"Bottle? You want a bottle?"
A smile broke out around the thumb.
"How about some milk instead? I can do milk."
The child dropped to the floor, skinny legs crossed beneath him, suddenly anticipating his milk.
Jim nodded, then turned and stared at his cupboards. He had no plastic cups, only glass. Resigned, he took a small juice glass and filled it with milk. After a moment's consideration for his floor, he poured half of it back, then bent over and handed the glass to the child. "Is this okay cold, or am I supposed to heat this for you?"
The thumb emerged from the mouth, then dipped into the milk, and returned to the tiny mouth, sucking eagerly. Apparently the temperature was fine, as the thumb was abandoned for actually drinking out of the glass. In short time, the contents were drained, and the glass was lifted up to Jim. "Moh?"
"More? You want more?"
"Moh? Ba-ba moh." After a few more half-filled glasses, the child got to his feet, padded across the room to the kitchen, and dropped the empty glass in the garbage pail. "All gone."
"I think I'll keep that one, if you don't mind."
At least he was neat, Jim thought, digging out the juice glass and depositing it in his sink.
The clock was taking its sweet time; it would be a few hours before Naomi arrived, freeing him to spend more time looking for Blair. There was a small possibility that Sandburg had been kidnaped, but why would the kidnappers take one person and leave another? Blair might have pleaded for a trade, or even offered himself in exchange.
"Why wouldn't I have heard anything though? That doesn't make sense."
"Mama?" The child was dirty, but didn't appear to be injured or traumatized at all. Jim watched the toddler move around the living room staring at everything in the room. Finally the child stopped before the television and stared at the reflecting surface. A big smile crossed the little face, looking up at Jim in joy, then clapping his hands. "Look-ee."
"Did you just see yourself on television?"
"Baby," the child said, pointing.
"What's your name?"
"Baby."
"Yeah, whatever," Jim mumbled. "Baby, it is." He watched the child slap at the leaf on a plant and giggle as it came back and hit him on the face. While that repeated over and over, Jim put a plan into action. First, he had to get the kid clean. He smelled funny. Then he would ask Mrs Langital to keep an eye on him for an hour while Jim popped over to the police station and checked in with Simon.
So. Get the kid clean. He ran the bath water, making sure it was warm, but not too hot. The child came running at the sound of water -- apparently an interesting thing occurring - his hand reaching into the tub trying to feel the water, little fingers squirming.
"Hold that thought. I'll be right back." Jim stepped out of the room for a moment to get some towels, and he heard a loud splash from the tub, followed by a lot of small splashes. Running back, he found the kid had somehow gotten into the tub, little shorts and all, and was upright in the knee-high water now, running back and forth in the tub.
"Bath time with Bonzo," he muttered and set about with a soapy cloth, washing layers of dirt from the scrawny bony torso, arms and legs. With a practiced eye, Jim catalogued the scratches and bruises, the woven bracelet that didn't seem to want to come off, and, as the brown shorts were discarded, the equally tanned skin that showed a child quite used to running around outside naked. "You've got to be the child of one of Sandburg's street friends."
"Than-bug."
"Right. Sandburg."
"Than-bug."
"You know him? Huh? Do you know Blair Sandburg?"
"Than-bug. Than-bug." The child dropped back into the water, submerging himself, and Jim scrambled to get him above the waterline.
"Careful! You could drown!" Jim yelled sharply, dragging the little boy to his feet, skinny arms waving as he tried to get his balance.
The child pulled away, frowning at his tone of voice. "Bad. No-no. Bad." A pointed finger waved an inch from Ellison's nose. "No-no me."
Shit. Jim groaned, sitting down on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, kid." Damn it, Blair. Where are you? This is your scene more than mine. He's closer in height to you.
A tug on his shirt, and he raised his head. "What?"
The child awkwardly patted his back. "Nice nice."
"Not really. Not today, Baby." At the confused look on the little face, he offered a weak smile. "Sorry. It hasn't been the best day for me so far. It's not your fault." Solemn eyes stared at him. "Let's get you out of here."
The child shook his head, then patted his matted hair, toddling across the tub for the shampoo bottle.
"You want me to wash your hair?"
"Than-bug."
Jim took a deep breath and tried to keep calm. "Well, how about we use Than-bug's shampoo? How's that, Baby?"
Baby seemed happy enough with the idea, and submitted meekly to a quick hair shampoo and rinse.
Half dried off, it occurred to Ellison that he hadn't thought this through very carefully. With the little shorts wet, he had no clothes for the kid. With a sigh, he carried Baby across to Sandburg's room and grabbed a T-shirt from his roommate's dresser drawer and draped it over the kid's head. The child stared up at him in confusion, then looked down at his toes, hidden by the material.
"It's just for a few minutes. Give me a break, will you?"
"Bweak."
