by Wanda Dyson
Gerry met up with JJ and Matt in the backyard. “Man, this just does not add up.”
“What doesn’t?” Matt asked.
“Mrs. Marsh told me the Matthews’ housekeeper didn’t have a car. She always saw the woman coming on foot. This woman says that this Mary woman was driving a nice burgundy Concorde. The descriptions of the woman match. . .”
“But the names don’t,” JJ interjected. “Gerry, you go talk to the landlord. See what you can find out and see if he’ll give you the keys. I’d like to take a look inside. Maybe she left something behind that will give us a clue as to where she went in such a hurry.”
Nothing in the house told them where the woman had gone, and one envelope found in the bottom of the trash can muddied the waters even more. “It’s addressed to a Nancy Darrington, but at a different address. That’s three names now. Will the real name please stand up?” Gerry tossed the envelope into a plastic bag and marked it for evidence.
Matt walked into the room, disgust written all over his face. “Nothing in the bedrooms.”
JJ leaned against the kitchen counter. Here was a woman who used three different names, had a key to the Matthews’ home, quit a few days before the child disappeared from the home, and left no trace of evidence to say where she was headed. She was described by the neighbor as withdrawn, cautious, nervous, secretive. And she was seen with a child’s car seat even though she didn’t have a child. It all added up to one very strong suspect.
JJ pushed off the counter. “Find this woman.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Matt assured him.
“And, Matt? Find her fast.”
Matt nodded. “I hear ya.”
#
Karen twisted the tissue in her hands, her head bowed, as Reverend Pollack continued to talk. His words flitted in and out of her mind, barely registering. It had been a mistake to come here and impose on his time. She should have realized that he was a busy man. But he’d been honest with her. He could give her twenty minutes just before choir practice.
Suddenly his words hit a chord and she lifted her head.
“They were already printed before we heard the tragic news, but we will have it in next week’s bulletin.”
Karen shook her head as if to clear it. “In the bulletin?”
“For prayer requests,” he repeated slowly, as if he suddenly realized she wasn’t “all there.” He lifted his hands with a shrug. “I had hoped to get it in this week, but. . .”
“Next week,” she parroted. “I can’t let myself think that Jess might still be missing another week or more. I want her home now.”
“I’m sure you do, Mrs. Matthews, but you have to understand the ways of the world. Most abducted children are never found. That’s just the way it is.”
The anger she’d been suppressing for days erupted. She jumped to her feet. “I don’t want to hear about the way it is or statistics or anything except that Jessica will be returned to me. Alive and whole and in my arms. And I can’t believe I’ve been attending this church all my life and not one person has bothered to call and offer help! It took a neighbor that I barely know to show up with prayers and support! Do you have any idea how sad that is?”
Reverend Pollack slapped his hands on his desk and used them to push himself to his feet, his round face turning a bright red that crept right across his bald head. “I’m sure you’re just upset, but. . .”
Karen snatched up her purse and rushed out of the office, not stopping until she was out in the parking lot, ignoring the sideways glances of choir members making their way into the church. Leaning against the car, she let herself sob.
I’m sorry, God. I don’t understand where You are in any of this. Where is my daughter? Why did You take her away?
“Like are you okay, Mrs. Matthews?”
Karen snapped her head up to find herself looking at one of the teens who sang in the choir. “I’m fine, Carolyn. Thanks.”
“I heard about your little girl. I’m so sorry. I want you to know you’re in my prayers.”
The words pierced her heart with all the accuracy of a Bowie knife. “Thanks, Carolyn. That means more to me than you could know.”
“I wanted to call, but. . .I just didn’t know if you’d appreciate strangers calling at a time like this.”
“You’re not a stranger, sweetheart. But I appreciate your consideration.”
“If there’s anything I can do, like. . .will you let me know? I’ve been going to this youth group meeting over at that new church on Ridley Street, and we were talking about maybe putting together posters and hanging them up all over town.”
“Jeff and Rene’s church?”
Carolyn nodded then looked around cautiously. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? You know my family’s been in this church for generations and my mom isn’t thrilled that I like another church better. Considers it like treason or something.”
Karen smiled as Carolyn shuffled her feet. “I won’t say a word. I’ve been thinking about checking out that church myself. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime.”
Carolyn grinned, her braces flashing with red and black bands. “Great! I gotta go. Bye.”
“Good-bye, Carolyn.” Karen turned back to see a news van pull up next to her car. A few seconds later, a reporter jumped out of the van and ran over.
“Mrs. Matthews. Can I have a moment of your time?”
#
John Darrington was at the station less than two hours after Gerry called him. He was a big man, standing a shade over six feet and weighing at least 260 pounds. Wearing jeans, work boots, and a light flannel shirt over a T-shirt, he looked every inch a lumberjack. He said he was a trucker. Close enough, JJ figured.
“She’d been acting a little strange for awhile,” he told JJ. “But I didn’t figure she’d just up and run off like that. No telling what could happen to her. She ain’t capable of taking care of herself.”
