He closed his eyes to dispel the image and stared at the sack once again. It didn’t crackle or move as if it contained anything alive.
He got up and walked over, peering down into the open mouth of the sack. Food. A package of sweet rolls, four store-bought sandwiches, a bag of barbecue chips, a package of cookies and a six-pack of orange soda. At the very bottom of the sack was a dozen comic books. They weren’t his favorites, but they were ones he hadn’t read.
What did it mean? What did it all mean?
Carefully Eric lined the food up on the bed, staring at it in bewilderment. His stomach growled, and he realized he was hungry. He tore open the cinnamon-roll package and ate one while he thought.
If the man had brought him here to kill him, then why bring him food? He suddenly remembered Hansel and Gretel, fattened up by the wicked witch so they would make a good meal when pushed into the stove.
But that was just a dumb old fairy tale and had nothing to do with real life. He finished the sweet roll, licking the cinnamon residue off his fingers. He wanted another one, but was afraid to eat too much.
After all, it might take a while for the police to figure out where he was. What if he was down here for a long time? How long would this food have to last? Would the man come back? Again panic crawled up in the back of his throat, refusing to be swallowed and banished.
He placed the food back in the bag, then stretched out on the bed, fighting back tears. Don’t cry, he told himself. Joe doesn’t cry.
He closed his eyes, envisioning a football field and a cast of players. “And there’s the snap. Joe rolls out of the pocket…. He evades one tackle…then another…. He pumps and throws. A perfect pass. He’s great under pressure…great.”
Eric curled himself into a ball on the mattress, a smile curving his lips as his panic slowly ebbed. He’d be okay. Like Joe, Eric knew he’d be great under pressure.
His smile slowly faded. He just hoped his mom and dad and the police hurried and found him. After all, even the great Joe Montana occasionally got sacked.
Chapter Five
December 23
Dawn didn’t creep softly in, but rather arrived with an explosion of activity and the first appearance of the press, who knew the story of a child missing two days before Christmas had all the ingredients to evoke reader pathos, sell newspapers and raise television shares. The press members gathered on the sidewalk outside, like vultures waiting for a feast.
Kip Pearson had left the house sometime in the hours before dawn, and Sully and Theresa had taken short catnaps, taking turns on the sofa and in the overstuffed chair nearby.
In those long, torturous predawn hours, policemen drifted in, checking with the officer in charge, who had usurped the kitchen table as his base of command.
Theresa sat in the overstuffed chair in the living room, watching Sully sleep, as the first kiss of dawn slowly lit the room. He slept soundly, his breathing rhythm unbroken in the depth of sleep. She’d always been amazed by how easily Sully surrendered to sleep. No matter what emotional turmoil he felt, no matter what kind of stress he was under, he only had to get comfortable and close his eyes, and sleep came to him. She’d always envied him that.
She stretched, her gaze once again going to the window. The long, frightening night was over…but a new, equally frightening day had taken its place.
She was exhausted, but she knew it was an exhaustion no amount of sleep would cure. It was a spirit-tiredness that could only heal when her baby was back safe in her arms.
She was beginning to wonder if and when this nightmare would ever be over. Not if…when. If held too many possibilities for grief.
Getting up and walking over to the tree, she thought of the last Christmas the three of them had shared together. Although she desperately hoped Eric wasn’t aware of it, the tension between Sully and Theresa had been horrible. But she’d known Eric felt the unhappiness in the air. By the New Year, Sully and Theresa had separated, and two months later their divorce had been finalized.
It didn’t seem fair that for two years in a row Eric would be cheated out of a normal, happy Christmas. First by the failings of his parents, and now by this.
She touched the bough of the tree and drew in deeply of the sweet pine scent. She needed to decorate it. Hang the tinsel and the ornaments, the garland and the lights. Eric would expect a fully bedecked Christmas tree when he got home.
“Theresa?”
She turned at the sound of Sully’s voice. Stretched out on the sofa, his eyes the color of a cloud-filled day, he looked tired, but so achingly handsome that her heart momentarily skipped a beat.
“You okay?” he asked.
He sat up and patted the sofa next to him. She walked over and sank into the cushions, which still retained the heat from his body. He placed an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.
“I was just thinking that I need to decorate the tree. Eric will be unhappy when he gets home and it’s not done. We always do it the evening of the twenty-second. I’ll do it today. That way he won’t be upset when he gets home.”
“Theresa…” His arm tightened around her shoulders.
“Don’t say it, Sully. I can’t bear to hear that he might not be here for Christmas.” She pulled away from him and faced him, seeing the cynicism that darkened his eyes. “I have to believe he’ll be back home. I have to keep the faith. That’s what Christmas is all about, isn’t it?” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I have to believe this house, our love for Eric, is like the North Star, and it will eventually lead Eric back to us. To think otherwise is absolutely unacceptable.”
“I’ll help you decorate the tree.”
