“But the concert was over at eleven!”
What had happened to her in those missing hours? Where was her family?
Clutching the folder of music as if it were a shield, she hurried down the hall to the administration office. As she had expected, it was locked tight. She opened her purse, found a handful of change, and went to call home on the pay phone. Eric answered on the first ring.
“Rachel?” he said. “Thank God! Where are you?”
“At the school,” Rachel said. “Eric, I don’t know what happened!”
“You just wait there,” Eric said. “I’m coming to get you.”
The Freleng house was on the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio, just two miles away from the high school. Eric was there within minutes, running to take a frightened and confused Rachel into his arms.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, leading her to their car. “Honey, where were you?”
“I . . . I think I passed out,” Rachel said. “But when I woke up, I was in my office.”
Eric backed away, resting his hand against her face. Under the lamplight, his dark fingers were a sharp contrast to the café-au-lait color of his wife’s skin. Her gray-green eyes were filled with tears, a show of both relief and fear.
“When I came to,” Rachel said, “no one was here! Eric, why did you leave without me?”
Eric shook his head.
“But we checked your office. We looked everywhere—and then we had a few people help with the search. The janitor even let us into the boiler room . . .”
He hugged her again. “God, I was so scared. I thought something terrible had happened to you.”
“What about the girls?” Rachel asked.
“They couldn’t get to bed when we got home,” Eric said. “Tati was afraid of having nightmares. She hears so many stories about missing people. The poor kid probably thought you were going to end up on a milk carton. Olivia didn’t say a word, but you could tell by her eyes that she was frightened too. They’ll be glad to see you.”
He opened the car door and helped her inside. Then he went around himself.
“Do you feel okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I think I’m fine,” Rachel said. “I just feel a little dizzy. But, Eric, more than two hours of my day are missing!”
Eric started the car, and they drove home through the well-lit streets. “I’ll call the police when we get home. They didn’t consider you missing long enough to conduct a search, but they should know something happened to you.”
Rachel’s grip was so tight that Eric nearly steered the car off the road.
“No!” she cried. “Please don’t call the police!”
“Rachel,” Eric said with concern, “all indications point to the fact that you were kidnapped tonight. We have to report this!”
“No, we don’t,” Rachel said. “I’m fine, really. I don’t know what happened to me, but that doesn’t mean we have to include the authorities in the matter.”
“But, Rachel—”
“Damn it, Eric!” Rachel snapped. “I’m fine! I don’t think I was kidnapped, and I don’t need for you to start worrying. Can we end this, please?”
Eric had never seen her so hostile in the four years they had been married, and the revelation that she could express such fear and anger surprised him.
“All . . . all right,” he stammered. “I won’t call the police. But, Rachel, if you feel anything at all—any pain, I mean—promise me you’ll call a doctor.”
“I promise,” Rachel said, fixing her eyes on the road ahead.
For a long time Rachel was silent. Eric thought to himself that this was the first time he’d ever seen her so introverted. It was her outgoing personality that had attracted him to her in the first place. They’d met at a faculty meeting. Rachel was new to the music department then, while Eric had been a gym teacher for three years. Friends had steered them toward each other. Though they had enjoyed the ensuing conversation, nothing had come of the evening. But Eric’s friends, worried about him raising two girls on his own, insisted he ask Rachel out again. Eric had given in, only because he thought Rachel was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. What started as infatuation turned into love when he saw Rachel’s warm reaction to his two young daughters. He asked her to marry him, and she’d accepted. It had been a strangely one-sided wedding, with only his family present. Rachel said she had no living relatives.
When they reached the long driveway that led up to their house, Rachel finally spoke again.
“Don’t tell the girls about your kidnapping idea,” she said.
“Of course I won’t,” Eric promised, shutting off the engine.
“We’ll just say I went for a walk to get some fresh air,” Rachel said, “and because I was so tired, I passed out.”
Olivia, relieved to see her mother was home and safe, willingly accepted the explanation. But Tatiana scrutinized Rachel as if trying to bore into her mind and learn the truth. Rachel caught the child’s gaze and felt a chill run through her. She managed a smile and patted Tatiana on the head.
“Everything’s all right now,” she said. “You go on up to bed.”
“Aren’t you going to kiss me good night?” Tatiana asked.
For a moment Rachel simply stared. Then she blinked a few times and said, “Oh, yes, yes! Of course!”
Tatiana accepted a kiss on her brown cheek.
“Your mother’s worn out,” Eric explained. “Go on, now, up to bed. You’ve got ballet class tomorrow and you’ll never be up to it.”
Tatiana took Olivia’s hand and walked with her up the staircase that cut through the middle of the colonial house. At the top, she looked back over her shoulder. Her parents were hugging each other.
“Something’s wrong with Mommy,” she said softly.
“Don’t be silly,” Olivia answered. “Mommy’s fine. Come on, it’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”
Each girl went to her own room. Despite Olivia’s reassurances, Tati still worried that there was something different about their mother. It was a long time before she fell asleep that night.
