Threat of Darkness

by Valerie Hansen

Considering the ambiguity of her feelings she decided that doing neither would be the smartest choice.

  At least for the time being.

  * * *

  “I can’t be positive,” John told Charlie Fox, the young, part-time sheriff’s deputy who had responded this time because he’d been patrolling nearby, “but it looks as if the dognappers decided to retrieve the ransom note as soon as they knew Samantha had seen it.”

  “Why bother?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing they’ve done so far has made a lot of sense. When we first missed Brutus we didn’t spot any note but I’m not positive either of us thought to look in the refrigerator.” He scowled. “That’s my fault.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they left it after that, when you were busy over at the hospital.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Coloring from remembered embarrassment, John shook his head. “Has there been any sign of Ben Southerland—or my Glock?”

  “Not yet. We’ve expanded the APB to include all Arkansas counties and up into southern Missouri.”

  “Good.”

  “I can make a sweep through the house before I leave if you want.” Fox looked pointedly at John. “Since you’re camped here I don’t suppose there’s too much to worry about.”

  “That was supposed to be the general idea. I’ll take care of the house.”

  “Nice gig if you can get it.” The deputy touched the brim of his cap, then said, “G’night, folks. I’ll let myself out and start on the yard while you’re checking inside.”

  Their cursory walk-through didn’t take long. As soon as they heard the patrol car driving away Samantha looked to John. “You can go, too. I’m fine. Really.”

  “You weren’t fine when you were beating on my trailer so hard the whole thing was shaking.”

  “Okay, so maybe I was a little excited.”

  “A little.” He eyed the door. “Is it just me or are deputies getting younger and younger? Charlie didn’t look old enough to shave.”

  “I think he’s in his early twenties. You’d mentioned his name when we were going to see Opal. Hadn’t you met him before?”

  “No. He must have been off duty when I was given the station tour. It’s not as if Chief Kelso or the sheriff threw a welcome-home party for me, although there was enough of a fuss that it ruffled a few feathers.” John gestured toward the kitchen table. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me everything you can remember about that note?”

  “Like what? You heard what I told Charlie.”

  “Humph. He’s such a raw rookie I’m surprised he pinned his badge on right side up. There were some very important questions he didn’t ask. For instance, was this note at all like the first one? Same paper, same lettering? Anything?”

  “Well, it wasn’t misspelled, although that may have been done to the one before to try to throw us off.”

  “What was the exact wording?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then repeated what she’d said earlier. “‘The package for the dog.’”

  “That’s all? No instructions? No way to make contact?”

  “No.” Samantha’s gaze searched his and she began to frown. “That doesn’t make much sense, does it? If they want this mysterious package they’re so sure I have, why not tell me how to get it to them?”

  “Maybe there’s another note hidden somewhere around here.”

  “Like where? Wouldn’t we have found it already?”

  “I don’t know. There was no good reason for them to leave the threat in the fridge so we can’t assume there will be logic to wherever they may have put further instructions.”

  The misty look in Samantha’s eyes told him she was close to losing control of her emotions. That was perfectly natural, he simply didn’t want to see her give in to grief before there was adequate reason to do so.

  “Okay,” John said, deciding they both needed to continue to be proactive, “here’s what we’ll do. We’ll start in this room, since it’s the site of the last contact, and go through everything. I want you to open the cupboards and look behind every pot and pan, every dish. Don’t skip a thing.”

  “What if there’s nothing here?”

  “Then we’ll move on to another room and then another, until we either run out of places to look or find something helpful.”

  Her voice was subdued and held a touch of melancholy when she simply said, “Thank you.”

  He had been about to reassure her by reminding her he was doing his duty when she looked straight at him to add, “And I promise you, John Waltham, if you dare tell me one more time that it’s just your job, I will scream.”

  It wasn’t only the defiant look in her eyes and the hands fisted on her hips that impressed him. It was also the challenge in her statement. Evidently, Sam was no longer buying his excuse that he was merely carrying out orders.

  Truth to tell, sticking by her meant a lot more than that to him, too. A whole lot more.

  * * *

  Samantha was so frustrated, so weary, she almost asked John to take a break with her when they’d finished searching every nook and cranny in the kitchen.

  Sighing, she straightened, empty-handed, and shook her head sadly. “There’s nothing here. We’ve been over the whole room and…” Her gaze drifted past his shoulder and settled on a hook by the door where she kept Brutus’s leash. It was still hanging there, just as she’d left it. Her eyes widened as she began to truly observe. “The dog’s collar! Look.”

  John whirled. “Was he wearing it when you last saw him?”

  “Yes. I always keep it on him unless I’m giving him a bath.” Pushing past her companion she grabbed the braided nylon and jerked it down. There was a piece of white paper, folded and taped to the rabies vaccination tag.

  Her hands were shaking so badly she passed the collar to John. “Here. You look. I can’t.”

