by Carrie King
Smiling at his daughter he opened the kitchen drawer and searched for the tube of plastic adhesive. “She will have to stay on the bench until tomorrow.”
He took the lid from the tube of glue and picked up the doll. As he did so, something dropped from the toy’s neck and fell onto the bench with a tiny chink.
Puzzled, he picked it up and bought it closer to his face. The item was white and sharpened at one end. It looked, for all the world, like a small fang. He pressed on it. It was solid and hard and did not give under the pressure of his fingers. Shaking his head, he dropped it into the garbage bin under the sink.
“Don’t, Louise!”
David swung around to see the girls pushing at each other. “Girls! Stop fighting! Go upstairs and play quietly until mommy gets home.”
“Where is mommy? I want mommy.” Abigail reached for her sister’s hand and two small faces looked up at David, waiting for his reply.
“I don’t know where Mommy is. But I can’t concentrate when you two are fighting and bickering. Go upstairs now, and I will fix Lillian.”
Silently, the girls turned and left the room, hand in hand. David heard their steps on the stairs as he ran a thick line of glue along one edge of the torn plastic and carefully fitted the other side of the doll’s neck against it.
9:30 pm.
The girls were in bed, after a supper of cheese and crackers and tinned soup. Tired and irritable, both of them had cried for their mother, and David’s patience had been at an end by the time he tucked them into under the covers. Thankfully, they had quickly fallen asleep, exhausted and drained.
Staring down at their little faces, pale against their pillows he finally allowed the worry that had been building all afternoon to escape. Hurrying downstairs he grabbed a torch, and begun to search the grounds.
“Cassie,” he shouted into the darkness the whole time he searched for her.
It was nearly an hour later before he gave up and returned to the house. It was now pitch black outside, and a sharp wind cut through his clothes. Clouds had built up in the sky, obliterating the stars, and his torch light had begun to fade as its battery wore down. His worry was now a deep, gnawing ache. Where was she? Maybe she had gone for a walk and fallen... the thought chilled him to the bone.
As he reached the door of the house and pushed it open, the first drops of cold rain fell on his face.
Another worry niggled at him as he came into the warm house. The girls had been alone all this time, so he hurried up the stairs to check on them, praying they were still asleep.
Back in the house he knew he shouldn’t have left them alone for so long, but his growing fear for Cassie had prompted him to keep searching.
Gently, he pushed open the door to their bedroom and stared at Louise’s empty bed. Shock froze him to the spot as he was unable to believe what he was seeing for several moments.
The cover was pulled back, and he could make out the slight wrinkle in the sheets where her little body had lain. A small dent marked the spot where her head had rested on the pillow.
Now it was empty and his baby girl was gone!
“No!” his cry was loud in the quiet of the bedroom, heart in his throat he switched on the light.
“Daddy?” Two small bodies sat up in Abigail’s bed and two tousled heads looked at him.
Louise rubbed at her eyes and yawned. “What’s the matter? Why is the light on?”
Oh my Lord, the relief washed over him like a warm shower.
“Ssssh, it’s nothing.” David tucked his daughters back into Abigail’s bed and kissed them both lightly on the forehead, smoothing their soft hair back from their little faces. “Go back to sleep,” he spoke quietly and gently before backing out of the room, switching off the light and closing the door behind him.
For a moment he leaned against the door, while his breath came back to normal and the shaking of his hands stopped. As he walked back downstairs, his heart still pounding from fear. His girls were safe but where was Cassie and what should he do?
In the kitchen he glanced at the clock, it sat on the wall ticking away as if nothing had happened. It was 11:00.
With a shaking hand he reached for the phone. It was time to call the police.
Chapter 21
Red and blue lights flashed from outside the kitchen window, glancing off the walls as they rhythmically spun making David’s eyes ache and his head pound.
Officer Handley sat across the table watching him closely.
“So, when did you say you last saw your wife?”
David repeated his story. “We had breakfast together and then Cassie walked us to the door. She stood waving until I turned out of the driveway.” He shrugged. “It was a perfectly normal morning.”
A sudden gust of wind, followed by the sharp onslaught of heavy rain, rattled the windows, causing both men to jump.
David stared at the rivulets of rain that ran down the pane against the pitch black of the night.
“I hope she’s not out there in this,” he said. He turned back to the policeman. “You must find her, she could catch her death in this.”
The officer sighed. He looked down at the notebook in front of him and wrote a few words before looking back at David.
“Your wife has not been missing for more than 24 hours yet. In our experience, missing persons generally return. Approximately 95% are found within 14 days, with over half located within the first two days.” Officer Handley was clearly reciting statistics, his voice low and even to keep David calm. It wasn’t working.
David leaned forward. “Of the half located within the first two days, how many are found alive?” he demanded, his question sharp with mistrust.
Officer Handley was unfazed by David’s tone. “Most of them,” he conceded.
David stared at the window again.
The wind howled around the house, angry and loud. “She would not be staying away of her own accord,” he said.
