Finding Christmas

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  Joanne turned toward the detective and saw him grimace.

  “No. I hate to ask this, Mrs. Fuller, but we’d like you to look at the body. I know you don’t know her name, but you said you saw the woman who put the photo in your package. Your ID might help verify if she is the dead woman.”

  Joanne caught her breath. “I’d have to go to the morgue?”

  “No. We don’t do it that way. I have a couple of photos. Can you handle it?”

  Her stomach twisted with the thought. She sent a pleading look at Benjamin, but then realized she had no choice. “Yes, I’ll look.”

  Benjamin stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She turned her head to see him. “It’ll answer the question I’ve had haunting me for so long.”

  Cortezi pulled a file folder form his desk and flipped open the cover, then turned a photograph around to face her.

  At first Joanne couldn’t bring herself to look. If this was the woman, then her fear would grow for Mandy. No matter what anyone said to calm her, she would know her daughter had lived with that family.

  Her breath rattled through her lungs and she felt her body tremble as she lowered her eyes to the photograph. In death, the woman looked different. Joanne stared at the head shot and her stomach tightened. She turned away, fighting nausea and thinking back to the two times she had seen the woman—once near her packages and once across the mall with her haggard look, the sagging jaw, the hair that straggled beside her ears.

  “Try this one,” Cortezi said.

  The second photograph was from the side, and Joanne recognized her. “It’s her.”

  “Positive?”

  She nodded, unable to speak again without gagging.

  “We need to do a dental check to be sure, and find a relative if this is Donna Angelo.”

  Joanne took a chance. “What about a neighbor? You know where Angelo lives. Couldn’t you ask a neighbor to view the body?”

  “If necessary. We’ll have an answer for you soon,” he said.

  “Can we go?” Benjamin asked.

  Cortezi nodded. “Thanks for coming in. And, Mrs. Fuller, I hope we have something for you in the next day or two.”

  With Benjamin holding her arm, Joanne rose, sickened by the pictures, but certain that the woman in the photo had known the whereabouts of Mandy.

  Joanne had to leave her hopes in God’s hands.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Nita, I’m leaving,” Joanne said.

  “Leaving? Are you sick?”

  “No, I have a few errands to run. I decided to take off a half day.”

  Nita gave her a wry smile. “Christmas shopping? Buy me something nice.”

  Joanne smiled back and moved away from the door before her friend got too inquisitive.

  The past two days had weighed on Joanne like a boulder. Her mother’s visit, the news from Cortezi and the reprimand from Benjamin had taken their toll. Today she would do one more thing that would send Benjamin into a tirade when he learned what she’d done.

  She left the office building and climbed into her car, then aimed its nose toward Dearborn. The photograph of Mandy was in her handbag, and she had a good idea what school Mandy must be attending. She’d checked out the Dearborn school district on the Internet.

  The traffic was light in the afternoon, and she made her way to Stevenson Elementary in less than an hour. She sat for a moment to collect herself before going inside. The deep premonition that had led her on this journey hadn’t subsided. Donna Angelo had not phoned again about their financial agreement. In the past three days, the urgency had grown. She couldn’t stop now.

  She got out of her car and made her way up the walk, thinking she’d learned so much in the past few days. Angelo had a child he claimed was his daughter—though she knew it couldn’t be his birth child. She’d discovered that the dead woman who’d been found in the park was the woman who’d given her the child’s photograph. And she now knew that Donna and Mandy had not been seen around the Angelo home for the past couple of days. Too many things pointed to the fact that her daughter was in danger.

  Facing the school building door, Joanne drew in a deep breath and stepped inside. A sign pointed to the nearby office, and she stopped there first.

  “May I help you?” said a young woman walking toward her from a file cabinet.

  “Yes. I’m looking for a first grader named Connie Angelo.”

  The woman’s face puckered at her question. “And you are…?”

  Joanne scrambled for a response. “I’m an old friend of the family.”

  “I’m sorry. We can’t provide information about our students without proof that you represent the family and you have a legitimate reason for asking.”

