When Time Is a River

by Susan Clayton-Goldner

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, her defenses raised like a shield.

  Her stepmother had circles under her eyes and crying lines that ran down both sides of her face, marking her cheeks like scars. “You had plans with Stone. You didn’t want to take care of her. I practically forced you.”

  Brandy’s mouth filled with the truth. “I love Emily as much as you do. Maybe even…” The remainder of what Brandy wanted to say disappeared. Emily was gone and that left nothing. Absolutely nothing she could say.

  Radhauser’s gaze shifted from Christine to Brandy and then to her father. “I’ll also need a list of possible enemies. You teach at the university, right?”

  Her dad’s attention snapped back to Radhauser. “Yes. English Lit.”

  “Any disgruntled students? Parents? Kids who failed their midterms and came in to piss and moan about it?”

  “Always,” her dad said. “But I can’t imagine…”

  Detective Radhauser handed him a card with the police station phone number. “I think you folks should go home. Just in case we get a call.”

  Her dad reached for Christine’s hand. “They didn’t find anything in the pond. That’s good news.”

  Her face grew whiter. She turned to Radhauser. “Are you saying you don’t think she’s in the park?”

  “It’s too early to tell. We’re organizing more searchers. But once it gets dark, we’ll need to call them off and regroup at daylight. Detective Vernon and I will follow up on any leads. You folks stay close to the phone.”

  Christine stuck her fist in front of her mouth as if she was trying not to vomit. “A ransom call?”

  “We should be prepared for the possibility,” Radhauser said. “If a call comes in before we get set up, phone us immediately, no matter what they tell you about no police.”

  Christine stiffened, her eyes flashed. “What if they want a million dollars?” She stumbled toward her husband. “Where will we get that kind of money? What if they’ve already gotten on an airplane? What if Emily…” She paused, dazed and tottering like a drunk poised at the edge of a cliff. “Oh God, what if they—”

  Brandy’s father turned, grabbed Christine’s shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “We’ll raise the money. Even if we have to sell everything. We’ll do it to get Emily back.”

  “It’s too early to assume the worst,” Radhauser said. “I think it’s more likely she wandered out of the park. Or maybe was lifted out of the stroller by someone she trusted. Go home and make those lists.”

  Brandy didn’t want to go home with her dad and Christine. She dreaded confronting Emily’s empty bedroom and facing her father with the lie she’d told about the necklace.

  * * *

  In the garage, Brandy walked behind her dad as he helped Christine out of her car and supported her under one arm, leading her around Emily’s tricycle. An image of Emily pedaling down the sidewalk in front of their house assaulted Brandy. She hurried ahead, opened the door into the kitchen, and stood aside as her dad and Christine passed.

  “Just lie down for a few minutes,” he said, steering Christine toward their bedroom. “I’ll call if we hear anything.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Christine stepped into the hallway. “It’ll be dark soon. My baby is out there. And you expect me to take a nap?” Suddenly, she stopped. She bent to pick up a stuffed animal, Tigger, then broke away from Brandy’s dad and plunged into Emily’s room. She slammed the door, as hard and unforgiving as a slap, then clicked the lock.

  Her dad tapped on the door. “Please, Christine. Don’t do this to yourself.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He took their address book from the desk in the kitchen and sat at the table to compile the list of names and phone numbers for Detective Radhauser.

  Brandy sat on the carpeted step down into their sunken living room and waited for what she knew would come. She felt a desperation inside that stretched out for miles with no relief in sight.

  She stared at the empty space where her mother’s portrait used to hang, while Oscar weaved his furry body around her feet. When he scampered onto her lap, she stroked the cat until it purred and her hands felt warm again, then held him against her chest.

  A few moments later, she heard her father push his chair away from the kitchen table. He stepped into the living room and stood in front of the step where Brandy sat, his hands clamped in front of his body. “What were you thinking when you told Christine you bought that necklace at a garage sale?”

