The Way to Yesterday (17 page)

"He said you were sick."

She nodded, then her lower lip quivered and she started to cry.

"I want my Mommy."

"I know, baby," Mary said softly, then picked her up and carried
her back to the bed.

She lay Justine down,
then
smoothed the dark
tangles away from her feverish face before turning to the other little girl.
She lay on the side of the bed next to the wall, her gaze focused on a spot on the
ceiling above her head. When Mary touched her face to test for fever, she
didn't even blink.

"Amy Anne ...is that your name?"

"She won't talk to you. She doesn't talk to anyone," Justine said,
and then coughed.

The cough was more like a rattle deep in the little girl's chest. There was
a box of tissues, as well as some cough drops and cough syrup on the table
beside the bed. Mary reached for the bottle. "How about we take a little
cough medicine?"

Mary asked. "
It's
grape flavored. Do you like
grape?"

Justine nodded,
then
sat up in bed as Mary poured a
measure of the medicine into a small plastic cup.

Justine drank it without comment and Mary wondered what else she had endured
without complaint.

"Amy Anne has a cough, too." Justine said. "Then we'll give her
some, too," Mary said.
" Okay
?"

The child nodded, watching intently as Mary slipped an arm beneath the
girl's shoulders and lifted her up.

"Swallow it, honey," Mary urged.

Amy Anne opened her mouth and swallowed. When Mary slid her arm out from
under her shoulders, she looked so tiny and lost against the bed clothes that
it broke Mary's heart.

"Come here, babies ...it's going to be okay," Mary said, and then
crawled into the bed, took both children into her arms and pulled them close.
"I'm here. I won't let him hurt you anymore."

"I want to go home," Justine whispered.

"So do
I
, sweet baby," Mary said.
"So do
I
."

Mike and Phyllis O'Rourke were doing their best to hide the horror of Mary's
abduction from their granddaughter. At Daniel's bidding, they were taking her
home to spend the weekend, and Hope was so excited she hadn't realized Mary was
not back from the supermarket. It wasn't until she was packed and ready to
leave that she mentioned her mother.

"Daddy, I didn't get to tell Mommy goodbye." Daniel was struggling
with tears as he picked

Hope up and held her to his chest.

"I'll tell her for you, okay?" he said, as he kissed her cheek.

Hope smiled. "Okay. And give her this, too." She blew a kiss in
her own hand and then handed it to Daniel as if it was real.

Daniel pretended to take it and put it in his pocket,
then
hugged her again before setting her down.

"Mommy's going to love that," he said. "I'll be sure she gets
it." He looked at his parents, who were struggling to keep smiles on their
own faces, too.

"I'll call," he promised.

Mike nodded, while Phyllis didn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she
picked up Hope's overnight bag,
then
took Hope by the
hand.

"We'll be in the car," she said.

Mike stayed behind, not knowing what to say, but aware that his son was at a
breaking point.

"Daniel ...I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say to make this
better."

"There's nothing to say."

"Please don't do anything rash. Let the police do their job."

A muscle jerked in Daniel's jaw. "What if this had happened to Mom?"

Mike sighed. "Just remember you've still got a daughter to
raise
."

"She deserves both parents, Dad, not just me."

"Just be careful," Mike cautioned.

"There's no time for caution. I've got to find her, or life won't be
worth living."

"Not even for Hope?"

"No Dad... because of Hope. She needs Mary as much or more than I do. I
don't know how long this is going to take, but I thank you and Mom for taking
care of her."

Tears welled in Mike's eyes. "No thanks are necessary. Just stay in
touch."

Daniel walked his father to the door, then stood on the doorstep and waved
until they were gone. The moment he was alone, he went back in the house and
headed for his office. He couldn't let himself think about what Mary was going
through or he'd lose it completely, but waiting helplessly while someone else
went to rescue his reason for living made no sense. Arnaud said the man who
took her was the same man that Hope had seen. That couldn't be good. He had to
know he'd been made. It also meant that Mary's life was, more than likely,
hanging on a very thin thread. He took a deep breath and then swiped his hands
across his face.