  “I do have a reason,” Joanne said, irritated by the woman’s scrutinizing look. Then she had second thoughts. The woman was following the rules—and wise ones, too.

  “I’m sorry,” the secretary said. “If a parent calls to tell us a friend is dropping by or we have some other form of proof it’s fine, but otherwise my hands are tied.”

  “I understand,” Joanne said, backing toward the door. “Thanks anyway.”

  She gave the woman an accepting smile, then made her way to the corridor, but instead of going back outside, she looked up and down the corridors. Seeing no one guarding the halls, she walked as if with purpose down the hallway, glancing at doors and reading the signs outside each room: teacher’s name and grade.

  Perfect.

  After passing the kindergarten room, she spotted another sign across the hallway: “Mrs. Price, First grade.” Her pulse quickened. She tapped the door, praying the teacher, too, wouldn’t chase her away.

  When a woman opened the door, children’s voices hummed in the background as she gave Joanne a puzzled look. “Yes?”

  “I’m looking for Mandy Angelo. She should be in your room. She’s in the first grade.” Her heart missed a beat. She’d called the child Mandy Angelo. She’d made her first mistake.

  The woman’s puzzlement deepened. “There’s no Mandy in this room, and I know Mrs. Desantis doesn’t have a Mandy, either, but she does have a Connie Angelo. Her room is the next one across the hall.” She pointed in that direction.

  Joanne swallowed hard. “Thanks so much, and I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  The woman sent her a curious look and stepped back into her classroom. Children’s voices quieted as the door closed.

  Joanne stopped outside the opposite door to regain control. Slipping her hand inside her pocket, she felt the small photograph, then sent up a silent prayer. Lord, I need Your help and strength.

  Her hand trembled as she rapped on the door.

  Voices rose inside the classroom, and she heard the teacher shushing them before she answered.

  “Hello,” the teacher said, her expression shifting from pleasant to questioning.

  “I’m looking for Connie Angelo. I believe this is her classroom.”

  She glanced down the hallway as if to see if Security had followed her there. “Connie’s absent today.”

  Joanne’s chest tightened. “Absent?”

  “Yes, she’s been out of school since last Friday, I believe. Who are you?”

  “I’m an old friend,” she said, continuing her masquerade. She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out the photo. “Would you mind looking at this photo so I know for sure we’re talking about the same child?”

  The teacher took a step backward, obviously startled by the request. Though it probably didn’t make sense to the woman, this was vital information for Joanne. The woman’s gaze lowered to the photograph, then lifted to Joanne’s face.

  “That’s her—but I don’t understand.”

  Joanne’s knees weakened and she had to struggle to remain standing. “It’s a long story,” she said, though her voice sounded breathless. “Thank you.” She slipped the picture back into her pocket and turned.

&
nbsp; She sensed the woman watching her as she made her way along the corridor. Escaping was Joanne’s focus. She wanted to get out of the building before someone called the police or school security. She’d have too much to explain.

  By the time she was inside her car, Joanne felt panicky. Her heart throbbed. Carl Angelo had raised her daughter as Connie. He’d abducted Mandy, then caused Greg’s death. Joanne didn’t understand it, but she knew it had to be the truth.

  But she still didn’t know if Mandy was alive. She turned on the ignition as tears poured from her eyes. Her body quaked. She knew the Lord had promised not to give her more than she could handle, yet today she questioned that. Her thoughts turned to a prayer. Father, I want to see her living. Please keep her safe. Protect her and give her strength. Grasping for inner strength, she shifted into reverse and backed out of her parking spot.

  As she drove, her thoughts became more rational. Though it had seemed forever, only four days had passed since she’d heard about the dead woman in Dearborn. Now she had to face Benjamin with her secrets, and her mother with an open heart. She didn’t know which would be harder.

