Beyond the Roses

by Mary Cantell

  With a quizzical look, Don replied, “My telescope? Yeah, why?”

  “Just wondered what you used it for.”

  Silence.

  Dwayne quickly looked away not wanting to appear too obvious in what he was asking. During last week’s staff meeting, the one community issue that stuck out in his mind was the Peeping Tom report with another citing in the area. Officer Matthews said there were two recent reports of a man with a baseball cap who was seen lingering in the woods by Glenwood Swim Club. Dwayne didn’t think his brother was the Peeping Tom, but he did have a fetish for baseball caps. Don wasn’t the type, Dwayne tried to convince himself. He believed his brother wouldn’t be capable of anything unseemly. Not until he noticed the picture on his brother’s table. The picture of the little girl.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing in particular. Just wondering.”

  “I—I like to look at stuff, you know, up close. It’s been a hobby of mine for a while. Actually, I have a camera, too, that I use on occasion. You know, when something special pops into the lens.”

  Dwayne opened the bag where he stashed Don’s things and pulled out the picture. “Donny, do you know this little girl?”

  Don squinted at the 5 x 7 color photograph.

  “Well?” Dwayne said impatiently.

  “Yeah, I know her.”

  “How do you know her?” He struggled not to sound like an interrogator.

  “I took the picture.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Detective Hastings had a pile of messages waiting on his desk when he got to his office. Stacks of reports and miscellaneous paperwork collected in neat piles taking up all four corners. Among the papers sat a jar of pickled eggs. He rifled through the messages and made a few phone calls before his assistant, Dorinda Walcott, stuck her head in.

  “Did you get my message?” she asked, eyeing his cluttered desk from the doorway. “I put it right by the phone.”

  Puzzled, he searched through the pink slips of paper. “I’ve got a swamp load here.”

  “It should be on top, sir. Red ink.”

  With his cigarette dangling from his lips, Detective Hastings rifled through the messages again. “This? When did this come in?”

  “This morning, sir.”

  “Why didn’t someone call me?” he barked.

  “We tried to notify you but there was no answer and your voice mailbox was full. Sergeant Matthews brought it over.”

  He shook his head and picked up the phone. “Thanks, Dor, didn’t mean to get upset with you.”

  “Understood, sir,” she said turning to leave. “Oh, any word on the street about the little girl?”

  Now on the phone, he raised his free hand in the air. “From my lips to God’s ears. I’m on it now. Yeah, hey, Marty? Yeah, hold on a minute.” He cupped the phone. “Do you mind getting me a coffee, Dor? Black with two sugars?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “Oh, and what is this?” he asked, pointing to the jar.

  Dorinda grinned. “Oh, Mrs. Jennings brought that in,” she explained. The detective turned up his nose. “Just a thank you gift for getting her dog out of the well.” She put her hand on her hip. “Everyone got one, even the deputy.”

  “Got it.” He frowned. “Better take it away, though. I think I’m allergic to eggs—at least, pickled purple ones.” He waved his hand in front of the jar in a shooing gesture.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, promptly reaching over to remove the jar.

  “Marty, sorry about that. So you’re sure it’s the Maryland girl?” Detective Hastings said. “How old?”

  “Not sure, but she matches the description on the Amber Alert.”

  “Why are we hearing about it now?” he asked. “Is this the same one you gave me earlier? I couldn’t make out your words there toward the end.”

  “The alert didn’t hit West Virginia.”

  “West Virginia?” He sat up. “You’re saying she’s in West Virginia?”

  “Seems so unless there’s more than one missing. It’s gotta be the same girl.”

  “What’s her condition… dead or alive?”

  “Hopefully, still alive.”

  “Still? What’s going on?”

  “She’s been admitted to Jefferson Medical Center in Ranson, West Virginia.”

  “Okay, tell Matthews I’m on it. Leaving now.”

  Detective Hastings hung up and redialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Logan. Detective Hastings. We have a lead, and it’s looking significant.”

  “Significant? What’s that mean?” Her spirit lightened.

