Their Only Child

by Carla Cassidy

  “We didn’t know until the police knocked on our hotel room door. There we were, in the honeymoon suite, having a little champagne, not knowing that our little boy was in trouble.” Wails of anguish once again racked Rose’s body. “And those police officers…so suspicious, looking in the room…in our car.”

  Rose looked at Theresa, a touch of betrayal in her dark eyes. “How could you think…even for a moment…that Vincent…that I could have anything to do with this? That we could hurt Eric…or you?” Tears oozed from her eyes and ran unchecked down her plump cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.” Theresa’s voice was faint, filled with the heartbreak she felt not only for herself, but for these two people who had been her friends, the friendship now tainted with the cloud of suspicion. “We had to check everyone…. You weren’t home, and that was unusual, and I’m sorry, Rose…Vincent.”

  She looked from one to the other, and inwardly cursed the person who had not only taken Eric, but had torn apart the very fabric of her life, stuck holes in friendships where none had existed before.

  Even if Eric was delivered back home safe and sound in the next moment, nothing in Theresa’s life would ever be the same again. Truths had been exposed, weaknesses magnified, beneath the stress of Eric’s disappearance. And as she looked at Vincent and Rose, she wondered if one of the casualties of the case would be their friendship.

  “I would face the devil himself to find out where that boy is,” Rose said as she opened her purse and withdrew a tissue.

  She mopped at her cheeks, then covered Theresa’s hand with hers. “And I would give the police my own mother if I thought there was even the most remote chance that it would help to find my child. How can I fault you for doing much the same?”

  “We’re here to help, Theresa,” Vincent said. “You and Eric are like family, the only family Rose and I have. Tell us what we can do, and we’ll do it Anything…anything at all.”

  Theresa looked at the two older people, her heart swelling at the magnitude of their friendship. They had been roused from a second honeymoon, their joyous holiday trip destroyed by the grimness of life and ugly suspicions. But Vincent and Rose held no grudge, only love for her and her son.

  Tears blurred Theresa’s vision as she squeezed tightly to Rose’s hand. “There’s only one thing left for us all to do where Eric is concerned….”

  “Anything,” Rose said without hesitation.

  “Whatever we can do,” Vincent replied.

  “Pray,” Theresa said softly. “There’s nothing left to be done but wait…and pray.”

  SULLY PARKED HIS CAR down the street from the alley where eighteen months ago he’d nearly died. It had begun to snow, the flakes spotting his windshield like icy starbursts.

  In this part of town, there was less indication of the holiday. No colorful Christmas lights outlined the abandoned warehouses and low-income apartment buildings. No fancy plastic wreaths or smiling Santas adorned the lawns or waved from rooftops.

  Still, several apartment windows were filled with small Christmas trees with sparkling lights, and he knew that in those apartments the morning joy would be no less great than in homes everywhere else in the city. Joy and good cheer every where…except in his house.

  He should be home with Theresa. This morning would be the most difficult she’d ever faced. Christmas morning without Eric. Yes, he should be there for her. So, what was he doing sitting in his car on the wrong side of town, with snow slowly obscuring his view?

  In truth, he wasn’t sure what he was doing here. He only knew he needed to be here. Somehow he felt as if the events of the past and the events of the present had merged, were connected in some obscene, crazy way.

  He got out of the car, the snowflakes big and fluffy and melting immediately as they hit the warmth of his face. Please…please don’t let Eric be out in the cold, out in the snow, he prayed.

  Leaning against the front of his car, he fought an eddying, nauseating fear as he gazed up the street to the mouth of the alley.

  It was the landscape of his nightmares, the source of his night terrors. He didn’t want to go back there, didn’t want to relive that night.

  But he knew he would do just that. If there was a chance in hell that he might come up with something, any clue to help find Eric, he’d brave his personal demons in this place of his spiritual death.

  Sully tensed as he saw a man approaching. Who on earth would be out at this time of the morning in this weather? He relaxed as he realized the man was delivering morning newspapers from a large bag he carried.

  “Got an extra one of those?” Sully asked when he drew closer.

  “Sure.” The answer came with a grin and a puff of white air. He held out a paper to Sully, who took it, then dug into his pocket for some money. “Here, don’t worry about it,” the man said. “This one’s on me. Merry Christmas.” With a wave and another grin, he continued on his route.

  Sully took the paper and got back into his car. He wasn’t surprised to find Eric’s photo in the center of the front page. Where Is Eric? The headline read. A smaller photo of Donny accompanied the article.

  Sully scanned it briefly. Amazing. Donny made it sound as if although the child was still missing, the police were on top of things and expected a happy result at any moment.

  Donny was nothing if not a savvy politician. If Chief Lewis really did retire, Donny would be a good replacement. Sully closed the paper and threw it into the back of the car.

  Getting out of the car once again, he pulled his collar up around his neck, ducked his head against the wind and blowing snow, then walked toward the alley.

  With every step that brought him closer, dread built until it filled his chest like the weight of pneumonia. Again he had the feeling of some memory flirting with the edges of his consciousness, darting just out of reach when he thought it might be grasped.

