Flesh and Blood

by Allison Hobbs

• • •

  Phoenix’s flight arrived in early afternoon. This time I went alone to pick him up from the airport. We gave each other a loose embrace that symbolized the distance that had grown between us.

  We’d talked easily over the phone these past few months, but there was no denying that we were uncomfortable with each other in person.

  “I suppose we’re going to have to start all over again,” I said, acknowledging the awkwardness we both felt.

  “Yeah,” he muttered in agreement.

  “Your mother is going to ship the rest of your belongings,” I said, nodding toward the single duffle bag that he was carrying.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh! By the way, we’re having a pool built. It should be completed in about six weeks.”

  “Cool,” he replied without much interest. He inserted the earbuds that dangled around his neck, putting a stop to my attempts to strike up a conversation.

  Obviously he no longer perceived me as a buddy that he could talk to. I was officially the un-fun parent, and I realized that I’d have to get used to his disinterested, one-word responses.

  CHAPTER 21

  Phoenix liked his new school and was doing well both academically and socially. He joined the French club, the cycling team, the debate club, and signed up to volunteer once a month at a local nursing home. I couldn’t have been prouder of the way he dove in and became an active member of his school and community. Although he maintained his friendship with Dustin, Matthew, and Ryan, he also made lots of new friends at school.

  I was happy to report to Elle that our son was flourishing in Springfield Hills and was always respectful and polite toward Sasha and me.

  But I didn’t mention that he had become much closer to Sasha and Zoe than he was with me. He had essentially put up a wall between us. I had hoped that his going to therapy would help bridge the gap, but he continued to politely keep me at arm’s length.

  Although I was hurt, I understood that Phoenix was embarrassed that I knew about his deepest secret.

  For his fourteenth birthday, a week before Halloween, I tried to buy his affection by purchasing him a high-priced, high-performance dirt bike that he absolutely loved. But when I suggested getting one for myself and mentioned that it would be nice if the two of us could ride together on Saturday mornings, he frowned so excessively that I instantly walked back the idea.

  That was my final attempt at trying to win Phoenix over. I gave up and accepted the annoying-father role that he had assigned me. Zoe still adored me and thought I was cool enough to converse with, so I focused my attention on her.

  “When is the pool going to be finished?” Zoe asked as I helped her with some last-minute alterations to her Halloween costume.

  I shrugged in disgust. The mere thought of all the things that had gone wrong with building the pool put me in a foul mood. I had hoped that our pool would be finished by now, but the project was stalled due to a misunderstanding between the pool company and an outside contractor who was in charge of installing the plumbing.

  Unfortunately, remedying the problem was an excruciatingly slow process, and we were left with a huge hole in the backyard and a network of twisting pipes that snaked into the ground. The pile of dirt that should have covered the pipes had turned into a heap of mud at this point.

  Zoe handed me the hot-glue gun and a handful of silver stars. She turned around so that I could affix the stars to the back of her ankle-length, black dress. She was originally supposed to dress as a witch, but changed her mind and decided to be a wizard. We had to hastily glue glow-in-the-dark silver stars to her black witch’s hat and dress to give her more of a wizardly appearance.

  Working on costumes was usually Sasha’s forte, but she was out of town for the next few days, attending a dental conference in Portland, Oregon.

  Phoenix peeked into Zoe’s room and gave her a thumbs-up.

  “You like it?” she asked, twirling around, showing off her glittery face makeup and her blue, synthetic hair.

  “You look bomb,” he complimented.

  “Thank you. It’s so fun dressing up; I don’t know why you only want to wear a stupid mask,” she said with a little frown.

  “I’m too old for the full regalia. This is sufficient,” he replied, waving a rubber clown mask.

  “But you’re not too old to accept free candy,” she retorted with a smirk.

  Phoenix laughed as he turned from the doorway.

  Before he galloped down the stairs, Zoe dashed into the hallway. “I saw those egg cartons you hid in the backyard,” she said in a whisper that was loud enough for me to hear.