"What?"
"Peepee."
It didn't take an expert to figure that out. In record time, Jim had him sitting on the toilet, but fortunately the little guy seemed to know what he was doing, insisting on handling the toilet paper himself and then taking great concern in flushing the toilet, staring intently as the bowl emptied and refilled.
Then came the washing of his hands, drying them carefully on the T-shirt he was wearing. "All done," Baby said, turning and smiling triumphantly.
"Great." Ellison reached over and unplugged the bathtub before the kid took another nosedive. There was something about water that had this kid fascinated.
Baby stood now reverently at the side of the tub and watched wistfully as the water drained. "Bye-bye," he whispered as the water disappeared.
"Good grief," Ellison muttered under his breath. For a brief moment, he let his anger surface, then pushed it down again. It wasn't this kid's fault that Sandburg was missing, or that Ellison was stuck as babysitter, trying to put together the pieces. Still crouched down, he turned the child to face him. "Any chance you can say your last name?"
Blank look.
"Baby what? Baby . . ." he prompted.
"Baby."
"Yes, Baby who?
"Baby boy."
"Okay, then." Ellison stood up. "I've got to get some clothes for you." He scooped up the child, grabbed his cellphone, and hurried downstairs to the building's street-level stores.
The bell rang as he entered Colette's. "Hi, Betty."
"Hey, Detective. Who's this?"
"Friend of Sandburg." Ellison kept talking before she could jump in. "Listen, I got conned into watching the kid, and he had an accident, spilled milk all over himself. Any chance you've got any kids' clothes down here?"
Betty frowned, shaking her head. "No. Just adults. Oh, wait a sec, there might be some in the miscellaneous trunk."
Ellison followed her to the back of the store, relieved when she pulled out several articles of clothing. She made it simpler by sorting through them and handing him only the clothes that would fit Baby, a red and white striped T-shirt and a rather faded and worn pair of denim overalls. There weren't any socks or shoes, but Baby's previously dirty feet had suggested he rarely wore them anyway.
"There's even some shorts here."
"These should be perfect. Thanks."
"What's his name?"
"Baby."
"His name is Baby?" Betty asked, smiling.
"Yeah. That's what he's called." Ellison handed her the seven dollars, and took the clothes. He really didn't f
eel like discussing his mystery guest. "I don't need a bag. Thanks."
"Say hi to Blair, okay?"
"Sure."
Back at the loft, Jim dressed Baby quickly, trying to figure a plan of action. Before Naomi arrived, he needed to get to the station and use the computer there. Maybe a missing child report had been logged. Or some trace of his guide.
Jim wrote a note for his delinquent roommate saying where Baby was and set it on the counter by Blair's cell phone. Glancing at the time, he grabbed his badge and gun, scooped up the startled child again, then ran down to Mrs Langital's suite, apparently interrupting her soap opera.
"Detective Ellison," the grandmother said, with an indulgent smile, "what can I do for you? And who is this delightful little boy?"
"A friend of Blair's."
"Well, any friend of Blair's is a friend of mine, aren't you, you little sweetheart?" In between giggles and coos at Baby, she agreed to watch him for an hour. "Has he eaten recently?" she asked, as Jim turned to go.
"Eaten?"
"You know, breakfast?"
"Oh. He had some milk."
"That's all?" Mrs Langital looked shocked and Ellison squirmed. Okay, so he hadn't thought of food.
"Do you have anything for him? I'll pay you back -"
"Nonsense. He'll be fine here."
"Great. Thanks." The door closed, leaving him in the hallway, staring at the apartment number. "Station," he reminded himself, and left.
* * * * *
"Okay, run this by me again. What happened?" Simon asked, staring over the top of his glasses at his chief detective, currently pacing his office. "Where exactly is Sandburg?"
Jim twirled around, anger in his voice. "I don't know. If I knew where Sandburg was, I wouldn't be in here telling you this, now would I?"
"Calm down, Jim. One thing at a time. So Sandburg just disappeared from your place? What about his things?"
"His keys, wallet, shoes, coat - everything is at the loft. As far as I can tell, nothing is missing except the clothes he was wearing when he went to bed."
"Which was?"
"Dark gray sweat pants and a Cascade PD sweatshirt."
Simon noted it, then looked up. "You checked the university? His friends?"
"Everyone and every place I could think of."
"No note?"
"No note -- not really, anyway, there was something he had scribbled. I checked it and there were no other fingerprints on it."
"Cellphone and pager?"
"Both are at the loft."
"What about the door? Any sign of entry?"
"No sign of entry, the inside safety latch was still across the door - which it wouldn't have been if Sandburg had exited the loft through the front door. Only the window in his bedroom was open."
"So he left though the window?"
"I assume so. Although I don't know why."
"What about the balcony?"
"The door was locked from the inside."