She’s been taking care of herself for the better part of a year, JJ thought. And quite expertly, from the look of things.
“Anyway, I’m just worried for her. You got any idea which way she went?”
JJ shook his head. “I’m sorry. She didn’t leave any trail at all. We are trying to find her.”
“You really think she took that woman’s baby?”
“We don’t know, but we do need to find her and talk to her.”
“And you’ll call me the minute you find her?”
JJ nodded. “Yes. Of course we will.”
John Darrington was barely out of the building before Matt asked JJ, “Are you really going to let him know when we find her?”
“I doubt it. His story of a perfect little marriage doesn’t ring true. And she seems awfully determined to make sure he doesn’t find her.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“If you’re thinking abuse, yep.”
“Where does that take us on the Matthews case?”
“She’s still our prime suspect. The fact that she’s hiding from her husband doesn’t mean anything. She still may have taken Jessica.”
“Miss Shefford said that the kidnappers were a man and a woman. So if this Darrington woman is our kidnapper, who’s helping her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe her new boyfriend. Maybe that’s why she left her hubby.”
Matt nodded. “Good thought.”
JJ stood up and grabbed his jacket. “Then again, Miss Shefford doesn’t know everything, does she?”
#
“Mommy! Can I have a toy?”
He stopped as the sweet, lilting voice curled through his mind. She was a tiny thing with light brown hair and big eyes. And those chubby cheeks! How precious she was.
The need, the hunger, crawled through him, digging into his soul. Not now. This wasn’t a good place. Too many people.
The need argued back, arrogant against caution, taunting him with the promise of peace, contentment. She was so good. So precious. So perfect. To have her was to have that
goodness. To hold that perfection in his hands. In his soul.
“Not today, Emily.” The mother, pumping gas into her minivan one aisle over, smiled at the child leaning out the driver’s window. “Saturday we can go to the toy store and buy you a doll. Okay?”
“How many days is that?” The child tilted her head up, her eyes narrowed, her face scrunched tight.
“Two days, honey. Today is Thursday. Tomorrow is Friday. And the day after that is Saturday.”
The child dipped her head, staring at her tiny little hands gripping the edge of the window. Finally, she lifted her head with a wide smile. “Okay.”
Perfection.
“Now, let’s hurry, sweetheart. We need to stop at the grocery store on the way home.”
Slowly he replaced the gas pump and pulled his receipt from the pump. With any luck, the sweet Emily would be his. The grocery store. He just remembered he needed a few things. What a coincidence. Obviously, she was meant to be his.
Forever.
Emily.
Can you hear me coming for you?
#
Zoe looked up from her needlework and stared out the front window of her living room. There was little to see—a neighbor clipping hedges along his front walk, a child racing down a driveway on his tricycle, a gray tabby cat stalking a squirrel in a nearby tree. But her eyes didn’t see any of those things. They were turned inward. Inward where she could see Karen Matthews, nervous and distraught, telling her she couldn’t accept Zoe’s help because it was not of God.
Not of God? Of course it was. How utterly foolish of the woman. Desperate to find her child and slapping down the best chance she had of accomplishing that.
Not that Zoe considered herself infallible, but she knew in her heart that the baby was still alive, and she was confident that given the opportunity, she could have found little Jessica.
But she wasn’t given the chance. Zoe sighed. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down her back. She stiffened as dark shadows began to swirl in her mind, blocking out all thoughts of Karen Matthews and her infant daughter. She saw another little girl, laughing at someone. The child showed no fear, but Zoe felt her heart lurch, desperately wanting to scream out. To warn the child. Run! Don’t trust him!
Thrusting her needlework aside, Zoe jumped to her feet and began to pace. He was stalking another little girl! But this was impossible. She never knew of a child’s abduction before it happened! What was going on? Why was she seeing this?
#
“I like cookies. Can I have cookies?”
He felt her sweet little voice roll through him like warm honey, touching all the black places in him and making them light. Need curled in his gut, hungry and demanding. An urge too strong to deny. Too forceful to ignore.
“Just hurry, Em.” The mother gazed down at her shopping list and then back up at the shelves, distracted by her price comparisons. Emily skipped off with a wide smile, her doll tucked under her arm.
He glanced back at the mother. She was oblivious.
His eyes took in everything. Stock boy, one customer, two. Then he found what he was looking for and smiled. So easy. It would be so easy.
And Emily would be his.
#
Nancy Darrington held her breath as a state trooper drove by on the opposite side of the highway. She kept glancing in her mirrors to make sure he didn’t turn around and come after her, but he disappeared from sight.
A few miles later, she rolled her shoulders, easing the tension. The child in the car seat murmured softly. Nancy stole another look in the rearview mirror. The child was fast asleep.
The mirror revealed dark circles under her eyes, tight lines around her mouth, and the unfamiliar color of her hair. She’d dyed it again, of course. She couldn’t even remember the color this time. It had been red, blond, and varying shades of brunette. This time it was almost black, making her eyes look even more haunted than before.