  “Sssh!” Phoenix warned, holding a finger up to his lips as he cut his eyes at me.

  Pretending not to hear what Zoe said, I became busy, picking up the excess silver stars that had scattered on the floor.

  The tradition of egging houses and cars on Halloween was older than me. I’d done it in my day and back then I considered it harmless fun. As an adult I realized that broken eggs could be extremely corrosive to paint surfaces. Glad that I’d gotten a heads-up, I reminded myself to move my vehicle from the driveway and make sure it was safe inside the garage.

  Applying a little more pink glitter to Zoe’s face was the final touch, and I took lots of pictures before we left the house and joined the swarms of noisy ghosts and goblins that had infiltrated our typically quiet neighborhood.

  I walked with Zoe from one house to the next. While she and her two best friends went up to the front doors to collect candy, I stayed behind on the pavement, conversing with other parents who were tasked with trick-or-treat duty.

  Most of the younger children were accompanied by a parent, but I did notice that quite a few kids in Zoe’s age group were on their own. No matter how safe our neighborhood was, Sasha and I would never allow Zoe to wander freely at night.

  As we progressed on our journey, I recognized Phoenix’s mask and bike as he and three other masked bike riders rode through the streets, popping wheelies and exhibiting other bike tricks. I didn’t see them getting off their bikes and actually trick-or-treating, and I hoped they weren’t considering snatching bags filled with candy from any of the younger children.

  Bag snatching was a lot easier than walking around and yelling, “Trick-or-treat!” Stealing Halloween candy from smaller kids was yet another mischievous activity that I had participated in during my youth. Knowing that Phoenix and his friends might be up to no good, I kept an eye on the masked trio whenever we were in the same vicinity.

  I felt worn out after an hour of walking up and down one street after another. But Zoe and her exuberant friends were just getting started. The group of girls agreed that they wouldn’t call it a night until their bags overflowed with goodies.

  Indulging my Zo-Zo, I trudged along, wearing a patient smile.

  Finally, after two-and-a-half hours of nonstop trick-or-treating, the girls admitted to being tired and were ready to go home.

  Under a starry October sky, Zoe and I headed for home. With one hand, I carried her bag that was loaded with treats and with the other, I protectively clasped her hand.

  “My science project is due in two days,” Zoe mentioned as we walked along.

  “So soon? Why’d you wait until the last minute? That’s not like you, Zoe.”

  “Well, I decided to keep it simple this year. I’m making a Cyclone in a Bottle, and it’s easy. But the imagery is powerful.”

  I had no idea what the construction of a Cyclone in a Bottle entailed, but I was certain that tomorrow Zoe would hand me a long list of items that she needed for the project.

  “Do me a favor and write your list of the materials you need before you go to bed. I’d rather pick them up in the morning rather than rushing around after work.”

  “It’s a simple experiment, Daddy. We have all of the materials I need around the house.”

  “Perfect!” I said, smiling down at her fondly, and I didn’t balk when she began to swing my arm to and fro a
s we approached our home.

  Zoe suddenly released my hand and pointed upward. “Look! A shooting star, Daddy. Make a wish!”

  I closed my eyes and wished that the remainder of Zoe’s childhood would be filled with rainbows and unicorns. I vowed to shield her from the ugliness in life for as best I could.

  • • •

  Awakened by a loud and shocking noise, I bolted upright and glanced around the bedroom. My attention was drawn to my phone that I’d placed on the nightstand before falling asleep. The phone was vibrating wildly while emitting a dreadful blaring sound.

  I grabbed the phone. It was an Amber Alert, which was unheard of in our upscale and otherwise peaceful neighborhood! I couldn’t continue reading the alert without checking on the kids. I dashed to Zoe’s bedroom, clicked on the light switch, and let out a breath of relief when I saw her lanky form sleeping peacefully beneath a colorful polka dot comforter.

