Rude Awakening (10 page)

My cell phone rang and I picked it up. ‘Kovak.'

‘. . . Jean . . .' came the scratchy voice of my wife. Reception this deep in the woods was not great.

‘Hey, babe—' I started but she was already talking.

‘. . . call . . . scary . . . ran . . . home . . .'

‘Huh?' I said.

‘We got . . . man . . . som . . . get . . . now!'

‘Baby? We got a bad connection!' I yelled. ‘Is it important?'

‘Yes!' came back loud and clear. ‘. . . por . . . now! Ransom!'

The last word rang out like a shot.
Ransom
. Eli Knight might not be dead!

Jean wished that she could pace. She envied people who could; it seemed to help with the tension. She sat in the most comfortable chair in the living room, her forearms resting on the arms of the chair, willing them to relax, willing her fists to unclench. Concentrating on the room – as it had been, as it was now. Bachelor digs: a sprung couch with frayed arms, a recliner older than dirt, the TV the dominant feature of the room. Now it was warm, inviting, with good furniture, plants, books, warm colors on the walls. It was their room now, hers and Milt's and John's.

But just thinking John's name brought it all to the forefront. Over and over in her head, she couldn't help replaying the telephone call she'd received only moments before.

That gravelly, mechanical voice. Those words beyond scary: ‘I've got your son!' he'd said.

Jean had thrown down the phone and hobbled up the stairs as fast as she could to John's playroom. He was still there, with Dalton's eleven-year-old niece and two-year-old nephew.

She'd gone back downstairs, wondering what the call had been about. Someone saying they had John? But John was upstairs. Eli was missing, not John. Then she had to wonder. Did someone snatch the wrong child? Had someone been after John?

The phone rang again. Jean just stared at it. Finally, she picked it up, ‘Hello?'

‘Don't hang up on me again!' said the mechanical voice. ‘Or your son will pay for it!'

‘What do you want?' Jean asked, knowing in her heart that the best thing for Eli Knight right now was for this mechanical-voiced man to continue to think the child he was holding was John Kovak.

‘You,' the voice said. ‘I want you, Jean.'

‘What does that mean?' I demanded of my wife. ‘He wants you?'

Jean shook her head. ‘I don't know,' she said, and it was obvious she was trying to hold on to her emotions.

I decided maybe I needed to step up. Maybe I needed to be the calm one here. After all, I was the professional. Just because this seemed to involve my wife and son didn't mean I could act in an unprofessional manner. The hell it didn't. I wanted to scream like a little girl and then strangle the nearest asshole. At this point, any asshole would do.

‘He thinks he has
your
son?' Rodney asked.

Jean nodded and sank down into a chair. ‘Yes.' She looked up at Eli's father. ‘I'm so sorry, Rodney. I'm so sorry your son got caught up in whatever this is.'

Rodney whirled on me. ‘Who's after you now, Sheriff?' he said, his voice sounding somewhat mean.

I sank down on the couch. ‘I don't know,' I was slightly in shock. ‘Can't think who I've pissed off lately.'

‘Milt,' my wife said softly. I turned to her.

‘Yeah, honey?' I asked, reaching for her hand.

Grabbing mine, she squeezed. ‘He didn't ask for you. He knew
my
name. He was talking directly to
me
!'

Dalton knew the time was over for keeping this horrible weekend a secret. If he was ever to get out of this place and get home, he had to confess his name.

‘Dalton,' he said. ‘Dalton Pettigrew.'

‘OK, I'll see if anybody's here asking for you.' The older man turned and walked out of the wing that housed the male prisoners.

The smaller, younger guard waited until the older one left before creeping back to Dalton's cell. ‘Nobody coming for you, No-Name,' he said, chuckling. ‘You're gonna stay in here until they take you to the funny farm. That's where they take people who don't remember their names. And they lock 'em up and they never let 'em out!'

Dalton straightened up to his full height of six foot, five inches. ‘You're a lying sack of shit,' he said to the little man. ‘The law clearly states that a person cannot be committed to a mental institution for any more than ninety days unless convicted or sentenced by a judge for a felony offense.'

