Ben looked around and spotted an older woman across the street. She was hanging a Thanksgiving wreath on her front door, then she turned and stared at them. Ben motioned to Kathy to follow him as he jumped from his car. “Excuse me, has the school bus come already?”
The woman walked the few steps to meet them and her face knit into a mass of wrinkled concern as she considered the question. “A while ago.”
Kathy smiled politely, but Ben noticed her hands were trembling at her sides. “I’m Kathy Garrett. I live down the street; I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Polly. Polly Russell. Me and Grandpa been living here thirty years now. Watch the school bus come by same time every day.”
Ben jumped in. “Mrs. Russell, there’s a little blond girl that gets off at this stop … did you see her today?”
Again concern filled the older woman’s eyes. “I always notice the girl. Reminds me of my own sweet babies; same hair, eyes, and coloring. That kind of thing.”
Kathy shifted anxiously, speaking in quick, choppy sentences. “The girl lives with me and my family. She’s waiting for a foster home. Did you see her? Maybe talking to someone when she got off the bus?”
“Matter of fact, I did. A man pulled up in a big ol’ car and talked to her while she was walking. After a minute or so, she climbed in with him.” The woman looked from Ben to Kathy and back to Ben. “I figured he was her daddy, since she went so willingly.”
“Thanks … thank you, Mrs … ” Kathy’s face was white, and Ben thought she might pass out.
“The child’s okay, isn’t she?” Alarm filled the woman’s features at the thought that something may have happened to the little blond girl. Ben knew how she felt.
“It’s fine. We’ll take care of it. Thanks.” He nodded at the woman and led Kathy by the arm back to his car. “Pray. Start and don’t stop.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing.” Kathy’s voice was shaky.
Father, how can this be happening? I’ve just found Amanda, Maggie’s very own daughter, and now she’s been kidnapped by … by … He remembered McFadden’s blows as he lay on the pavement, the merciless kicks to the—
No. Ben couldn’t bring himself to think of Amanda with that man. It was too horrible to imagine. She’d already been through so much …
Dear God, let her be home by now. Protect her. Please!
He helped Kathy into his car and—leaving her car parked at the bus stop—they sped down the street to the Garrett home.
“What if …?” Kathy’s question hung in the air as he parked the car.
“Don’t! That woman might be wrong. Maybe Amanda’s already here.” He followed Kathy as she raced inside, but she stood frozen in the entry and hugged herself tightly. “Hey, kids, I’m home.” Each word was an effort. “Is … is Amanda here?”
“Not yet, Mom. How was your day?” It was the voice of a teenager from a room across the house.
Ben forced himself to breathe as the hurried exchange went on. No, God. No! Let her be okay. Please …
Amanda wasn’t there. Kathy sat down on the sofa and leaned over her knees, rocking slightly. “He took her. McFadden took her. I feel it in my heart.” A sob caught in her throat and she pointed to the phone. “Hurry, please. You make the call.”
Without hesitating another moment, Ben picked up the phone and dialed 911. The dispatcher barely got two words out before he blurted, “My daughter’s been kidnapped.”
Officers Aaron Hisel and Buddy Reed deeply enjoyed their work as Cincinnati police officers. As partners they had seen each other through ten years of arrests and criminal investigations—not to mention the births of their combined seven children. They were family men, dedicated to keeping the streets safe.
It was just before four o’clock, when the two would normally have been making their way back to the office and checking out for the day. But they were working on a case they were close to breaking, a case that put them squarely in the heart of Woodland, a suburb just east of the city.
They had spent much of the day interviewing witnesses and were making more progress than they’d hoped when the call came in. An APB to be on the lookout for a white male suspect named John McFadden, driving a gold Acura. McFadden was already facing charges of assault and attempted murder and now he was running from the law.
Hisel glanced at Reed. “Didn’t we get that call a few hours ago?”
