Lone Star Christmas Witness

by Margaret Daley

  “Ben, sometimes when I’m upset, I can’t explain things well. That’s normal. I noticed some pictures on the refrigerator. Are those yours? Do you like to draw?”

  The young boy turned his head slightly toward Taylor, then went back to eating.

  “Ben draws a lot, as you can see.” Sierra pointed toward the fridge. “He has an area in his room where he has paper, pencils, markers and other items for a budding artist.”

  “That’s great, Ben. Maybe after lunch, you can show me your room.”

  He nodded but didn’t look at Taylor.

  Ten minutes later Ben and Sierra headed upstairs with Taylor behind them. John was waiting a moment before following. When Taylor entered the bedroom, the sight of a large corkboard with a ton of drawings pinned to it sent relief through him. According to John, some kids expressed their emotions through their artwork. He remembered in the baby kidnapping case how Michelle Sanders, the daughter of Dallas Sanders, a fellow Texas Ranger and friend, and the thirteen-year-old babysitter of the first child abducted, had helped their case and had been pivotal in solving the crime.

  “You’re quite an artist, Ben. I’d love for you to draw a picture for me,” Taylor said.

  Ben sat down at his table but didn’t do anything except stare at a blank sheet. Taylor and Sierra hovered over the child, not sure what else to do. When John appeared in the doorway, Ben finally picked up a black marker and scribbled all over the paper. Then he snapped up the picture and wadded it into a tight ball. Tears ran down his face as he threw it at the wall. Hanging his head, he hunched his shoulders.

  Sierra squatted next to her nephew, putting her arm around him. “Sweetie, I’m here for you.” She gave him a hug, tears glistening in her eyes. “Can you tell us anything about this morning?”

  Silence.

  Taylor knelt on the other side of the boy. “You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Remember, I promised.”

  After five long minutes, when Ben didn’t say anything or make any kind of movement to indicate he’d even heard him, Taylor glanced over his shoulder at John, who motioned for Taylor to come into the hallway. He rose and took a step away. Suddenly Ben shot up, his chair tumbling backward, and threw his arms around Taylor as though to stop him from leaving.

  Still he spoke not a word.

  Taylor clasped the boy, not sure what he should do.

  Sierra came to Ben’s side. “Hon, it’s okay if you don’t want to draw. Texas Ranger Blackburn was only going out into the hallway to talk with Dr. Yates. You need to let him do that.”

  “Ben, I’ll be right back.”

  The child let go and immediately clung to his aunt.

  As Taylor left the bedroom, he heard Sierra say, “You won’t be alone. You’re safe now.”

  He hoped so for the child’s sake.

  Taylor joined John in the hall, and they moved away from the doorway. “What do we do?”

  “Ben needs to feel safe. After the kind of trauma he went through, he’s frightened, possibly wondering when the person will come back and get him. He took his anger and fear out on the paper.”

  Taylor frowned, remembering the young boy crammed into a cabinet, probably told not to say a word. “I can’t imagine the horror he went through when he witnessed his mother being murdered. He could have seen the whole thing through the slats in the cupboard door. At the very least, he heard it. I was hoping he would tell us what he saw and heard. We don’t have a lot to go on right now. What should we do?”

  “We?”

  “How can I turn my back on the boy?” And Sierra.

  “I see the resemblance of Ben to TJ. Is that why you feel you need to go above and beyond your job?”

  John had helped TJ deal with his leukemia and then even helped Taylor deal with TJ’s death. “Don’t bring my son into this. Ben isn’t TJ. I know that. But he’s a scared child and the only witness to the shooting.”

  “Are you being honest with yourself?”

  “I’m going to make sure he’s safe. What if the man comes after Ben because he thinks the child saw him?”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure out something. If anything happens to Ben, I’d never forgive myself.”

  “Like TJ?”

  Taylor balled his hands. “I did everything I could to save my son. And I’ll do the same for Ben.” The memory of the boy clinging to him when he rescued Ben from the cabinet wasn’t something he would forget anytime soon.

  John stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know. But don’t mix the two up. Ben needs to feel safe. His view of the world has been shattered today. And there’s a chance he’ll never remember the details of what happened or even talk again. Our mind sometimes will suppress a tragic incident in order to cope with what happened.” He looked over at the door to Ben’s room. “That doesn’t mean it won’t affect the boy on a subconscious level.”

  A sound to Taylor’s left brought him around to face Sierra as she came into the hallway. Grief had carved lines into her features, darkened her eyes. “How’s Ben?”

  “He’s asleep right now.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Intense emotions are exhausting.” All Taylor had wanted to do when TJ had died was retreat from life and sleep.

  Sierra’s mouth thinned into a tight line. “I want to find who did this.”

  “And I don’t want Ben to overhear this conversation.” John turned toward the stairs. “Why don’t we go downstairs and discuss what needs to be done in the days to come.”

  Taylor followed behind Sierra, descending the steps and crossing to the living room. In front of the large window stood a Christmas tree, laden with tiny white lights, red garland and dozens of ornaments, a lot of them appearing homemade. He felt as though he’d stepped into a Christmas store. Since his son died, he hadn’t even put up a tree.

