Once a Father

by Marie Ferrarella

  “All the way home.”

  Tracy’s mouth fell open. She stared at Jake, her heart beginning to pound. After more than a month of silence, he’d uttered his first word, his first phrase.

  “You talked. Jake, you talked.” She threw her arms around him and hugged hard, tears welling up in her eyes. She kissed the top of his head as she rocked with him. “Oh baby, you talked.”

  “My mom used to do that,” he told her, his voice muffled with emotion and hoarse from disuse. When he raised his head, his eyes were brimming with tears. They spilled out onto his small cheeks. “She’s never going to do that again, is she?”

  “No, baby, she’s not. But she’s watching over you right now. And so is your dad. They’ll always be with you in your heart.”

  Gathering him to her, Tracy held him for a long time as he cried out all the pain he had been holding back for all these weeks. Rocking, she murmured over and over again, “Cry it out, honey, its going to be okay,” while Petunia milled about close to him, as if sensing that something was amiss.

  Finally, she heard Jake say, “I saw them.”

  Still holding her to him, her heart quickened. “Your parents?” That would be terrible, if he had seen their charred bodies lying there.

  “No, men. I thought they were Santa’s helpers, but they were bad men.”

  Not knowing if he was mixing reality with nightmares, Tracy drew him back from her breast in order to hear him more clearly.

  “They were dragging big bags outside from the room. They were throwing the bags into a truck and they got mad when they saw me,” he remembered. His mouth turned down. “I was just looking.”

  None of this was making any sense to her. It had to be a nightmare. But he looked so adamant, she pretended that it had really happened. “Jake, honey, what men? Where were you?”

  “I was trying to find the bathroom. Mommy didn’t want me to go by myself, but Daddy said I was a big boy. I was trying not to get lost,” he insisted, his eyes searching her face to see if she believed him. “There was a door opened to this big room—”

  He was saying the words all in a rush, as if they’d been trying to escape all this time. She had to slow him down. “What room, honey? The bathroom?”

  He shook his head so hard, his blond hair bounced about his face. “No, it was a room with lots and lots of TVs. But there were no cartoons on. Just empty rooms. The man yelled at me when he saw me.”

  The security room, she realized suddenly. He was talking about the Lone Star Country Club. Adam had told her that he’d found the boy some distance from the Grill. Had he passed the security room on his way to the bathroom? She wasn’t familiar with the club’s layout.

  What was it that he’d seen that had him so agitated? And why had the door been slammed in the boy’s face? Was it just a precautionary measure, or was there something that someone hadn’t wanted him to see?

  “What kind of bags, honey?” she prodded, trying to get to the bottom of this. It was probably nothing, but the task force had sent two policemen to question him in the hospital. Maybe all this tied together somehow.

  “Big ones. There was something green…” He tried hard to remember, but he couldn’t. Jake shook his head in defeat and put his hand to his throat. “It feels all rough and scratchy.”

  The doctor in her superseded the curious woman. He could tell her about this all later.

  “That’s because you haven’t used it in so long. Some nice warm chocolate milk’ll make it feel a whole lot better,” she promised.

  Getting up, she crossed to the kitchen and conducted a swift search of Adam’s cupboards. Nothing. She might have known.

  She let the last cupboard door drop into place. “Except that Mr. Fireguy doesn’t have any. Tell you what, why don’t we go out and I’ll treat you to some?” She could use a large cup of hot coffee that didn’t come out of a glass jar herself, she thought. “Put your shoes on, Jake. We’re going out.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice. Plopping down on the floor, he began to put on his electric blue tennis shoes. Petunia came close to offer her assistance.

  “Now where did I put my purse?” she muttered under her breath. Spying it on the chair tucked against Jake’s jacket, she went over to pick it up. The shoulder bag had fallen on its side, the contents closest to the top spilling out haphazardly. It was always doing that, she thought in disgust. She needed a smaller purse.

