Deadly Holidays (12 page)

As part of the Amber Alert, the television media ran continuous ticker tape messages across the bottom of the screen urging anyone who had seen Shawn to call the sheriff's office.  The few calls they'd received were checked out.  None of them panned out.  “Missing” posters could be seen in every shop, restaurant, gas station and grocery store, and were nailed to every wooden light post and tree.  There wasn't a person in the county who wasn't looking for Shawn Isaac.

Blake opened his notepad to review the notes he'd taken during the interviews he'd done, praying that some piece of information he hadn't noticed before would pop out to help him find this little boy. 

Blake re-read his notes and stopped when he got to the page describing his questioning of Billy Collins.  It still bothered him that the five-year-old wouldn't meet his eyes when he answered a question.  The kid wouldn't meet his eyes
and
fidgeted with his fingers, as if he were anxious about something.  And once he'd answered Blake's questions, he acted thrilled his mother asked him to go to his room.  In fact, he couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Did he fear Blake because he was a police officer?  Or was he lying because he had information about Shawn?

It was worth a second visit to Billy's house to find out.

<><><> 

December 24

Sometime during the night, Shawn awakened to howling wind that blasted so hard against the house, it shook the glass in the attic window.  He crawled out of his sleeping bag and dragged it with him to the window, where he wrapped it around his body for warmth as he gazed outside.  There was more snow than Shawn had ever seen blanketing the neighborhood, drifting up against the houses, covering some of the festive colored lights that twinkled beneath.  Rubbing his freezing hands together, he watched as a truck, its wipers struggling to clear the windshield, crept by in the foot of snow that had filled the street.

Tree branches heavy with snow bent toward the ground.  In the moonlight, the snow shimmered as snowflakes continued falling from the sky, blowing diagonally across the window.  At times it was snowing so hard, Shawn couldn't see even the closest house.

Shawn leaned back against the wall and looked around the attic illuminated by the moonlight.  Filled with loneliness, he wished Billy could stay in the attic with him.

Shawn closed his eyes and pretended he was at Detective Blake's house.  He was sitting close to Mrs. Stone on the sofa and she was reading to him.  He loved to sit close to her while she read out loud.  With her arm around him, her body was warm and she smelled like flowers.  And when she read, she acted out the characters so the story came to life.

Shawn remembered the time he'd scraped his knee while playing catch with Detective Brennan in their backyard.  Shawn didn't cry, but Detective Blake picked him up and gave him the biggest hug.  Then he carried him inside piggy-back style to put some medicine and a bandage on his knee.  After that, Mrs. Stone gave him a chocolate chip cookie with some milk.  He thought Mrs. Stone must be the nicest and most beautiful woman in the world.

If only Detective Blake didn't work for the sheriff.  But he did, and that meant he would make Shawn go home if he found him.

At his last visit to the attic, Billy had announced tomorrow was Christmas Day.  That meant Santa would visit tonight.  Would Santa be able to find him stuck away in Billy's attic?  Shawn hoped with all his heart that Santa would find him tonight and take him far, far away.  He'd give any Christmas toys earmarked for him to other children, just so Santa would take him away.

Though he hadn't done it in a long time, Shawn wanted to suck his thumb.  He hadn't sucked his thumb since his daddy caught him, and hit Shawn so hard that he fell out of his chair.  Well, his daddy wasn't here now, so he put his thumb into his mouth and sucked contentedly.  He made a wish that his daddy never got out of jail.  It wasn't that Shawn wanted bad things to happen to Daddy, he just wanted to be safe from him.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, he rocked gently back and forth.  Worry had come to visit in Shawn's mind, and he couldn't shake his fears.  He might only be a little boy, but he knew he couldn't stay in the attic forever.  After the holiday vacation, he had to go to school.  Eventually, someone was going to find him and return him to his mother, and the beatings would begin again.  What if she became so angry that she killed him?  He didn't want to die.  He made a wish that he could be safe from his mommy, too.

Billy had said his mommy and daddy were dead.  At the time, Shawn didn't believe him.  But what if Billy was right?  They wouldn't be able to hurt him, but it brought him no comfort.  Mommy said
bad people would take him away from her.   They'd make him live with the mean people who didn't like children, and they would beat him harder than she ever did. 

Shawn stopped rocking, leaned his head on his arms, and cried.  He could see no way out of this terrible fate.

<><><> 

Michael lay quietly next to Anne, watching her as she slept. His heart swelled with emotion, thinking of the life they'd built together, and asking why she would seek out a lover, why he wasn’t enough. He thought they were happy.  How could he have missed signs that maybe she wasn't? Before taking the job of county prosecutor, Michael was an attorney who had handled some messy divorce cases. He had seen firsthand the worst of the worst, the hurt and deceit of failed marriages, and he had vowed that he’d never take a wife unless he was as certain as anyone can be of a “happy ever after.”  He thought he had found it with Anne. He loved her so much that he would do anything for her. 

