face is full of misery, but not physical pain.
“I lost them,” she says wildly. “They were right here and someone took them.”
I crouch next to her, turn my light back on and scan the road. “What are you looking for?” I ask gently.
“I’m not looking. I’m trying to sense where they went or who took them.”
Gabby only senses things with her left hand, but she has both of her gloves off. She’s frantically pressing her palms into the icy asphalt. By her desperate state, I don’t have to ask if she’s getting anything.
“They’re gone. Someone pulled over and they got into the car. I ran as fast as I could to save them, but I was too late.”
“If someone picked them up, then they’re safe.” I touch her shoulder, trying to soothe her.
“But they’re not. Whoever their mom told them to run from is the same person who picked them up.”
She’s still on her hands and knees in the road. Luckily at this time of night on a holiday, there’s no traffic.
“You don’t know that for sure,” I say. Her head snaps up with anger. I regret the words instantly. “I mean, you never know, maybe the mom was wrong and the kids are perfectly fine,” I back-pedal.
“I know they’re not fine.” She shoves her bare hands onto the snowy road again. “If I could just get something, who the person was, what they wanted with the kids. Anything.”
I pull her hands off the ground and rub them between my heavy gloves. “You’re freezing.” I blow warm air on her hands. A tip of her finger touches my lips. It’s ice cold. “You’ve done all you can. Thanks to you, we know the kids aren’t out here lost in the snow somewhere.”
Message of Murder 04-Message in the Snow Page 2