“Dad, let Drew down,” Ben yelled. “He wants Ryan.”
“Let’s go to the dugout,” Andrew said. He yanked Ben with his free hand as the little boy turned large sad eyes at him.
“Ryan, tell Mommy I want to go home,” Ben said.
“I will, buddy.” Ryan raised his hand to wave, then put it down.
What kind of man was he to not go to their defense? He could feel the tension and anger of all of his teammates as they stared at Andrew and Alyssa forcing the children away.
“You going to the dugout to see what’s up?” Brock asked Ryan. “Because I’m going. That man needs to be stopped.”
“I could help Drew. I really could.” Ryan had never felt more helpless his entire life. “But I can’t rip Drew out of his hands. He’s the legal father. He has a court order.”
“You can gather evidence,” Brock said.
“Yeah, we can all gather evidence.” Timmy clapped a hand over Ryan’s shoulder. “They’re Josh’s visitors. I’m going to text Josh to be on the alert. He needs to write down anything that man does to those boys.”
“We’ve got your back,” Kirk said. “I’m headed for the dugout.”
“Me too.”
“Count me in.”
The guys gathered their gloves and caps and everyone headed for the dugout. On the way, Ryan called Jamie. He owed it to her to give her the message.
“I’m not trying to harass you,” he said when Jamie picked up. “But I just saw Ben and Drew.”
“You did? Where? Marcia and I are headed for the ballpark to catch them.” Her voice was pinched as if she’d been crying. “How are they doing? Are they okay?”
“Ben told me to tell you he wants to come home. He seems to be doing fine, but Drew’s resisting.” Ryan didn’t want to alarm her, but the level of meltdown Drew was exhibiting meant he would be drained and exhausted afterward, and possibly have longer lasting effects.
“Oh, no. Drew’s in pain. I have to get to Drew. Where are they?”
“They came to the clubhouse with Josh Johnson, and they’re on their way to the dugout. Ask Brock to escort you guys in.”
“Yes, please. And thanks. Thank you,” she said, choking over her words. “You’re not harassing me. You never harass me. I just have to do this on my own. Please. I hope you understand.”
“I do understand.” Hearing her voice undid his composure. His eyes burned and he swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. “I will always care and watch out for them. You know that. I wish I could have been with you last night, as a friend to hold your hand. How did it go at Andrew’s?”
“He had the boys drugged. I know he did. They were out, sleeping so soundly they didn’t even wake up when I kissed them.” She said something to Marcia that he couldn’t decipher. “We’re in the parking lot. Marcia’s texting Brock.”
“Okay, I’m on my way to the dugout to keep an eye on them. All the players are behind you, Jamie. They’re going to watch out for them.”
“Thank you. Thank you,” she muttered and then there was a lot of noise as she dropped the phone into her purse.
Ryan didn’t hang up on her. Instead, he switched to his Bluetooth earpiece and holstered his phone so he could hear what was going on with her and maybe speak to her if she noticed the call was still in progress.
As soon as he exited the clubhouse, he heard Drew screaming. Poor little guy. He was suffering badly.
Quickly, Ryan loped to the dugout where everyone had gathered. Sure enough, Timmy had his cell phone trained on Andrew and Drew, but he stood idly by as if he weren’t paying any attention.
Coach Thomas pulled Josh aside. “You’re going to have to tell your guests to leave. We can’t have that kid screaming the entire game.”
“He’s autistic,” Josh said. “He can’t help it, but I will ask them to leave.”
“I can help calm him down,” Ryan said, following Josh. “I know him.”
He was violating everything his mother told him about non-contact, but he couldn’t help it. Drew was in pain. Physical and mental pain. He needed to be in a quiet space, not out in public with a father who used him as a weapon against his mother.
“Sir,” Josh said to Andrew. “We’re going to have to ask you and your family to leave the dugout. Maybe after the game, I can continue the tour of the park and have some playtime with the boys.”
