“But I don’t remember. We were all in shock, Joanne. I don’t think any one of us gave the details any consideration. We accepted what the police said without analyzing. It seemed obvious, but now, I don’t know. What bugs me the most is the open window.”
“That never made sense to me.” She felt the pressure of his hand against hers and she longed to be in his arms, to have him hold her and make her memories and fear go away.
Benjamin became thoughtful and Joanne struggled to hold back her secret. He would be angry to know she was considering giving the caller fifty-thousand dollars to find Mandy. He’d tell her it was extortion and a scam—but the photograph made her believe it was real.
She studied his pensive face. If he’d just cooperate with her and not call the police, she could tell him, but she knew him too well. Benjamin was an attorney. He’d probably seen many cases of people being swindled.
Benjamin’s grip tightened on her hand. “Let’s say someone took Mandy from the car.” He shook his head. “It’s sick, but let’s just say it was true. Why? And who?”
“If I knew that, I’d have her back, Benjamin. I have no idea.”
“What about the woman who baby-sat that night?”
“Marti? Never. She had two little ones of her own. She and her family are still members of the church. She was heartbroken just like we were.”
“I’m sorry. It was just a thought.”
He released her hand and rose from the chair arm, then walked to the window. Standing in silence, he stared out at the moonless night. Joanne stood and followed him. She held his arm while resting her head on his shoulder.
“I have two other thoughts,” Benjamin said. “First, that it might have been a random kidnapping, but again, how and why? The other idea is that it was someone who had an association with Greg—an angry defendant or a frustrated client—and if that person abducted Mandy, do you realize what that means?”
He turned toward her and the look in his eyes frightened her. She didn’t want to think about what it meant.
“Someone wanted Mandy enough to kill Greg,” he said.
“Or someone wanted Greg dead, and didn’t have the heart to kill a child.” The thought sent shivers down her spine.
Benjamin faced her and wrapped his arms around her. She nestled against him, drawing from his strength and accepting his comforting concern. Her heart pounded, and her lungs burned with the fiery fear.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Joanne,” Benjamin whispered into her hair. “But it’s something that’s been eating at me.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she leaned away from his chest to look into his face. “But who would do that?” Beneath her hands, she felt him shudder.
“Greg was an attorney. We make enemies. People hold vendettas. We’re the butt of society’s jokes and the bane of criminals.”
“Is it possible? Someone kidnapped Mandy and killed Greg to get even? It doesn’t make sense.”
He drew her closer again. “Not to us. We’re sane people. We use common sense, and we have ethics and morals. A criminal doesn’t think as we do. He wants vengeance.” He released a ragged sigh. “I’m only thinking aloud, Joanne, but it’s possible.”
“It’s a guessing game.” She wanted to cry out. She wanted God to give her the answer. “Then what can we do? How will we ever know?”
As she asked the question, she thought of the woman and the photo. If she knew who the woman was, she might have her answers.
“Do you recall if Greg said anything about one of his cases?” Benjamin asked. “Anything that might give us some ideas? I was gone then or he’d have talked with me if he had a problem.”
“He didn’t talk much at home. I think he didn’t want to worry me.” At times, she had resented Greg’s quiet way. She’d wanted to hear what bothered him, but he wouldn’t talk about it. She’d asked sometimes, but Greg wouldn’t respond so she did her best to respect his feelings. “I’ll try to think back, but nothing strikes me. This is a completely new line of thought.”
“We need to consider the possibility,” he said. “I’ll re-study his case notes. I looked through them, but this time I’ll scrutinize them. It’s a long process, but maybe it’ll turn up something.”
She felt his hand tenderly caressing her, moving in a steady, soothing rhythm along her spine. Her eyes grew heavy with the gentle motion, and she faced her growing feeling.
No other man had roused her feelings since Greg died. The thought had never entered her mind. That part of her life had died with him that night, but now something stirred inside her. Benjamin’s touch, his scent, his caring ways had renewed the part of her that had shut down. She longed to know if he felt the same, but she feared he didn’t.
Her thoughts turned to God’s love and she prayed for Mandy’s safety and her own. She ached. She needed wisdom and feared doing something foolhardy. Yet she felt compelled to search for her child.
Benjamin pressed her closer to his heart, and Joanne wondered if he’d somehow heard her prayer.
Chapter Thirteen
Donna looked in both directions and then slipped into a telephone booth a mile from her home. As she pulled a calling card from her wallet, her hands jerked—the erratically nervous rhythm of her heart.
She hadn’t talked with Joanne Fuller since the day she’d called about the photograph. Disappointment had destroyed her confidence when the woman said she hadn’t found the picture of Connie. Donna had thought for certain Joanne would see it when she stored her packages.
Gaining the courage to call again had taken effort. Donna knew extortion would mean prison. But she didn’t fear for herself. Her life seemed like a prison with Carl, but she feared for Connie. The child needed a chance to live a normal life, and with some money to help them escape, Donna knew she could offer Connie all the love she had.
She reviewed her plan, then eyed her surroundings again. No one looked suspicious, but she was an amateur when it came to crime. She’d never been dishonest in her life. If there was a loving God like her friend had told her, Donna prayed He would forgive her and understand her motive. She couldn’t leave the child. Ever.