  Sierra took a seat on the couch at one end while he sat in a chair across from her. John joined her on the couch. For a long moment silence ruled.

  John cleared his throat. “For the next few days, I’d like to visit with Ben here at this house. This is where he’s felt safe and secure. I’m hoping that will help him begin to bring down his walls.”

  Sierra folded her hands together in her lap as she faced the doctor. “I’m concerned. He hasn’t said a word so far. And like I said, Ben is a talkative child. He never goes long without talking.”

  “Selective mutism is often caused by trauma. If we can deal with the cause, he’ll hopefully begin to talk again. But if he does, that doesn’t mean he’ll pour out the details of what happened this morning. I want to give him techniques to deal with stress and trauma. I think one of the best ways for him will be through his art. He’s very good at drawing for his age. He may never be able to say what happened with words, but maybe he will in pictures.”

  Taylor remembered the myriad illustrations plastered all over the large corkboard in Ben’s bedroom, not to mention some in frames hanging on the walls. He wondered if Michelle Sanders could help Ben get started. The teenager had a way with children and certainly knew about being involved in a traumatic situation. Two people had kidnapped her nephew while she had been babysitting him and had left her injured. He’d call her father, Dallas, and see what he thought about it.

  “What should I do to help?” Sierra asked John, twisting her hands together while chewing on her bottom lip.

  “Love him. Keep his routine as normal as possible. And make sure he feels safe.” John stood and gave her a business card. “Call me at any time if you need me. I’ll be back tomorrow at eight before I go in for my first appointment.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Taylor pushed to his feet and accompanied John into the foyer. At the front door he finally said, “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I didn’t know what to do at the clinic. He w
ouldn’t let go of me.”

  “Anytime. We’ve been friends for a long time.” He shook Taylor’s hand. “You know, there’s a chance we’ll never know what happened from Ben.”

  “But the killer doesn’t know that. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Ben’s in good hands with you.”

  As John left, a news van pulled up to the curb in front of the house. While Taylor gripped the edge of the door, a cameraman and woman reporter climbed from their vehicle and started for the porch. He immediately stepped outside and met the pair on the sidewalk leading to Sierra’s home.

  “We understand Ben Markham was the only surviving person at the clinic. Has he said anything about the shooting? What does the killer look like? Can the boy identify him?”

  Although the police had withheld Ben’s name, he’d known it wouldn’t take the press long to figure it out, and now the killer would know for sure there was a potential witness. In addition to working the case, now he needed to find a place to keep Ben safe from the media and possibly the shooter.

  He threw his shoulders back in an imposing gesture as he made a statement. “The families of the victims are dealing with a difficult situation. Please respect their privacy and grief. The police department will be giving a statement later today. Do not trespass on this property, or I’ll arrest you.”

  He spun around and marched to the porch while the reporter asked, “Why wasn’t Sierra Walker at the clinic? She’s the office manager.”

  He felt the urge to slam the front door but refrained. He didn’t want to alarm Ben in any way. So he closed it quietly.

  Sierra stood in the foyer with her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t want them to upset Ben any more than he already is. Are they leaving?”

  Taylor headed into the living room and stared out the large front window. “No. They’re standing by their van. There’ll be more before the day is over.” He turned toward Sierra.

  The ashen cast to her face highlighted her large, dark brown eyes. “No! They can’t. Ben will see them. They will scare him even more.”

  “As long as they stay off your property, there’s little I can do except find you and Ben another place to stay for the time being. A place that the reporters don’t know about.”

  Sierra eased down onto the couch. “Like what? A hotel?”

  As a second car parked in front, Taylor left the window. “I have an idea. Y’all can stay with my dad. He lives in a small town right outside of San Antonio. He’s a retired Marine and loves children. My sister, who lives three hours away, has a nine-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son. Besides that, the holiday season is a big thing for my dad. It might help Ben to get away.” He didn’t know if it would, but the boy’s safety was the most important aspect to consider.

  “We can’t impose. We can keep the blinds closed. The press might get tired of waiting.”

  “First, you aren’t imposing. I know my dad. He would be the first to tell you to come to his place. I’ll be there, too. I think Ben needs to be protected until we find the shooter. It didn’t take long for the reporters to find where y’all were. The same can be said of the killer.” Taylor sat next to her on the sofa, so close a whiff of vanilla teased his senses. “Let me call him and—”

  A piercing scream reverberated through the house.

  THREE

  The shrill sound from the second floor chilled Sierra to her core. She jumped up at the same time as Taylor surged to his feet and raced toward the staircase, withdrawing his gun. He took the steps two at a time while she followed closely behind him. He disappeared inside Ben’s room a few feet before her. When she entered, she nearly ran into Taylor, poised in the entrance with his gun raised.

  Sierra peered around him, her heartbeat racing. “Where’s Ben?”

  He shifted his attention from one area of the bedroom to the next, lingering on the window. He walked to it and checked to see if it was locked. “I don’t know.”

