The Way to Yesterday (15 page)

A short while later, the first waffle was baking and the sounds of Hope's
laughter and Daniel's commentary on the cartoons kept drifting down the stairs.
Mary smiled to herself as she got out some plates and began setting the table.
As she did, she went over the things that she needed to do. There was an
accumulation of Daniel's suits that needed to go to the cleaners, a grocery
list that would take at least two hours to complete, and she'd never been
happier. All she had to do was think back to the emptiness of her life before
to put things in perspective.

'Mommy ...is my waffle done yet?"

'Almost," Mary said, as Hope slipped into her seat at the table.
"Where's Daddy?"

'Right behind her," Daniel said, as he came in the kitchen and swooped
Mary off her feet, then kissed her soundly in front of Hope.

Hope giggled. "Daddy's funny."

'Daddy makes Mommy's toes curl," Mary whispered, careful that only
Daniel could hear.

Daniel grinned. "Given another chance ...I can do better than
that."

'Be still my heart," Mary said, and wiggled her eyebrows.

'Mommy ...my waffle!"

Mary spun out of Daniel's arms and headed for the waffle iron.

'One waffle, coming up!"

'With peanut butter and
starberry
jelly?"

"Of course," Mary said. "Is there any other way?"

'One can only hope," Daniel muttered, and poured himself a cup of coffee
before taking his seat. Mary took the waffle out of the waffle iron and put in
on a plate, then began fixing it as Hope had ordered. It wasn't until she was
carrying it to the table that she realized her memories were changing. It
seemed she'd done this countless times before. ``Yum, Mommy. You always make
the best break fasts," Hope said, and then took her first bite.

'Always?" Mary asked.

'As long as I can remember," Hope mumbled. As long as she can remember.
Mary turned away quickly and began pouring batter into the waffle iron to make
another waffle, unwilling for anyone to see that her eyes were filling with
tears.

'What's on the agenda, today, honey?" Daniel asked.

'For starters, clothes to the cleaners and groceries."

'Hope and I can take the clothes to the cleaners and pick up some fertilizer
for the lawn at the garden center. You make the grocery run and we should all
be back home together about the same time. How's that for organization?"

Mary took a deep breath and made herself smile. "It's perfect. Thank
you."

Daniel winked at his daughter. "It's our pleasure, isn't it Hope?"

'Yes, we'll help you, Mommy. We're your good helpers, aren't we?"

'You sure are," Mary said. "I don't know what I would do without
you.. .either of you."

She poured a glass of juice for Hope and took it to the table, lingering
long enough to smooth her hand down the back of the little girl's hair. Her
hands were shaking as she went back to retrieve the next waffle, because she
did know what it was like to be without them. It's just that they would never
understand.

Howard Lee slipped into the lower level of the hospital where he worked and
made a beeline for his locker. It was his day off, but no one would know the
difference. His job schedule was the last thing of concern in a place where,
daily, people fought for their lives. Once in his hospital coveralls with the
ID badge clipped to his pocket, he was all but invisible to the staff. He
dressed quickly, grabbing a mop bucket and a mop to use as cover in case he was
questioned, then headed for the pediatric ward. The main pharmacy for the
hospital was on a different floor, but each floor stored a small supply of
certain drugs, and he knew where they were kept. All he had to do was create a
diversion, take what he needed and no one would be the wiser. He'd heard the
staff commenting about a strain of flu going around and decided that was what
had made his girls sick. He also remembered enough from his own childhood
illnesses to guess what medicines a doctor might prescribe.

Moments later, he exited the elevator on the third floor, pausing a moment
to locate the staff on duty, then waited until the hall was empty. Without
hesitation, he pulled the fire alarm and then slipped into a laundry closet,
well aware that an evacuation would immediately begin. In the confusion, he
could get what he needed and be gone before anyone knew what he'd taken. Oh
sure, they would eventually miss the drugs, but since he'd clocked out at seven
this morning, he would be beyond suspicion. The sounds of running footsteps
sounded in the hallway as nurses began calling out to each other, readying to
evacuate their floor. As soon as the foot steps moved away, Howard Lee stuffed
his employee

ID into his pocket and slipped out of the closet. Two nurses ran past him as
he ran toward the drug room behind the nurses' station, but just as he
predicted, they paid him no mind. He had to restrain himself from smiling as he
slipped behind the desk and then into the room behind.