The little guard stared hard at Dalton, then he broke eye contact and walked away. Tiny slapped Dalton on the back, almost knocking him against the bars. ‘Cool!' he said, laughing. ‘You got that prick to shut up! First time I
ever
seen that!'

‘Thanks!' Dalton said, beaming at Tiny. For some reason, he felt his luck was turning.

Mary Ellen sat in the coffee shop booth, her head resting against the tile wall, sound asleep.

The waitress gently shook her. ‘Honey? Honey, you wanna wake up? It's almost six. I don't know what you gotta do today, but I'm thinking you need to wake up.'

Mary Ellen opened one eye. ‘I'm sleeping,' she said.

The waitress chuckled. ‘Well, I can see that, honey. But you need to get up. Harry – he's the manager –' she said, pointing to the man at the grill, ‘he won't let nobody sleep in here. He says it's a hard and fast rule, whatever the hell that means.'

Mary Ellen stretched and looked out the window. Seeing daylight brought her up short. ‘Oh, gosh. What time is it?' she asked.

‘Six a.m.,' the waitress said. ‘Little after that now, 'course, took you so long to get up.' She laughed again and poured Mary Ellen a cup of coffee. ‘On the house.'

Mary Ellen thanked her and brought the coffee up to her mouth. Oh, I'm in trouble, she thought. Mama's gonna kill me. But, she had to admit, sitting there with her head propped up against the tile wall was the best sleep she'd had in Lord only knew how long. She sipped at her coffee and sighed. She needed to find Dalton, and she needed to head back home.

‘Any word from your wife?' I asked Rodney.

‘No,' he said, his voice short. ‘If I hear from her, Sheriff, I'll let you know.'

‘Sorry,' I said, ‘just asking.'

I could understand the man being peeved. His son was missing, his wife was missing, his brother-in-law was missing – and here I was asking him what must have seemed to him to be stupid questions.

I sighed because of what I had to say next. ‘Mr Knight, I'm sorry, but I think we need to call your mother-in-law.'

Rodney Knight jerked his head up from where he'd been changing the diaper of his son. ‘Why?'

‘Well, for one thing, Eli could be with her; or if not Eli, maybe your wife, or Dalton. If any of them are there, they need to be in on the search. And, well, Sir, your mother-in-law needs to be notified that the second one of her children is missing and one of her grandchildren.'

‘Let me call Hawke first,' he said, referring to Dalton's older brother. ‘Finish this, would you?' he indicated his son's dirty diaper and took himself and his cell phone into the other room.

I stood there looking at Rodney, Jr, and his poop. It had been a short eighteen months since I'd had to change my own son, and this just didn't seem fair. I'd done my duty – excuse the expression. Rodney, Jr looked up at me and giggled. He seemed to be enjoying my discomfort.

I leaned down and grabbed a wipie and went to work. ‘Just remember,' I told Rodney, Jr, ‘I might still be sheriff when you turn driving age. And, boy-hidy, watch out.'

He seemed to find this amusing and laughed out loud. ‘I'm not kidding,' I told him. ‘I'm dead serious here. Gonna throw your hiney in jail!'

This, to my chagrin, seemed to be hysterically funny. ‘You're not taking me seriously here, Rodney, Jr!'

I finished, picked him up and placed his feet on the floor, just as his father came in from the dining room.

‘I talked to Hawke. He was at his mother's this morning. No one was there but her. He didn't know anything about Eli or Mary Ellen. Hawke's gonna go see Chief Smith in town. See what he can do to help on that end. He didn't know about Dalton, either, for that matter. Until Clovis told him. He says she's still very upset about Dalton. Thinks it's all your fault,' he said, raising his head to look me dead in the eye, the look seeming to say, ‘Like everything else is your fault!'

Hell, I knew losing that child was my fault. How in the hell I ended up letting a four-year-old walk out to the car by himself, I didn't hardly know. It made me sick at my stomach that the child was gone, and made me sicker still knowing I was to blame. I looked at Eli's little brother, now in his daddy's arms, and wondered if this baby would ever know his big brother Eli.