Holding her breath, she dialed. When the voice gave instructions, she hit number one for English. The process seemed to take an eternity. She punched in the PIN, then Joanne’s number and held her breath. The phone rang in her ear. Once. Twice. On the third ring, she heard the click and a hello.
“Did you find the photograph?” she asked in her hushed voice.
“Yes,” the woman said.
“Is she your daughter?”
Donna heard only a pent-up breath.
“Yes.”
The response tore through her. “If you want to find her, I need cash.”
“Cash,” Joanne Fuller said, her voice showing irritation. “It’ll take me a day or two.”
“I need to move fast. It must be tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? It can’t be arranged that fast. Friday at the earliest.”
“No. Thursday. Please.” Donna’s heart thundered. Why hadn’t she realized the woman would need a couple of days? If she waited too long, Joanne Fuller could contact the police, and they’d be onto her. She’d acted stupid, just as Carl had always said she was. “Early tomorrow.”
“I need more time. A few hours at least.” The woman’s voice sounded strained, and Donna feared she would panic.
“Okay. Eleven o’clock. That gives you two hours. I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”
“I’ll try. Where?”
“In Mariner Park. By the lighthouse.” Donna had scouted the location and hoped she could get out of the park quickly, pick up Connie at school and leave town—be far away from the Detroit area before anyone noticed. She would have their bags packed, and they could cross into Windsor from Detroit or maybe go into Canada via the Blue Water Bridge in Port Huron. That was even better. No one would be the wiser. She could stay in Canada for a while and then head for New York or anywhere.
>
“Cash?” the woman asked again.
“Cash in something I can carry, and no police. If I see anyone suspicious, I’ll leave and you’ll never hear from me again.”
“You’ll bring Mandy with you?”
Bile rose in Donna’s throat. “I’ll tell you where you can find her with no danger to you or her.”
“I can’t do that,” Joanne Fuller said. “No. I want an even trade. Mandy for the cash.”
“I’ll be at the park tomorrow morning at eleven. If you want your daughter, be there.”
Donna slammed the receiver onto the hook and grasped the wall of the phone booth to steady herself. What if—? She stopped herself. She’d taken every precaution. Yet fear assailed her. She had to get away from the phone booth for her own safety. Carl had been watching her, she was sure. She closed her eyes, drawing on her courage, and when she opened them she sensed someone stood outside the booth. She focused. A man watched her with narrowed eyes, and she felt her knees weaken.
He pushed against the door, and she gave the folding panels a jerk, flinging herself from the booth to make her escape.
“Hey, lady,” he called, “are you all right?”
She didn’t answer but darted past him without looking back.
Joanne hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d tossed and turned trying to figure out how to come up with the cash. She had money in her safety deposit box. Not wise, but Greg had always said to keep some cash available. He’d stored most of his board of directors cash bonuses in the safety deposit box.
She had continued to stockpile cash for some time and she prayed she would find enough. Otherwise she would need a reason to withdraw a large amount from her account. Banks had limits.
What to do? Questions rattled in her head as she dressed. Her throat had knotted, making breakfast impossible. She made a cup of coffee and watched the clock. The bank opened at nine and she’d be waiting at the door.
Joanne hurried down the basement stairs to find something to hold the money. She looked inside the storage room and spotted an old briefcase. Grabbing it, she headed up again. Her legs weakened as she slipped on her coat. What was she doing?
As she gripped the doorknob on her way out, Joanne bowed her head, sending up a prayer for God’s protection for Mandy and herself. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she prayed and her heart beat faster with a mixture of doubt and hope. Mandy alive. Could it be true?
It had to be. Joanne couldn’t bear to be so close only to find out it wasn’t the truth.
“Lord, give me strength,” she murmured, then pulled open the door to the wintry wind.
In the car, she hesitated before turning the key in the ignition. A voice inside warned her to stop, but she had no choice. During the sleepless night, she’d devised her strategy.
She kept her eye on the time, fearing if she was delayed, the caller would become distrustful and leave.
Donna moved from the dresser to the bed in Connie’s room, tossing clothes into her small suitcase. She grabbed a couple of her favorite books and a stuffed toy kitten the child always slept with. They could buy more once they got away.
Snapping the lid closed, she lifted the luggage from the bed. She took a last look, then hurried into the hallway where her case stood outside the door. She’d taken few of her belongings—only a few pieces to get her far enough away to be free again.
Donna hated what she was doing. Not so much taking the money from the Fuller woman, but promising to tell her Connie’s whereabouts. She knew she would break the woman’s heart—but better hers than Donna’s. She’d had enough heartache.
Hoisting the two pieces of luggage, she moved down the hallway and through the doorway into the kitchen—
“Going somewhere?”
Carl’s voice knifed her. Her legs turned to gelatin. Her breath failed and she dropped the cases at her sides.
Carl grasped her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.
“Carl, please, you’re hurting me,” she cried.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Dumb Donna.” He yanked her closer, his sour breath glazing her face. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No, Carl. Please.”