Sully’s offer, spoken softly, touched her. She knew he approached this from a different place. As a cop, he’d seen too much, experienced too much, to be optimistic. She knew he’d lost his faith, his hope, a long time ago. But she wasn’t about to let him give up on Eric.
Any further talk was interrupted as a wave of policemen entered the house, one of them holding a stack of posters. Kip Pearson was among them.
Sully stood up from the sofa and greeted the middle-aged man. “I thought you were working that burglary case.”
“I was. But I requested to be put on this case.” Kip smiled at Sully, then at Theresa. “We’re going to find your boy, and when we do, I’ll treat you to a steak dinner at Harvey’s.”
Sully clapped Kip on the back, obviously touched by Kip’s presence. “Thanks, man, I appreciate your support. Besides, in any case, it’s your turn to pay for dinner. I paid last time.”
Kip grinned. “No problem,” he replied, then followed the other officers into the kitchen.
“I didn’t realize you and Kip had become such friends,” Theresa said when she and Sully were once again alone in the living room.
Sully swept a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “You remember when I was in the hospital, Kip came to see me almost every day. After I quit the department, he’s one of the few who has kept in touch with me.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “Kip was shot five years ago in the line of duty. He understood some of what I was going through.”
Theresa fought against an edge of resentment at his words, the implication that Kip had been there for him when she had not.
Certainly, Theresa had tried to understand both the physical and the emotional pain Sully experienced. But it was difficult to understand when the person suffering had closed himself off so effectively. Apparently he’d invited Kip into some of the dark spaces in his soul…spaces he hadn’t allowed Theresa to enter.
The ringing of the phone sliced through Theresa’s lingering resentment, effectively banishing all other thoughts from her mind.
Officer Jeffrey Ryder, the man in charge during Donny’s absence, poked his head into the living room and motioned her toward the kitchen phone, where the tracing and recording equipment had been set up.
Ryder turned on the equipment and gestured for Theresa to answer the phone.
She reached for Sully’s hand, and for the receiver with the other hand. “Hello?” Her voice boomed from the speaker on the counter, allowing everyone in the room to hear.
“I know where your boy is.” The female voice filled the kitchen. Sully’s hand tightened around Theresa’s.
“Who…who is this?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am.” Slightly hoarse, the voice sounded like an old woman’s. “What matters is what you must do to get your boy back.”
“Please…please don’t hurt him.” Theresa choked out the words, fighting the tears that burned at her eyes. “We’ll do whatever you want, but please don’t hurt Eric.”
“I won’t hurt the little lad, but I can’t promise what those that have him might do.”
“Just tell me what you want.” Theresa was vaguely aware of Officer Ryder writing something down on a pad. He tore the paper off and handed it to another policeman, who quickly left the kitchen.
“This is what you must do…find a plump black cat and feed it fish for the next seven days.”
“Pardon me?” Theresa wondered if perhaps she’d heard wrong.
“After the seven days are up, clip the whiskers and bury them in the backyard.”
“Who is this?” she cried.
Sully released Theresa’s hand and depressed the button, hanging up the call. “Dammit!” he thundered. “Word must be out, if the cranks have begun.
“Why would somebody do that?” Theresa asked, staring at the phone in horror. “Who would be so cruel?”
“A car is on the way to the house where the call generated,” Officer Ryder said. “We’ll probably find a lonely old lady who’s gone off her medication.” He walked over to the window and peered outside. “The press is all over the yard. Maybe an official statement will help.” He looked at Theresa, then Sully. “Either one of you want to talk to them? Who knows, it might help. The more people we’ve got looking for Eric, the better our chances of finding him.”
Theresa looked at Sully. The thought of going in front of cameras, telling the world about Eric’s disappearance, suddenly made it painfully real.
“We’ll talk to them,” Sully said after a moment’s hesitation. “We’ll do it together.” Once again he reached for her hand, and she grasped it tightly, as if it were a lifeline thrown to save her from drowning.
Minutes later, Theresa and Sully left the house and walked toward the bevy of reporters, who’d set up on the sidewalk, where they couldn’t be thrown off private property.
Sully greeted several of the reporters by name, and Theresa knew many of them had written stories about Sully in the past…stories of his shining courage, his undaunted quest for justice. Mercifully, none had written of his fall from grace.
Both Sully and Theresa carried a handful of the posters that had been printed up at some point overnight. The brief interview passed in a fog for Theresa, who couldn’t seem to stop clutching the posters that depicted the sweet, smiling face of her son.
It was a good picture, showing the shine of Eric’s dark hair, not a strand out of place. His blue eyes radiated intelligence, good humor, and the selfconfidence of a child who knew he was loved. The only things real for Theresa about this impromptu press conference were Eric’s face and Sully’s arm around her shoulders.
Sully handled the reporters adroitly, explaining the facts of Eric’s disappearance and dancing around more personal, painful questions. He kept it short, pausing only long enough to hand out posters, then guided Theresa back to the house as more questions barraged them.