"The phone?"
"I checked the call display on our cordless, and there were no incoming calls that I didn't hear. I checked his cellphone and there were no calls from him, no pages, and no incoming calls."
"So right now, the window is our only clue there."
"Yes, sir. I checked outside on the fire escape, and down into the alley, but I couldn't pick anything up."
"Even with your senses?"
"I was using my senses," Ellison said between clenched teeth, his jaw grinding.
Simon sat back in his chair, tapping his pen absently on the end of the desk. "When does Naomi's flight get in?"
"She didn't say where she was coming in from, but I suspect it will be around noon sometime. She hung up before telling me her flight information."
"It's eleven o'clock now. Are you going to get her at the airport?"
"She'll make her own way over. She usually does."
Glancing at his watch, the captain shook his head. "I don't know what to say, Jim. Off hand, I'd say that if Sandburg or the child's mother don't show up by 5:00 tonight, I'd call Family Services, regardless of the child's mother possibly being someone known to Sandburg. After twenty-four hours, we'll put out a missing person's on Sandburg, stressing his affiliation with the Cascade PD."
"Thank you." Ellison stared out the window at the city below. "Part of me wants to jump in the truck and drive around the streets, but I've no idea where to look."
Simon straightened up in his chair. "Jim, go home in case your partner or the child's mother show up. When Naomi gets there, she can watch the kid, and we'll figure out what to do next. Just keep me informed." The captain reached for a file in his in-box.
Ellison noted the name on the file. "Any word on Friday's concert?"
"Andrew Stibbs, the Emerald Theater manager, has agreed to let us post officers at the entrance and at all four exits."
"The bodies were found a block or two from the concert hall."
"We'll have extra patrols cruising the area, as well as the regular two officers on the beat. Rafe will be undercover with Connor at the concert." Simon looked up. "We have time to set this up later, Jim. See to your own missing person." The captain flipped through his phone index and dialed a number, glancing meaningfully at his door.
Knowing he was being dismissed, Ellison grudgingly left.
* * * * *
"Dim!"
Ellison cringed at the high-pitched squeal as Baby raced across Mrs Langital's carpeted floor toward him, arms outstretched with an ecstatic smile on his face. Unfortunately, the toddler tripped and fell, and the cry of joy turned to one of sorrow, intensifying until Ellison picked him up and clumsily rocked him while trying to juggle a bag of groceries.
"Dim - bad hurt - bad floor," the child sniffled finally. "Where Mama?"
"You're fine."
"Mama?"
"She's not here right now. You're fine."
"Fine?"
"Yes." God, he really wasn't into this whole baby talk thing. "Was he okay?" he asked Mrs Langital, as he edged to the door.
"He's a dear. No problem at all."
"Great. Thanks again."
With a heavy heart, Detective James Ellison trudged up the stairs to his apartment, a sniffling, over-tired child in one arm, and a crushed bag of groceries in the other.
* * * * *
It was almost 1:30 p.m., and Baby's all-too-brief nap had ended a half hour before. Repeating the earlier ritual, he had handed the child a glass of milk and gave him a bowl of Cheerios. Before he could add the milk, Baby had walked away with the bowl, happily crunching on the cereal, watching some mindless children's show on television.
Finally the sound Jim was waiting for. He threw open the door and Naomi Sandburg breezed through the entrance.
"Jim. Any sign of Blair yet? Have you heard anything?"
"Relax, Naomi. Take your coat off. Sit down, and we'll talk. I've made some tea for you."
The fiery redhead pulled off her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. "Jim, I'm so worried. Charlie was so insistent that I come right over."
"Blair is still missing," Jim told her, handing over a mug of scented tea. "He took off sometime between 3:30 and 6:30 this morning. I've no idea why. There's no sign of a break-in or anything. Frankly I don't know what to say." He sat down across from her.
"Maybe a friend called him or he just forgot to tell you-"
"No. He would have let me know. Besides, for some reason, he left a little kid here. I've no idea who he is. I've been hoping you can stay here and look after him, while I hit the road to see what I can find." Jim stood again and walked into the living room, picking up the child to show his roommate's mother. Baby twisted in his arms, trying to keep sight of the television screen, but when he saw there was someone new in the room, the adventures of Fu-Fu Bunny took second place.
Jim looked up as Naomi's chair toppled to the floor. Naomi was standing, one hand over her mouth as she stared at Baby.
"You know him?" Jim asked hopefully
.
Naomi crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.
* * * * *
They sat on the couch in the living room, the child sitting between them, sucking his thumb and watching Fu-Fu Bunny on the Children's Network. Jim carefully dabbed a cool washcloth on Naomi's forehead and the side of her neck. She opened her eyes again and nodded, taking the cloth from Jim's hand and holding it against her cheek.
A Step Backwards Page 4