  Since Mandy’s body hadn’t been found at River Rouge Park, she prayed that meant the Lord had moved Carl Angelo’s heart to spare her daughter’s life. Surely the worst villain would have compassion for a child he’d raised as his own. Hope swelled inside her, and Joanne prayed for God’s mercy. Mandy had to be alive. She had to.

  Benjamin’s mind would not focus on the merger papers spread across his desk. He’d read the last page twice and nothing had registered except thoughts of Joanne and Mandy.

  He hated being away from Joanne, partly because he had no idea what crazy thing she might do next. She’d gone to the Angelo house without thinking. She’d agreed to give the woman caller money. She’d kept important information from him. He suspected she still had more to tell him than she let on.

  He hadn’t taken long to be convinced that Joanne’s feelings about Mandy were legitimate. He’d seen evidence. The photograph seemed proof positive, unless that child was Mandy’s double. The girl in the photo had Joanne’s coloring, shape of face and eyes. The only difference between mother and daughter was that Mandy had her father’s mouth, smile and faint dimples.

  Benjamin had to stop himself twice from calling Cortezi. He had assumed they would have learned something by now—either the dead woman’s positive identity or Carl Angelo’s location. It wasn’t Benjamin’s place to call. Although he’d done it before, he now decided to back off and let Joanne handle it.

  Joanne. Her face hung in his thoughts. His feelings had deepened far more than he would have believed. He’d always been drawn to her, and he had chastised himself for that attraction. Finally he had done the right thing and had gone away. He’d found no other method to keep his feelings under control. He’d prayed and talked to himself. He’d tried to close his mind and heart to her, but it hadn’t worked. Away had been easier.

  Joanne didn’t seem to suspect. Benjamin sensed she cared for him, but how much was still a mystery. He knew he’d become her companion—but what about love?

  Benjamin had hedged with himself about how to handle this evening. Though he wanted to see Joanne every day, he knew he needed to give her and her mother more time alone. He’d decided to work late and catch up on some long-neglected files.

  He pushed his chair away from the desk and stood to face the window. The winter sun lit the blue sky. Positive weather. Positive thoughts. That’s what he needed.

  After circling his chair, he sat again to face his work. Concentrate, he told himself.

  Joanne couldn’t sleep. She watched the clock hands inch their way past midnight, then twelve-thirty, then one. She shifted her legs to the edge of the bed and slid her feet to the floor. Her mind had been filled with worries. Cortezi had called to tell her that the dead woman had been identified by a neighbor as Donna Angelo.

  Joanne’s chest ached at the news. Donna had been her connection to Mandy, and now Donna had been murdered. Joanne knew her daughter was in the hands of a madman.

  She’d been disappointed at Benjamin’s absence that evening. He’d called before she’d heard from Cortezi to tell her he had a corporate meeting early the next morning and had too much to prepare. He’d also mentioned that he thought she and her mother had plenty to talk about. She figured that was his real motivation for staying away.

  She recalled his criticism last night and asked him about it, but he denied his avoidance had any connection. He insisted he wasn’t angry. She wondered if that were true.

  Tonight she’d tried to open her heart to her mother. It had been difficult, but she’d done her best to be thoughtful and amiable. Yet Joanne realized she’d held back. She didn’t want her mother’s pity. She wanted her love—the kind of unyielding love she had felt for Mandy all these years.

  A thought had niggled all evening. The police were looking for Carl Angelo’s car, but what if he’d hidden his car somewhere and borrowed one from a friend? Far-fetched, perhaps, but she sensed he’d done something. She now knew for certain that Angelo’s wife was dead, and she speculated he was hiding Mandy somewhere. Joanne needed to do something—to act, to find her.

  She dressed in silence, then made her way down the staircase. Her mother seemed to be a sound sleeper, and Joanne would be back before she was missed. She backed the car out of the driveway and followed the road to the freeway. She’d driven there twice before, and tonight, though the spotty traffic seemed a blessing, patches of ice and frozen snow were hidden in the blackness and she strained her eyes for danger.

