Amid the Shadows

by Michael C. Grumley

  There was no answer.

  She turned and looked back around the corner. “Sarah?”

  Sarah was looking at the pictures again.

  “Is this your mommy?” Sarah asked pointing to one of the pictures.

  Christine walked up behind her. “Yes.”

  Sarah looked closer at another. It showed Christine’s mother standing next to her wearing a white lab coat with her shoulder length brown hair put up. “Why is she wearing that?”

  Christine leaned in and looked at the picture. “My mother was a pharmacist.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows excitedly. “She worked on a farm?”

  “No, no.” Christine chuckled. “A pharmacist is someone who gets medicine for people.”

  “Oh,” Sarah said with a hint of disappointment. She pointed to another, older photo. “Is this your daddy?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  Sarah looked up with her large green eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “He’s…in heaven.” Christine frowned and changed the subject. “Hey, do you want to sleep in my big bed tonight?”

  Sarah shrugged her tiny shoulders.

  “It’s a great bed, and I’ll be right here on this couch. Just a few steps away.”

  Sarah nervously looked at the couch and then back at the bedroom door.

  “And you know what?” Christine added. “My kitty cat Cassie likes to sleep in my bed. Maybe she’ll sleep with you.”

  “She won’t,” Sarah said sadly, looking down at the floor.

  “Well, she probably just needs to get used to you.” Christine bent down and gave her an awkward squeeze around the shoulders. “Okay then,” she said clearing her throat, “let me see what I can find to eat.”

  8

  Griffin paid Lenny and picked up both hot dogs. Lenny Markowitz was small and boisterous, almost 70, and had been selling hot dogs on the same street corner in Manhattan for 43 years. And he was proud of it. He had survived recessions, natural disasters, and every kind of struggle life could throw at him, and he did it by selling hot dogs. That was perseverance. Griffin and Buckley liked him immensely and faithfully bought his dogs for lunch twice a week.

  Griffin walked back to the car, where Buckley was leaning against the fender, and handed him one. “So,” he said, taking a bite, “no hospital or clinic within ten miles reported having someone show up that night with a wound bleeding that badly.”

  Buckley nodded. “Apparently not.”

  “So if Eisendrath is right, and this person had less than twenty minutes to get help,” he paused, “let’s call it forty minutes…he would either have had to get help from somewhere else or left in a way that didn’t involve hundreds of downtown traffic lights.”

  “Or both,” Buckley added with a swallow.

  “Or both,” Griffin acknowledged. “Or they were not wounded that badly after all.”

  “But how could someone bleed that much if they weren’t hurt that bad?”

  “Exactly. Which means they had to be that hurt.” Griffin took a bite. “I guess they just disappeared.”

  “What I don’t understand,” started Buckley, “is if there were three people running out the back, or at least three that we know of, why was the fourth still upstairs?”

  “Maybe he was in the hallway before the other three came down the stairwell, and he came down with them.”

  Buckley shook his head. “Then why didn’t we see huge amounts of blood on the stairs or across the parking lot too?”

  Griffin took a drink of his soda. “Maybe they bled out by then which means the other three would have had another body to carry…”

  “Which slows them down, adds more weight, another source of blood droplets…all of which we don’t see.”

  Griffin shook his head. “It doesn’t work.” He thought for a minute, absently watching a woman walk by with her dog. “Okay, let’s forget the other three in the parking lot for the moment. Why would the person in the hall, who was hemorrhaging, simply be standing there?”

  Buckley shrugged and downed his last piece of hot dog. “Deciding which way to run?”

  “I don’t think so. It doesn’t take that long to pick a direction, a few seconds maybe. And even if he did, there was no other trail of blood downstairs or around the hotel.”

  “So where did he go?” asked Buckley.

  “I don’t know.”

  Buckley finished his soda and tossed his cup in a nearby trash can. “So, let me ask you something else, is it just me or are you wondering why it would take four guys, at least, to take down one single mother?”

  Griffin folded his arms. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. And the amount of damage to that room was incredible. How much fight does one woman have against four attackers?”

  “Or more.”

  “And when and how did little Sarah escape?” Griffin wondered out loud. He suddenly looked at Buckley. “What if the person in the hall was looking for Sarah?”

  “And simply stopped looking because he was bleeding too badly.”

  “That fits.” Griffin said. “But why would they not go with the other three? Wouldn’t that be their best chance at getting treatment somewhere? It still doesn’t make sense.”

  Buckley reached into the car and grabbed his cell phone. It had a voice mail on it. He dialed the number and listened. With the phone still next to his ear, he looked at Griffin. “Roberts says she left you a voice mail.”

  Surprised, Griffin pulled his own phone out of his pocket. He frowned and rolled his eyes, holding it up for Buckley to see. “Damn thing turned off again. I think my battery is dying.”

  “You’ve got to get a new phone,” Buckley said pulling out a small notepad and writing on it.

  “What’s the message?”

  Buckley finished writing and hung up his phone. “She says they have an address for Barbara Baxter’s work. Ready for a ride upstate?”