  “Not without putting on gloves first. Stay right here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Samantha doubted she could have taken a step if she’d wanted to. Her feet felt glued to the floor and her knees were once again threatening to give way and drop her in a useless heap.

  The moment John returned from the trailer he slipped his hands into the thin gloves.

  She thrust the collar at him. “Hurry.”

  “I am.”

  Watching him, knowing him so well, she could tell he was nearly as nervous as she was. Being a professional he was handling the anxiety better, of course, but it still showed. The look on his face when he unfolded the piece of paper held a mixture of anger and sorrow.

  She grasped his wrist above the glove. “What is it? What did they say?”

  “That you have until this coming Sunday night to comply with their demands.”

  “Or?”

  His arm encircled her, supported her, and he pulled her to his side before he said, “Or they’ll kill Brutus.”

  Unshed tears wet her lashes. “That’s not fair. I can’t even fake it if I don’t know what this package is supposed to look like.”

  John laid the collar aside and closed her in his embrace.

  At this moment in time she was beyond refusing to accept the support and consolation he offered. Brutus was going to die. And it was her fault.

  She heard the rapid beats of John’s heart. Her own echoed them as if they had somehow been synchronized. Latex snapped as he shed his gloves before stroking her hair and whispering comforting words.

  “Hush. There has to be a way.”

  “What? What?”

  “I don’t know. When Bobby Joe was arrested he had nothing in his pockets except a dollar bill and some loose change. How could he have disposed of drugs unless he gave them to someone? The little boy was clean, too.”


  Samantha’s head was whirling. She’d replayed the scene in the E.R. over and over in her mind, hoping to somehow see more than she had before.

  She leaned away to look up at him. “There are only three possibilities. The hospital staff, your police buddies or the air ambulance that took Jess to Children’s.”

  “The ambulance crew is out,” John said. “Bobby Joe never got near it. Unless…” He planted a firm kiss in the middle of her forehead and grinned. “You’re a genius.”

  “Why? What did I do?”

  “Remember the stuff you were packing up to send with the little boy when I was talking to you at the hospital that first day? Did you go through it carefully or were you in too big a hurry to bother?”

  “I just folded and bagged it the way I always do.” She was starting to see what he was getting at. “Do you think Bobby Joe put something in with Jess’s clothes?”

  “More likely in the quilt,” John said with conviction. “I’ll make a few calls and see what we can come up with. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  Samantha was grinning through her tears. “You’re right. That has to be it. I remember thinking how cute that quilt was with little denim pockets and flaps and buttons sewn right into the design for toddlers to play with!”

  Hopes soaring, she closed her eyes and thanked God while John phoned his station and explained his theory. They were right. They had to be. The police had gone over the E.R. with a fine-tooth comb and had discovered nothing. The same applied to the parking lot and the old car Bobby Joe had been driving. Therefore, whatever he’d been carrying on his person had to have been removed. And the only objects that had left the room other than the people, were the personal items in the plastic bag.

  Hopefully, the mystery would be solved soon and she could welcome Brutus home with open arms.

  * * *

  John didn’t know how to break it to her. The expectant look on Sam’s pretty face was going to vanish the moment he spoke and he knew it. Nevertheless, he owed it to her to deliver the truth.

  He cleared his throat. Took her hand. Held it tightly and willed her to receive the information calmly, if not happily. “We’re too late. Whatever was at the hospital left when Jess did.”

  “Of course it did.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Miss Opal said his mother had already taken him home. Naturally she’d have picked up his clothing and other belongings, too.”

  “Right. Which means we have no way to check other than to visit the woman and hope she’ll cooperate.”

  “If she was as mad at Bobby Joe as I think she was, we may still have a chance.”

  John decided not to mention the possibility that the young mother was as involved in drugs as Bobby Joe had been. If that were the case and she’d found the stash amid her own son’s clothing, she’d most certainly lie about it.

  “How do you want to proceed?” John asked.

  “I don’t know. Do you think it would be best to let Opal handle this? She volunteered to help us.”

  “And she knows Jess’s mother personally,” John added. “Why don’t you give her a call?”

  Sam checked the time. “Because I think it’s way too late at night. I don’t want to upset her by waking her up.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound just like you did when we were kids,” John told her. “You spent your childhood being afraid of triggering your father’s bad temper. I remember lots of times when you backed off in spite of being in the right.” He paused for effect. “Don’t do that this time, Sam. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do.”

  The astonishment in her expression was followed quickly by clear resolve. “You’re right. I had slipped back into my old habits.” She reached for a phone book and thumbed it open. “I’ll call Opal.”

  “Good. And I’ll go get an evidence bag for this new note. If we end up going out we’ll drop it off at the station.”

  “Do you think they’ll take it seriously?”

  “Yes,” John said flatly. “This isn’t just about a lost dog anymore. It’s about drug trafficking. If we can catch whoever is so intent on getting Bobby Joe’s stash and put them away, too, it’ll be a win-win for the department.”

