The Atheist's Daughter (6 page)

He remembered what had happened the week before, when a bee had foolishly dared to buzz from beneath the bonnet of Kristin’s stroller.

Careless little bee
, he thought.
Very squished, totally obliterated, hapless little bee.

Becky sobbed, the noise dying in a choking sound, strangled inside her throat. Her body sagged and he slipped his arms around her for support.

Kristin’s crib was empty. Above it, the wire-mesh screen was gone from the bedroom window.

Grabbing at the crib’s top rail, his wife composed herself. “Find our baby,” she said, in a voice so flat and serious he knew he’d never forget it.  “I’ll call the police.”

Clutching the window sill, he leapt through its opening. Rose bushes grabbed at his legs as Rick fell to the ground. Staggering to his feet, he shaded his eyes from the bright light above him.

On the sidewalk far ahead, a slight figure went briskly down the pavement. Despite the warm day and its cloudless sky, the figure wore a brown suede overcoat with its hood up. The walker’s arms were crooked, as if they were holding something.

Rick sprinted forward.

It’s a woman
, he decided,
it has to be a woman, so small and slim. I can catch her, thank God for all of those 5K’s.

Of course, I can catch her. She isn’t even running.

The street was empty. The woman passed the only car in sight, a neighbor’s green Pontiac, without slowing at all.

What if she’s one of the neighbors?

It was a staggering thought. Six months ago, they’d moved to Winterhaven and found an apartment. After a brief house hunt, they were new, still, to this area. They hadn’t met many of the people on their block.

Was this woman watching when they moved in, her fevered eyes focused on Kristin’s bassinet? Did she have an accomplice, a boyfriend or a husband, even now peering out from behind closed curtains?

What if the accomplice had a weapon? Worse, what if this woman carried a gun or a knife in one of the overcoat’s large, rectangular pockets? Would she hurt Kristin?

She could try. He wouldn’t let it happen.

Still too far away for him to stop her, he saw her lower a bundle to the sidewalk. A tiny arm emerged from the baby blanket, displaying little fingers curled around an infant thumb.

Dear God
, he prayed.
Dear Jesus. Please protect my little girl.

I’ll do anything, I’ll give you anything, but protect her, protect her, no matter what, protect her!

His heart, already pounding, seemed as if it was about to come out of his chest. “Don’t!” he cried.

Don’t – what?

He didn’t know.

Just…just...don’t....

Behind him, the front door of his house banged open. Becky called out his name as she came down the steps.

The hooded figure didn’t give any indication she’d heard either of them. She squatted over Kristin, her hands holding the baby’s torso as she raised the infant. Before Rick could stop her, she pushed a pink tongue from between her thin lips and licked the side of the baby’s face.

“What the hell are you doing?” He heard the rage in his voice as he reached the kidnapper but a tremble underscored his words.

He grabbed Kristin from the crazy woman. She released the child easily, almost as if she was returning her.

Kristin’s lovely brown eyes studied him curiously. She appeared unharmed except for her cheek. Where the woman’s tongue had touched her, the skin glowed an angry red.

Panting, Becky raced to his side. “Is Kristin okay?”

Circles of sweat and terror staining the underarms of her shirt, she took the baby in her arms. She covered Kristin with the polyester blanket, as if the wrapping might provide another layer of safety for their child.

“You –” Words failed him. Rick told the stranger, “You don’t go anywhere.”

She studied him, her expression strangely unconcerned.

Uh-oh.
He’d read about women like this. In the tabloids, they were labeled
S.O.S
.:
Single, Obsessed and Scary.

Lonely and desperate, the S.O.S. would do anything for a child to call their own. They weren’t truly evil, no, but they were definitely insane. Insane to think about stealing another family’s child. Insane to think they could get away with such a terrible crime.

Becky barely glanced at her child’s abductor. As she cradled Kristin in her arms, he saw the red glow was gone from the baby’s cheek.

“Go inside,” he told his wife. “Call the police again. Tell them we’ve caught the kidnapper.”

She shook her head. The baby in her arms, she half-ran down the sidewalk and into their house.

The hooded woman watched her go. Although she made no effort to leave, he grabbed at the stranger’s jacketed arm. “You’re staying here.”

At his touch, the overcoat fell free from the woman. Its limp sleeve captured in his fingers, the jacket floated forward effortlessly as if her body had only provided a framework of minimal support.

For a moment, he imagined the overcoat had pulled
through
her. He shook the sleeve, letting the garment spill to the sidewalk.

Middle-aged, with curly, brown hair cut just above her shoulders, the woman remained in front of him. Wearing a tan top with matching trousers, she didn’t appear unbalanced. She looked....

Normal.

She said, “I wasn’t intending to leave. Not yet.”

Unperturbed by Rick’s anger, she didn’t sound afraid. She didn’t even seem concerned.

“You’re sick. You need help.”

“Please.” She acted offended, as if such name-calling was inappropriate.

“You can’t take someone else’s baby,” Rick said.

“I gave her back, didn’t I? I had no interest in keeping the whelp. Heavens, no.” The woman acted surprised Rick would even consider such an idea.

“I only wanted –” Her tongue flicked out from her mouth, wetting her lips, “ – a little taste.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Rick twisted his head, hoping someone was coming to help.

Sirens should have been wailing.

It’s a federal crime when someone is abducted, isn’t it? Especially a child?

Why aren’t police cars racing toward us, tires squealing?

