Everybody's Daughter

by Michael John Sullivan

  “What happened to you?” he asked, watching her place the food down with one arm, her other in a sling.

  “I don’t want your pity, Michael. Take the food and eat it. Choke on it for all I care.”

  She slammed the door and left.

  He locked it and pushed the food aside, plunging back into the book while her last phone message played in his mind, distracting his focus. He shook himself back to reading the book. An hour later he heard someone knocking on the door. “Michael, open up, it’s Allison. I’m leaving now so I’ll lock the church from the outside.”

  He slid open three locks, noticing a tape recorder sitting in her brown bag. “Just so you know,” she said. “I am worried about my goddaughter. And yes, I do believe you did Vicki wrong when you left her.”

  “She asked me to leave.”

  “I don’t believe it. She loved you.”

  “I don’t care what you believe.”

  “I hope for God’s sake you didn’t hurt my goddaughter.”

  “Get out or I’ll throw you out.”

  “Sure, pick on a woman. You’re good at that.”

  Michael sat down and tried to ignore her.

  “I hope you find her…and then I hope you drop dead for what you did to Vicki.”

  “You need help. You’re bipolar.”

  She grinned, much like Judas smiled when Michael saw him after the betrayal. “If you need pillows and blankets they’re located in the secretary’s office in the cabinet to the left of the desk.”

  She widened her smile much like Judas did before he hung himself and walked away.

  The church lights were shut off and the sound of the doors closing rattled his insides. Michael raced to the basement and sat against the wall, praying for a miracle. The wind shook the upstairs windows, creating a wheezing sound.

  Elizabeth, I hope you’re with Leah.

  * * *

  Michael occasionally slumped over at a sharp angle on the floor. His back tinged with pain, his neck was stiff, and his bones cracked as he stretched his arms toward the ceiling and moved his hips sideways. He pulled his shirt outside his sweats and zipped up his jacket, covering up a ketchup stain.

  He stayed downstairs for most of the day as a group of people rehearsed their Christmas play. When they were done, Michael first listened at the stairway for a moment and fled to the top. The church, illuminated with lit candles, shone in holiness as the children’s smiling faces glowed from their lanterns.

  The organ played softly the strains of Silent Night. Dennis was guiding his flock like a maestro in front of an orchestra, singing the lyrics. Michael stood to the side, embarrassed over his wretched appearance. As the song ended, the blare of sirens shook the atmosphere.

  The pastor ignored the warning sounds and spoke about the community coming together to bring the spiritual aspect into celebrating Christmas.

  “Christmas isn’t about how many expensive gifts we can get, or how many sparkly lights we can place on our trees. Christmas is about helping your neighbor, a friend or relative, and being there for someone when all seems lost and dark. Why not hold the door for the stranger coming out of a store all year long? Shouldn’t Christmas always be in our hearts in July as it is in December?”

  His talk was inspiring, poignant and heartfelt. Before he could finish, the sermon was jarred by the opening and slamming of the back doors. Detective Brady and several officers huddled in the back and broke up into three groups, walking down the two sides and the middle aisle. The churchgoers whispered, their voices elevating as they pointed at the officers.

  “Children, blow out your candles quickly,” Dennis implored.

  The kids obliged, throwing the church into darkness. The crowd quieted as the Detective and the officers brandished bright flashlights, walking to the front.

  Michael slipped into the first pew and sat.

  “Detective, are you here for the service?” Dennis asked from the podium.

  “Continue, Dennis.”

  As the flashlights moved from side to side, Michael got up from his pew but tripped, falling into the aisle. Brady gestured to the officers to take him.

  “No,” shouted Dennis.

  Several people in the first few rows stood and surrounded Michael.

  “Step away,” yelled the detective.

  More churchgoers abandoned their seats and formed a tight circle around him.

  “We’ll arrest all of you if we have to,” Brady said.

  “Then you’ll need more cars to take us all away,” shouted Mrs. Farmer, hobbling up the aisle.

  By now many had formed a deep wall of humanity protecting him. “Detective, we don’t have enough cars to bring everyone in,” said an officer.

  “I know.”

  “What would you like us to do?”

  Frustrated, the detective made a call and a few minutes later signaled to his officers to go outside. The people clapped and cheered.

  “My friends, Merry Christmas,” said Dennis.

  Many of the churchgoers remained behind for several minutes, chatting with their friends and family. Michael slid behind a curtain, opened a door and took several steps down into the dark passageway. He could hear muffled voices seeping from above. When the sounds died down, the doors closed.

  “You’re safe for now,” said Dennis, returning. “But we’ve got company outside.”

  “What company?”

  “Television stations.” He looked at Michael with determination. “You’ll need to stay here. I can give you sanctuary.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I can try.”

  They took a quick glance out the window and saw the bright lights from the TV production trucks gleaming into the darkened skies over Northport, the humongous white satellite dishes on top giving it a surreal atmosphere.