  Albany, New York, was just over two hours away and had the distinction of being one of the oldest surviving colonies from the newly discovered Americas. First settled in 1614, it was located at the north end of the Hudson River and now served as the state capital of New York.

  Just three blocks away from the state capital building, Griffin and Buckley arrived at Simon & Meyer, a small but prominent law firm. Both men were escorted to a conference room where they were joined by Aaron Meyer and Karen McClay, manager of the firm’s support staff. The two were devastated when they heard the news about Barbara.

  “Who on earth would do something like that?” asked Meyer incredulously. McClay sat beside him weeping.

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Griffin. He reached for a tissue box behind him and passed it to Karen.

  “Can you tell us how long Barbara worked here?” asked Buckley.

  “Years,” replied Meyer, trying to think. “Five, maybe six years.”

  “Did she have any problems that you’re aware of?”

  Meyer shook his head. “At work? God no, she was incredible. She worked hard and was as sharp as a tack.” He looked at Karen, who was still struggling. “I don’t really know much about her home life. Karen might.”

  Karen looked up, but still couldn’t stop crying long enough to get the words out. After a long time, she finally shook her head. “N-not that I know of.”

  “Do either of you know what she was doing in New York?” Griffin asked.

  Meyer shrugged and again looked at Karen. She wiped her eyes and said “It was a last minute thing. A vacation for her and her daughter.” Karen’s eyes opened wide. “My god, is Sarah okay?”

  “She’s fine.” Griffin nodded. “She’s being tended to until we sort everything out.”

  Buckley cleared his throat. “Do you know if she was in any trouble? Anybody she was arguing with or not getting along?”

  “No!” Karen shook her head. “Not a single person that I know of.”

  “Any boyfriends or bad relationships? Bad breakups maybe?”

>   “Not that I know of. As far as I know, she hadn’t dated anyone in a long time. It was just her and Sarah. She was all Barbara cared about.”

  “Any idea if she was meeting anyone there?”

  “Mmm…I think so. But you’d have to ask one of the other legal secretaries she worked with. They talked to her more often than I did.”

  Both detectives nodded and continued to write in their pads. Griffin looked up at Meyer. “Would you mind if we talked to some of the other staff?”

  “Of course not.”

  Griffin turned to Karen. “Have you ever met her daughter Sarah?”

  Karen looked surprised. “Of course I have. We all have. She’s a wonderful child, simply incredible.”

  Griffin looked at Buckley. “What do you mean incredible?”

  She shrugged. “She’s just about the nicest little girl I’ve ever met. Always polite, mature, and very perceptive.”

  “Perhaps we can see Barbara’s employment records and a list of phone calls?”

  Meyer managed a polite smile. “I’d like to detective, but I’m afraid we have some rather paranoid clients. You’d have to get a warrant for that.”

  He looked at Meyer. “How about a look at her desk?”

  Meyer thought about it for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, you can take as long as you like at her desk, provided I stand next to you and keep you away from any client related data that might be proprietary to the firm.”

  “That would be fine,” said Griffin. “You do realize, however, that we will come back with a warrant.”

  Meyer smiled. “I certainly do. But for the sake of our business and reputation, we have to be diligent.”

  9

  Christine and Sarah walked through the lobby of the Human Resources Administration building on 8th Avenue. They crossed the marble floor and found a long line forming in front of the elevators. Sarah spotted the stairs behind them and tugged on Christine’s arm.

  Christine looked at the sign on the door and smiled. “Okay, I probably need the exercise anyway.”

  They reached the fifth floor a little out of breath and found the cause of the delay. One of the two elevators was offline for repairs. A technician could be seen inside with his head stuck in an open panel.

  Christine opened the door and Sarah walked in ahead of her, looking around at the giant open office area. They headed down a long hallway, turned a corner, and stopped in front of Liz Iverson’s office.

  Several minutes later, Christine was standing next to Liz. They both watched Sarah in the small room next door, sitting at an oversized table with a giant box of crayons.

  Christine sighed. “I really didn’t think she would come.”

  “I’m glad she did,” Liz replied. “Let’s see if she agrees to an exam.” She handed Christine a small business card. “I made an appointment for you this afternoon at the Children’s Hospital. Just in case.”

  “Thanks.” Christine took the card and looked it over.

  Liz looked at Sarah again. “How is she?”

  “It’s hard to say,” Christine said. “She’s talking and starting to open up a little bit.” She looked back and gave her a nervous look. “I just feel like I’m fumbling a bit here.”

  “You’re doing fine,” Liz said, putting a hand on her arm.

  Christine managed a grin. “Thanks.”

  “So listen, I spoke with Officer Roberts at the police department. They’re trying to track down next of kin and find out if there was a will or trust that addresses her mother’s wishes for custody. Has Sarah said anything about brothers or sisters, maybe aunts or uncles?”

  Christine shook her head. “So far she hasn’t said a whole lot of anything.”

  “Okay,” Liz nodded. “Well, if she continues to open up, see what you can find out.”

  “I will.”

  “You might also see if you can find out anything about her father, like whether he is still in the picture at all.”