  While Taylor stooped down and inspected beneath the bed, Sierra went to look in the bathroom, knowing of two places Ben had used when they’d played hide-and-seek. But Ben wasn’t between the stool and counter or in the bathtub.

  As she reentered the bedroom, Taylor opened the closet door. Ben sat hunched over, covering his ears. When her nephew dropped his hands to his sides and looked up, his tear-soaked face ripped at her composure.

  Being closer, Taylor holstered his weapon and squatted next to Ben. “You must have had a bad dream. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” Slowly he reached out and laid his hand on her nephew’s back.

  Sierra knelt next to Taylor. “And neither am I.” Earlier she’d wanted to stay at this house because Ben was familiar with his surroundings, but with the press outside, she knew that wasn’t possible. Their presence would be a constant reminder to Ben and her of what had happened today. “You aren’t alone, sweetie.”

  Taylor pulled back to allow her to slide her arm along Ben’s shoulders. The boy turned his head, looked at her with red eyes, then lunged toward her and pressed against her. She hugged him, listening to the sobs pouring out of him.

  Today had forever changed Ben’s life—and hers. Would he ever be able to deal with the trauma of this morning? Would he ever talk again?

  Taylor leaned close to Sierra’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to call my dad.”

  As he rose, Ben reached out and clutched Taylor’s arm.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told the boy. “I’m not leaving the house. I’m here for you.”

  Slowly her nephew let go of Taylor. Ben leaned against Sierra and watched him exit the bedroom.

  “Honey, you’re his number one priority.” Should she say anything about leaving the house? What if Taylor’s dad didn’t want them to come to his place? She’d wait until the plans were finalized. Ben needed stability. Not being here would be enough change that he would have to deal with. “Let’s sit on your bed until Taylor comes back.”

  As she stood, Ben remained where he was, but when she held out her hand, he took it and pushed to his feet. They eased down on the bed, and Ben curled against her while she slung her arm around him. She’d done it many times in the past, but her sister had always been here. Now she was all Ben had.

  She thought of his father. What kind of man gave up his parental rights and walked away from his child? He hadn’t seen Ben since that day. A couple of years ago, her nephew had stopped asking about his father.

  When Taylor returned to the bedroom, he gave Sierra a slight nod and sat next to Ben on the other side. “My dad needs my help at his house,” he told them. “I’d promised I would help him with a project, and I don’t go back on a promise I make to someone. Would you both like to come with me? It will take a few days at least, so I’ll need to stop by my place and get my dog.”

  The mention of his pet perked up Ben.

  “What kind of dog do you have?” Sierra hoped that would make Ben agree to go. Taylor didn’t know it, but the one present Ben wanted for Christmas was a dog. Kat had planned to go to an animal shelter to pick one out this week.

  “A black Lab named Oscar after my granddad. He loves my dad’s house because he has a big fenced backyard. You okay with that, Ben?”

  Her nephew nodded.

  “Good. I saw a duffel bag in your closet. I can help you pack some clothes and toys for the next few days while your aunt gets what she needs. Okay?”

  Ben released his grip on Sierra and gave Taylor a nod. Her nephew swiped his hand across his cheeks and stood.

  “I’ll be right back, Ben.” Sierra hurried to her room and quickly packed a small suitcase.

  This upcoming weekend, they were going to bake cookies for a church party for the kids. Ben loved doing it and attending it every year. Now even that wasn’t going to be the same. Am I doing the right thing, Lord? Is this what’s best for Ben
?

  She heaved the bag off the bed and rolled it down the hall to Ben’s room. When she appeared at the entrance, he was gathering his drawing materials. A good sign.

  Taylor closed the space between him and her. “You’re ready?”

  “Yes. How did you know that Ben loves dogs?”

  “Half the pictures on his corkboard are of dogs. Besides, I was his age once, and I loved my dog.”

  “My sister wanted to get him one at Christmas,” she whispered. “I’m still going to.”

  “I think that would be great. When I’m down, Oscar knows how to cheer me up.”

  She peered around Taylor to see what Ben was doing. He stuffed his art supplies into his duffel bag, then went to his toy drawer. “Is your dad really okay with us coming?” She kept her voice low.

  Taylor bent toward her and said in a whisper, “Yes, most definitely.”

  His breath as he spoke caressed her cheek and sent a shiver down her spine. The hint of peppermint floated in the air. Trying to dismiss her reaction to Taylor’s nearness, Sierra stepped around him and strolled across the room to Ben. “Are you ready?”

  Ben zippered his bag and swung it off the bed.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to meet Oscar.”

  Struggling with his duffel bag, Ben hurried as fast as he could.

  “Do you want me to carry it?” Taylor asked in the hallway.

  Her nephew shook his head. When he descended the stairs, he dragged the bag down each step while Taylor and she followed. When he reached the first floor, Ben straightened his shoulders and watched them make their way toward him.

  Taylor knelt in front of him. “You’re strong. Good job. We’re going in my car to get Oscar and then drive to my dad’s. Outside there are a few people who want to talk to us. I’ll take care of them while your aunt and you keep going to my SUV. Okay?”