"Ah God ... please ... don't take her away from me."

Before he could think past the prayer, the phone rang. He grabbed it immediately,
needing it to be Mary.

"Hello."

"Mr. Daniel O'Rourke?"

His heart started to hammer. "Yes, this is Daniel O'Rourke."

"Mr. O'Rourke, how much do you pay for your long distance
service?"

Daniel stared at the phone in disbelief and then slammed the receiver down
on the cradle. Seconds later, he picked up the paperweight and flung it angrily
toward the fireplace. It hit the brick firewall with a vicious thud then
shattered in a dozen pieces. "Damn, damn, damn it all to hell!"

He'd talked big to Reese Arnaud, but the truth was he didn't have the first
idea of how to start looking for Mary Faith. He slumped against the desk, his
gaze wandering aimlessly about the room as he waited for a miracle. He sat that
way for several minutes, unmoving- mind blank to everything but the panic
threatening to overwhelm him. It was a bit before he began to realize that he
was staring at a small framed picture hanging on the wall. When he finally
focused on what he'd been looking at, he reached for the phone. It would take more
than a miracle to find Mary Faith. He needed help, and from someone who had no
qualms about bending the law.

*

Bobby Joe Killian tossed his gun and holster on his desk, then sat down in
his chair and kicked back with a weary groan. His head hurt, and he would give
half a month's wages for a thick steak and a good massage.
 
The sign on the door to his office read
Killian Investigations, but he considered it more than slightly deceiving. The
last three cases he'd been on had been more like hunts. Hunting for cheating
wives and men who'd jumped bail. The money was good-damned good-but the
lifestyle was getting harder and harder to keep up with.

He glanced at his watch and then picked up the phone. It said something for
his personal life that the first number on his automatic dial was his bookie.

"
Harrison
, this is Bobby Joe. Give me
five hundred on Merlin's Pride in the fifth."

"Damn it, Bobby Joe. You still owe me for the last race you bet on.
What makes you think I'm stupid enough to do this again?"

Bobby Joe grinned as he pivoted his chair toward the windows. The view from
his third-floor office was not exactly on the tourist route, but it suited his
purposes. Being low-profile was invaluable. The less his face was known, the
better he was able to do his job. He thrust his fingers through his dark,
too-long hair, absently combing it away from his face, then reached for a
couple of peanuts from a dish on his desk and began shelling them onto the
floor as he continued to talk.

"Now
Harrison
, you know damn good and
well you still owe me for that last bail-jumper I found for you. The way I see
it, I've still got a good fifteen hundred dollars in credit and I'm spending a
nickel of it today."

A string of muffled curses rolled through the line and into Bobby Joe's ears.
He grinned to himself and popped the peanuts into his mouth as the bookie
continued to vent.

"Hey, Harrison... you about finished?"

"Does it really matter?" the bookie muttered.

"Sure it does," Bobby Joe said. "You know I care what you
think."

"Bull."

"So...are we still on the same page?"

"Oh, hell yes, I've got the whole book in my lap. Is that what you
wanted to hear?"

"It'll do," Bobby Joe said, and then cut the man short when his
phone started beeping in his ear.
"Got another call.
Make my bet."

He hit the flash button and then answered again.

"Killian Investigations."

"Bobby Joe, I need your help."

Bobby Joe's feet hit the floor, inadvertently crushing peanut hulls beneath
his boots.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"What's wrong?"

"Mary's been abducted."

"Abducted?
My God!"

"Help me," Daniel said.

"Are you home?"

:'Yes."

"I'm on my way."

Howard Lee snored in his sleep. The sound roused him just enough that he
rolled from his back to his side. A few seconds later, his arm slid off the
bed, his fingers dangling toward the floor only inches from the cellar door. He
shifted slightly then settled, confident that his family was close by. His
alarm was set for 4:00 p.m. It would give him plenty of time to get some rest
before preparing his family's supper.