  As she drove through the darkness, her thoughts shifted back to Benjamin and his affect on her life. Since she had spoken to him on the telephone earlier, an unreasonable fear had grown in her thoughts.

  Benjamin would be furious, but that couldn’t stop her. She’d been wrapped in self-pity and grief for too long, and now she longed to be the old Joanne again—strong, determined, intelligent. She had a goal: find Angelo. Then she would find Mandy.

  Benjamin’s homecoming had changed her life, yet since her mother’s arrival, he’d acted differently. Although she had calculated he might still be miffed at her, her greater fear was that he didn’t care about her as much as she hoped. Was his only purpose to be a friend to the friendless?

  Joanne had come to realize that she’d given her heart to Benjamin without his asking, and tonight she suspected a deeper relationship with him might be unattainable.

  Yet her mind couldn’t dwell on that concern. Finding her daughter was taking all her energy.

  Joanne turned onto Cherryhill and looked for the side street. She started at every shadow, and Benjamin’s warning returned to her. She could be in danger, but she didn’t care anymore. She wanted to find Mandy.

  She bristled as the house came into sight, seeming as dark as it had been the night before. But as she inched the car past, she spotted a faint light flickering at the back of the house. Her stomach rose to her throat as she pulled the car to a stop.

  When she pushed open the car door, the night wind fluttered through her hair and icy air surged around her. As she approached the house her knees weakened. She followed the shrubbery to the side, farthest from the front door.

  As she inched her way in the darkness, she listened, hoping to hear something from inside, but only her pulse thundered in her ears.

  When she reached the back of the building, Joanne crept closer to a window and saw the flickering light inside—from a bedroom, perhaps. A television…?

  Her heart cried out. Was her child inside? Gooseflesh tingled along her limbs. Something wavered behind the drawn shade, and Joanne feared she might be discovered.

  She needed to get away from there and notify the police that someone—presumably Carl Angelo—was home. Her rarely used cell phone was in her glove compartment. When she got to her car, she would call Cortezi.

  She darted from the window and in her hurry, bumped the trash can, sending the lid tumb
ling off with a clang. Her heart rose to her throat, and she stood paralyzed.

  Finally she found momentum, but as she moved, the porch light flared, illuminating the yard. As the back door opened, she darted around the side of the house. A deep bellowing voice assailed her as she raced across the snow-covered lawn. She stumbled on ice, her foot slipping out from under her. As her ankle turned, pain rolled along her leg and a cry shot from her, but she forced herself forward.

  As she neared her car, Joanne hit the remote, but she could hear the man pounding behind her, his angry voice demanding that she stop. She heard him skid behind her, then his profanity split the night air.

  Her ankle throbbing, she fought for breath, and silently her prayers rose to heaven. As she clasped the handle and yanked the door open, her pursuer’s shadow lengthened beside her. She hit the lock and pulled on the door just as his body darted forward toward her.

  The telephone’s ring jarred Benjamin from his sleep. Panic charged through him as his gaze sought the clock. Two in the morning. Joanne. He gripped the receiver and pulled it to his ear.

  “Hello,” he said, knowing he sounded raspy from sleep.

  “Benjamin?”

  The voice sounded unfamiliar, and he tried to gather his senses. “Yes?”

  “This is Evelyn Ryan.”

  Words tore from his throat. “What’s wrong, Evelyn?”

  “Is Joanne with you?”

  “With me? No. I didn’t see her today. She’s not home?”

  “I’ve looked everywhere. I went to bed early, and then I had an unpleasant dream. Something must have disturbed me, and when I woke I had an eerie feeling. I went to check on her and her bed was empty. I’ve looked all through the house. And her car is gone.”

  Dear Lord, he pleaded, protect her. He could only image what she had done. “Don’t panic, Evelyn.” His words to calm her did nothing to allay his own terror. “I’ll find her. I’m sure it’s nothing.” But his heart said it was. “I’ll call when I find her, and you do the same if she shows up.”

  “I will, Benjamin. I’m sorry to disturb you but I didn’t know who else to ask.”