  As she started to shove things back into it, the doorbell rang. She put her purse down on the floor, leaning it against the side of the armchair and looked at Jake.

  “You expecting company?” When he shook his head, she looked at Petunia. “How about you? Anyone coming by to see you?” Jake giggled. The sound warmed her heart even as the doorbell pealed again. “So that’s what your laugh sounds like. Nice,” she told him.

  “Thanks.” He beamed at her. “I like the way you laugh, too.”

  Her hand on the doorknob, Tracy inclined her head by way of a silent thanks. Then, opening the door, she completely froze.

  It was one of the two officers who had come to the hospital to question Jake. Something deep down within her felt uneasy.

  She made no attempt to open the door any wider. “Hello Officer—” she paused, reading his badge, “Bancroft.” Tracy raised her eyes back to his face. “What brings you by here?”

  Bancroft peered into the apartment, trying to see. “I’ve come by to see how the boy’s doing and if he’s up to answering questions yet. Mind if I come in?” He didn’t wait for her permission but shouldered his way into the kitchen. “Thanks,” he mumbled at her, continuing to scan the area. He saw Jake. Petunia had shuffled off, out of view. “Hi, kid, how’re you doing?”

  Instead of answering, Jake instantly became shy and drew closer to Tracy.

  There was a flicker of recognition in Jake’s eyes, coupled with apprehension that was not lost on Tracy. But whether it was because he recognized the policeman from the time in the hospital when he’d first come to question him or for some other reason, she didn’t know.

  And then she remembered. Some of the policemen on the force moonlighted for extra money as security guards at the country club. Could Bancroft be one of the “bad men” Jake had seen transferring the bags from the security room to the truck? There was no way to tell at the moment.

  All she knew was that she didn’t want the policeman in the apartment.

  She took Jake’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m afraid he’s still not talking.”

  Bancroft looked at the boy suspiciously. “I heard voices when I came up to the door.”

  “That was the television set,” Tracy told him innocently.

  He looked in the direction of the television. “It’s not on.”

  Tracy never lost a beat. “I just turned it off when I came to answer the door. And I was also talking to Jake.” She pretended to think for a second. “That might have been what you heard.”

  His eyes darted to the boy and then back at her. “I thought you said he couldn’t talk.”

  She looked at him as if he were being humorously naive. “Just because a woman doesn’t get an answer doesn’t mean she stops talking.”

  Frustration and aggravation got the better of Bancroft. There was a great deal at stake here. If the boy knew anything, anything at all, if there was a way he could communicate what he knew, then he could point fingers. Investigations could start in earnest. With people other than the members of Stone’s Lion’s Den handling the questioning.

  Any way you looked at it, things could get ugly and quickly get out of hand. Stone’s neck could be on the line and if Stone’s head was in jeopardy of being lopped off, then so was his. And he was more afraid of Stone than he was of the authorities. The authorities would only send him to prison. Stone would do worse than that.

  The boy had seen something, whether he knew what he saw or not didn’t matter. He was a threat. To Stone, to the Lion’s Den, even to El Jefe if someone industri
ous enough could make the connection. Somehow, that information could come to the attention of someone who could piece things together.

  Bancroft was under orders to kill the boy to eliminate any possible chance of exposure. And since she was with him, that meant the woman, too.

  But he’d never killed anyone before, least of all a child. The mandate weighed heavily on his shoulders and his conscience. Even though it meant incurring Stone’s wrath and facing his own possible incarceration, Bancroft just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill even in psychological self-defense.

  But someone was going to have to.

  He pulled out his gun.

  Her heart leaping into her throat, Tracy quickly pushed Jake behind her, shielding the small boy with her body. She glared defiantly at the policeman. “What is it you really want?”