“You planning a trip?”
“I—I…” What could she say? Fear knotted in her chest and words ran together like spilled paint.
“Thought you were pulling the wool over my eyes? Well, you haven’t. I’ve been watching you.” He jerked her against him. “Did you really think you were going somewhere?” His free hand jutted upward and clutched her throat, his fingers pressing against her vocal cords.
She gagged. “Don’t hurt me,” she gasped as the pressure deepened.
“It won’t hurt for long.”
“No,” she said, but the sound didn’t come. Her own life was nothing, but Connie? As the darkness covered her, a prayer rose. Lord, if you’re really there, please take care of the child.
Joanne made her way into the bank, signed her name and followed the clerk inside the locked room. The woman used the bank key and then Joanne inserted hers and gave it a turn. The box slid from its housing, and the clerk guided her to a private alcove where she left Joanne alone.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the lid of the large box. Her eyes settled on the velvet box holding her wedding and engagement rings. Memories washed over her of that loving day when her life had changed forever as Greg’s wife. Such joy had been only a dream, but God had granted it for real. And now the joy had become just memories.
She gazed down at the neat stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills, bound in paper bands that Greg had used to keep the cash organized and accounted for. She removed five bound stacks and slipped them into the briefcase, surprised at the small amount of space fifty thousand dollars actually took up. Relief settled over her, now that she knew she had more than she needed. She gripped the edge of the table, waiting for the thundering in her temples to subside.
Joanne felt stifled in the small room. She closed the lid of the box and exited the gloomy interior, her briefcase held tight to her side. “I’m ready,” she said to the clerk, trying to sound casual. The woman escorted her into the vault, and they returned the box to its place.
Taking a deep breath, Joanne left the building, knowing that she would have paid many times that much to find her daughter alive.
She slid into her car and placed the briefcase on the floor of the passenger side. Peering at her watch, she calculated the time she needed to get to Mariner’s Park. She turned on the car motor and drove slowly. No need to rush and get a speeding ticket.
Her watch read 10:56 when she pulled into Mariner’s Park. Two cars stood along the parking spaces closest to the green metal railing and parked in the row behind them. Joanne waited for a moment, steadying her nerves, then grasped the briefcase handle and slipped from the driver’s seat. She stood there breathing in the crisp air and studying the other two cars. A couple sat in the front seat of one. The other appeared empty.
She walked to the railing, her gaze taking in the icy water of Lake St. Clair. Joanne held on to the cold railing for support. Her legs quaked from fear more than from the cold.
Letting her focus drift to the right, Joanne’s pulse escalated as the lighthouse appeared in her peripheral vision. She lowered her gaze, looking for footsteps. She saw none. Was the woman in one of the cars? She turned again and peered at the two parked cars. As she watched the vehicle with the couple inside, the car motor turned over and they backed away, then headed toward the highway.
The lone car stood away from hers, and she eyed it again. Still no sign of life inside. She experienced a combination of fear, bewilderment and longing, but all her thoughts pointed to her purpose—to find her daughter.
Finally she found courage and turned to face the lighthouse. Perhaps the woman had come in from the other side of the lighthouse. Joanne held the briefcase handle tighter and forced herself to walk in the direction of the beacon.
Each step seemed weighed with fearfulness. Why hadn’
t she asked Benjamin for help? If she’d begged him, maybe he wouldn’t have insisted she talk with the police. Joanne slid her free hand into her pocket and felt the edge of the photograph—the one showing the beautiful face of her daughter, she was certain. Sorrow coursed through her as she thought of all the missed years, all the agony. Now she had hope.
Her feet sank into the damp snow as she left the sidewalk and made her way around the structure. But when she reached the far side, she was disappointed. No footsteps. No woman. No car.
Warm tears rolled down her cheeks and heated her skin. She stood and listened to the only sound—the caw of a lone seagull reverberating from the water. Dearest Lord, why? What do I do now?
She felt her knees start to give way but she willed herself to remain standing. The briefcase felt increasingly heavy as she trudged back to the sidewalk and toward her car. The other vehicle had vanished, and Joanne’s car stood alone in the snow-filled lot.
She climbed inside and turned on the engine. As warm air poured from the heater, she sat clutching the case against her chest, allowing the tears to drip onto its leather surface.
Time ticked past and her hope faded, but Joanne waited, watching the muted sun rise above her head, then shift to the west. Her despair turned to determination. She wouldn’t give up. The woman had been delayed. She would be there soon.
She had to come.
Carl tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for Connie. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the school door. She should be there by now.
A long red scratch puckered on his right hand where Donna had tried to break his hold. She had been too scrawny to stop him. The poor dumb woman didn’t know to leave well enough alone.
Eventually the door swung open, and Connie appeared beside another girl. She ambled down the sidewalk as if she had a lifetime. Carl tooted the horn, and Connie’s smile faded when she saw him.
Donna had made the kid dislike him. He knew it. He pushed the window release button and the glass rolled down. “Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”
Connie left the other child and ran to the car. When she opened the door, concern plagued her face. “Where’s Mom?”
Finding Christmas Page 13