Waiting for Butterflies

by Karen Sargent

  They’d eaten in silence, just the two of them. After the plan had been devised and the detectives had left the day before, the next decision Sam made was to call Erin. He figured it would be a miracle if she was able to leave the office, but he had no choice. He needed her to take care of Olivia, and he would need Erin in the aftermath, even in the best case scenario. Fortunately, she was satisfied with Sam’s vague explanation and promise for more details later. She agreed to arrive in time to pick up Olivia from school and take her to a hotel. Sam would tell Rachel that Olivia had been invited to a sleepover, which technically wasn’t a lie. But during dinner, he missed the distraction of Olivia’s chatter. He needed something, anything, to keep him from grabbing Rachel and shaking her, or holding her too tightly. Everything he wanted to shout caught in his throat, strangling him as he forced the words back down and tried to eat.

  After Rachel cleared the table and put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator, she retreated to her bedroom, where Sam supposed she was messaging. He was nauseous. A predator might as well be crawling through his daughter’s window while he sat only a room away. What could they be talking about? Maybe Rachel would change her mind, or the creep would back out. The idea was tempting, but this needed to happen. They needed to put this guy away. Tonight.

  Are you monitoring? He texted Shaw.

  On it.

  Sam stared at the Cardinal’s game on TV, but all he saw were different scenarios playing out in his mind. They had to take this guy down.

  Just as Rachel noticed the time on her laptop changed to 7:45, ready? popped up on the screen. Her heart beat so hard she thought she could see her t-shirt pulsate. Her legs were wet noodles when she stood and walked to her bedroom door where she could see her dad watching the game. She rehearsed the lines in her head, willing her voice to sound normal when she had to say them out loud. She looked at the time on her cell. Five minutes had passed already. She had to do this.

  Rachel approached her dad’s recliner, in sight but out of his direct view. “Dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Um, I don’t feel so well. I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Too fast, she said it too fast.

  “Hmm. Are you sick?” He didn’t take his eyes off the game.

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe the pizza isn’t settling too well. I think I need some rest.”

  “Okay.”

  As Rachel leaned down to kiss his cheek, it occurred to her that her dad seemed . . . odd. In fact, he’d been acting weird all evening.

  “Dad, are you okay?”

  He broke his trance and turned his head sharply toward her. “Yes. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You seem . . . different.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “I guess I don’t feel so well, either. Think it might be the pizza, too.”

  Rachel nodded. “Okay, well, ’night.”

  Step one. Check. It was almost too easy, but Rachel didn’t feel like she had expected to feel: bold, excited. Instead, she felt guilty. She’d just lied, boldface, to her dad. But, she promised herself the first chance she had, she would introduce this boy to him after school. No more secrets.

  As soon as Rachel closed her bedroom door and turned off her light, Sam snuck through the front door and got into the unmarked car waiting at the end of the block. It would take her about ten minutes to walk to the park. Sam had to get there before her.

  “An officer in plain clothes will be trailing your daughter to make sure she gets to the park safely.” The sergeant updated Sam as he put the car into drive and accelerated. “The detectives and SWAT are in position. I’m going to drop you near the north entrance, opposite from where your daughter and the suspect will likely enter the park.”

  “Are there any civilians?”

  “No. The last jogger left about a half hour ago. It’s empty.” The officer pulled to the side of the road and pointed. “Cut straight through there. Just inside the wood line you’ll pick up a path that comes out right behind the dumpster. That should put you within thirty yards of your daughter.”

  “Thanks.” Sam opened the door.

  “We got this guy, Lieutenant. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m trying not to.” Sam closed the door, turned toward the trees, and started the most difficult three-minute race of his life.