“Did you hear that?” Andrew yelled into Drew’s ear, shaking him. “You’re spoiling the day for all of us. You always ruin everything.”
“Dad, he can’t help it.” Ben tugged at his father’s pants. “Mommy knows what to do. Can we call Mommy?”
“We’re not calling your mother,” Andrew said. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He exited the dugout, with Drew still pitching a fit, and ascended the steps to the bleachers. Alyssa held Ben’s hand as Ben sadly waved goodbye to the players.
“See you, bud,” Ryan said. “Take care of your brother.”
He felt useless, but since he wasn’t playing the game, he followed Andrew up to the bleachers. He had to keep his eye on them. Drew’s screaming turned heads, and he could tell that Andrew was holding him too tightly with his arms held stiffly at his sides.
The little boy’s face was bright red and he was tiring, even as his screams grew hoarse. Ryan could feel every sting, every burn, every raw edge of Drew’s nerves, flaying him and making him feel like his soul was being ripped from his body.
Ryan’s own nerves clamored in sympathy, vibrating like a buzz saw, and his entire body throbbed with jagged energy, pain, and irritation.
He took a deep breath and blew it out, but he couldn’t let them out of his sight. Ben noticed him, and pulled back, looking at him, which caused Alyssa to stop and point.
She said something to Andrew, who whirled around. He was about twenty feet above him on the steps near the top of the first section.
“Stay back, you child molester,” Andrew shouted to the horror of the fans around them. “You’re stalking my son, and I’ll have you arrested.”
“He needs help,” Ryan shouted. “He’s having an autistic meltdown. He’s extremely uncomfortable, and he needs to be in a quiet and dark place.”
“Ah, a quiet and dark place is exactly where you want him.” Andrew sneered. He waved his hand at the spectators. “Everyone, you’re my witnesses. This is a child molester preying on my innocent autistic son. You should tell the Rattlers to fire him.”
The people turned to stare at Ryan, anger and shock written across their faces.
“Stay away from that kid,” a man yelled. “And you call yourself a baseball hero?”
“Ryan Hudson? A child molester.”
Ryan kept walking up the stairs after them, keeping his distance but not letting them out of his sight. So far, no one moved to stop him. People whipped out cell phone cameras instead.
Andrew reached the row where his seats were. He let Alyssa and Ben cross in between the rows, then turned to glare at Ryan. “You have five seconds to turn around and leave or I’m calling the police.”
Crack. Drew bashed his head against Andrew’s jaw.
“Why you little brat.” Andrew shook him, snarling and spitting. “You ungrateful little brat.”
He whirled around and threw Drew down the steep angle of the bleachers. Ryan lunged to catch the boy. He had only a single shot before Drew hit the steps or handrails. He reached and lost his balance, but caught Drew, wrapping him into his arms and protecting him as he tumbled down the steps of the stadium.
A sharp pain exploded where his spleen had been, but he held on tight, cushioning Drew against the concrete and seat backs pummeling him.
He landed with a thud on his back with Drew securely in his arms. He wasn’t sure if the little boy had stopped screaming or if the riotous ringing in his ears was the sound of his own pain magnified by the brokenness of his heart.
Only one thing he was sure of.
He’d made the greatest save of his life.
Jamie heard the screams coming through her cell phone and put it to her ear.
“Ryan, Ryan, can you hear me?”
All she heard were deep moans and Drew’s shrill voice and the excited shouts of the crowd.
“Something happened to them,” Jamie said to Marcia. She put the phone on speaker. “I must not have hung up the phone.”
She listened intently as she and Marcia scanned the bleachers. There was a commotion in the section above the Rattlers bullpen and players from both sides were standing on the field looking up at it.
“There. They must be there.” Jamie’s heart raced as she and Marcia scrambled between the rows of the bleachers to reach the area.
“Ryan, can you hear me?” Jamie spoke into the phone. “Answer me, Ryan. Are you okay?”
All she heard was Drew’s screams and the shouting of other voices around him.