  Bancroft laughed at the irony of the question. “What I want is to get the hell away from everything that’s gone wrong in my life. What I want is to go back and redo things, now that I know money isn’t the solution to everything. It makes more problems than it solves.” He’d turn a deaf ear to his wife’s constant demands for more. She was like the fisherman’s wife in the fairy tale, never satisfied, always wanting more. “What I want, Dr. Walker, is my life back the way it was before I joined the force.” His expression sobered. “But we can’t always have what we want.” He took a deep breath. “I need you to get into the car I’ve got parked outside. Both of you.”

  Tracy made no move to comply. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Some place other than here.” Some place where someone else could come and do what he didn’t have the stomach to do.

  Tracy dug in. “No.”

  He stared at her. He was threatening her with a gun, he didn’t expect her to pull this on him. Agitation fed the panic that was taking hold.

  He cocked his gun. “Don’t make me shoot you here, Doctor. I’ve suddenly become a very desperate man and desperate men do desperate things.”

  The wild look in his eyes subsided, giving way to one of pleading.

  Her eyes held his. “You don’t want to do this,” Tracy said to him quietly, hoping to somehow convince him to give her the gun.

  His fingers tightened around the hilt. “No, I don’t. But I have no choice.” He motioned toward the door with the barrel. “Please come with me.”

  She knew she had to play for time. Somehow, she had to get them out of this. “Can I get his jacket? It’s cold outside.” He wasn’t a monster, but he wasn’t a fool either. “Where is it?”

  “Right there.” She pointed to the armchair.

  As long as she wasn’t out of sight, it was all right. Bancroft nodded. “Be quick about it.”

  As she picked up the jacket, something gleamed beneath it. Her nail file must have fallen out of her purse she realized. Palming it, she slipped the nail file into her pocket as she turned around with Jake’s jacket. The boy was right behind her, closer than her shadow.

  “It’s okay, honey. We’ll be all right.” Kissing his cheek in an act of encouragement, she whispered against his ear. “Don’t talk.”

  When she drew back, he looked at her as if he understood. She knew that if he talked, that would be the end of everything. Perhaps this way she could still convince the policeman that there was no reason to hold him.

  Still on her knees, she looked up at the man. “All right, we’re ready, but you’re making a huge mistake.”

  He holstered his gun. “No, you made one by being here.” Taking her hand, he hoisted her to her feet. Tracy stumbled and fell against him. She grabbed him as if to steady herself. Bancroft jerked away. “The next thing you try’ll be the last.”

  “I tripped,” she insisted. “Wait, his shoe is untied.”

  “Tie it,” he ordered. This time, he stepped back toward the door.

  Bending down, she quickly tightened Jake’s shoelace. And managed to leave the Lion’s Den pin she had palmed off Bancroft’s lapel beside the chair on the rug.

  Chapter 14

  The moment they were outside the door, Bancroft placed a restraining hand on Tracy’s arm. It was as if he could read her thoughts. “If you try to get away, I shoot the boy first.”

  Bastard, her mind screamed. Glaring at Bancroft, she wound her arm protectively around Jake. “In front of all these witnesses?”

  Bancroft quickly scanned the area. There were hardly any birds out, much less any people. The place was as dead as could be.

  “What witnesses? This is the middle of the morning. Everyone’s working.” He motioned with his head, one hand covering the gun in his pocket. She had no doubt that it was pointed straight at the boy. And yet, there was something about the policeman, something that told her that he was trapped within this scenario as much as she and Jake were. “You see anybody?”

  “No.” But Mrs. Wells, please see us, she prayed. Tracy glanced toward the window across the way where she always saw the woman sitting, monitoring the comings and goings of everyone who lived within the complex. For the first time, the window was closed, the curtains were in place. Her heart sank.

  The longer they stayed out here, the greater the chance that someone would come by. He motioned them to the squad car that was sitting in one of the many empty resident parking stalls.