“She must be lost somewhere out there.” He turned back to the policeman. “How soon can you set up a search party?”
“We can start to set up the process tomorrow,” the other man said.
He looked at David steadily.
“If she hasn’t returned by morning, that is.”
The officer snapped his notebook shut, frowning at the fine layer of dust which now coated the cover. He brushed it off quickly and stood up.
“I’m sure your wife will be just fine, Mr. Anderson. As I said, in most cases …” he trailed off, glancing towards Louise’s doll, which still lay on the bench.
“I suggest you concentrate on looking after your daughters for now. We’ll begin the process tomorrow, if necessary.” He began to walk to the door. “Try not to worry too much until you have something to worry about.”
“I do have something to worry about! Cassie has never done anything like this before. It’s not something she would ever do!” David’s voice was loud in the quiet of the house and he was trembling with rage.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow.” Officer Handley’s voice was smooth and professional and his demeanor remained unruffled and calm. He reached the front door and turned back to David, his hand resting on the door handle for a moment. “Call us at the station at 8:00 am if your wife hasn’t returned. Until then, good night, Mr. Anderson.”
He pulled the door open and a gust of wind rushed inside the house, stinging the faces of both men with its strength.
Officer Handley shuddered.
“Rough night. Talk soon.” He pulled the door shut behind him.
David stared at the door for several minutes before covering his face with his hands. He sank down to the floor, rocking slowly backwards and forwards.
“Cassie, where are you?” he whispered.
“Daddy? Daddy, what’s the matter? Where is mommy?”
David turned quickly and looked up into the face of Abigail, her small pajama-clad form stood on the bottom step of the stairs.
He pushed himself to
his feet.
“Mommy isn’t home yet, darling.” He took a step towards her, then stopped, frowning. In the air above her head a faintly yellow mist was swirling and moving as if with a life of its own.
He glanced back towards the front door, thinking for half a second that the door was still open and something had blown in. The door was firmly shut. He looked back at his daughter. The mist had gone. She was looking at him, puzzled. Maybe he was tired and seeing things?
“You should be asleep. Here. I’ll take you back to bed.”
At 8:01 the next morning, David lifted the receiver and dialed the police station. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep, tossing and turning all night long. At times, his eyes had fluttered closed, only to snap open again when he thought he’d heard a whisper in the room.
Was that the faint sound of Cassie’s voice in the air, the creak of a footstep on the floorboards?
The storm had howled and raged all night, adding to his discomfort and worry. If she was out there hurt in this? It didn’t bear thinking of. Twice he had got up only to go back to his room. He couldn’t leave the children.
The phone rang and rang, he pushed his hand through his uncombed hair and waited for someone to pick up.
“Hi, it’s David Anderson. I reported my wife, Cassie, missing yesterday and I spoke to Officer Handley last night. She still hasn’t returned.” David’s voice choked and stumbled on the last sentence.
“Daddy!” Abigail stood in front of him, her hands on her small hips in a shocking replica of her mother. “I want my breakfast.”
David turned away from his daughter, waiting for the response on the other end of the phone.
“Daddy!” Abigail marched around and stood in front of him again, facing him accusingly. “Louise and me want breakfast! We’re hungry!”
David covered the mouthpiece of the receiver. For an instant he felt overwhelmed by everything. He just wanted to drop the phone and run, out of the house and away.
“You and Louise are both big girls. You can get your own breakfast. You can reach the cereal and the milk, and you know where the dishes are kept.”
Abigail stood a little taller, pushing her shoulders back proudly. She turned towards the fridge.
“Yes?” David spoke into the phone. “I’m here.” He listened for several minutes before replacing the phone back on its hook.
The information was so much to take in and he stared straight ahead at the tiled wall in front of him for several minutes. The sound of the girls brought him back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the room and watched Louise and Abigail, now delightedly dropping cereal and milk across the surface of the table in an attempt to fill their breakfast bowls. It was such a lovely scene, one that Cassie would have loved.
His glance skittered away and he looked out the window. Early morning sun flooded the grounds, all traces of last night’s storm were gone. A few remaining drops of rain sparkled in the sunlight.
“Where is mommy? Has she made our lunch for school?” Louise looked at him inquiringly as he turned to face her.
“Mommy is lost for a little while. The policemen are going to look for mommy today. She might have taken a walk and fallen and hurt her leg. They will go and find her, and I will help them. Soon, mommy will be home again. I will phone someone to come and look after the two of you. So, today will be a holiday from school, because daddy can’t leave the house to take you.”
He smiled brightly, hoping he was conveying to his daughters that today was an adventure and nothing to worry about.
“Finish your breakfast and then go and get dressed.”
He lifted the phonebook down from the nook above the phone and began to flick through it, searching for a sitter for the girls.
“Mr. Anderson? There’s someone at the door for you.” David looked up pulling his mind from the horror it kept seeing.
There were policemen all around the kitchen and papers and maps were spread across the kitchen table.
Louise and Abigail chased each other around the table, caught up in the newness and unfamiliarity of today’s happenings. To them, it was just excitement and they wanted to show off to all the newcomers.