“Sorry, ladies, you can’t go there,” an usher said. “You have to stand back for the emergency crews. Someone fell down the bleachers.”
“It’s my son who’s down there,” Jamie said, pointing to her phone. “He might be hurt. That’s him screaming.”
Drew was screaming so it meant he was alive, at least, and strong enough to scream. But what about Ryan? The deep moans no longer sounded and he could be lying there dead. How had he fallen down the steps of the stadium?
Jamie clapped her hand to her mouth and all the blood drained from her body. “He can’t be dead. He can’t be. I love him. I love him so much.”
Marcia held onto her arm as the usher helped guide them toward the commotion.
As she got closer, Jamie spotted Ryan’s broken body, lying all askew, his arms and legs twisted the wrong way and a pool of blood under his head. A woman was checking his pulse, probably a doctor or nurse.
Drew stood stiffly with an usher’s hands on his shoulders, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“That’s my son,” Jamie shouted, rushing toward him.
“EMS. EMS,” someone yelled. “Make way. EMS.”
Two paramedics carrying a stretcher crossed in front of Jamie. She followed in their wake and reached Drew.
The usher guarding Drew turned to Jamie. “Your child was very lucky.”
“What happened?” She grabbed Drew and tried to get close to Ryan, but the usher held her back.
“Witnesses say a man threw the boy from up there.” The usher pointed. “Luckily, this man had quick reactions and he made a diving catch. Unfortunately, he lost his balance and fell all the way down.”
“Is he alive? Is he going to be all right?” Jamie asked, holding tightly onto Drew who’d stopped screaming. “He’s my boyfriend. You have to let me see him.”
“Let the paramedics work him over,” the usher said.
“Jamie, let them do their work, and we’ll meet him at the hospital,” Marcia said.
“Where’s the man who threw the boy?” Jamie asked. “Where’s my other son, Ben?”
She didn’t know where to turn. Ryan was on the stretcher, possibly dying and Ben was still in danger.
“Marcia, where do you think Ben is?”
“There’s a policeman.” Marcia pointed. “We can ask him.”
Together with the usher, they made their way to where the police had gathered.
“Officer,” Marcia said. “We’re looking for a missing boy, Ben Rush. He was with the man who threw the child.”
“And who are you ladies?” the officer asked, acting as if they were lookie-loos.
“I’m the boy’s mother, and this is my friend,” Jamie said. “Where did they go?”
“We’ve taken the man into custody. Were you two witnesses?”
“No, but this is the boy who was thrown by my ex-husband,” Jamie said.
“Wait, we need to take you in for questioning,” the policeman said. “And we need to examine the child.”
He looked around at the other policeman. “Clark, aren’t we supposed to put both kids in protective custody? You weren’t supposed to let them out of your sight.”
“I, uh,” Officer Clark stuttered. “I told the usher to hold onto the screaming child since I was chasing down the older boy.”
“Where is he?” Jamie asked. “Did you find him?”
“No, we lost him,” Officer Clark said. “I’ve put out a missing child alert.”
Jamie collapsed to her knees and held onto Drew tighter. “Ben’s missing? He’s probably looking for me. He probably ran off trying to find me.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll find him. Do you have a picture of him we can post on the Jumbotron?” the first officer asked. “Let me take you to the press box.”
The paramedics meanwhile picked up the stretcher with Ryan and jogged down the steps of the stadium toward the field where an ambulance awaited.
Jamie was torn, wanting to go with Ryan, but knowing that she couldn’t help him. She had to find Ben though. Thank God she had Drew safely in her arms, all due to Ryan saving him from grave injury or death.
“Come on, baby, we’re going to find Ben,” she said to Drew, who had gone limp, no doubt worn out from his outburst.
He didn’t answer her. In fact, she wasn’t sure he even knew she’d spoken to him. His eyes were glazed and he sucked furiously at his thumb, chewing it.
Usually he had a chew toy around his neck, but Andrew obviously hadn’t seen the need for it. Jamie yanked Drew’s thumb from his mouth before he could damage it further and stuffed part of his hoodie into his mouth.