  “And save Brutus,” Samantha said, holding her phone to her ear. She raised a hand just as John was about to answer. “Hello, Miss Opal,” she began, “sorry to bother you so late. This is Samantha Rochard. Remember when you said you’d do anything to help me? Well, I have a favor to ask.”

  * * *

  Listening to the story Opal told, Samantha began to tremble. Marty hadn’t come home at all and his grandmother had no idea where he’d gone. Moreover, when the older woman had gone to check on Jess and his mother she’d found their house empty and looking as if its occupants had packed up and left in a hurry.

  Sam’s eyes met John’s. She shook her head. “It’s no use. Opal says she thinks Jess and his mother have split. Marty’s missing, too. Our chances of finding the quilt, if that happens to be where the drugs are stashed, are nonexistent.”

  “Nothing’s impossible for God,” he countered.

  Samantha made a face at him. “Now you sound like you did when we were teenagers. I told you then and I’ll tell you again. If God had cared that much about me, He’d never have stuck me in that dysfunctional family in the first place.”

  “But He rescued you by sending Elvina into your life,” John argued. “And when you were older, there was me.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me. I would have gladly taken you away with me. I don’t know why you have so much trouble believing that, Sam. It isn’t that the Lord failed to rescue you, it’s that you refused His help when He sent it.”

  “I moved in with Elvina. It turned out that she needed me as much as I needed her.”

  “Then perhaps that’s the way things were meant to be.” Picking up the plastic bag containing the newest note, John said, “Sleep well. I’ll be keeping watch.”

  “You have to sleep, too.”

  “I will. Charlie is going to stop by after he goes off duty tonight and take over for a couple of hours so I can get some shut-eye. I’ll be fine. Night, Sam.”

  “I wish…”

  She broke off before her heart could make her say something she’d be sorry for. This was the second time John had reminded her of his offer of marriage and she was beginning to see that their parting was as much her fault as it had been his.

  That conclusion didn’t sit well on her conscience. Not well at all. If she were to accept his version of their failed romance she’d have to admit too much culpability.

  She’d also have to admit that maybe God hadn’t forgotten her plight and left her so bereft that she’d wept for literally weeks. If John was right, their heavenly Father had had her best interests at heart all along.

  More truths kept surfacing as if linked together by an unbreakable chain. As soon as she accepted one, another appeared, then another and another.

  God had given her Elvina Prescott’s love and care just when she’d needed it most.

  God had offered her happiness as John’s wife and the main reason she’d failed to see that gift was because she’d been too self-centered.

  And, if she were totally honest with herself, the reason she’d stopped attending church had far less to do with embarrassment than it did with her disappointment that the Lord had not seen fit to fix her life exactly the way she’d envisioned.

  Astounded and more than a little disconcerted, she closed her eyes, bowed her head and prayed for forgiveness right where she stood.

  THIRTEEN

  The following two days passed with little change other than that their window of opportunity for rescuing Brutus was closing.

  Sam went about her tasks at work an
d tried not to think about her poor dog all the time, yet there was rarely a moment that passed when her faithful canine companion wasn’t in her thoughts—and yes, in her prayers.

  There had been a slight delay in finding a suitable foster home for Danny Southerland so he had remained in the hospital temporarily. No one had seen hide nor hair of his father, Ben, since the man had fled. To everyone’s dismay, the police had no leads.

  Brenda Connors visited Danny daily, as did his mother, Lindy. It was evident that she didn’t approve of the legal action that had usurped her parental rights but when Samantha had calmly explained how the system worked and had assured Lindy that she would be given her day in court, the timid woman had seemed to settle down and accept the inevitable.

  In many ways, Samantha could identify with her. As Ben’s wife and Danny’s mother, Lindy had spent years tiptoeing through life and trying to keep the peace when she should have been enjoying motherhood.

  Ever since Danny had been hospitalized, Sam had made it a point to stop by his room whenever she had a free moment. He wasn’t her patient, per se, but the facility was small enough that she could easily visit. The more she did that, the more the child seemed to open up to her and the greater were her chances of being able to truly help him through her CASA work.

  Sam viewed Lindy as a second victim. The trouble was, unless the young woman learned to stand up for her rights and those of her son, there was a chance a judge might permanently remove Danny from her home. And, until Ben was caught, that threat remained, as well.

  Yawning, Samantha finished her paperwork for the day and clocked out. She was getting used to driving Elvina’s old green barge of a car, undoubtedly because it reminded her of her late friend and mentor.

  Calling good-night to the swing-shift nurses, she started for the rear door, then decided to stop by Danny’s room, tell him she’d bring him a treat in the morning and ask what he’d like.

  The door to one-ten was ajar and she could hear cartoons playing on the television.

  Smiling, she entered—and froze. The child’s bed was empty.

  * * *

  John was running late. He glanced at his watch. If one more person pulled out in front of him and kept him from getting to the hospital in time to escort Sam home he was going to be tempted to roll down his window and yell at them.