  “I think we found your daughter.”

  ****

  Detective Hastings knew he made a mistake in getting personally involved in the missing girl case yet telling someone there was a chance their daughter was alive and witnessing their joy was the best part of his detective work. Being a small-town detective, it was hard not to get involved. The folks in the community became like family over the years, and word in the department was that Lissa’s father, a prominent attorney, had busted one of the biggest drug cartels in the state. The capture was the biggest coup in the county. From then on, John Leads became a major figure around town and his name carried a lot of weight. Taking care of the townspeople, especially John Leads’ girl, was not only his solemn obligation but his heartfelt duty as well.

  In the past, he was wrong only once when the discovery of the lost boy in the woods turned out bad. Very bad. In his twenty years of service that was the only time he felt like he failed. He stubbed out his cigarette and rolled the window down to let some fresh air in at the approach to Bellevue Avenue, hoping this would not be a repeat of that heartbreaking case.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lissa could barely contain the cascade of emotions coursing through her. The good word from the detective about Lacy sent her over the moon, though the concern over why she was in the hospital struck like a hammer.

  “Here comes a dark SUV,” she said anxiously. “Is that him?”

  “Looks like it,” Brian said as the vehicle slowed with the detective behind the wheel. He lifted his hand in the air as though hailing a taxi as the SUV pulled to the curb. When it came to a stop, Brian opened the back door.

  The smell of old cigarette smoke assaulted her nose as she hopped in. Though, Lissa didn’t mind. The interior could have reeked of a cesspool for all she cared. The odor paled in comparison to the gratitude she bore for Detective Hasting’s assistance.

  “I can’t tell you how excited I am right now, Detective,” she said, hopping into the back seat with Brian right behind her. Still, she could not bring herself to calling him Hal. “But how did she end up in West Virginia? It’s miles away.”

  “Don’t know. We’re not even sure it’s your daughter…just a lead, Mrs. Logan.” Her heart sank. “But it’s a promising one,” he said. “We’ll soon see.”

  “You said it was Jefferson Memorial?” she asked.

  “That’s what they reported.”

  “Where is that? Just over the border from Maryland?”

  “GPS tells me it’s less than twenty miles right across the bridge. In Ranson.”

  “I better call Aunt Celia and Uncle Charlie.” Lissa pulled out her phone. “They’ll want to know.”

  In her overly excited state, Lissa dialed the number wrong twice before she got it right. She could barely hold the phone without shaking.

  “Hello?”

  “Aunt Celia? Hi, it’s me.”

  “Any word yet on Lacy?” she asked, anxiously. “Your uncle and I are on the edge of our seats. He wants to come out there, but I told him to wait for your call.”

  “That’s what I’m calling about. The authorities think they know where she is.”

  “Hallelujah,” she screamed. “That’s wonderful, where is she?”

  “In Ranson. Ranson, West Virginia. She’s—”

  “A ransom? They’re asking for a ransom for
her? Oh, dear Lord.”

  “No, no, Aunt Celia, that’s the name of the town.”

  “How much?”

  “There’s no ransom. I said Ranson, as in Ranson, West Virginia.”

  “No ransom?”

  “No, no ransom. She’s in the hospital. Listen, you’re fading in and out. Let me call you back when we get to the hospital. If you want, you can you can meet us there. It’s not far from you. It’s Jefferson Memorial Children’s Hospital.”

  Mid-day traffic was relatively light along I-340 on the ride into West Virginia as the vehicle sped down the highway. Lissa chewed the inside of her lips, mentally playing every possible scenario of what could be soon facing her at the hospital. Would it be Lacy? Would she be in a coma or just shaken from an accident or worse—would it be just another eight-year-old girl with similar features? It wouldn’t be the first time identities got mixed up. Even going as far as thinking one’s child was still alive but soon coming to know their child died…it was a twin look-alike who survived a tragic accident…their hopes now capsized in vain.