“We have to find Ben. Find Ben,” she muttered as she heard the ambulance carrying Ryan whoop whoop twice before leaving the field. “Oh, God, please let Ryan be okay. Let Ryan live. I love him so. We have to find Ben. Where’s Ben?”
Her feet moved on their own, following the police while Marcia supported her arm. This was the most horrible day of her life. What had happened back there? Had Andrew hurt Ben also? Where had he gone?
“Mom, I see you.” Ben’s voice sailed toward them from above. “Mom, they arrested Dad and I got away from Alyssa.”
Jamie whipped her head up and spotted her son. “Ben.”
The little boy was faster than her, and in a few seconds he had his arms around her waist, burying his face into her side.
“Mommy, Ryan’s hurt. Ryan saved Drew and he got hurt.”
Drew spit out the hoodie string. “Dead. Dead. Dead.”
“He’s not dead,” Ben argued. “He’s hurt.”
“Dead. Dead. Dead,” Drew chanted. His eyes stared straight ahead, as if in shock, and he shoved his thumb back into his mouth.
Jamie prayed under her breath that Ryan would be okay. She held both of her sons tight, knowing she’d been given a second chance.
It was time for her to stand up to Andrew and make sure he never hurt anyone again.
“We have to go to the police station first,” Jamie explained to Ben. “We need to tell the police everything that happened, and then, after they’re finished, we’ll go see Ryan. Meantime, I want you all to pray for him.”
Drew put his little hands together and bent his head, murmuring jibberish in his own special language, while Ben squeezed out a prayer.
Somberly, she allowed the police to escort her into a squad car, and they took the long ride to the station.
She was sure the horror would hit her later, but for now, she had to file a restraining order and make sure Andrew would never bother them again.
After being shunted between police investigators and social workers, and having the boys’ blood drawn for drug testing, Jamie found out she couldn’t take her sons home.
“I don’t get it,” she complained to social services. “Andrew’s in jail. He can’t possibly still have custody of them.”
The middle-aged woman heaved her chest and pressed her lips, blinking sympathetically. “The court order against you still stands until Monday. I’m sorry, but we can’t let Ben and Drew go home with you.”
“But I’m not the abusive one. Can’t you see Andrew was lying when he got the court order? My mom and I will take care of the boys. They’re tired and scared. This has been a horrible day for them.”
Ben clung to her legs while Drew stared off into space with his thumb in his mouth. They were at the police station after being questioned and examined by psychologists.
“Mommy, I want to go home,” Ben said. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m sorry.” A police officer stepped forward. “We can’t let you take the boys home. They’ll go into foster care until your hearing.”
“But can’t you see how much you’re damaging them?” Jamie stroked Drew’s silky hair. He hadn’t spoken any words other than “dead, dead, dead” and he failed all of the assessment tests for speech and communication. His diapers were also soiled and she had had to change him several times since he refused to acknowledge her when she asked him to go to the bathroom.
In other words, he’d regressed.
“Court orders are court orders.” The officer was firm. “We have the foster mother here if you’d like to speak to her.”
Jamie sat on the rickety chair in the hallway of the police precinct and shuddered, hugging and holding both Ben and Drew. She didn’t want to pass on her anxiety to them, in case they had to go home with a stranger, but at the same time, every pang in her heart told her Drew was already past the point of no return.
He’d regressed into a nonverbal state, almost like a zombie, and he chewed ferociously on his chew toy when not sucking his thumb. There was no spark in his eye, and he’d withdrawn so that she wasn’t even sure if he knew her or Ben.
A heavyset black woman sat down on the chair next to her.
“I’m Marlene Townsend,” she said, softly placing her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “I know this is difficult and the boys have been through a lot, but I can take care of them. I’m a special educator trained on autism.”
Jamie looked into the woman’s kind eyes. “I wish I could take them home. They’ve been through so much.”
Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3) Page 28