  She covered her face with her hands. They smelled like the soapy washcloth she’d used in the park restroom and the sweaty acrid scent of her fear.

  She lifted her head and tried to explain the way it had all happened with the necklace, how angry Christine had become with Emily, and how Brandy only wanted to protect her little sister.

  As she talked, her dad paced around the living room.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. But I thought she found it.”

  “Damn it,” he said, his face contorted and red. “Did you tell the police about this?”

  “Of course. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Strangers don’t give necklaces to little kids unless they’ve got a reason. Did you think, just once, that Emily might be in danger?”

  Brandy shook her head, her voice stuck inside her throat. Growing up around Lithia Park, she’d never believed, even for an instant, that anything bad could happen there. Maybe she was like those high school kids in Colorado. They didn’t think anything bad could happen at their school either.

  “Just tell me you weren’t so busy fooling around with that boy you forgot all about Emily.”

  She couldn’t respond. A terrible squeezing beneath her breastbone made it hard to breathe. “Stone wasn’t even in the park when it happened.”

  Her father studied her face and nodded over and over, as if trying to decide what to say. “You were always so good with…” He stopped.

  Brandy pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her whole body felt limp. “I love Emily,” she whispered.

  Her dad walked across the room and stopped in front of her again. There was sweat on his temples and a tuft of damp hair hanging low on his forehead. He put his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to think really hard,” he said, a crazed light in his eyes. “Did you see or hear anything unusual in the bathroom?”

  “I have been thinking hard. I heard some kids. Normal bathroom sounds.”

  Brandy stumbled to her feet, took a chance and wrapped her arms around her dad. He held her against his chest, stroked her back with his open hand. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. I know you’d never let anything happen to Emily on purpose.”

  She felt as if she were melting into him, going back to those long, uncomplicated days when it was just the two of them working in the yard. Her daddy and the little girl he used to call Cookie pushing a yellow plastic wheelbarrow behind his lawnmower. Kathleen smiling at them from the kitchen window.

  She kept waiting for him to let go, to move his hand away from her back, but he didn’t. The clock seemed to stop ticking and something shifted between them. He finally pulled away. “You better change your jeans,” he said, smoothing the hair around her face with his fingers. “Looks like you sat in something.”

  Brandy felt so many things at the same time. The irony that she’d forgotten her stained jeans—once so important she’d left Emily unattended. Despair for what her vanity had cost them, and a strange joy, tempered with grief, at the undeserved tenderness from her dad.

  The doorbell rang.

  Her dad leapt to answer it with Brandy only a step behind.

  Emily’s bedroom door opened, and Christine ran down the hallway to the front door.

  When her dad flipped on the porch light, Detectives Radhauser and Vernon stood aside, while a tall uniformed officer carrying electronic equipment stepped into the entryway. Her dad led him to the kitchen, then returned.

  Vernon lingered in the
entry. His navy blue blazer and gray slacks had lost their crisp look and now appeared crumpled. He was medium height, tan and young-looking, despite his salt and pepper hair. He wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like a weary college professor after a trying day with his students. He followed the officer into the kitchen.

  Detective Radhauser carried a clear plastic evidence bag with Emily’s rainbow-colored sneakers inside, their glow-in-the-dark pink laces tied together in double-knotted bows.

  Christine stared at the bag, her eyes wide, then fell back against the wall and clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream. On the floor between her feet, a puddle of urine spread across the slate tile, soaking into her bedroom slippers.

  Brandy pulled into herself, wanting to hide her stepmother’s shame.

  Her dad spoke in a low voice, barely audible. “Where did you get those?”

  Radhauser stood beside the small deacon’s bench in the entry. “Do the shoes belong to your daughter, Mr. Michaelson?”

  Daniel looked at his wife.

  Christine nodded—seemingly unaware of the puddle she’d left on the floor.

  “We found them in the creek not far from the bridge into the Winburn parking lot,” Radhauser said.

  “Emily can’t swim,” Christine said. “I meant to get her lessons—”

  “We don’t think this is indicative of a drowning,” Radhauser said. “From their position, it appeared they’d been thrown into the creek.”