  She should have grabbed a hoodie before she slipped out the backdoor. As the sun sank in the sky, it took it’s warmth with it, and the walk to the park left goosebumps on her arms. Or maybe it wasn’t the cold. Maybe it was the ominous feeling she had walking alone as the sky quickly turned grey and the faint moon grew brighter. The farther she got from home, the quicker she walked, often glancing back to make sure no one was following. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  But maybe it was. So far the plan worked perfectly, just like he said it would. Rachel looked at her cell. In only ten minutes, she would meet him face to face, the boy who liked her, who thought she had a beautiful smile, who knew things about her no one else understood because he cared enough to listen.

  She walked through the park entrance and saw the green metal bench near the edge of the parking lot exactly as he described. She wondered where he was, if he could see her now. She tried to walk normally, but suddenly she was conscious of every movement she made. She felt like a marionette whose limbs were controlled by invisible strings as she tried to casually put one foot in front of the other. When she reached the bench, she was relieved to sit down.

  As instructed, Rachel texted the number he gave her right before she left. Here. A few seconds later her phone buzzed. She read the text, confused. It was a change of plans. He had borrowed his cousin’s car, so they could go for ice cream. But, she didn’t want to get into a car. And he was only a freshman. He wouldn’t have his license yet. Before she could reply, her phone buzzed again. She didn’t read the text. This didn’t feel right. Something didn’t feel right. She quickly looked around. She was in an empty park, it was almost dark, and she was alone.

  The ominous feeling returned. She was vulnerable, exposed. She wanted to run, but not into the growing darkness. She changed her mind. She didn’t want to meet this boy here. They should meet after school, in the daylight, with other people around. She tried to think of something she could text to him to get out of this, but her brain was paralyzed. Suddenly, she wanted her dad to come get her. But how would she explain? He would be so mad. And she would be such a disappointment—again.

  Her cell buzzed to remind her an unread text waited. She looked at the screen: be there in a few.

  “No,” Rachel said out loud. “I’m not doing this.” She punched a number into her cell phone. “Come on, ring. Hurry!”

  Sam’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Not now! He kept his eyes glued on Rachel in spite of the approaching darkness, which made it difficult to see her clearly. It buzzed again. What if it was Shaw or Wade? He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing a glow from his cell, but he couldn’t chance it. If something came up, if plans had changed, he needed to know. Then he saw the number on his screen.

  “Rachel!” he whispered into the phone.

  “Daddy! I’m at the park. Please come get me. I—”

  “Rachel, listen to me. Listen. I know everything. I’m here, at the edge of the parking lot, to your left. See the dumpster? I’m behind it.”

  “Daddy, I’m so scared! I think I really messed up bad.” She started crying.

  “You have to listen to me, Rachel. You have to help us get this guy. Hang up or he’ll see you on the phone and leave and we won’t catch him.”

  “Daddy, I can’t!”

  “Rachel, you have to. I’m right here.” Sam didn’t want to risk it, but he briefly stepped out from behind the dumpster, so she could see him. “You see the bathrooms behind you? Shaw and Wade are there. Police are in the woods all around you. Now, hang up the phone and go through with his plan. I will not let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  “Daddy,
please—” Rachel begged and the fear in her voice pierced him.

  It was a familiar struggle. Dad. Detective. Dad. Detective.

  “Hang up the phone. Act normal. Do not, do not, do anything to scare him away.” And then Sam spoke the most difficult words of his career. “I’m hanging up now, Rachel.” As Sam returned his phone to his pocket and watched Rachel stare at hers, he felt like Judas turning over his daughter to her captor. But it was too late to change plans now. Headlights turned into the park to confirm it.

  “You can do this, Rachel.” He whispered into the dusk, hoping his daughter could sense the courage he willed to her.

  As the headlights approached, her head turned frantically left, then right. She was caught between fight or flight, and the next instant would determine her decision. “Please, God,” he spoke into the darkness.,“be her strength. Protect her.”