With little effort, he picked the lock on the drug cabinet, opened the
doors, and reached for a bottle of penicillin, when he suddenly remembered the
Medic Alert bracelet that Amy Anne wore. She was allergic to penicillin. His
mother had been allergic to penicillin. He would have to take a substitute for
her.

After a quick scan of the shelves, he took two different antibiotics,
slipped the vials inside his pocket and relocked the cabinets. On the way out
of the room, he grabbed a handful of disposable syringes and headed for the
stairwell at the far end of the hallway.

Within minutes, his coveralls were back in his locker and he was leaving
through the employees' lounge just as the first of the fire trucks arrived.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of his home, parked in the
garage, then dashed into the house. He hurried through the rooms. then down the
stairs into the cellar.

Panicked that the girls didn't appear to have moved, he took the antibiotics
and two syringes from his pocket, then hurried to their bedside. his heart
pounding with fear. At that moment, he realized he hadn't considered the
dosages. What if he gave them too much and they died?

Groaning, he dropped onto the mattress at the foot of Amy Anne's bed, his
legs too weak to stand. Their breathing was shallow, their faces flushed. He
kept thinking that if he did nothing, they would only get worse. They might
even die. He was still trying to decide what to do when Justine rolled over on
her back and started to cry.

'My head's hot. I want my Mommy. Please, I want my Mommy."

That did it.

Howard Lee set his jaw and took out the first syringe, shook the vial of
penicillin because it seemed like a prudent thing to do, and then drew the
syringe half-full. He started to pull back the covers and then remembered the
area where he administered the shots needed to be disinfected. He grabbed some
cotton swabs and a bottle of alcohol from the bathroom then hurried back to the
girls. Gritting his teeth, he reached for Justine.

He'd never given anyone a shot before and started to plunge the needle into
her tiny arm when he realized he was doing it all wrong. Children's arms were
too small. There wasn't enough muscle. It had to go in a hip.

He set the syringe down on the bedside table and pulled down her covers. She
whimpered in protest and pushed at his hands as he tugged at the hem of her
gown.

'No, no," Howard Lee said. "Daddy is sorry, but he has to do
this."

He rubbed the alcohol swab on her backside, took a deep breath and plunged
the needle into her flesh, praying that he was doing this right.

The little girl wailed as the antibiotic went in-a high-pitched, feverish
squeal that tore at his conscience. He told himself her shriek was from the
shock of the needle prick and not an overdose of medicine, but he couldn't be sure
until some time had passed.

Still shaking, he withdrew the used syringe and laid it aside, got out a
fresh one, drew a dose from the other vial for Amy Anne and gave her an
injection, too. The fact that she didn't even acknowledge the pain, was, to Howard
Lee, even more frightening. Once the medicine had been given, he got a
washcloth and a basin of cool water and proceeded to bathe their arms and
faces. Afterward, he put them in fresh nightgowns and then sat beside their
beds, watching until they fell back asleep.

Convinced that he'd done all he knew to do, he gathered up the uneaten food
and medicine and went upstairs. As always, he closed the cellar door and locked
it behind him, but for the first time since he'd

“adopted" the girls, he felt guilt.

He'd gone to great lengths to make sure that their room had been well-lit
and ventilated, and that they had plenty of toys and games to entertain them,
but it was still a cellar all the same. And, no matter how many ways he tried
to justify it, there was nothing healthy about raising children below ground.
In his single-minded intent to acquire a family, he'd thought more of himself
than the children. He should have provided different accommodations-certainly
safer ones. But that was hindsight. He had to deal with the ramifications of
what he'd done and then make it better.