  When Christine tried to grab the bag, her foot slipped in the urine.

  Radhauser held out his arm to stop her fall.

  Brandy raced into the laundry room for an old towel and used her foot to mop up the puddle.

  “We need to check for prints.” He shook his head. “Not likely on the wet canvas, but we’ll dust it anyway. Could Emily tie a bow?”

  “No,” Christine said. “She’s not even three.”

  “We’re going to keep the shoe details from the press. Especially the fact of them being tied together.”

  “Why?” Her dad asked.

  “It’s what we’ll use for the confessors—the people who call in and say they took Emily.”

  Her dad frowned. “People actually do that?”

  “We’ve already received two,” Radhauser said.

  “Did you follow up? What exactly did they say?”

  “They were whackos,” Radhauser said. “It happens a lot.”

  Her dad winced, his face pale. “Does finding the shoes mean someone physically removed her from the park?”

  Radhauser sighed. “Yes, sir. We do think it confirms a kidnapping.”

  The word kidnapping seemed to hang between them, the mere sound of it charging the air like an electrical current. One brutal word with the impact of a baseball bat.

  Radhauser continued. “And the fact that your other daughter didn’t hear any sounds of a struggle leads us to think Emily may have known the person who took her. Do you have those names?”

  Her dad handed Radhauser the lists he’d compiled. “I can’t believe any of them would hurt Emily.” His gaze met Brandy’s for a second, then returned to Radhauser. “Have you followed up on Kent, the boy with the gloves?”

  “We’re tracking down names and addresses from the special education classes,” Radhauser said. “Several people at the park recognized Brandy’s description. They claimed he and his babysitter get out of a gray Camry in the Winburn Way parking lot every day at three o’clock. As regular as the church bells. If we don’t find a name by tonight, tomorrow, we’ll be waiting.”

  “Tomorrow,” Christine shouted. “He may have done something terrible to her by tomorrow.”

  Brandy tensed, remembering Kathleen’s warning about the boy being bigger and stronger than Emily. “I’ve talked with him a lot. He’s a nice boy.”

  “I’ll need your permission to take Brandy with me when I interview Kent,” Radhauser said. “Apparently he won’t talk to strangers.”

  “Fine,” her dad said. “Whatever you need. But I swear if that kid laid one—”

  “Everyone we talked to in the park says he’s harmless and has been coming there for years,” Radhauser said. “Believe me, we won’t dismiss anything without a thorough investigation. We’re checking known sex offenders and pedophiles. And we’ve alerted the hospitals and morgues.”

  Christine put a hand to her mouth, then let it drop onto her chest. “You think she’s dead, don’t you?”

  “No,” Detective Radhauser said, and turned to Brandy’s father. “But we need to search your house. And I’d like for both you and your wife to take a polygraph.”

  Her dad’s gaze returned to the remains of the puddle on the floor. “Isn’t it obvious Emily’s not here? Why on earth would you think we kidnapped our own child?”

  Christine hurried into the bedroom and shut the door.

  “It’s standard operating procedure whenever a child turns up missing. I once found a little boy hiding in his attic. And you never know what we might see that parents miss. After the search, we’ll get started on your lists. You’d be surprised how often kidnappings turn out to be someone the parents know. Custody-related. Or some angry relative.”

  Her dad cleared his throat. “There are no custody issues here. Emily lives with both—” He was cut off by the phone ringing.

  Radhauser grabbed his arm. “Let it ring three times before you answer. The technician isn’t set up yet, but it’s good to get into the habit.”

  Brandy pushed the towel around with her foot to clean up the rest of the puddle, then picked it up and headed toward the laundry closet. She stuffed the towel in the washing machine, then quietly closed the door.

  Her dad returned with the telephone. He nodded toward Detective Radhauser. “It’s for you.”

  Christine came out of the bedroom wearing a pair of faded denim jeans, a sweatshirt, and running shoes.