  He reached the mouth of the alley and stopped, pausing to draw in deep gulps of the cold air. What the hell was he doing here? He should be home with Theresa…waiting to discover what leads the police were following. But he knew those thoughts were the rationalization of a coward, and he couldn’t afford to be a coward now…not with Eric’s life on the line.

  Although he knew it was impossible, as Sully walked into the alley, he imagined he could smell the scent of rotting garbage, feel the steamy heat of a summer night surrounding him and radiating upward from the pavement.

  His heart pumped the rhythm of panic, but he tamped the fear down as he approached the place where Louie had died, the place where he’d nearly lost his own life.

  When he reached the spot, he turned and scanned the windows around him, finally focusing on the second floor window of the building to his right That was where the shooter had stood, at the broken window of the abandoned warehouse. There, he’d taken careful aim and snuffed out Louie with a single shot. Then, aiming once again, he’d tried to kill Sully… and nearly succeeded.

  He dusted the gathering snow off the top of one of the steel trash cans and sat…waiting. Seconds passed…minutes. The snow continued to fall, and Sully continued to wait.

  With each minute that passed, his despair grew deeper, his grief more profound. He’d expected a miracle. He’d hoped for an epiphany to unfold the truth of what had really happened that night. He’d hoped for some answers that might lead to Eric.

  But it wasn’t happening. No sudden vision to display the truth. No moment of clarity to explain anything. Nothing. The only thing he felt was bonechilling cold and the realization that this alley no longer evoked his fear. Like a child realizing with the light of day that the scary shadows weren’t really monsters. Sully knew that his fear of this place would no longer hold him captive in nightmares.

  He needed to get home to Theresa. He’d been a fool to think he could gain any answers here. Theresa would need him, and for once in his life Sully wanted to be there for her.

  Rising from the trash can, he felt as if in the past several minutes he’d aged
a dozen years. He’d come here seeking answers, wanting a clue…a memory that might help him discover who had his son.

  Maybe the chief had been right all along. Nobody had set him up, nobody had betrayed him. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The incident eighteen months ago had nothing to do with Eric’s disappearance.

  As he stepped out of the alley, a car whizzed by, and in that instant Sully had the answers he’d sought The memory that had eluded him blossomed in his head, filling him with surprise, then a rage so intense he fought for self-control.

  He’d been right. All along, he’d been right. He’d been set up. And now, although he didn’t know the why…he knew the who, and his knowledge burned inside him, along with the need for vengeance.

  He got into his car and drove to the first pay phone he saw, his anger a living, breathing entity inside him. He dug in his pockets, found a quarter, fed it into the phone, then punched in seven numbers.

  “Meet me at the Shady Tree Apartments, number 302,” he said to the voice who’d answered.

  “But that’s—”

  “I know who lives there,” Sully said, interrupting. “If I’m right, I need your help. If I’m wrong, then you’ll need to arrest me.” Without waiting for any reply. Sully hung up and got back into his car.

  ERIC KNEW IT WAS MORNING. He could see the faint gray light seeping in around the edges of the boards at the window. Christmas morning…and the only gift he wanted was to be home with his mom and dad.

  Tears burned at his eyes, but he swallowed them away. He didn’t have time to cry right now. For some reason, his mom and dad and the police hadn’t been able to find him. Eric knew it was up to him to get out of here, and the only way out was through the window.

  Quickly, not wanting to wait a moment longer, he pried off the loose bottom board. Snow. It was snowing outside. Big, fluffy flakes that were already turning the ground from brown to white. The window behind the boards was cracked, and through that crack he could smell the snow, the fresh scent welcome after the staleness of the room.

  For a single moment, he allowed excitement to flow through him. Gosh, he loved snow. When he got home, he’d see if his mom would help him make a snowman. Or, if it snowed enough he’d build a whole snow fort in the backyard. He smiled at the thought, the smile fading as he realized that first he had to get out of this cellar.

  His fingers were still sore from all the work he’d done yesterday, but he ignored the stinging fingertips as he pried at the second board.

  Sometimes Joe’s teammates couldn’t help him, and it was up to him to scramble for extra yardage, make the first down all alone. That was what Eric was doing now…scrambling all alone.

  He gasped in surprise when the second board finally broke loose and fell to the floor. Now there was a space big enough for him to crawl through. All he had to do was break out the window.

  Knowing better than to use his hand to break out the window, he instead used his elbow, knowing his thick coat would keep him from being cut. It took him four tries before the window finally shattered and clean, cold air poured through the opening.

  Carefully he picked the pieces that remained out of the frame, then jumped up and crawled out the small space. He found himself at the back of an old house. Thick woods surrounded the house, and Eric looked around curiously. He had no idea where he was, which way might be home.

  He crept up the side of the house, toward the front, then darted behind a small evergreen tree when he heard the sound of a car approaching. Was it the masked man returning? What would he do when he found Eric gone? Eric looked toward the woods. Too late to run now. If he did, whoever was driving that car would see him.

  As the car came into full view, joy burst inside Eric, taking the place of his fear. He knew that car. It belonged to one of his dad’s friends…a policeman. Eric frowned, wishing he could remember the man’s name. It didn’t matter. He would take Eric home… home to his mom and dad. Everything was going to be okay.