His girls would be fine now that he'd brought the woman. Little Justine had
been right. Sick children need a mother. He sighed,
then
licked his lips before falling back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Mary was afraid to close her eyes. Just the thought of that man coming back
and finding her sleeping and vulnerable made her sick to her stomach. Both
little girls still lay in her arms, although the fever she'd felt on their
bodies earlier seemed to be subsiding.

Even in her sleep, Justine clung to Mary in quiet desperation, her fingers
wrapped in the fabric of her clothes. The other child, the one Justine called
Amy Anne, was too still. Mary could only imagine the horror that she had gone
through, being the first child taken-being put into this place all alone-having
to suffer through whatever hell the man had put her through. She wondered how
long she had endured before she'd slipped this far away. A child who couldn't
cry was a child too close to death. Mary pulled her closer, holding her gently
against her breast. She needed to do something to try and bring Amy Anne back
from the mental precipice on which she was hovering, but wasn't certain what
would be safe. The last thing she wanted to do was drive her even farther away
from reality, so she started to talk, unwilling to give Amy Anne permission to
slip any farther away.

"Amy Anne, my name is Mary. I know you're afraid. We're all afraid, but
we're going to be all right. People are looking for us. Did you know that? Oh,
yes, it's true. And you know what else? I have a little girl who's just about
your age. Her name is Hope. When we get out of here and go home, maybe you and
Justine can come to my house and play with her. She would like that, and so
would I."

Mary swallowed, fighting back tears. Daniel...I need you. Please find me.

Justine shifted on the bed beside her and then opened her eyes. Mary looked
down at her and smiled.

"You're still here," the little girl said. Mary nodded.

Justine sighed. "I thought I'd dreamed you."
"No,
baby.
It's not a dream." It's a nightmare.

"I'm right beside you."

Justine sniffed and looked at Amy Anne. "Is she going to talk to
us?"

Mary's gaze shifted back to the child in her arms. Her face was pale and
immobile, as was her body. If she hadn't felt her warmth, she would have thought
she was dead.

"I don't know. I hope so. Did she ever talk to you?"

"No."

"Not even when you were first here?"

"Nope.
Not even when I used to cry."

"You don't cry anymore?"

Justine shrugged.
"Sometimes... but not so he can see
me.
It makes him mad when I cry."

Mary shivered. This was hell and he was the devil.

"Does he hurt you?"

"No."

Mary hesitated, almost afraid to ask anything more, but she needed to know
what was in store. She had to be prepared for the worst, should it come.

"Does he do other things to you, honey? Does he touch you in places he
shouldn't?"

Justine frowned. "He brings us food and brushes our hair. We always
fall asleep after supper."

"You mean, after you've bathed and put on your nightgowns?"

Justine shook her head. "Oh no, I don't remember taking baths except I
know I'm always clean because I smell good. And I don't put on my own
nightgown. The man does it, I guess. I don't remember." Mary's flesh
crawled. Dear God, he must be doping their food. God only knows what happens
after that.

Chapter Eleven

Bobby Joe Killian came to a sliding halt in Daniel's driveway.
Seconds later, the police cruiser that had been in pursuit pulled
in behind him.
He got out holding his ID and walked toward the patrolman
who was emerging from the car with his gun in his hand. "Hey,
Doolan
, is that you?" Bobby Joe asked. Officer Henry
Doolan
recognized the drawl behind the too-long hair, then
rolled his eyes and holstered his gun.

"
Thunderation
, Killian,
a
man driving like a bat out of hell ...I should have known it was you."
Then he gestured toward the low-slung sports car Bobby

Joe was driving. "When did you get that?"

"Last month.
Won it in a poker game."

"You ran a stop sign,"
Doolan
growled.
Bobby Joe gestured toward the house. "Sorry. I was in a hurry.
Official business."

Doolan
snorted.
"Oh yeah,
right.
You expect me to believe that?"