  Radhauser cradled the phone between his cheek and shoulder. A clump of hair, the color of wet topsoil, fell over his forehead. “What do you mean, you can’t tell?” He gestured with his hands as if whomever was on the other end of the line could see him. He had a man’s hands with uneven nails and calluses on his palms. Hands that made him seem both hardworking and approachable. When he hung up the phone, he turned to Brandy’s father. “They’ve got an unidentified at Rogue Medical Center. Brought in about fifteen minutes ago. A little girl. They found her in a gas station restroom, out near Jacksonville.”

  “Oh my God,” Christine said as she headed for the garage.

  Her dad grabbed her arm to stop her, then turned his attention back to Radhauser. “How bad is she hurt?”

  “We don’t know,” Radhauser said. “The investigating officer can’t eliminate Emily from the photo. Officer Murphy will need one of you to go with him. The other better stay here with me in case the kidnapper calls. They often hang up if they suspect the police are involved.”

  Brandy ran for the door. “I’ll go.”

  “No,” her dad said. “You stay with Christine. And if anyone calls and says they have Emily, agree to whatever they ask.”

  The man hooking up the phone equipment gestured to Radhauser. “You’re all set.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Michaelson,” Radhauser said. “One of our officers will be with them.”

  As soon as Brandy’s father left, Christine hurried out the front door. “I’m going back to the park. I need to look one more time.”

  “We have police officers patrolling the park and canvassing the nearby houses,” Radhauser said.

  Christine ignored him and took off running down the street.

  Brandy turned to Radhauser. “Is it okay if I make a couple quick phone calls?” She needed to talk with Kathleen, needed to hear her voice.

  Radhauser nodded.

  “Then I’ll make some flyers on my computer.”

  “Great idea.” He phoned the police station. Within minutes they had a number, 800-TOEMILY, and a promise that an of
ficer would drop off an Ashland-area map they could photocopy for the volunteers.

  While Radhauser and Vernon searched the house, Brandy called Kathleen, but there was no answer. She probably hadn’t returned from the theater in Talent. Brandy hung up, phoned Lois, her father’s secretary, Coach Pritchard, and her high-school principal to ask them to help solicit volunteers. Then she went into her bedroom to scan Emily’s picture into her computer.

  The wedding album Christine had promised sat on Brandy’s bed. She stared at it, then picked it up, opened the bottom drawer of her dresser, and tucked it inside. She closed the drawer. She didn’t deserve this gift. And she sure didn’t want to get her stepmother in trouble with her father.

  All the ‘what ifs’ swirled around in Brandy’s mind. What if she’d refused to babysit? What if she’d told Emily no when she’d begged to go to the park and feed the ducks? What if she hadn’t started her period? If only she could begin the day over and make different choices. But time was a river and there was no way to stop it or go back.

  She shook her head. This wasn’t the place for what ifs or self-pity. She scanned Emily’s photo, added the information Radhauser had written down for her, then made some follow-up phone calls. In less than an hour, with the help of her drama coach and Lois, Brandy had lined up over fifty student and teacher volunteers to comb the streets tomorrow, knock on doors, and tack up flyers.

  Chapter Nine

  While the flyers slipped from her printer into the collection tray, Brandy hurried into Emily’s room to hunt for the necklace. Detective Vernon had completed his search of the toddler’s room while Officer Corbin and Detective Radhauser looked through the rest of the house. Vernon had found nothing, but he didn’t know Emily the way Brandy did. The necklace was an important clue and she had to find it.

  She flipped on the bedroom light.

  Christine had organized Emily’s toys, lined the top of her dresser with her favorite stuffed animals, all the characters from the Winnie The Pooh books. Brandy looked away. But there was no escape. She stared at the tiny bed they’d changed before going to the park, and then started to pull out the dresser drawers. Her hand stopped in midair as she tried to swallow the memory, the sound of Emily’s voice inside her head. Emily had insisted on changing the pillowcase herself. “I do,” she’d said. “I do.”