He put the antibiotics into the refrigerator then dumped the uneaten food
into the garbage disposal. Although his body was crying out for sleep, there
were too many things to be done before he could let himself rest, the first of
which was to buy food that would be more enticing for sick children. He popped
a couple of No-Sleeps into his mouth and washed them down with a glass of milk,
then started to make a grocery list. The first item he wrote down was soup. As
a child, it was what his mother had fed him, and his mother had always done
what was right.

He finished the list, then went to check on the girls one last time before
leaving the house. They seemed to be resting a little easier. Satisfied that he
had done the right thing, he hurried back up the stairs and out the door to the
supermarket.

Reese Arnaud sat at his desk, staring at the sketch of the blond-headed man
with funny teeth. It had gone out last night with the late shift of officers
and even though he'd known it would be a long shot, he'd hoped for some news
this morning when he'd come to work. But when he'd reached his desk and found
nothing but a handful of phone messages regarding other cases, his hopes had
been dashed. Disappointed, he reached for his coffee cup. Phone time was prime
time for sneaking that extra jolt of caffeine, and something told him he was
going to need it today.

A short while later, he had returned all the calls and was finishing up some
paperwork when his gaze fell on the sketch once again. He picked it up, then
cursed softly beneath his breath. The more he looked at it, the more he
realized what a stretch this was going to be. Just because some man got too
friendly with one little girl on public school grounds did not mean he was the
person responsible for the disappearance of two others. The world was full of
perverts. Assuming that this one was the one they were looking for was too much
to expect.

A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw and he could feel another pulling at
the corner of his eyelid. They needed a break in this case-and soon. He had to
find those missing girls. Maybe then he would be able to sleep.

Mary stood at the door waving goodbye to Daniel and Hope, then hurried back
into the house to get her purse. Daniel had promised Hope a trip to the park
this afternoon and Mary wanted to go, too. Being given a second chance had made
her all too aware of how precious life was and how swiftly it could be taken
away.

As she swung her purse over her shoulder, some thing bumped against her
side. Frowning, she thrust her hand into the bag. Moments later, her fingers
curled around her cell phone. Her purse was already heavy and she started to
leave it behind, then at the last second, changed her mind. With one last
glance around the room, she hurried out the door, taking care to lock it behind
her. A short while later she was pulling into the supermarket parking lot with
nothing more serious on her mind than what kind of breakfast cereal to buy.

Howard Lee was standing in the soup aisle, debating with himself as to
whether it would be more judicious to purchase dehydrated soup that came
prepacked
in envelopes or the canned kinds that only needed
to be heated. He wished his mother was still alive. She would know which kinds
of soups sick children preferred.

A woman with two toddlers at her heels turned down the aisle in which he was
standing. He watched her coming and considered asking her for advice, but her
children were raising such a fuss he decided against it. He winced at the
shrillness in her voice as she yelled at one of the kids to shut up. It was a
good thing he'd decided against talking to her. She wouldn't have anything
positive to say.

Frustrated, he picked up a can of chicken noodle soup and began reading the
instructions. Heat and eat seemed simple enough. Maybe that would work.

He tossed a half-dozen cans in his shopping cart and then moved slowly down
the aisles, adding a box of crackers, a couple of jars of flavored applesauce
and a small bag of vanilla wafers.

He was on his way to the checkout counter when he remembered he was almost
out of milk and juice.

Wheeling the cart in a quick one-eighty, he found himself face-to-face with
a pretty dark-haired woman who was just turning down the aisle. Their carts
bumped slightly and then each of them swerved in an opposite direction.

'Oh! Excuse me!" Howard Lee said, and then smiled bashfully.
"These things need horns and sirens on them, don't they?"

Mary started to apologize for her own inattention to what she'd been doing
and then she focused on his smile. She knew he was waiting for a response from
her, but she couldn't speak for staring at the spaces between his teeth.