But her wild-eyed panic doesn’t subside with my explanation. “I’m telling you, B. That’s the guy you should watch out for,” she insists. I’m starting to wonder if she has her facts straight. Or perhaps-- and this is not a prospect I feel great entertaining-- she’s just making it up. I don’t think she would lie to me, but who knows? She’s just a kid, anyway.
But just as I’m about to ask her to calm down and take a seat somewhere, the front entrance chimes again. This time, I do a double take at the figure walking into the Lazy Bean. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Hunter walking in-- carrying Flora in his arms, no less! Sam catches the stunned look on my face and spins around to see them there.
“Oh shit,” she murmurs, catching on that something must be terribly wrong.
Hunter comes marching up to the counter, looking solemn, even though Flora looks positively tickled to be hanging out with him instead of in a kindergarten classroom. “Hey, are you alright?” he asks me in a low, furtive tone.
“I was just asking her the same thing,” Samantha remarks, leaning on the counter.
I look back and forth between them, shrugging. “Yeah. I’m good. What the hell is going on here? Why isn’t Flora in school?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet.
“Mommy say a bad word,” Flora whispers accusingly.
A flicker of a smile crosses my face. “Yes. That’s right. Mommy did say a bad word.”
“Hell,” she whispers, barely audibly. A mischievous grin brightens her face.
“No, no. That’s a grown-up word. You can say that when you get a little older, okay?” Hunter tells her gently before turning back to me. “We had a little incident on the way to school, and I wanted to drop by and make sure you’re alright.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? What’s going on?” I ask, utterly bewildered.
“Someone was tailing us, Blossom. There was a car following me to drop off Flora at the school earlier. I decided it might be prudent for her to skip class today, under the circumstances,” he tells me grimly.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Samantha insists, sighing. “That guy that was here earlier-- he’s the one who was sniffing around your apartment looking for Flora. I’m tellin’ you, that’s your man.”
“No. That--that just doesn’t make sense,” I breathe, starting to feel ill.
“Blossom, I think we have to start coming to terms with the fact of the matter here,” says Hunter. “Someone out there really is trying to kidnap our daughter.”
Hunter
“We need to get back to the house, now,” I say in a firm tone, and Blossom looks at me like a deer in the headlights for a moment. I’m already so focused on getting her and Flora to safety that I’ve forgotten that this is still a place of business, and of course, Blossom still has a job here. Her name tag with a hand-drawn blooming flower next to her name says as much.
“Excuse me, sir?” says a middle-aged woman who looks like a manager, making her way over to me with a wary look on her face. On her name tag it says HELEN. “Is there a problem I can help you with?”
“There’s been an emergency,” Blossom says quickly, coming to her senses and snapping into action. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”
“What?!” the manager blurts, and I decide it’s time for me to intervene.
“This is a family emergency,” I say firmly, hugging Flora a little closer to me. “Someone very close to her has been in an accident, I need to get her to the hospital as soon as possible. You look like you have a full staff today. You can survive one morning without her, I hope.”
“I…” the manager tries to protest, but the look I give her silences her. I look to Blossom, nod, and she hurries around the counter to follow us out.
Less than a minute later, we’re in the car and driving.
“That was incredible,” Blossom says as we pull off. “Have you always been that good at lying?”
“Must be a talent I learned I had when I started doing my work,” I say casually. “Be ready for that in a year or so with her, by the way,” I add, nodding back to Flora in the backseat. “She’ll have gotten that from me. Sorry.”
Blossom rolls her eyes, and I pull off onto the highway. I keep an eye on traffic, watching out for signs of our pursuer. I think I lost him on the way to the coffee shop, but I want to make sure before I lead us back to the house.
But I can’t linger in traffic too long, either, because if the kidnapper thinks the house is unguarded, he might head there and run into Sage. I sincerely believe Sage is fully capable of killing a man, but she’s still inexperienced enough that she might get hurt while doing so.
The drive home is tense. We don’t want to discuss plans in front of Flora too much, but ignoring the elephant in the room is killing us. Instead, Blossom makes small talk with Flora about things that happened in her day before now. Flora humors her, but we can both tell that the kid is smart enough to know something isn’t right, especially after what happened yesterday. Children are often smarter than we give them credit for.
Still, rather than going into the details of why we’re taking her out of school for the day in order to avoid letting her get captured by a dangerous kidnapper, Blossom keeps the conversation light and friendly, asking her a few questions about what kinds of things Flora has been working on in school.
Finally, we get back to the house and hurry upstairs. When we unlock the door and barge in, I look across the living room and see Sage halfway to the door with a knife in her hand, which she quickly hides behind her back with wide eyes.
“Holy shit,” she says, “you’ve got to warn me before you all come home like that!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Blossom says, scooping Flora up in her arms and carrying her inside. “This was...kind of a rush.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“I got tailed on my way to Flora’s school,” I say through a frown as I lock the door behind me, bolting every lock on the door. “So, work and school are cancelled today.”