Oh, yeah. He'd know him all right. Time, I decided, to get my ass in gear.

He'd heard her voice and it had all come rushing back. He'd remembered the facts, remembered everything from almost the moment he woke up. But now he also remembered the feelings she brought out in him. At first, it had just been the need to manipulate the cripple. Take advantage of the vulnerable. But Jean MacDonnell hadn't been as vulnerable as he had thought. At first he was sure he was getting to her – his authority over her, his God-like control made her as vulnerable as any of his other interns. And the fact that she was older made the conquest of her all the more desirable. But she'd turned on him before he'd even had a go at her.

How dare she treat him like that! He wasn't ‘God-like', damn it, he
was
God! Her God, all his interns' God! The rest of them knew – why didn't she? How dare she question him? How dare she go to the ‘authorities' over him?
No one
had authority over him! He was Emil Hawthorne! He
was
the authority!
He
was God!

Now she would know how it felt to have something wonderful and special taken from her. He had taken her son, just as she had taken his power. Stolen it away from him, betrayed him for some silly moral code! Thinking ethics and morals were of higher value than him. Well, she'll find out, he thought. She'll find out what ethical and moral codes she'll break to get her son back!

Holly sat beside the little boy, holding his hand as he inhaled deeply from his ‘breathie'.

‘You feeling better?' she asked.

He nodded his head.

‘What's your name?' Holly smiled at him.

‘Eli,' he answered.

She held out her hand, ‘I'm Holly.'

Eli shook her hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you.'

Holly grinned. ‘Goodness, you are a polite young man.'

‘Yes, I am,' Eli replied.

Holly ruffled his hair and got up from the cot, walking over to where Mr Smith sat, staring at the camera equipment.

‘Eli's feeling better,' she told him.

It took a beat, then Mr. Smith turned to her. ‘Who?' he asked.

‘Eli,' she gestured behind her to where Eli sat on the cot, his inhaler in hand.

‘His name's John,' Mr Smith said.

‘Huh?' Holly started and then nodded her head. ‘Oh, right. In the story. Sorry, I didn't know.'

Mr Smith stood up and stared at her. ‘No, in life. His name is John.'

Confused, Holly said, ‘Then Eli is his story name?'

Mr Smith rushed over to the cot and grabbed the boy, lifting him up by both arms. ‘What's your name?' he yelled in the boy's face.

The boy began to cry and Holly pulled at Mr Smith's arm, grabbing the boy away from him. ‘Stop that!' she yelled at her benefactor.

Holly sank down onto the cot with her arms around Eli, cradling him against her.

Mr Smith breathed in deeply, counting to ten. Attempting a smile, he said to the boy, ‘I'm sorry. Could you tell me your name, please?'

The little boy removed the thumb that had gone into his mouth, and said shyly, ‘Eli Thomas Knight.'

Holly was mystified when Mr Smith fell to the floor, covered his face with both hands and began to weep.

‘I didn't let him know he had the wrong child,' my wife said. ‘I thought it would be safer for Eli if this animal thought he had John.'

Jean calls our boy ‘John'. I call him ‘Johnny Mac'. It probably confuses him, but it works for me and Jean. His whole name is John MacDonnell Kovak, but I think Johnny Mac Kovak has a certain ring to it. If he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer or a CPA when he grows up, John MacDonnell Kovak will look fine on his door; but if he wants to be just cool, what could be better than Johnny Mac Kovak? ‘
And on guitar, Johnny Mac Kovak . . .
', ‘
And playing right field, Johnny Mac Kovak
 . . .' See how that works?

‘Probably the right call,' I told her, putting my hand on her shoulder. ‘If Johnny Mac's who he was going for, best he keep thinking that's who he's got.'

‘Sheriff, I want my son back!' Rodney Knight suddenly announced, still holding his other son in his arms. The boy was squirming fit to beat the band, but Rodney, Sr wasn't letting go.

‘Yes, Sir, I want him back, too. And we're working toward that.' To prove that point, I picked up my cell phone and called the office. Gladys answered the phone; she'd come in on her day off due to the missing child.