  “This is getting out of hand,” Dennis said.

  “I don’t care. No one is stopping me from finding my daughter. No cop. No detective. No reporter. No one.”

  “Your sister Connie called before looking for you. I told her to phone me before she comes over.”

  Michael wanted to say thanks but he still wasn’t comfortable renewing a semblance of friendship with the pastor.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The gawkers multiplied by the hour, seeking a chance to wave or pose for the media. Local New York stations fed reports to their national affiliates. Michael, who had been granted religious sanctuary in the church, had his picture splattered across television screens and internet blogs. Even the cheesy entertainment shows started to air on-the-scene updates. Everyone now had a story about what they knew of Michael Stewart and his daughter.

  Detective Brady held press conferences in the morning and evening, further feeding the TV audience’s appetite for an arrest.

  Michael refused to meet with his brother-in-law, Kevin Holligan, despite Connie’s pleas.

  Dennis brought Michael back to his office. “How are you holding up?”

  Michael took a seat. “I’ve been better.”

  Allison came into the office with her tape recorder. “Pastor, there’s a man named Hewitt Paul upstairs banging on the back door.”

  “The former basketball player?” Michael asked.

  “He said he’s the lead agent in the New York FBI office for missing persons. He’s demanding to speak to you now.”

  “Let me check on this, Michael.” Dennis pulled open his desk drawer. He grabbed a set of keys and left the office.

  Allison scowled at Michael. “Why don’t you tell me what really happened to Elizabeth?”

  “Leave me alone,” he snapped.

  ‘You’ve got some nerve. I could –”

  He shot back. “Yeah, I know. You’ve made it clear with your phone messages. I don’t care anymore. What happened between me and Vicki is none of your business.”

  “She was my best friend. It is my business.”

  “We’ve spoken about it, forgiven each other.”

  �
��When was this? I spoke to her an hour before she was in the car accident. She still sounded distraught.”

  Michael’s hands clenched and he tightened his lips for a few seconds. “We were having a good day. Until she got into the car with Sammie. You don’t know everything.”

  “I know that my best friend was in pain. That I know for sure. And it sure didn’t sound like you guys had reconciled.”

  Michael opened the door. “Here’s something for you and your stupid newspaper. I saw Vicki not too long ago. We spoke. We hugged. We told one another we love each other. We’ve forgiven each other. Go ahead and print it. Let’s see what your readers think about your reporting skills.”

  “You’ve lost it. They’ll cart you off in a strait jacket in a New York second.” She laughed and turned her tape recorder on. “I have Michael Stewart with me. He’s accused of a crime regarding the disappearance of his daughter, Elizabeth.” She sneered. “Mr. Stewart has told me an interesting story about visiting his dead wife as his daughter has gone missing. Is he sane? Michael?”

  She held the microphone in front of his face. “What happened to your daughter? Was she so oppressed at home that she had to run away? Does she know what kind of a dad she has? One that talks to dead people?”

  Michael swung at the tape recorder, knocking it to the floor.

  “You jerk,” Allison yelled as she struggled to pick it up with one arm. “You’re going to be sorry.”

  Michael helped her up and put the recorder inside her bag. Then he escorted her out of the office.

  * * *

  Dennis returned, looking worried. He sat down, sipped from a coffee cup and took the black book from Michael. He began flipping through it.

  “What did the FBI guy want?” Michael asked.

  He looked up from the book. “He told me the FBI now has jurisdiction in this case. This Hewitt Paul fella is now leading the investigation.”

  “So we don’t have to deal with Detective Brady anymore?”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  “You don’t think we’ve seen the last of him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But it’s good news that at least there’s someone else handling this, right?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “They want to take you in as soon as possible. While the detective seems to enjoy the spotlight, holding press conferences, this Paul character is a no-nonsense guy. He doesn’t seem to care for the publicity.”

  “I know he was a good basketball player but quit years ago,” Michael said. “I read some of the story when it happened.”

  “He quit in the prime of his career because of what happened to his daughter. She was kidnapped for ransom and they never found her.”

  Michael nodded, his memory refreshed by Dennis’ recollections. “It was so sad. I didn’t realize this was the work he was involved in now.” Michael paused. “Then I’m just going to have to tell him the truth.”

  There was a long, awkward silence as the pastor nervously finished his coffee. “I’ve got to re-read this book again. Maybe I’m missing a hint of where you should be in this church.”

  Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “If it means I have to risk everything then I’ll do it. She’s my life. I not only owe it to her, I owe it to Vicki.”

  Dennis nodded. “They’ll use the circumstantial evidence angle. Because the case has gotten so much publicity it means more pressure on these guys to finger someone.”

  “How do you know so much about this?”

  Dennis looked down. “I’ve read up on some cases. I know all about the justice system.”

  Michael shook his head. “I may not be able to hold off justice here.”

  “You won’t be able to help your daughter from prison. You need to be here. I’m sure of it.”