Sage’s face goes pale, and she opens her mouth to speak, but she remembers Flora and just nods.
“Hey Flora, hun, you wanna go read some books in your room with me? We never finished the one about the boy in the boat.”
“That one is so good!” Flora gushes immediately, and Blossom lets her down so she can run over to her sister, who takes the kid by the hand and gives us an understanding nod. She knows we need some time with Flora out of the room to figure things out.
“By the way,” Sage adds before disappearing down the hall. “I think I can miss my shifts this week, if you need someone to guard the fort,” she says with a nod to Flora.
“Thanks, Sage, that would be good,” I say, and she disappears down the hall. I hear the door close a moment later, and Blossom and I both let out deep sighs.
“We need a plan,” I say.
“We need literally anything more than what we’ve got right now,” Blossom says, shaking her head and running her hands over her face as she makes her way into the kitchen. I’m just a few steps behind her. “Even if I were to go to the police right now, I couldn't give them anything solid. What could I say? ‘Excuse me officer, I think someone’s trying to steal my child. I have no idea what he looks like except that he’s big and ugly and has a bird tattoo.’”
“You’re right, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” I say, pacing. “Even if we had evidence, it would be too slow. We’re dealing with someone who’s trying to strike fast and get away faster. If he’s not successful soon, chances are that he’ll run off, but he’ll be back. Someone who’s already struck this much is persistent. You’re positive there’s nobody in your life who might come after you and her like this?”
“Nobody,” she says, shaking her head. “Okay, here’s an idea. Let’s lay out all the information we know about him so far. Start chronologically, from the first thing that happened at the cabin.”
“He broke in wearing all black, knowing people were inside,
and he came armed,” I say. “He’s big and strong, and he’s not bad at fighting. I would be willing to bet it’s someone with military training, or some kind of armed forces like that. It sure as hell wasn’t judo.”
“Not doing a great job of making him seem like someone we can deal with,” Blossom says. I chuckle.
“I said he was good at fighting, not that he was better than me. I mean it when I say I’ll tear the bastard’s head off, that’s not an ‘if’ statement. Just got to catch the guy first.”
“So, are we also sure he tracked us to the cabin?” she asks, sitting on the counter.
“Yes,” I say. “When he first showed up, I was willing to think he might just be some random burglar who came prepared and more desperate than most, but this has got to be the same guy each time. The chances of it being a coincidence are too slim.”
“Agreed,” she says, wringing her hands. “So, he was following us around Ithaca, and that’s how he found us at the store.”
I’ve already gotten a piece of paper and a pen out of a drawer and started writing up a map of all this information, nodding as she speaks.
“And he isn’t just following us,” she says, shuddering. “He was in Flora’s room, so he has been in here. God, even this place isn’t safe.”
“It will be safe when I change the locks,” I say as I write, not looking up, “but it’ll be even safer when he’s dead.”
“He knows our schedule, knows how to get into our place, and knows my car,” she says. “I...really don’t want to get ahead of myself, because I know this whole ‘true crime podcast’ thing makes it really easy for me to sound crazy, but…”
“But this sounds like a professional,” I finish for her, nodding in agreement.
“Okay, so I’m not crazy?”
“No,” I say, frowning at the list I’ve written up. “It makes sense. And I know that’s not comforting, but it tells us a little more about what we need to prepare for.” I look up at her, watching her chew on her lip anxiously. “Hey, still with me?”
She gives her head a little shake, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and nods. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m realizing I really, really don’t like this kind of subject I’ve spent so much time on suddenly being so close to home.”
“I’m sorry for that,” I say, frowning. “But by the looks of things, it would have gotten this way even if I hadn’t crossed paths with you by now.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like-” she scrambles to backpedal, but I smile and hold up a hand.
“I hear you. But never mind all that, I think your skill set might be the useful one here.”
“Seriously?” she asks, genuinely surprised.
“Crime podcaster. You’ve got an ear out to things like this all over the country, so let’s think back. Kidnapper who cases his targets’ houses before striking. He talks to acquaintances like that girl outside, finds out schedules, travel plans, habits, you name it. He’s methodical. Probably spends time watching people and their homes before even thinking about making a move. Targets little girls. Based on what I’ve seen so far, this is definitely not his first time striking. He has experience. If I were a betting man, I’d say he has more than one victim in his past.”
Blossom grimaces, but then she furrows her brow. Hopping down, she hurries over to her laptop and starts pulling up a website I don’t recognize.
“That fits a few profiles,” she says, “but there was one that sounds not too far off from that I actually did a piece on recently. Guy fitting that description operating in rural Maine, believe it or not. The story came to the surface because one of his victims escaped.”
“Escaped?” I say, stroking my beard as I look over her shoulder.
“Yeah, the guy has a bunker under his house. One of those safehouses in case nuclear war happens. They’re all over the country. Apparently this girl of about Flora’s age was taken and stashed there by a guy fitting that description. She only made it out because he didn’t close it properly one day after a little too much drinking. The girl was smart enough to wait until he was long gone, and then she was brave enough to make a break for it. Police found her wandering down the interstate. It’s a miracle she survived at all, a little girl that age. I mean, can you imagine? A child like Flora in that kind of situation. But they never found the house, so they had to dismiss the kid’s testimony.”