She rolled her shoulders again as she spotted the Florida state line. Maybe she’d be safe here. Maybe no one would look here for her and the child.
Maybes were all she’d lived on for so very long. Maybe John wouldn’t kill her. Maybe he wouldn’t beat her today. Maybe he’d work late and give her a few more minutes of peace. Maybe she could get away. Maybe John wouldn’t find her. Maybe no one would suspect that she wasn’t Alice Denton or Mary Deere, or a host of other names she’d used to stay hidden.
Taking the child had been a mistake. She knew that. A woman on her own would attract far less attention.
One more mistake to add to the sum total of her life.
#
“Emily?”
He turned away from the child as the mother came down the aisle. He flashed a quick but distracted smile in her direction and reached up to the top shelf to pull down a box of crackers.
“Emily? Did you find your cookies?”
“Here, Mommy.”
He kept his back to them, trying to subdue his disappointment and frustration. He had been so close.
So close. He wanted that little girl. He wanted Emily.
And he was going to have her.
It was just going to take more planning, that’s all. He’d watch. And wait. Another opportunity would arise soon enough.
Shoving the box of crackers back on the shelf, he wandered through the store, keeping an eye on his sweet little Emily. She skipped down aisles and made him smile. She giggled at something her mother said and his heart lifted with joy.
So sweet, his Emily. Look at her. That cute little pug nose and those chubby cheeks. Those bright eyes so full of innocence and love. Perfection. Goodness.
And it would be his. But not quite yet.
#
Jeff looked up from his paper and, tilting his head, stared over the rim of his glasses. “Rene? What has you pacing like a caged tiger?”
“I don’t know,” Rene said, blowing out a deep breath as she dropped down onto the sofa. “I can’t get that psychic out of my mind.” She looked over at Jeff. “The poor girl believes she’s doing this for God. She has no clue she’s been deceived.”
“Do you think she’s open to hearing truth?”
Rene shrugged lightly. “I don’t know. She got real defensive when I told her that it wasn’t God. I probably came on way too strong though. I do that sometimes, you know.”
Jeff’s lips twitched with amusement. “Do you?”
She laughed. “Like you haven’t noticed.” Her smile faded. “I didn’t mean to come on that strong. Things were just starting to spin out of control. I had to stop her before she got Karen into trouble.”
“And now you can’t get the girl out of your mind.”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Rene playfully glared at him. “I hate when you do that.”
“I know.” Jeff pushed his glasses back up his nose and turned his attention to his reading.
“Okay! Okay. I’ll go pray for her.”
“I never thought you’d do otherwise, my sweet.”
Rene stuck out her tongue at him as she marched past him on her way to their bedroom. He reached out and smacked her bottom lightly. “I saw that.”
Rene giggled like a little girl. “I meant for you to.”
#
He picked up a box of rice and stared over the top of it as the mother pushed her cart up next to the meat counter. “Emily, come with me, honey.”
“Where, Mommy?”
“I have to use the ladies’ room.”
“Awwww, Mommy. I want to stay here.”
“You come with me, Emily.” She took her daughter’s hand and pulled her through the double doors into the back storage area where the public restrooms were located.
He smiled. Oh, this couldn’t get more perfect. It was a sign. Emily was definitely meant to be his. He put the box of rice back on the shelf and drifted toward the restrooms.
#
JJ looked at his watch and then at the men gathered around the conference table. He�
��d just finished forming two teams: one working on Gina’s abduction and the other following up the Denton lead on the Matthews case. He knew he was spreading them thin, but he didn’t have much choice.
The phone rang. Matt reached over and picked it up. Less than a minute later, he slammed it down and reached for his coat. “We have another missing little girl. Six years old.”
JJ jumped up, sending his chair flying backwards to crash into the filing cabinet behind it. He didn’t even bother picking it up. “Not again. Please, not another little girl. Gerry! Wayne! Forget Denton for now and come with us. I want this little girl back home with her family tonight!”
chapter 8
Friday, April 14
Zoe strolled through the mall, watching shoppers, eyeing bargains, fingering soft fabrics, buying nothing—all in an attempt to forget the haunting images of three little faces that had been chasing her all morning. She saw it in the newspaper headlines, then heard it on the radio, then watched it on the morning talk show while she struggled through a light breakfast. Even in the mall, televisions were tuned to some news show running the images over and over and over.
Gina Sarentino. Jessica Matthews. Emily Terrance. Zoe felt helpless once again to stop the abductions. Or to find the children. She’d “seen” him stalking Emily for hours and couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Now the child was gone. What good was this gift if she couldn’t save lives? Was it a gift or a curse condemning her to a life in the shadows of evil, always seeing the destruction and never able to stop it?
“Your gift is not from God.”
Rene Taylor’s words echoed through her mind. What could she possibly have meant by that? Of course it was from God. Where else could it have come from? The world had become enlightened since the Middle Ages, but obviously Rene Taylor wasn’t aware of that. Psychics were acceptable in today’s society. People didn’t hunt them down, declare them witches, and burn them at the stake anymore.