  Next I checked on Phoenix. Sleeping with his headphones on, it was satisfying to see that he was safe and sound in his bed as well.

  With both my children accounted for, I returned to my bedroom and continued reading the grim news. The child, seven-year-old Taylor Flanagan, was wearing a Wonder Woman costume and red boots when she was last seen outside her home on Birchwood Circle. She weighed forty-nine pounds and had brown hair and hazel eyes.

  As the reality of the news set in, I dragged my fingers down my face. A child who lived only a few blocks from our home had been abducted while hordes of people had drifted along the streets, unsuspecting that danger lurked. Nothing like this had ever happened in our city and I couldn’t begin to imagine what the little girl’s parents were going through.

  I called Sasha and woke her up. She let out a frightened shriek when I told her the news.

  “Is Zoe okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine.”

  “And Phoenix?”

  “They’re both fine. Neither knows about this yet. I’ll tell them in the morning.”

  “I don’t understand how something like this could have happened. Where were the child’s parents? Why’d they let her out of their sight?”

  “I don’t have any information, but I’m sure we’ll find out a lot more tomorrow.”

  “This is horrible, Malik. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get back to sleep after hearing this news. And I can’t stay in Oregon knowing that a child predator might be on the loose in our community. I’m going to cut this conference short and take the first flight out of here in the morning. I think we should keep the kids home from school tomorrow. Can you ask Weston to handle your workload, so you can stay with the kids?”

  “Yeah, that’s not a problem.”

  “Okay, honey, I’ll see you soon.”

  When we ended our call, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, either. I padded down the stairs and turned on the kitchen light. After tapping the touch screen of the Keurig coffee maker, I stared out the kitchen window with a thousand thoughts flitting through my mind.

  How could anyone harm an innocent child? Did Taylor know her abductor? Would she be found alive?

  CHAPTER 22

  We’d never been considered a tightknit community since most of the residents kept to themselves. But today the entire community had come together to help search for Taylor Flanagan. Some were merely gawkers, drawn to the scene by the flashing lights of police cars, but most people earnestly wanted to do what they could to help.

  Many parents had thought like Sasha and had kept their children home from school. Along with their parents, the children pitched in, helping to hand out fliers and put up posters.

  Not only were the police swarming in full force, but there was also a private search and rescue team that the missing child’s family had hired.

  Noisy helicopters hovered above as newspaper journalists mingled with the crowd, asking questions. Local TV news personalities, with microphones in hand, were eager to interview anyone who was willing to talk.

  The entire scene was surreal, and I looked around in wonderment at the yellow tape that blocked off the lawn of the missing girl’s home, preventing citizens from wandering onto an active crime scene. It was something that I normally observed on TV crime shows, and the yellow tape looked out of place and foreign in our cozy neighborhood.

  “Do the police have any leads?” I asked as I sidled up to Tessa Jordan, a middle-aged woman who had lived in the community for most of her life and who made it her business to know something about every member of the community.

  “No, they don’t have any leads, at least not yet. I heard they used tracker dogs in the wee hours of the morning, but the dogs lost the child’s scent right outside her home.”

  “Do you know who escorted Taylor around the neighborhood last night?” I asked.

  “Not her lazy mother, that’s for sure,” Tessa spat. “I heard that a fourteen-year-old babysitter accompanied Taylor while she was out trick-or-treating. The babysitter and one of her girlfriends insisted that they walked Taylor to her door, but they got distracted and didn’t witness her enter the home. According to them, she waved goodbye and that was the last they saw of her.”

  “It only takes a second for a child to be abducted,” I said gravely.

  “The mother, Heather Flanagan, is single. She’s a widow. She was married to an older man, and he died of cancer. He left her that lovely home, and rumor has it that he left all of his money to his only child, Taylor. Believe me, it wasn’t Heather who paid for the private search team.”