Reed nodded as he turned the wheel. “I thought so, too. Check with dispatch, will you?”
Hisel picked up the radio and called headquarters. “This McFadden APB, is that an old call? We got word about him earlier. Something about him leaving the courthouse in the middle of a meeting with Judge Hutch. Hutch ran the rap and found an attempted murder charge. Are we talking about the same call?”
The radio crackled as dispatch answered. “Negative. You must have missed the first part of the call.”
“What else do you have on him?” Hisel grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from where it was clipped on the dashboard.
“He just kidnapped a seven-year-old girl. She’s got long blond hair, blue eyes. Took her from her bus stop approximately thirty minutes ago. There’s reason to believe he’s armed and dangerous.” The dispatch provided the location of the bus stop and repeated the license plate number of the Acura McFadden was driving.
Hisel’s stomach clenched and he exchanged a glance with Reed just as his partner flipped the squad car around and headed toward the address.
“Let’s go get him.” Hisel thought of his own children, safe at home with their mother. Then he thought of all the unspeakable things a child might suffer in the course of a kidnapping.
He and Reed had discussed it a hundred times over the years and each time their consensus was the same. High on the list of crimes that were the worst, most atrocious, horrific actions a person could commit were those that caused the blood of both officers to boil.
Crimes against children.
33
The mean man was driving very fast. Deep inside it made Amanda nervous, but she wouldn’t let him see that.
She wondered where he was taking her. Would he really kill her when they got there? Jesus, help me be safe, please.
She knew God would answer. After all, He’d saved her from the boys and their baling twine; He’d rescued her from Mrs. Graystone. No matter what happened to her, God always brought her through okay, and Amanda knew there was a reason. The Lord had a forever home for her and somehow He would find a way to get her there.
She glanced at the man. His face was all sweaty. Shivers ran down her arms and she was glad he wasn’t her father. What a terrible lie. She turned to stare straight ahead. Help that man know about You, God. He needs to change and love You more.
The few times the man had talked to her, he’d been grouchy and scary, but Amanda wasn’t frightened. God wouldn’t let him hurt her.
“Whatcha looking at, brat?” The man’s face twisted up in an angry look.
“I’m p-p-praying for you.”
“Praying? What’re you doing that for?” The man’s voice was growly and hard.
“It’s what I always d-d-do when someone’s mean.”
She could hear Mrs. Brownell’s kind, caring voice: “That’s a good girl, Amanda. You pray for them. And make sure to tell them you’re praying, just so they know.”
Most of the time when she told someone mean she was praying, he stopped being mean and walked away. Mrs. Brownell had said being nice and praying for someone made it hard for them to be mean anymore. Something about putting coals on their heads.
Amanda had never noticed coals on the heads of the mean kids at school. And they hadn’t shown up on the boys’ heads in the barn, either, or on Mrs. Graystone’s head. She glanced again at the man beside her. There were no coals on his head, either. Maybe the coals thing meant something else. Like about how hearing something nice can make you hurt all over. Especially if all you’ve been is mean.
Praying was the right thing
to do, though, because it was the only thing that absolutely worked every time. God wouldn’t let her down. He would see that she stayed safe and found a way back to Kathy Garrett and that nice Mr. Stovall. Maybe he would be her forever dad and take her to live in an always, ever-after family.
Dear God, help the police find us so I can go home with Mr. Stovall. Please let them catch this mean man and take him to jail.
The car turned suddenly, and Amanda struggled to keep her balance.
“I prayed that the police would c-c-catch you.”
The man squinted his eyes at her. “If they catch us, I’ll tell them you’re my kid.” He laughed at her, and his loud voice hurt her ears. “Or maybe I’ll just shoot you and them, too. You don’t want that do you?”
“I’ll k-k-keep praying for you. Did you know that Jesus loves you, mister?”
A strange, sad look came across the man’s face … maybe he was feeling the burning coals after all. Make him change, Lord, please.