Mere inches apart, Michael could feel her warmth on his chest, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, pressing her against the hard length of his body as he'd done countless times before. As long as he had known her, he had wanted her, and that would never change, whether she had a lover or not.  His mind told him to resist, but his body refused. A part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.  What the hell was she thinking?  The other part wanted to pull her into his arms, make love to her like never before, and drive any thoughts of another man far from her mind.

Anne's cell phone, the one that used to lie ignored at the bottom of her purse, sounded a Maroon 5 song, and she rolled over to get it from the bedside table.  Lifting it to her eyes to see the display, she noted who was calling and quickly slipped out of bed.  Quietly closing the bathroom door, she took the call in privacy, where Michael could hear only the soft murmuring of her voice.  Fear, anger and disbelief knotted inside him.  This was so not happening.

Hearing the metallic snick of the knob, Michael closed his eyes and burrowed down in the bedding.  Anne came out of the bathroom. She glanced his way to make sure he was still asleep.  Then she tiptoed to the closet, extracted a sweater, jeans and boots, then left the room for the bathroom down the hall, gently pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.

Michael bounded out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, long-sleeved black T-shirt, and his leather hiking boots.  After he brushed his teeth, he stood at the bedroom window that faced the driveway, waiting for his wife to appear. A thick layer of snow covered everything, weighing down tree branches and drifting against the house and garage.  It was still falling in soft lacy flakes that glittered in the early morning sun.  On any other day, he would have admired the snow as a beautiful act of nature.  But not today.

Moments later, Anne walked to the garage, opened the door and started her blue Honda CRV. 

Pulling his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, Michael dialed their housekeeper Daisy's cell.  At this time of morning, she was undoubtedly in the kitchen making breakfast for the twins.

"Daisy, I have the day off, but have a couple of appointments in town.  Can you watch the kids until I return?" asked Michael.

"Of course I can.  Anne asked me to watch them before she left."

"Thanks."  Michael disconnected the call in time to see Anne back the vehicle out of the garage, turning it around in the snow-covered driveway to head down the long lane to the road.  He bounded down the stairs, taking them two-at-a-time, flying out of the house and into the garage in time to see Anne pulling onto the road.  Revving his Escalade, he slammed it into reverse to turn around in the driveway, daring the vehicle to get stuck in the snow.  With windshield wipers battling the pelting snow, he drove down the lane, nearly hitting Hank, the farm foreman, who was at the wheel of his truck, clearing the end of the drive with the snowplow.

Staying a safe distance behind, he tailed Anne into town, becoming more furious as the miles passed by.  It was Christmas Eve, and Anne was meeting her lover?  Seriously?  Hell, even if it weren't a special holiday that she should be spending with family, she shouldn't be out on the roads in what was predicted to be blizzard conditions later in the day.  Whatever she was thinking, it wasn't about her safety. Christ, what had gotten into her?  He passed a church with a lit-up nativity scene on its lawn, and for a moment it held his attention. There was an angel standing guard over the baby Jesus, who had a layer of snow swaddling Him. Michael couldn’t hold back the tears forming in his eyes. Suddenly, he felt impressed to utter a prayer.  “Lord, you know I haven’t exactly been a religious man.  But it’s Christmas and it’s the season for miracles.  God, if there is a way, please help us work through this. Bring Anne back to me.” 

Trailing his wife until she approached a cluster of medical buildings near the hospital, he pulled in several spaces down when she parked her SUV in the lot. She hurried inside a building marked with the words Women's Center, leaving Michael to wonder if her lover was a damned doctor who worked inside.

His temper flaring, Michael got out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him.  He fought for control as he neared the building, knowing his temper could make the bad situation even worse.

<><><> 

Dr. Sands' waiting room was filled with anxious women hoping to see the doctor before she closed her office at noon for the holidays.  Anne waited nervously, biting her lip and twisting a strand of her hair as she watched the physician's receptionist work at her computer.  A flat-screen television broadcasted a women's health program, and the woman next to her flipped through the pages of a tattered magazine.  Anne glanced around the room and wondered.  Were there other women like her, waiting to get what could be a death sentence?  And on the other end of the scale, were there other women waiting for the happy news that they were pregnant? They were all waiting for some news.  How could life and death so easily reside in the same room?  What was it that intertwined these women's lives together? Hope.  Hope it wasn’t cancer.  Hope they were finally pregnant. Hope for a Christmas miracle.

Anne eyed the wooden door that led to a hallway of examination rooms, where her doctor had test results that had the potential to blow her life apart.  When were they going to call her name?  If Dr. Sands had her test results, she wanted them
now
. 

The wooden door opened, and Dr. Sands' nurse, Joanne, appeared and called Anne's name, smiling as she approached her.

"Hi, Anne.  It's good to see you," the friendly woman began, "Come down here to the dreaded scales so I can get your weight for your records.  How are your kids?  Do you have your holiday shopping finished?" Anne didn’t feel like chatting, she just wanted the woman to simply hurry up.

Moments later Joanne led her into the same exam room Anne had occupied the day her doctor affirmed the lump in her breast and had ordered an ultrasound. The day that had so drastically changed her life.