  Michael sighed. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

  “We’re all taking this journey with you in some way. Never feel you’re alone.” The pastor poured another cup of coffee. “There’s more. Your brother-in-law is outside with the FBI agent. He’s working with him. Maybe he can help you?”

  “He won’t.”

  “Why?”

  Michael hesitated about discussing his feelings about Kevin with the pastor. He had admired Kevin when he first met him and developed a close friendship during his marriage to Vicki. After her accident their relationship deteriorated. Kevin blamed Michael for letting his wife drive that night.

  “Do you want to talk about this, Michael?”

  He shook his head. “Not with you.” He pointed to the book. “Let’s keep reading this.”

  Dennis closed the book. “I think I should go speak to your brother-in-law.”

  Michael held his hand up. “You’ll only make things worse. I don’t need anyone else involved.”

  Dennis took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Michael, I know you’re still angry with me and now I can sense the anger you have toward your wife’s family. Forgive us. It will help you heal.”

  “I can’t deal with all this forgiveness and healing talk,” he said. “You want to make it up to me? Then help me find my daughter.”

  A knock on the door stopped their conversation and Allison walked in. “Connie’s outside asking to come in and see you, Michael.”

  Dennis nodded to Allison. “Show her into my office.” He handed Allison the keys to open the door. “I’ll give you and Connie some privacy.” He clutched the old book to his chest. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need something.”

  Allison left and Michael asked, “Do you think the FBI will recognize my sanctuary?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know that law enforcement officials don’t want to barge into a church to arrest someone around the holidays with the eyes of the world on them. I’m sure their public relations department is advising them to tread carefully on this one.”

  Dennis walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar. A few minutes later, Connie came in, snowcap on her head, scarf around her neck, wearing blue gloves and a red coat. “It’s freezing out there,” she said. “Do you think we’ll get a white Christmas?”

  “You’re not here to talk about the weather.” He squinted at her. “I told you I didn’t want to see Kevin. Why couldn’t you at least do one thing I asked you to do and tell him to stay home.”

  Connie sat. “He can help.”

  “I’ve got to go,” he said. He dialed the church phone.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “What about Dad?”

  Michael didn’t answer Connie. He finished his phone call and headed out of the office and down the passageway, hurrying to the Temple.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Michael held his hip as he exited the hospital. He groaned in pain as Susan opened the passenger side door for him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You were in there a while. What happened?”

  “Took a test. I was there longer than I expected.”

  “You look like you’re in a lot of pain,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “I’ve got Tylenol and some pain killers.”

  “I didn’t know you had a problem with your hip.”

  “I didn’t.”

  She gave him a perplexed glance.

  “I’m okay.” He smiled. “Can you take me back to the Temple?”

  “Shouldn’t you go home and rest?”

  He shook his head. “Temple’s the safest place to be right now.”

  Main Street was abuzz with holiday shoppers. He crouched down below the window.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Hiding.”

  “Do you have bail money?”

  He looked up at her in disbelief.

  “I need to ask you this just in case.”

  He inhaled a deep breath. “Thanks for being my best friend.�
��

  She stopped her car behind the old firehouse. “Should I wait here?”

  “Yes. I just want to get something from the pastor. I’ll be right back.”

  She gave him an odd look and turned off her lights and engine. “You mean Dennis?”

  “No, I mean the pastor.”

  Michael limped to the door and tapped a few times. The rabbi’s secretary greeted him. “What are you doing out here?” Marla asked.

  “I need to use the passageway.”

  “Rabbi Stedman isn’t here but come in.”

  She led him downstairs, handing him a candle and wished him well. When Michael reached the church side, he gently tapped on the door. He struck the wooden structure again yet there was still no answer. He sat down for a few minutes and listened, hoping to hear some movement. “Hello?” he said weakly, bending down near the bottom of the door. “Is anyone there?”

  “Who is it?” asked a low voice.

  “Michael. Is the pastor there?”

  The door opened and Allison answered. “There are no dead people here. However, the pastor is waiting for you.”

  She led him to his office and banged on the door twice. “He’s here.”

  Allison left and Dennis unlocked the door and pulled him in. “Where were you?”

  He winced. “I had something to do.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” He hobbled to a chair. “I just needed to take a test. That’s all. What about the book? We’re running out of time.”

  “I know. One thing we do know for sure, you must stay inside the church. I’ve called Connie and your father for a special prayer service.”

  “Jim? Why him?”

  “Connie asked if he could join us. I said yes.”

  Michael grimaced.

  “He’s your father.”

  “So I keep getting reminded. Is he even coming?”

  “He is.”

  “What time are we doing this?” he asked.

  “In an hour.”

  “Susan’s outside by the Temple,” Michael said. “Can you let her know she doesn’t need to wait for me?” He stretched his leg out. “Connie told me this morning about the TV report regarding the headlights story.”