There wasn’t a patrol car to be seen. Instead, a UPS driver left a package at a corner house before climbing into his vehicle.

Rick saw Becky waiting on the porch deck. His wife gave a short nod, telling him she’d called for help. He gestured with his head, wanting her safely inside, and she seemed relieved. She returned to the house, the door closing behind her.

The UPS van rumbled closer to them. Over its engine, Rick heard the first, faint sounds of an approaching siren.

It’s taken long enough.
He smiled.

The woman smiled back at him. Reaching out with a thin arm, she tugged at his sweat-stained shirt, drawing him closer. When she did, her lips opened and her jaws stretched impossibly wide.

Inside the maw of her mouth, Rick saw a blur at the back of her throat.

What the hell? Is there something
moving
in there?

As if reading his thoughts, the woman snapped her jaws shut. Her mouth returned to normal as he tried to escape. He struggled against her grip but she held him effortlessly, as if he had no more weight than the infant she’d snatched.

“Oh, no,” he said.

“I need one more thing from you, love, if you don’t mind,” the woman told him.

He stared at her.

“I need you to die.”

Rick felt her free hand grip the leather belt at his waist. She lifted him from the ground as he tried to scream. The sound caught in his throat.

This can’t be happening.

It was so absurd, this middle-aged woman raising him skyward. It was impossible. It was some type of bizarre hallucination.

It isn’t real. It
can’t
be real.

She threw him into the street. Flailing through the air, he got a glimpse of the UPS driver as he slammed on the brakes. The truck hit him squarely across the body, sending him into the air.

He felt the impact when he struck the ground, his arm twisting awkwardly behind him. He heard his bones snap. Somehow, he didn’t feel any pain.  He coughed once and his mouth filled with blood.

The blue sky swam above him. Faintly, as if from some distant location, he heard the van driver cry out in alarm. He tried to find him but he couldn’t. His neck didn’t work any longer.

The only person he could see was the crazy lady. She stood over him, her skin suddenly as colorless as a ghost in an old black and white movie. Like a ghost in one of those movies, he could see through her.

Behind her, there was a white Elm tree. Its oblong green leaves were beautiful. Funny he hadn’t noticed it before.

The woman’s mouth stretched wide as she inhaled. Shimmering waves rolled off of him, bent rays of refracted light sucking his breath away. She arched her back in pleasure and gave a soft moan. It was an unearthly sound.

Rick felt himself growing weaker. Fading, he watched as the translucent woman grew in substance. Color flooded her empty shell as his own body grew cold. With the loss of warmth, he felt like he was the one who was becoming a ghost.

Until, at last, he didn’t feel anything at all.

Chapter Ten

When Hawkins called, saying they needed to talk, Kristin was lost.

Talk about what?

He picked her up in his ratty, black Hyundai – washed and vacuumed for a change but, somehow, still smelling faintly of last weekend’s fast food burritos – and they drove in silence toward the center of town.

She was surprised to see him pull into a far corner of the Winterhaven Mall. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

Hawkins unsnapped his seat belt and faced her. His dark eyes were solemn.

Oh, no
, she thought, a sinking feeling settling upon her.
Not the Serious Face, Hawk.

Serious Face is never good news.

He’d shown her his Serious Face when his father was going to take a parish job over in Baltimore – and then reverted to Goofy Face the second his father changed his mind.

He’d given her Serious Face when Sheri Edmiston broke up with him and he thought his life was over. Serious Face lingered until two weeks later, when he met Michelle Persbrandt.

He’d even pulled out Serious Face when she failed to place in the Tri-State Debate Competition. Once he realized she didn’t care then he didn’t care, either. Serious Face had remained banished...until now.

“What is it?”

He took both of her hands in his.

What’s going on?
she wondered.
Do you have a terrible disease? Or did you bowl a 120? Is the world ending or did you find a pimple on your ass?

Honest to God, Hawkins, you need to set some boundaries on Serious Face. If you’re going to use it, save it for something really important.

Please
don’t let this be anything really important.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

“Okay.”

He didn’t speak, as if he didn’t know what to say. Outside, a car’s engine growled.

Kristin’s eyes flicked over to the rear view mirror. A candy apple red Dodge Challenger was reflected in the glass, speeding across the parking lot and in their direction. “Hawkins.”

“I’m trying to think, okay? Let me find the words.”

The Challenger’s polished body glistened under the sun as it drew closer. The nose of the car swerved and the vehicle raced toward them.

“Hawk!”

The roar of a V8 engine filled the air. Hawkins twisted around as the car filled the window behind them. Its horn blared, frighteningly loud, and, instinctively, Kristin and Hawkins clutched at one another.

At the last second, the car darted to its right. With a shake of her long, red hair, the driver sped past them, laughing.

Hawkins shoved at the driver’s side door. It creaked open and he spilled into the parking lot. Climbing to his feet, he raised a finger to the sky. “Eff you, Liz!”

In response, the car’s driver blared the horn even longer. Her car bumped out of the parking lot and onto the street encircling the mall.

He leaned against the car’s hood. Sliding out of the passenger seat, Kristin joined him.

“Liz Wheeler is such an idiot,” Hawkins said. “Always looking for excitement. Going a little too fast, cutting things a little too close. Grandma’s spoiled little brat.”

“A little spoiled. ‘Eff you’? You said that?”

He shrugged.

“An ‘f’ is a letter,” Kristin said. “Not a verb. Not a noun.”

“She could have hit us. It pissed me off.”