  The car approached the dumpster. As the headlights passed, Sam’s eyes adjusted, allowing him to assess the situation. The driver’s window was tinted, but he could see the outline of the occupant, definitely an adult. The headlights illuminated Rachel. She froze. Sam readied himself, weapon drawn. As the car slowed to a stop, red brake lights lit up the back of the car. And that’s when Sam knew. The BMW insignia. Tennessee plates. It was the car that had parked in front of his house the night he interviewed Crystal Starr, the now deceased Crystal Starr. A dark line of armed men slowly advanced out of the tree line, but Sam didn’t wait for the signal. He took off in a dead run toward the driver’s door, trusting Shaw and Wade to whisk Rachel away as planned.

  The driver, turned in his seat, talking to Rachel through the passenger window, was unsuspecting when Sam yanked open the door and grabbed him by the collar. Sam pulled the guy out, shoved him against the car, and pressed the weight of his body into him. He twisted the collar tighter, pressed his weapon next to the suspect’s face, and willed himself to keep his finger off the trigger. “I should kill you right now,” Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

  The pounding of boots surrounded the car. “We got it from here, Lieutenant.” Sam gave the collar a final twist and shoved himself off the guy, certain he wasn’t going anywhere with the arsenal aimed at him. Sam holstered his weapon, pulled handcuffs out of his waistband, and secured the culprit. As he spun the suspect to hand him off to SWAT, he saw his face for the first time. Manny Jackson. He stared into eyes of molten malice.

  “Lieutenant Samuel Blake.” A sneer slowly crept across his face. “There must be some mistake.”

  Sam breathed deeply, filling his lungs for the first time in hours. “Yes, there is. And you made it.”

  Then Sam scanned the parking lot, searching for Shaw or Wade. He needed to see his daughter.

  “Over here, Lieutenant.”

  He turned in the direction of the voice. When his eyes locked with Rachel’s, she dropped the blanket around her shoulders and sprinted toward him. He caught her in an embrace and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly, completely. “Thank you, Jesus,” he whispered into her hair.

  Maggie lay curled in Rachel’s bed, helpless, a pillow hugged to her chest as terror trembled through her. “Though Rachel walks through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with her, Lord.” Over and over she prayed, imagining her child surrounded by multitudes of angels with swords drawn. It was the only way she could contain her panic. “Though Rachel walks through the valley of the shadow—”

  The front door opened. A surge of strength flowed through her, and she raced to the living room. Sam carried Rachel inside as an officer stood on the porch holding the door.

  “If you need anything, Lieutenant, give me a call.”

  “We’re good, Sergeant. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

  “You bet.” The officer closed the door behind him.

  Sam dropped to the couch, cradling Rachel as if she were a toddler. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his chest. Maggie could hear her soft gasps, uncontrollable, the remainder of the sobs Maggie imagined had surfaced once Rachel realized the horror she had walked into.

  “Dad-dy.” Her voice was broken as she tried to force out words. “I-I-I’m so-rry.”

  Sam closed his eyes as if fighting for control. Maggie dreaded what was coming, the fear and fury he had pent up for the last two days. But now wasn’t the time. He was too angry, Rachel was too fragile, and Maggie feared the potential damage.

  But it wasn’t fury Sam released. He pulled Rachel tightly to him, even closer, as first one sob and then a torrent broke free.

  “Daddy!” Rachel pulled back to look at him.

  Maggie knew how disturbing it must be for her daughter to see her dad cry so violently. She had only witnessed it once before, that night in the shower, the night she had returned.

  “What have I done?” Sam gasped, trying to gain control. “Why did I think I could do this on my own? I failed you, Rachel. It’s all my fault.”

  Maggie watched the roles reverse as Rachel tried to console her father. “No, Daddy, it’s not your fault. You did everything to try to make things better. It’s . . . it’s just this whole thing, losing Mom, it’s bigger than us. It’s just too much.” She wiped at the tears on his face.

  “But it shouldn’t have been. I made so many mistakes. I’m the only one to blame.”

  Rachel sat up and slid off his lap to sit beside him. She was silent for a moment. Then she took her cell phone from her back pocket, tapped the screen, and stared at it. Maggie was confused. How, in this moment, could her daughter text?