  Tears spilled down Eric’s cheeks as he realized it was over. He was finally going home.

  The car parked in front of the house, and Eric stood up from his hiding place. He watched as the tall man got out of the car. “Hey…here I am! I’m here!” Eric cried with excitement

  The man turned to face him, and in his hand Eric saw that he gripped a ski mask. Cold terror reached down Eric’s throat and enclosed his heart in a painful grasp.

  This man wasn’t a friend. He hadn’t come to help. This was the man who’d brought him here…the bad man.

  “Eric.” Surprise twisted the man’s features. “What are you doing out here?”

  Without answering, without hesitation, Eric took off running for the woods.

  “Eric. Come back here. Dammit, stop running right now.” The man’s voice was filled with anger.

  Eric didn’t stop. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The man was running now, too. Running fast and cursing as he chased Eric.

  “Eric, there’s nothing to be afraid about Just stop a minute and everything will be just fine.”

  Lies. All lies. Eric sobbed, his chest on fire, as he continued to run. It wouldn’t be long and he’d be out of breath, unable to run any farther. And Eric knew with certainty that if the man caught him, he’d never, ever, see his mom and dad again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sully drove toward the Shady Tree Apartments with a burning in his gut, a hole in his heart. There was a part of him that hoped that the final piece of memory that had clicked into place was false. He didn’t want to believe what he’d remembered, didn’t want to believe that a man he’d trusted, a man who’d been his fraternal brother, would so betray him.

  But he knew that wasn’t the case. Still, there could be a logical explanation, some reasonable interpretation, to what Sully believed he’d seen that night just before walking into the alley.

  Be home, he prayed as he parked in the lot of the apartment building. Please, be home and tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t betray me eighteen months ago, and tell me you had nothing to do with Eric’s disappearance.

  Sully gave himself no chance for doubts, no opportunity to second-guess the instincts that now roared inside him like an animal struggling to survive. Without hesitation, he got out of the car and entered the building.

  Upon entering, he was faced with stairs going up and a staircase going down. He took the stairs up two at a time, knowing that apartment 302 was the second door on the left.

  When he reached the door, he knocked boldly, loud enough to awaken anyone asleep inside. No answer. Exactly what he’d anticipated. He tried the doorknob, also unsurprised to find it locked. Nobody home.

  He touched the door, knowing that what he was about to do next would make him cross a line, put him on the side of the criminals instead of the side of angels. But it also just might save his son’s life.

  Taking two steps backward, he focused all his energy into his leg as he punched the door with his foot, right next to the doorknob. He heard the telltale crackle of wood and lock disengaging. One more good shot should do it. He hit it once again, springing the door open.

  “Sully, what in the hell are you doing?” Kip hurried down the hallway toward him.

  “I think it’s called breaking and entering.” Sully started into the apartment, but Kip stopped him by grabbing him by the arm.

  “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Kip’s frustration showed in the heightened color of his cheeks, the angry sparkle in his eyes. “Have you gone around the bend, or what?”

  The door across the hall opened, and a tiny old woman peered out, her pink curlers looking like antennas. “Official police business, ma’am,” Kip said, displaying his badge. She slammed her door, and Kip pulled Sully into the apartment Sully had just broken into. “Now, want to tell me what’s going on?” He glared at Sully.

  “Holbrook was there…the night I was shot.”

  “’What?” Kip’s eyes widened in su
rprise. “But he went home sick that day.”

  “He wasn’t home sick. He was there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I went back to the alley a little earlier this morning. I hadn’t been back there since that night. I remembered, Kip. I remember seeing his car parked down the street. Not many of those bright yellow Corvettes around town. He was supposed to be here, with the flu, but he wasn’t. He was waiting for me. He set the whole thing up, and now I think he’s got Eric.”

  “No. Surely you’re mistaken, Sully.” Kip leaned against the door, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Why? Why would Donny do anything like that?”

  “I don’t know why,” Sully admitted. “If I’m wrong, then you can arrest me for breaking and entering. But if I’m right, then there might be a clue to where Eric is in this apartment.”

  “We should get a search warrant.”

  Sully frowned with impatience. “You know that would take forever, and besides, nobody is going to issue a warrant based on my gut instinct and memory.

  Kip studied Sully for a long moment, his intelligent, piercing eyes seeming to weigh and judge not only what Sully had said, but Sully the man, as well.

  Sully found himself holding his breath, realizing how important it was that Kip believe him, trust his instincts, the instincts Sully had thought he’d lost.

  “Then I guess we’d better get looking, shouldn’t we?” Kip said.

  Sully closed his eyes, gratefulness causing emotion to grow thick in his throat. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say.

  “You know where Donny is now?” Kip asked as he began in one corner of the living room and Sully started searching the other side of the room.

  “I hoped he’d be here. I hoped he’d be here and tell me something to prove me wrong,” Sully said as he took the cushions off the sofa and checked beneath them.

  The apartment was obviously that of a single guy, not overly clean, but neat. There were not many knickknacks, no personal pictures on the wall, no feminine touches to make the apartment a warm, inviting home.