  “Now get into the car, both of you.” As Jake started to climb into the back seat with Tracy, Bancroft pulled the boy over to him. “You sit up front with me,” he told him sternly. He held the door open for Tracy who began to protest the separation. “You try anything…”

  He didn’t have to finish. It was the same threat as before. He would kill the boy.

  Tracy sank her hands deep into her pockets. She could feel the nail file beneath her right hand. It was a puny weapon, but at least it was something and it comforted her.

  “I won’t try anything.” Not until Jake’s out of the way, she added silently. She got in, closing the door. Only then did Bancroft get in on his side. Jake cowered against the door, making his body as small as possible. She ached to comfort him. “Where are you taking us?”

  “The only place I can.”

  The chief had an old cabin in the woods left to him by his father. It was a place where he sometimes invited the inner circle of people who made up the Lion’s Den. It gave everyone a chance to kick back, to bond. And to reinforce the notion that they were all interconnected. He knew where the key was kept. He’d bring the boy and woman there, Bancroft decided in desperation, and then turn the job over to Malloy. Malloy had made it clear that he no qualms about getting rid of anyone who got in his way.

  Let this be on his conscience, Bancroft thought, starting up the car. He knew himself well enough to know that if he had to pull the trigger, he wouldn’t.

  But Stone was right. The boy couldn’t be allowed to go free. Neither one of them could.

  As the vehicle pulled away from the stall, Tracy twisted around in her seat, looking out the back window, willing Adam to return because he’d forgotten something, willing Mrs. Wells to come to her post at the window where she’d seen the older woman every single time before.

  Neither happened.

  Adam felt beat. There was no other word for it. He’d packed in a full day into less than four hours. There’d been two fires, one call coming in just as he’d entered the station, the other a little more than an hour before he left.

  Both fires had been minor, the first at a residence, the second at an abandoned store, and both had been easily contained. But the adrenaline rush was always the same, whether for a minor fire or a major one because it took so little for the former to become the latter.

  He supposed that the job was emotionally wearing on him.

  Or maybe it was the emotions that were ricocheting through him ever since Tracy and Jake had come into his life that were taking their toll on him. Being with both of them stirred up so many memories, memories he swore to himself that he’d never retrieve again. Bittersweet memories of Gloria and Bobby and their life together t
hat were painful to deal with.

  But he had to in order to go forward. He hadn’t thought he would actually do that, go forward. He figured that for the rest of his life, he would be sealed to one spot in time, a holding zone where he went neither forward or backward.

  And then along came Tracy and suddenly all of his plans—or the lack of them—became moot. With her very presence, the woman pushed him forward. Pushing him into wanting more.

  Pushing him into wanting what he once had. At times, it seemed as if what he was experiencing now was what he’d once had before. It was the same, and yet, it was different.

  But with Tracy it would always be different, he thought, putting his key in the lock. Different in ways he hadn’t even begun to comprehend.

  The thought made him smile.

  The first thing that assaulted him was the silence. Jake didn’t talk, but Tracy did. For both of them. But there wasn’t anything. Not Tracy, not the radio, or the television set or any combination of the three.

  He tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and his jacket onto the armchair. The back of his mind registered that something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what. Beyond the lack of noise.

  “Hey, anyone want to greet a weary hero?” he called out. “I saved a cat today.” He saw Tracy’s pet nudging at something on his rug, or in it, given that the fabric was a short shag that had a tendency to swallow things like pet treats up. The sight of the animal was beginning to strike him as commonplace. Another milestone crossed, he mused, the corners of his mouth rising. “I know it’s nothing like saving a pig, but we’ve all got to start somewhere.” Adam paused to scratch the pig behind her ears. Petunia continued rooting. “Hi Petunia, where are they?”

  Moving from area to area, it took Adam exactly fifteen seconds to ascertain that Petunia was the only one in the apartment.

  That was odd, he thought. He could have sworn he saw Tracy’s car parked in what was becoming her usual spot in guest parking. Crossing back to the door, he opened it and looked out.

  The vehicle was still there.