She didn’t know where they were driving. Where was he taking her? She sank back in the seat. Maybe he really would shoot her. Maybe that was God’s plan for her. She considered that and realized she was not afraid. If he killed her, she’d be with Jesus right away. And then she’d have the best forever home of all.
The only sad part was that if she went to be with Jesus, she’d never find her real mom, never hug her or touch her face or ask her if she’d been looking all her life for the little girl she gave up.
And Amanda still wanted to do all that. Very, very much.
Hisel and Reed were cruising Broadway, checking side streets and scanning the horizon for any hint of a gold Acura. Ten minutes had passed since the APB went out, and both men were feeling a sense of urgency. Statistically, the odds of finding her alive decreased with each passing minute.
“I’m worried about her.” Hisel clenched his jaw and kept searching the road.
His partner cocked his head to the left and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. “Wait! I think I see him.”
Almost two city blocks ahead of them was a gold car! Within seconds, Reed maneuvered their police car directly behind it. “Gold Acura, all right. Run the plates.”
Hope surged through Hisel as he grabbed the radio and checked the number with the one scribbled on his notepad. “It matches!”
“Notify dispatch; request multiple backup units.” Reed kept his eyes trained straight ahead. “I’m afraid the guy’s going to take off if he sees us.”
Hisel picked up the radio and made the request. “I can’t believe he hasn’t noticed us yet.” The man was driving the speed limit and seemed almost oblivious to his surroundings.
“Looks like he’s talking to the little girl.”
“Come on, let’s get this thing over with. Hit the siren.”
Reed shook his head. “No. Not yet. I’d rather have backup, just in case. We’ll follow him until he sees us or until other units show up. I don’t want him panicking and hurting the child. A few more squad cars and he’ll know he doesn’t have a chance. Just stay on the radio and let dispatch know which way we’re headed.”
The strange feeling that everything was falling apart had taken root the moment John laid eyes on the child. And now the feeling was so strong it was making his chest hurt. His face was cool and clammy and his left arm ached.
Probably a heart attack.
He kept driving. Something about the girl’s quiet calm, the serenity in her eyes, and the way she insisted on talking about Jesus was making him crazy.
Look at me. I’m a loser! After this I’ll spend most of my life in jail. I must have been nuts to take the kid and think it could make things better. He stroked his chin. Now what do I do? Kill her? Leave her in an alley somewhere? Go back to the warehouse and pick up business where I left off?
The pain in his arm intensified. None of it made sense anymore. No wonder the kid doesn’t want me as her father. Look at me. Drug dealer, wanted by the police. Yes, sir, a real Mr. Good Guy.
He thought about his home and the three used sports cars parked in his garage and he felt … dirty. Go figure! Almost like someone had walked up and plastered him with layer after layer of pure crud. His language, his friendships, his business dealings—everything he was had been bought with dirty money.
And now it had come to this.
He and his very own daughter were outrunning police so that he could blackmail an attorney into dropping charges against him. The whole situation was so rotten it stunk. And it was all for nothing. John had the unnerving feeling that the foundation of his reputation and his drug empire were crumbling as quickly as it had taken Amanda to say, “I’m praying for you.”
He tapped the steering wheel and glanced in his rear and side mirrors. No cops; not yet. If he heard another word about prayer or God or Jesus loving him, he would explode! It was stupid. No God would ever love him now. He’d made his choice long ago, sealed his fate. All he could do was find ways to make the path he’d chosen stretch out as long as possible, because one day …
John shut the thoughts out of his mind. Death wasn’t something he had to think about for decades, so why was it on his mind now? He shifted positions to ease the discomfort in his chest. If only he could forget his kid’s innocent eyes or her words about Jesus …
Let her go … turn to Me and let her go.
The voice was almost audible, and John spun his head around and checked the backseat. No one. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. His heart pounded through the wall of his chest. I’m losing it. Five days off work and already I’m going crazy. That’s all this is. Stress. Too much going on back at the warehouse for me to be driving around Cincinnati with some wise-mouth brat.