David stood and made his way to the front door on shaky legs. He wanted to scream and shout and tell them to go and search. He wanted to run into the woods and run until he couldn’t stop.
Instead, he was staring at a small, bespectacled nun.
She reached out her hand. “Mr. Anderson, I was so sorry to hear the news. It was only yesterday that I spoke with your wife.” She walked into the house briskly without being asked and glanced back at David. “I’m Sister Mary. You called me. I’m here to look after the girls.” She stood in the doorway and clapped her hands together sharply. “Girls! Come here at once.”
Louise and Abigail stopped running and looked up in surprise. After only a moment’s hesitation, they meekly did as they were told.
“The men are very busy. They need to find your mommy, and they don’t want to be disturbed. Come upstairs with me. I’m sure we can find plenty of chores to do, and once we are finished we can sit quietly and have a story.” Sister Mary watched as the girls ran up the stairs ahead of her before turning back to David. “I wish you all the luck in the world, and may God be with you in your search.”
From where she stood on the bottom stair she looked around the house and David thought he saw her shudder. That her thin shoulders had shaken momentarily.
Sister Mary reached for the rosary beads that hung around her neck and began to rub them between her fingers.
“I haven’t been in this house for a very long time,” she said softly. She looked back at David. “Don’t worry about the girls. I’ll look after them just fine.”
Chapter 22
“Mommy said I have to listen to her and not listen to what the man says,” Abigail said conversationally as she spooned a heaping of milky cereal into her mouth. “She said that the man is a bad man and I am not allowed to talk to him.” This was muffled as it was said through a mouthful of Rice Pops.
“Abigail, don’t talk with food in your mouth.” David was reading the headlines in the paper, the newsprint spread across the table in front of him.
“Mommy sang me the ladybird song this morning,” pitched in Louise. She began to hum the nursery tune.
David looked up, finally aware of what his daughters were talking about. He sighed and closed the newspaper. “Girls,” he said gently. “Mommy isn’t here. She has gone away somewhere, remember?” His heart squeezed painfully when he thought of Cassie. It had been four weeks since her disappearance, and it hadn’t gotten any easier.
For the first two weeks the girls had cried every night for their mother, and David had taken to sleeping on a makeshift pallet on the floor in their bedroom in an attempt to make them feel more secure. In truth, he could not bring himself to sleep in his own bed without Cassie’s warm body and soft breathing on the mattress beside him.
“No, she is here,” Louise said firmly.
Abigail nodded her head in agreement.
David said nothing for several minutes. If the girls were happy to believe that Cassie was still around, would it hurt to allow them to continue to do so? They were so young, and the event had been traumatic and awful for them all. What harm could it do to allow them their make-believe if it helped them get through it?
Abigail laughed suddenly, the sound tinkling and happy in the early morning warmth of the kitchen. “She never went anywhere, silly,” she said.
Louise giggled. “No, silly. She was never gone. She was only hiding.”
Suddenly cross, David stood up abruptly. “Enough. Finish your breakfast. Daddy is going to wash the car, and you girls both have your chores to do.” He walked quickly from the kitchen, feeling blindsided with pain.
Cassie, where are you?
He opened the door and walked outside. A small breeze picked up and blew a flurry of leaves over his shoes and across the ground at his fe
et. He glanced at Cassie’s car, still parked in the same spot as it had been when she disappeared, and he swallowed hard.
Walking to the small lean-to beside the porch, he unraveled the hose and gathered the car wash soap and sponges. He looked down at his hands, now covered in a thin coating of dust. Impatiently, he wiped his hands down his pants and continued with his task. The police had been very good, but he now saw the sympathy which lay clearly in their eyes whenever they looked at him and patiently answered his questions. He knew that they suspected Cassie’s disappearance was a suicide.
That she was an unhappy young mother who had wandered into the woods to take her own life. Why would they think otherwise? There was no sign of foul play, no motive. The house had shown no sign of a struggle having taken place.
It didn’t matter, David still held out hope that Cassie would be found. He knew she would never have taken her own life—she loved her girls. And she loved him too; he knew it. She would never have left them by her own choice.
They hadn’t found a body, and until they did he would hold tight to the belief that she was out there somewhere. One day she would come home or he would find her, he had to believe it.
Louise pouted, poking out her lower lip defiantly.
“Lillian told me to do it,” she muttered.
David stared at his daughter and then back at the mess spread across the kitchen floor. Tomato ketchup and brown sauce, in a shocking simile of blood and gore, had been flung everywhere. It covered the floor, the table, the countertops, and was even splashed all over the walls. And already he could see the faintest settling of that dratted yellow dust in the smear of condiments.
“Louise, don’t be ridiculous. The doll cannot tell you to do anything!”
David threw an angry look at the toy, now lying on the table. He’d never liked the darn thing, and since his repair he hated it even more. The gaily colored red scarf that he’d tied around its neck to disguise the restoration he’d performed looked to him like a gash. An awful wound, seeping blood.