  The crisp fall air smelled sweet coming through the partially open window up front, and Lissa snuggled closer to Brian to steer clear of the cold draft. He placed his hand on top of hers, and he looked her in the eye with an expression that said: Either way, this is going to be all right. Though she was nervous at the prospects before her, his demeanor calmed her. Without any confidence of her own, she felt secure in his. The rich, musky suede scent of his cologne reminded her of the other men in her life who’d loved her. She hoped Brian did, too.

  The drive along this stretch of I-340 took her back to the times Uncle Charlie drove them this way to the country through the fields and farmland of western Maryland on the way across the river to Harpers Ferry. Only now she was no longer the little girl without a care in the world asking every few miles, “Are we there yet?”

  Puffy gray-bottom clouds shifted across the sapphire blue sky intermittently obscuring the sun. The last billboard before entering West Virginia featured a secluded B&B. “The best of old world hospitality plus all the comforts of home.” Lissa never noticed the invitation. The sign swiftly passed in a blur. Her mind couldn’t register the words. Although the scenery reflected the beauty of calendar pictures—trees painted bright crimson and gold on a backdrop of mountain peaks and river gorges—she barely took note of any of it. The scenery may as well have been in black and white. Her anxious thoughts about Lacy cast a pall over everything.

  The sound of crinkling paper caught her attention as Brian opened the bag he’d brought with him. “I know you’re probably not hungry, but you need to eat something.” He peeled back the plastic wrapping on a cream cheese bagel and took it apart, handing her half. She shook her head. “How about some coffee?” He placed a coffee stirrer into the hole in the top of the lid. She took the cup and held it in her palms. It wasn’t steaming hot but warm enough to take the chill from her hands.

  Before crossing the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers into West Virginia, she spotted a cider stand set among a copse of half-bare trees settled among a carpet of orange-colored leaves. Under normal conditions, she’d want to stop to enjoy the scenery and grab a cup, but today was not a time for leisurely pursuits. In fact, she wished he’d drive faster.

  “Should be coming up on it soon,” the detective announced.

  Lissa’s stomach knotted up again. Spotting the first glimpse of the red brick hospital in the distance, her heart skipped. She gazed at the four-story building and all but practically willed her daughter to be there. Please, Lord, let it be Lacy…let it be my little girl.

  Detective Hastings turned into the parking garage and pulled into a spot on the second floor in section D. They took the stairway down one flight and headed for the main lobby. The massive glass pavilion loomed in the distance, and to Lissa, it was as though she were marching to her death. They met an elderly woman at the information desk. Detective Hastings did the talking, and the woman directed them to the third floor.

  Lissa’s heart beat wildly in the silence of the elevator. Brian slipped his arm around her as she leaned back against the handrail for support. She hadn’t bathed in over 24 hours and was self-conscious about it, hoping no one else noticed. Detective Hastings, in his raincoat, maintained a serious expression. He held his gaze toward the elevator floor. A furrow creased his forehead. No one said a word until the polite ding of the elevator signaled their arrival.

  “After you,” the detective said, holding back the door for them to pass.

  The sharp odor of ammonia and latex permeated the third floor where the children’s unit buzzed with personnel making their way along the narrow hallway. They turned right at the “T” and followed the signs to room 307. Passing by the patients in room after room, the sight of the bedridden tucked under mounds of white bedding with only their heads visible echoed down the corridor. Lissa never felt comfortable in the sterile environment of a hospital with its stark whiteness and overly bright fluorescence. She gripped Brian’s hand, now moist with perspiration. Or was it hers? After passing several rooms, a sudden fear pressed in on her. If Lacy wasn’t in the hospital, what would be the odds of her being found at all?

  “I’m frightened,” she said in a half-sob, raising her hand to her mouth. “What if she’s—”

  “Shhh, don’t go there, Liss.” Brian pulled her aside and wrapped his arms around her. “Just breathe, Liss. Just breathe.” He planted a gentle kiss on her lips.

  Detective Hastings moved farther down the hall and stopped in front of room 307. Lissa took a deep breath. The fear of not recognizing her daughter—or worse, it not being her daughter—loomed. She clenched her teeth and took a step inside.