4
MOVING WITH THE quickness of a startled mouse, the little girl pulled herself back into the shadows cast where the city streetlamp washed over a tall pile of garbage bags. She didn’t notice the rotting smell of food left wrapped in dark plastic under the warm sun. Her nose was too stuffed up from crying. She wanted to run to someplace safe. If only she could remember where it was she was supposed to go.
If only she knew something more than her name.
“Lorraine,” read the gold chain she wore around her chubby little neck. There was no other clue to her identity, not even in the two small suitcases she had with her. The only thing she was sure of was that she was in a frightening, unfamiliar place. There were stores with great metal doors pulled down over them. Trash littered the streets, blown down abandoned sidewalks. Lorraine had been alone for the last hour, ever since she “woke up” to find herself wandering down a dark and deserted road. When she’d heard voices, she’d felt relief. Maybe someone would help her find her family.
But when she saw the group of teenagers moving toward her, she knew instinctively that they were trouble. The sight of a knife in one boy’s hand closed the most recently formed gap in her memory. She knew who they were. She could close her eyes and see them approaching her, laughing and threatening and sneering.
“What you got in that suitcase, man?”
No, they weren’t talking to her. They were talking to . . .
Whom?
Who had she been with?
“Step aside,” said the figure next to her. In her mind, she tried to see who it was. It spoke in a man’s voice, but the image was no more than a silhouette.
“Who are you?” Lorraine asked in her mind.
But there was no answer.
“You step aside, shithead,” one of the boys said. “You step aside or . . .”
Suddenly the silhouette produced a gun. In a flash, one of the gang members pulled out his own weapon. There was a gunshot, and cries of dismay, and a scream.
Did I scream? Lorraine wondered.
She remembered now that she had started running, both small suitcases clutched firmly in her pudgy hands. Overwhelming fear embraced her so completely that it began to block out all her memories. She ran on and on, unseen on the empty streets, a small figure lost in the shadows. By the time she stopped, all that was left to her was her name.
It was easy to hide. She was just a very little girl. She waited, biting her lip to keep from crying aloud, until the gang passed by. They never even noticed her.
Time moved slowly, and she felt herself drifting off to sleep. She awoke with a jolt when something warm and furry brushed her cheek. With a cry, she jumped up. Night had fallen completely by now, and the street was black and eerie.
Lorraine moved out of her hiding place as if in a trance, too exhausted to feel fear any longer. She walked like a little robot with no destination. When she turned the corner she saw movement under a lamp halfway up the block. Someone dressed in a big coat was hunched over a trashcan, exploring the inside. Lorraine walked toward this person, feeling none of the apprehension she had sensed when the gang passed her. She didn’t understand why the person was looking in a trashcan, but she was too young to worry about such behavior. She only knew she needed help, and this might be her only hope.
Up ahead, the ragged figure froze, her arm still reaching into the bin. Her fingers were wrapped around a partially eaten hero sandwich. Bettina heard footsteps behind her. They were tiny footsteps, but she knew how tricky these gang kids could be. They’d try to sneak up on her, and if they caught her, they’d beat her. But she wouldn’t let them do that. Bettina might have been a “crazy old lady,” but she had the keen hearing of a much younger person. The footsteps were drawing closer now. She held fast to the hero—nothing would make her give up the only food she’d found in hours. With her other hand she reached deep into the pocket of her tattered raincoat and felt the comforting smoothness of her weapon. She’d found a broken knife behind a restaurant once and had wrapped it with bits of masking tape. Now, as the footsteps stopped directly behind her, she whipped out the knife and swung around with a cry.
But the cry turned to a gasp of horror at the sight of the little girl.
“Holy Mother!” she cried.
She shoved the knife quickly into her pocket. She’d almost stabbed a child! Injuring a mugger was one thing, but hurting an innocent would mean an eternity in hell! Bettina could feel her heart pounding in her frail chest, and she pressed her hand against it. It took a number of deep breaths to calm herself.
“What in the name of the Lord are you doing out here, child?”
The little girl’s eyes were the oddest shade of gray-green Bettina had ever seen. They went very round now, and tears began spilling from them.
“I . . . I’m lost,” Lorraine wailed. “I don’t know where I am!”
Bettina turned for a moment to the overstuffed shopping cart behind her. She put her sandwich in it, then looked at the child again. The necklace she wore glistened in the lamplight, so she knew at once the child’s name was Lorraine. She seemed to be no more than five or six. Bettina knelt down to her height.
“Your name is Lorraine?”
The child nodded, her lower lip quivering as she fought another bout of tears.
“What’s your last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know where you come from?”
The little girl shook her head.
“Well, you sure ain’t from this area,” Bettina said. “Ain’t no kids around here who dress like this.”
She indicated the matching slacks and top Lorraine wore, a fancy outfit decorated with eyelet and ribbons. It was dirty now, and a bit of the trim was dangling from the hem, but Bettina knew boutique clothing when she saw it. Many years ago she’d worked in the garment district.
Now Bettina noticed the two suitcases Lorraine was carrying. Could there be a clue in them? There were no tags on the outside.