  “No? I heard on the local news early this morning that the Flanagans paid for the private search party.”

  “Right! Heather’s not a Flanagan by blood. The child’s family on her father’s side put up the money for that service.”

  “I see.”

  “By the way, Heather has a boyfriend.” Tessa gave me a significant look.

  I showed no emotion.

  “He has long hair, tattoos, and rides a motorcycle,” she added with a twist to her lips.

  “Hmm,” I murmured. The noncommittal utterance was my way of showing interest without passing judgment.

  “As we speak, the police have the boyfriend down at the station for questioning. They have Heather down there, too.” Speaking confidentially, Tessa lowered her voice. “They’re both persons of interest at this point, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if those two did something awful to that child in order to get their hands on her inheritance.”

  Tessa hadn’t wasted any time in coming up with a scandalous theory. Not wanting to be associated with someone who was eager to spread vicious rumors, I inched away from her.

  The entire time she’d been talking, I kept my eyes glued on Zoe as she handed out fliers. I motioned for Zoe to join me as I meandered over to a woman holding a clipboard and giving out assignments to members of the search party. There had to be something that I could do that was more interesting than handing out fliers.

  As a family we planned to volunteer our time and effort for as long as our help was needed. Unfortunately, Sasha hadn’t been able to get an early flight from Portland, and she wasn’t expected to arrive home until early evening.

  I would have preferred that Phoenix worked alongside Zoe and me, so that I could keep an eye on him and know for certain that he was safe. But he chose to join a few other high-schoolers, who were using their dirt bikes to traverse the hilly area of the woods, searching for the little girl.

  While waiting in a long line to find out how I could help the search party, my phone jangled in my pocket. It was a number that wasn’t in my contact list, and I answered with a question mark in my voice.

  The caller turned out to be a new contractor that said he’d like to get started running the plumbing system and building the pool’s frame. He assured me that if he could get started today, he’d be ready to pour the concrete in less than a week.

  The excitement about building a swimming pool had diminished with the long delay, and now with a missin
g child so close to home, I felt more aggravated than delighted about the prospect of strange men traipsing through my backyard on a daily basis.

  The entire neighborhood was on high alert regarding strangers, and I was inviting them in. With all the money I’d already sunk into the pool project, I had no choice but to move forward and allow the contractor and his workers to get the job finished.

  Sasha and I would have to sit down and have a long talk with Phoenix and Zoe and reiterate the rules of stranger danger.

  Zoe and I hopped in my car and I slowly drove past the unified crowd of people who stood outside a tent, which was the temporary headquarters for the “Find Taylor” committee. As we cruised through the streets, we noticed how our neighborhood had changed overnight. Yellow ribbons encircled telephone poles and trees, as well as posters that bore Taylor’s photographic image.

  “What do the yellow ribbons represent?” Zoe asked.

  “They symbolize the community’s belief that Taylor will come home soon.”

  “Suppose she doesn’t.”

  “She will,” I said, patting Zoe’s hand. “We have an excellent police force, and they won’t leave a stone unturned until they bring her back, safe and sound.”

  The words sounded hollow as they emerged from my mouth. I was well aware that every minute that Taylor Flanagan was missing diminished her chances for survival.

  Designed to be a cheerful display of community solidarity, the yellow ribbons were actually heartachingly sad. Picking up speed, I whizzed past the sorrowful reminders that one of our children was missing, and most likely wouldn’t be found alive.

  • • •

  At home I shook hands with the contractor named Raymond, a chubby guy with a thick head of yellowish hair and a weather-beaten face, no doubt from years of working in the sun. Raymond introduced his two-man crew, Fred and Timothy.

  Timothy didn’t waste any time bringing up the topic of last night’s child abduction.

  “We heard about it on the news, and saw the posters and yellow ribbons on our way here. Do the police have any leads?” Fred inquired, his eyes twinkling in his eagerness to receive firsthand information from a member of the very community where Taylor Flanagan lived.