I hear every word she speaks, but I’m frozen, because it all clicked into place at the mention of a bunker in Maine.
“I know who he is,” I growl, and Blossom pauses, then slowly looks up at me.
“You...what?”
I look down at her with fire in my eyes.
“I said I know who he is.” I pace the room, running my hand over my face. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have repressed those memories so fiercely, even though it put the life of my own child in danger? Finally, I turn and face Blossom, who’s looking at me with wide eyes.
“Back in Ithaca, I told Sage that I stayed with a real mean son of a bitch named Ronald. You were there to hear that, right?”
Her jaw drops, and I go on.
“I said I repressed parts of my memory, but now I know where I saw that fucking bird tattoo. It was on his arm. I found the bunker. He kept it out in a shed in the back where I wasn’t allowed to go. He thought he did a slick job of keeping it secret from me, but I saw. I don’t think he had anyone there while I lived with him. Too risky. When he wasn’t beating my ass, he was drinking. I avoided him like the plague, but every now and then I caught a glimpse of that fucking tattoo. Did everything I could to forget that place. Called child services on him when he was passed out drunk one night, and that was that.” I shake my head, pacing around more, feeling like my skin is crawling. “Can’t believe that phone call literally saved my life. I was just happy enough he got blacklisted by foster services.”
“Do you remember where that place is?” she asks hurriedly, standing up and looking at me urgently. I turn to her and nod with a stony face.
“Oh, I remember. Memorized the address so I could tell the social workers.” I take a few steps toward Blossom, looking at her intently and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Blossom, I know this isn’t a new world for you, so what I’m about to ask you shouldn’t come as a surprise. But we both know what needs to happen. I need to know if you’re on board with that.”
She locks eyes with me a long time before speaking again.
“Say it.”
“Do I have your permission for one final kill? For Flora?”
She glares at me with more intensity than I’ve ever seen in those blue eyes of hers.
“For Flora? For our little girl? Hell. Fucking. Yes.”
Blossom
Hunter is behind the wheel of the car, his dark eyes set hard on the winding, twisting road in front of us. His hand reaches across the center console to gently pat my thigh in an attempt to reassure me. His palm is warm and dry on my leg, which I can’t stop nervously jiggling. I don’t normally think of myself as an especially jumpy, twitchy person, but this entire melodrama regarding Flora and the mysterious asshole who’s stalking my family has me on edge. I can’t stop fidgeting and biting my lip as I stare out the window. My own hands are icy cold and shaking. I slide one of them underneath Hunter’s hand and he gives it a gentle squeeze, reminding me without a single word that no matter how terrifying this all seems, we’re in it together. If there’s one thing I can rely on Hunter to do, it’s to protect me. To protect our family. Because that’s what it is, really: our family. Flora is our daughter, and both of us will spare any expense or effort to keep her safe from harm.
She’s one of the truly good and innocent little souls in this dark world, and even if she weren’t my baby, that kind of goodness is always worth protecting. That is one thing I have definitely picked up from Hunter and his perspective on the universe: that evil must be stamped out in order to establish a safer world for the good ones. If that means Hunter and I will have to sides
tep into the shadows and occupy that uncomfortable, controversial gray space in between, then so be it. There was a time when I thought there was only black and white, good and bad-- that everyone and every act could be neatly categorized into those narrow, all-encompassing labels. But I know that’s naive of me to assume. I get it now.
I was childish to ever think it was so easy to draw those lines in the sand. I once thought I would spend my entire life firmly in the light. I’d just keep my head up and do what I was taught is right, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. But sometimes it hurts too much. The thought of letting a beast like Ronald survive, free to stalk through the darkness on his bloodthirsty hunt for innocent lives to take and twist in his filthy hands is a thought I cannot abide. It cuts too deeply. I won’t allow it. And neither will Hunter, especially now that we have started piecing together the full, hideous truth. This rabid animal of a man will never stop until he completes his evil mission. He will never stop looking for Flora. Ronald doesn’t know how to cut his losses and move on. He will always come after her. And unless we want to spend the rest of our lives nervously looking over our shoulders, keeping Flora so sheltered and cooped up that she doesn’t get to live the full, sunshiney life she deserves, we will have to put an end to him. To the evil he represents.
Hunter and I have never felt so close as we do right now. It’s strange that when I first discovered his true identity, his reputation as the White Lilac killer, I lamented that it would be the wedge to drive us apart. I see now that, ironically enough, it will be the glue that keeps our family together. I abhor violence. I detest the idea of inflicting harm or pain on another living creature. But Hunter has taught me that sometimes, that’s what has to happen. To maintain balance. To keep the world ever turning on its axis, to keep the good alive and well to see another day. Because what of life is worth it if all the goodness is perverted and broken and destroyed?
Hunter’s Baby Page 14