Let the child go …
He gripped the steering wheel tightly to prevent his hands from shaking. It wasn’t a real voice, not one that sounded through the car. It was more like a silent echo in his mind, his soul—
The girl’s prayers! Maybe this was some kind of answer to Amanda’s prayers. The thought sent chills down John’s arms, and suddenly the pain in his heart eased. He had to let her go; it was. that simple. Otherwise that God of hers would make his heart explode inside him, and he’d be left with nothing. No estate, no cars, no dirty money …
No life.
“You still praying?” He heard the fear in his voice as he let the gun drop to the floor of the car.
Amanda turned to him and nodded. “Yes, very hard.”
There was a gas station up ahead, and John jerked the wheel of his car, turned into the lot and pulled to an abrupt stop. He stared straight ahead. “Get outta here, kid. Go on, get!” But just as Amanda was opening her car door, a siren sounded behind them, and in his rearview mirror John saw the flashing lights of a police car.
Kathy’s confession came as soon as Ben Stovall hung up the phone after calling the police: She had a terrible feeling in her gut that she was about to lose Amanda. The woman’s tears came slowly at first, and then as the minutes passed they came in silent torrents. Ben positioned himself beside her as if by doing so he could stop her body from shaking.
“It’s okay, everything’s going to be fine. The police will find them.” He heard how his voice lacked confidence, and he knew he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
“What if I lose her? She’s the sweetest, most trusting child I know. After all she’s been through, I couldn’t bear it if—”
“Shhh. Don’t!” She was scaring him, making him picture terrifying scenarios where Amanda was being hurt or worse. The love that gripped his very soul was so strong it stunned him. He had only met the girl once, but he loved her like his own daughter. And now she might be gone forever.
No, he couldn’t think that way. Without saying another word, he closed his eyes and reached for Kathy’s hands. “Come on now, let’s pray. God knows where she is; He’ll get her back safely.”
Kathy’s quiet weeping continued while Ben begged God for mercy, asking that the police find
McFadden and Amanda, that no harm be done to the child. “God, we know that where two or more are gathered, there You are also. Please, Lord, save Amanda from harm. Bring her back safely. We beg You. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“I’m so afraid … ” Kathy collapsed against Ben, seeming too distraught to do anything more. They remained that way as Ben’s eyes fell onto a framed picture on the wall of Amanda and Kathy, smiling and holding hands. Suddenly he was struck by the realization that Kathy had been the closest thing to a mother Amanda had ever known. Even if the police were able to rescue the girl from McFadden, and if somehow Maggie was willing to meet her daughter and take them both back … no matter what happened, Kathy Garrett would come out the loser.
She remained in his arms, crying for several minutes until finally she pulled away and reached for a tissue. “We have to hear something soon. This is driving me—”
The phone rang. Immediately she lunged for it. “Hello?”
Ben waited breathlessly. Please, God, let it be good news. Please.
“Yes. Okay.” Kathy’s swollen, tearstained face lit up, and her smile made Ben’s heart soar with relief. “We’ll be right there.”
Then she pulled him into a tight hug, exhaling as if she hadn’t done so all afternoon. “She’s okay.”
Ben drove, and along the way Kathy cleared her throat and turned to face him. “I think you should tell Amanda the truth about your wife.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Don’t you think I should wait? Until I’ve talked with Maggie? I mean, what if she—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Kathy’s voice was sure and strong, as though she’d given this careful consideration. “Amanda is seven, almost eight. That’s old enough to know the truth, and the truth is she’s been praying that she’d find her real mother for as many years as I’ve known her. No matter what Maggie does, Amanda deserves to know the truth.”
There was something so final about telling Amanda. And what if Maggie didn’t take him back, didn’t want to meet her daughter?
A Kingsbury Collection Page 65