  Christine frowned. “Liz, what if there is no one or we can’t find anyone?”

  “We usually do, even if it takes some time. If it’s a lengthy process, we will have to find a foster home or a temporary family she can stay with until we figure things out.”

  Christine said nothing and Liz knew what she was thinking. “Look Christine, it’s normal to become attached. And to some extent that’s okay. But we have to keep our heads here. The hardest part about our job is putting aside our emotions and personal interests to make sure we do what’s right for these children. In the long run, that’s the most help we can give them.”

  “I know,” Christine replied watching Sarah. “You just feel so bad. I mean no one should have to go through what she has.” She looked back at Liz. “We’re going to get her some counseling right?”

  “If the new guardians have no will or money to work with, then yes, we’ll try to help.”

  Christine thought about that term, new guardians. It sounded so matter of fact, so detached. These children were so innocent and vulnerable, how could people detach themselves so easily? How could they just let some procedure or checklist determine the outcome? Maybe she had trouble with kids, but she sure wasn’t heartless. Not that her colleagues were either, but where exactly was that line? How long did it take to eventually close off enough of your sympathy to function effectively in this job? And if they turn that off, how were they supposed to really feel and sense the kind of relationship the children might have with their new guardians? It wasn’t just about finding someone who would take good care of them was it? Wasn’t their job really about finding someone who would truly love these kids like they were their own? Or was that just a romantic vision that everyone new to the job brought with them, until they were finally beaten down by the reality of life?

  Christine tried to sound professional. “So, how long…you know, do I…”

  “How long do you look after her?” Liz asked.

  “Right.”

  “Usually a few days. Obviously the sooner we get her into a positive environment, the sooner the healing can begin.”

  The healing. How long, Christine thought, does it take to heal from hearing your mother being thrown out of a window? Decades?

  Liz gave Sarah one last look. “Okay, I’ve got to run. Stay in touch and let me know how it goes this afternoon.”

  “I will.”

  With that, Liz ducked back inside her office and grabbed her purse. She patted Christine on the arm once more as she passed and headed out.

  Christine turned her attention back to Sarah. Watching Sarah sitting there coloring all alone stirred so many emotions. She looked so alone and vulnerable, and yet she also somehow looked strong at the same time. It was simply amazing how resilient some children could be.

  Christine opened the glass door and quietly walked in. Sarah remained focused on her drawing as Christine approached and stood next to her, peering down at what she was working on. It had a small, blue house in the middle and a bright, yellow sun in the upper left hand corner.

  “What are you drawing, Sarah?”

  “My house,” Sarah replied without looking up.

  “And who are these?” she asked, pointing to some stick figures.

  “Me and mommy and kitty.”

  “Ah, very nice. And is this the sun here?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “And what are these?” Christine asked, pointing to small circles around the stick figures.

  “Shadows. Kitty has one too but it’s little.”

  Christine smiled. “It’s beautiful Sarah.” She looked up when the door opened and the receptionist entered.

  “Christine, I have a call for you,” the receptionist whispered.

  “Who is it?”

  “Not sure, she didn’t give a name.”

  “Okay. Thanks Jen.” Christine reached for the phone and picked up the line. She held the phone up to her ear. “Hello, this is Christine.”

  “Is this Christine Rose?” a female voice asked.


  “Yes it is.”

  The caller was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, she sounded reserved. “I have some information about the Baxters…”

  “Oh. You know I don’t…I think you want to talk to the police, I’m not-”

  “I don’t want to talk to the police,” the woman interrupted.

  “Um, okay,” Christine said. “Well you probably know-”

  “I know about the other night, that’s why I’m calling. This is not about Barbara, it’s about her daughter…Sarah.”

  Less than two minutes later Christine was walking quickly down the hallway and back towards the elevators with Sarah in tow, barely keeping up. If she walked any faster, she would have been dragging Sarah. They reached the double doors of the elevators and Christine quickly pressed the down button.

  “Where are we going?” Sarah asked.

  “To talk to the policemen.”

  The elevator doors opened. Several people looked up at them and stepped back to make room. Christine took a step forward but was stopped. She looked down behind her. Sarah was pulling hard on the arm of her blouse.

  “Come on, Sarah.”

  Sarah looked up at her and shook her head.

  “It’s okay, Sarah. Elevators are safe.” She put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders to help her forward but Sarah dug her feet in. “What is it honey? Have you not been on one of these before?”

  Sarah shook her head even more and backed away.

  Christine frowned. “Okay, we don’t need to go that way. If you’re afraid of elevators, let’s take the stairs again.”

  Sarah ran ahead to the stairs as Christine apologized to the others and waved for them to go ahead. She trotted after Sarah as the elevators doors closed gently behind her.

  “Hold on, Sarah. Not so fast.” She grabbed the heavy stairway door that Sarah was trying to pull open.

  Suddenly a terrible screeching of metal against metal sounded from the other side of the elevator doors, followed by a loud blast. The giant silver doors instantly bulged outwards, and a loud banging could be heard as the elevator car plunged five stories to the bottom of the shaft. Within seconds, the car smashed into the bottom floor.