“How did they hear about this?” Theresa asked once they were back inside the house. “That crank caller…and all the reporters…how do they know about Eric?”
“Police scanners. The press follows the action they hear coming across the scanners, and the crank calls are usually shut-ins who also monitor police bands,” Officer Ryder explained.
A scuffle at the front door drew their attention. “Let me by,” a deep voice demanded.
Theresa immediately recognized the voice. “It’s Robert…a friend of mine.”
Officer Ryder nodded to the uniform at the front door. Robert burst into the house, his gaze immediately finding Theresa. “Terri…I just heard. I came as fast as I could.” He embraced her in a hug, engulfing her with the scent of his expensive cologne. “Has there been any news? What can I do to help?” He stepped back from her, framing her face with his hands. “Are you all right? You doing okay?”
She nodded and stepped away from him, finding it vaguely uncomfortable for him to be touching her, hugging her, while Sully stood nearby.
Robert Cassino was the vice president of the bank where Theresa had her account They had met soon after Theresa moved here, and in the past two months they’d had dinner together several times.
Robert, with his pretty features and suave demeanor, had become a friend in the past couple of months, but Theresa knew he hoped the relationship would evolve into something more.
“Sully…this is Robert Cassino, a friend of mine. Robert, my ex-husband, Sully.”
The two men shook hands, then separated like two boxers going to their respective corners. “Now, what can I do to help?” Robert turned to Theresa, his blue eyes shining with earnest intent.
Theresa shrugged helplessly. “Everything that can be done is being done by the police.”
“You can put up posters.” Sully grabbed a handful of the blown-up pictures of Eric and thrust them into Robert’s hands. “We need these hung all over the city, and the police don’t have the manpower to get it done.”
Robert looked down at the posters, then at Sully, finally back to Theresa. “Maybe you’d rather I just stay here—you know, be supportive for you.”
“The posters need to be distributed,” Theresa replied gently. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she couldn’t deal with him now.
“I think I’ll head back to my apartment,” Sully said. “I need to shower and change clothes.”
Robert smiled in what appeared to Theresa to be relief. “And I’ll just get on my way to hang these posters.”
Theresa walked with Robert to the door. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’ll be back later…as soon as I get these hung. I’ve already called the bank and told them I won’t be in today.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s going to be all right.”
When Robert had gone, Theresa turned back to Sully. “Robert works where I bank. We’ve had dinner a couple of times.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” he replied tersely. “Besides, Eric has mentioned him to me. Eric doesn’t like him.”
“Eric still thinks we’re going to get back together.”
Sully held her gaze for a long moment, then raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, he still believes in Santa Claus, too.”
Theresa didn’t know how it was possible that Sully still had the capacity to hurt her, but his words did just that. She held no illusions about her relationship with Sully. He’d left her, insisted he no longer desired a life with her. Even something as traumatic as Eric’s disappearance couldn’t change that fact So why did he still have the power to hurt her?
“I’d better head home. I need to check on my answering machine. Maybe some message about Eric has been left there.”
“Can’t you call and get any messages from here?” She didn’t want him to leave, wanted him to stay here with her. Although she knew this was no time to entertain thoughts of Sully and their past relationship, no time for old hurts or new wounds, his mere presence somehow comforted her.
He shook his head. “I need to go home. I’ve got some things to take care of that can’t be taken care of from here.”
She took a step back, mentally distanced herself from him. She mustn’t depend on Sully. He was only in her life at the moment because of Eric. She had to focus on Eric. He was what was important now. “If there’s any news at all, please call.”
He nodded and left.
Vaguely she wondered why Rose and Vincent hadn’t been by to see what all the commotion was about. Normally, Rose seemed to know the neighborhood gossip practically before it happened. Why hadn’t she heard from them?
The phone rang, and she jumped up and raced to the kitchen, where Officer Ryder stood ready. For the second time that morning, Theresa picked up the receiver, hoping for answers, praying for explanations.
“This is Mary Kelly with Channel Nine news,” a pleasant voice said.
“We’ve already given a statement,” Theresa replied, her breath whooshing out of her in disappointment. “Please…I don’t want to tie up this line.”
“Just a few questions, Mrs. Mathews…”
Theresa hung up and looked at the police officer in despair. The phone rang again.
“It looks like it’s going to be a long day,” Officer Ryder said sympathetically.
“Yes…” Theresa closed her eyes, fighting to remain strong.
SULLY UNLOCKED his apartment door and immediately heard the whimpers of the puppy. The whimpers turned into yips of delight when he walked into the living room and the puppy caught sight of him. Seeing that his answering machine had no calls, he walked over to the pen.
“Hey, little buddy.” Sully opened the door of the pet enclosure and the pooch barreled out, slathering Sully’s face with his tongue.
Sully burrowed his head in the dog’s soft fur, seeking some solace from the relentless ache in his heart. Eric…where are you, my son? What’s happened to you? How did a nine-year-old little boy disappear without a witness, without a clue?
Their Only Child Page 6