  ****

  “That’s my little friend.” Don held the picture for a moment and then handed it back to Dwayne.

  “Your friend?” Dwayne lent a quizzical look at his brother.

  “Yep.” He chuckled. “Well, not my best friend. She’s just a kid.”

  “She a neighbor or…?”

  “I met her in the woods when she was walking her dog. She wandered over one day when I was taking pictures. I was adjusting the telescope and she started asking me questions…that sort of thing. Then she told me about some treasure trove she found. Kids, gotta love ’em.”

  Dwayne listened to his brother as thoughts kept circling through his mind. Was his brother the Peeping Tom? The staff was told to pull out all the stops in finding the guy. His boss gave them heat to find him—and find him now. If it’s one thing Sergeant Matthews hated was a Peeping Tom. No one ventured to ask why his face flushed beet red in anger when he spoke about it. Rumor had it there were personal reasons for the sergeant’s voracious appetite to nail the guy. The department spurred into action as quickly as they could.

  “So what’s her name?”

  Don paused for a moment and then shook his head. “You know, off the top of my head, I couldn’t tell ya.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lissa bolted into the room and flew to her daughter’s bedside. The child lay under the sheets with a white bandage wound around her head.

  “Lacy!” she cried. A flood of joy rained through every sinew in her body, setting off a billow of tears. She flung herself across the bed and wrapped her body around the tiny bundle under the covers.

  Lacy opened her eyes and looked up at her mother, expressionless. “Mom.” Her voice came out just above a whisper.

  Lissa held her daughter’s face and kissed the bandage on her forehead. “I’m so glad to see you, baby.” She wiped her eyes. You have no idea. She proceeded to pepper the child with questions: “Are you in any pain? How did you get into the accident? Was someone driving you home?” Then she saw Lacy’s listless eyes opening and closing and realized in her medicated state, she wasn’t able to process the questions.

  “She might be in shock,” Brian said in a heavy whisper.

  “I wish I could talk to her nurse,” Lissa said and turned toward th
e door, hoping for one of the aids to step inside. “Or even better, the doctor.”

  Brian put his hand on her shoulder and said, “I’ll go see if I can find someone.”

  Lissa caught the eye of the detective, who stood by the door. She got up off the bed. “Detective, how can I thank you?”

  Detective Hastings stood with his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “It was a team effort, Ms. Logan.”

  Lissa hugged him, and her vision clouded with fresh tears.

  ****

  “She has a grade two concussion with some contusions,” the doctor said. “We gave her a CT scan and some mild pain relievers.”

  “Is she in shock?” Lissa asked, worriedly chewing her lip.

  “Yes, when she was first brought in, we noticed the initial signs—dizziness and such, but it should wane over the next few hours. It may linger for more than that, but in my experience, children are much more adaptable than adults when it comes to things like this,” the doctor said, his eyes focused on her. “Of course, this doesn’t preclude keeping an eye out for any negative changes.”

  “Like what?”

  The doctor’s countenance remained stoic. “Mood swings, anger, or the inability to get along with other children…that kind of thing.”

  “It looks like all she wants to do is sleep. Is that okay?” Lissa asked.

  “Sleep is actually going to make her brain recover,” the doctor said. “We’ve been monitoring her and waking her every couple of hours to make sure everything is progressing the way it should. Her scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary in my opinion. No hydrocephalus, no serious damage. She is very fortunate.”

  Lacy stirred for a moment. “Mom,” she said weakly. “I was in an accident.”

  “Yes, baby, I know. I’ve been frantic with worry, we all have—Aunt Celia and Uncle Charlie and Brian.” She looked at Brian and her heart melted. What would I have done without you, Bri? She turned back to Lacy. “Lacy, what happened? Why did you leave Becca’s Halloween Party?”

  Lacy’s expression couldn’t have been more pitiful to Lissa with her doleful green eyes peering up like a lost puppy. Her eyelids appeared heavy and in a matter of seconds, she fell back asleep.