  Rachel took a deep breath and looked at her dad. “You’re not to blame. I am.” She handed her phone to Sam.

  “What is this?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “A text to Mom. My last text to Mom.”

  “Love you, Mom. Home soon?” Sam read out loud.

  Rachel nodded, releasing her tears in streams down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. Mom died because of me.”

  Maggie was baffled. How could Rachel think such a thing?

  “Rachel.” Sam turned to face her. “Honey, it’s not your fault. There is nothing in this world, nothing you could ever do, that could make you responsible for your mother’s death.”

  “But I am.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I heard the detectives that night. They said it was like Mom got distracted. That’s why she crossed into the other lane suddenly. That maybe she reached for something, like her cell phone. Dad, I texted her.” Rachel’s voice cracked. “I’m the reason she reached for her phone.”

  “Oh, Rachel.”

  Maggie watched Sam get off the couch and kneel in front of their daughter. He placed the cell phone beside her and took both her hands into his. “Listen to me. You are not the reason Mom crossed the centerline. You are not—”

  “But how do you know?” Rachel’s voice held the slightest hint of hope.

  “Because.” Sam held up her phone to show her the text. “What time does it say this text was delivered?”

  “8:36.”

  “Yes.” Sam turned her chin to make her look in his eyes. “And the police report said the accident happened between 8:16 and 8:20. See? You sent the text after the accident. Rachel, honey, you are not the reason Mom died.” His tears pooled again. “This is what you’ve believed all this time?”

  Rachel searched his face as if trying to read the truth in it, then leaned into her dad. He pulled her to him as her body racked with sobs, sobs born from the grief Maggie now realized Rachel had buried beneath a mountain of guilt that had nearly suffocated her. So many questions were answered in a few brief moments.

  When her sobs quieted, Rachel leaned back. Sam remained in front of her, and Maggie watched as he enveloped Rachel’s small hands in his. Suddenly Sam’s expression changed. His brows furrowed, and he pushed up Rachel’s sleeve. Quickly, she pushed it back down, gripping her cuff with her fingers. Shame covered her face.

  “Rachel.” Sam whispered. “Rach�
��” He searched her face for an explanation.

  Maggie’s hand covered her mouth as Rachel allowed her dad to gently tug the cuff from her grip and slowly raise her sleeve again, revealing the scars she had carved into her arms. Sam’s eyes filled with tears. The harsh voice Maggie expected was instead tender and pained.

  “Honey, what happened?”

  Rachel’s gaze locked on the scars. She shrugged.

  “Did you do this?”

  She inhaled deeply and nodded. Sam gripped her wrists and gently rubbed his thumbs over the pink marks on her skin.

  “Why?” He whispered as he brought Rachel’s hands to his mouth and held them there. “Why?”

  Finally Rachel found her voice. “I don’t know.” She pulled her hands from him. “It’s just been so hard.” She raised her sleeves and looked at the healing scars. “I’ve been trying to stop.” Maggie was relieved there was no evidence of fresh cuts.

  “Rachel, I’m so sorr—”

  “No, Dad. It’s not your fault. I’ve been awful. To you. To Olivia. Kristen. Nothing mattered, not grades, not church. And I’ve made some . . . bad choices—”

  “You know what, Rachel? I’ve made some bad choices, too. But sometimes you do what you think you have to do. And if it’s the wrong thing, well, you learn from it. Yes?”

  Rachel leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. “I’m so sorry for everything, Dad.”

  “I’m sorry, too. But we have to promise each other something. No more secrets. No more silence. We need each other. We have to help us get through the bad stuff, together. Okay?”

  Rachel nodded. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you, too, baby.”

  Then Maggie knew. It was Sam, not her, who needed to save Rachel. The past months of agony, of watching helplessly as her family suffered, were necessary. They had to go through it, to find each other. Without her. Amazed, she witnessed her daughter coming through the other side of crisis—and her husband leading the way.