“May I look into the bags?” she asked.
Trustingly Lorraine nodded. That was another thing that indicated she didn’t belong here. No child bom in this area would trust a complete stranger.
Bettina looked around to be certain they were alone. She, too, had noticed the gang earlier.
One bag held more of the same type of clothing, the stuff only rich people dressed their kids in. And the other bag proved Lorraine really was rich, while adding to the mystery of this lost child. What on earth was she doing walking around the Lower East Side of Manhattan with a suitcase stuffed with twenty-dollar bills? Bettina gasped at the sight of the money. There had to be more than a thousand dollars in here!
Quickly she closed it. Temptation was coming down on her, making her want to steal this from the innocent child. Bettina didn’t want to burn in hell, so she stood up and put her dirty hand gently on the child’s.
“You stick with me, sweet Lorraine,” she said. “You stick with old Bettina. She’ll take care of you.”
5
NIGHT HAD FALLEN by the time Samantha saw the exit sign for Ashleigh Creek. Soon she’d be back home, where she could begin to piece together the missing days.
She had spent the better part of the drive questioning Julie. The child answered as best as she could, which usually meant a shrug or an “I don’t know.” Julie’s past was a mystery. The only information she could provide was that she had lived in an orphanage. Somehow, even the names of the people who had cared for her (other than Mr. Henley) had been blanked from her mind. Most disconcerting about all this was that the child took it so readily. Samantha thought a normal kid would be very upset. But Julie seemed to accept being with Samantha as if it were the most natural thing on earth.
When Samantha pulled up to her garage, she sensed the danger she’d felt the last time she’d been here. Much as she wanted to push the frightful thoughts from her mind, she welcomed them instead as a way of getting to the truth. She aimed the garage-door remote and tried to make its actions bring back memories of that day. But everything in the garage was as it was supposed to be, mundane and nonthreatening.
Everything but the shattered back-door window. Leaving Julie sound asleep, Samantha turned off the engine and got out. Her feet crunched on bits of broken glass. There was an ax lying on the floor just inside the door. Samantha picked it up carefully. The feelings that came to her were instantaneous, and so frightening she threw the tool down. She had a brief flash of memory, of swinging the ax at the door in a desperate attempt to get away from . . . something.
She tried to push her fears away and let the ax help her remember what had happened. But at that moment Julie suddenly began to scream.
“No! Don’t put me in that!”
Samantha hurried to the truck. Julie was sitting as far forward as her seat belt would allow, staring at something Samantha couldn’t see. Her arms were flailing, as if she were fighting someone.
“No! No! No!”
“Julie!”
Samantha reached around the wildcat child and unfastened her seat belt. It took all her strength to control her. Julie screamed and fought, seeming unaware of her real surroundings.
“Julie, wake up!”
The girl took in a huge gulp of air. She began coughing, focusing at last on Samantha with wild eyes. Then she blinked a few times, and Samantha understood that the little girl was finally seeing her.
“You had a bad dream, sweetie,” Samantha said. “But it’s over now.”
“Someone was trying to put me in a box,” Julie said.
Samantha shivered at the image. What kind of dream was this for a little girl? Had her previous life been so terrible that she forced it out of her memory?
Julie snuggled against her.
“It’s okay now,” Samantha said. “Look, we’re home now. Let’s go inside.”
Julie stopped at the door, staring for a moment at the broken window. Finally she said, “You did that.”
“How do you know?”
But Julie was already walking down the path to the house. The outside light worked on a timer, and it had come on a short while earlier. Julie didn’t continue on the path, but veered in the direction of the kennel. Samantha was suddenly reminded of her dogs. They’d been left alone for almost two days!
“The dogs need you!” Julie called. “Hurry!”
“Damn,” Samantha said. “How could I have forgotten them?”
She hurried into the kennel.
“Lady! Sunday!”
Her calls were answered by soft whimpering. Samantha opened the inner door and gasped. Sunday and Lady, two chocolate Labradors, were huddled on a pile of hay in the corner of the room. Samantha hurried to them and stroked their matted fur.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You poor things! You’ve been cooped up here without food and water!”
“But look,” Julie said from the back of the room, “someone did leave them food and water.”
Samantha stood up. To her surprise, the water trough and food trays were full. Whoever had kidnapped her the other night had also seen to it that the dogs were taken care of. It was an odd show of humanity from a mysterious stranger. But it also put things into a different perspective. If the kidnapper had wanted to hurt her, why bother caring for the dogs?
She noticed now that Sunday and Lady had pulled away from her and were staring at Julie with their cocoa-colored eyes. Julie returned the stares. It was like a tableau, a moment of frozen time. Samantha wondered why the dogs didn’t run to greet the new stranger in the frolicking, barking way they always did. They seemed to be studying Julie, sizing her up.
“Julie?” she said softly. “These are my dogs, Sunday and Lady.”
“I know,” Julie said. She opened her arms and the dogs ran to her. Each one licked a hand with a warm, wet tongue.
Cries of the Children Page 2