The Way to Yesterday

by Sharon Sala

  Mary’s fingers curled around the steering wheel. He had blond hair. What if it was the man who’d talked to Hope? She reached for her purse and took out her phone. If he would only come a little closer, she would be able to see his face better.

  As she waited, her finger poised to call 9-1-1, a yellow school bus came up behind her, passed where she was waiting, and pulled into line at the curb. At that point, she could no longer see the jogger. Seconds later, a second bus pulled to the curb, then a third and a fourth until the curb was lined with buses waiting to load and her view of the sidewalk was completely blocked.

  A couple of drivers got out. One of them lit up a cigarette and started to smoke while another circled his bus, kicking at the tires and checking the back door to make sure it was securely fastened.

  Mary got out of her car and moved toward the sidewalk in front of the school, still looking for the man in the jogging suit, but he was nowhere in sight. Then she noticed a uniformed policeman just inside the front gate and began to relax.

  At that moment, she heard a loud, strident bell from within the building behind her. Seconds later, the front doors opened and children came spilling out of the schoolhouse and down the steps. Frustration set in as the teachers and the children came toward her. She tried not to panic, but she had absolutely no idea what her own daughter’s teacher looked like.

  “Hi, Mrs. O’Rourke! Are you looking for Hope?”

  Mary turned around, then looked down. A small, blond-haired girl with chubby cheeks was looking up at her, smiling in obvious recognition.

  “Yes, I am,” she said. “Who are you?”

  The little girl laughed out loud, as if Mary had just told her a funny joke.

  “It’s me, Molly.”

  Molly. Hope’s best friend. “Why, so it is,” Mary said, and pretended to rub sleep from her eyes.

  Molly laughed again and then pointed behind her.

  “There they come now. The last rows had to wait in the hall because Frances Sheffield threw up.”

  “Oh, my,” Mary said.

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Mary turned, saw Hope waving at her from the front of the line, and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “Hi, honey,” she called.

  “Mary…good afternoon.”

  Mary took a calculated guess at the identity of the woman and jumped into the conversation with both feet.

  “Hello, Mrs. Kristy. I hear someone had a little accident in the hall.”

  Lena Kristy rolled her eyes. “Five more seconds and we would have been out of the building, too.”

  Mary smiled sympathetically as Hope slipped her hand in her mother’s palm.

  “Mommy, can we go home now?”

  Mary looked down at her daughter, her heart filling with a love she would have been hard-pressed to describe.

  “Yes, darling…we can go home.” She glanced at Mrs. Kristy. “Okay?”

  “Very okay,” Mrs. Kristy said, then she began loading her children, making sure they got on the proper buses while the other parents who picked up their children still waited in their cars.

  Hope was talking nonstop, skipping as she walked, secure that all was right with her world. Mary listened absently, answering only when necessary as they moved toward the car. She kept looking at everyone they passed, as well as the people who waited in cars. Some waved at her. She waved back, assuming she should know who they were.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry. Can we stop on the way home for a Slushee?”

  Mary thought of the detective who was due soon at their house. “Not today, Hope. We need to hurry home.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated. Daniel had told her not to let Hope know Detective Arnaud was coming to talk to her.

  “Because…because I think Daddy is coming home early and we don’t want to miss him.”

  “Yea!” Hope cried. “Maybe he’ll play ball with me.”

  Mary smiled. “Maybe…but we’ll have to wait and see, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Howard Lee glared at the presence of the policeman while watching the buses loading from across the street. When the cop looked his way, he picked up the clippers that were lying by the hedge where he was standing and began clipping at the bushes as if he lived there. He’d seen the woman get out of the car and thought nothing of it. There were hundreds of children in that school. What were the odds that she would be there for his angel?

  He cut at the shrubbery in short, angry jerks, telling himself it didn’t matter—that he still had plenty of time to make the plan work.

  He watched the buses pull away and then stepped back into the shade of a magnolia tree as the first of the cars began to depart. He saw her then, in her pretty blue car, all smiling and happy, and his anger spiked. It wasn’t fair. This was his little girl. He’d picked her out special. That woman couldn’t possibly know how to make a little girl happy. Not like he did. Amy Anne and Justine needed that new sister and he wasn’t going to disappoint them. He threw the clippers down with a curse and then started jogging toward home.

  Reese Arnaud pulled up in front of the O’Rourke house and then reached over in the back seat and got the little pink jacket that Hope had left at his house. He eyed the sketch artist, giving him one last reminder.

  “Okay, Kelly, remember we take this slow. If we frighten her, it’s over.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer said, and gathered up his briefcase as he got out of the car.

  Reese’s focus was on high as he rang the doorbell. Please God, let this be the break we’ve been waiting for.

  Moments later, the door opened and Mary let them inside.

  Reese hugged her briefly, wanting to allay the fear he saw on her face.

  “Hello, Mary. Sorry that this is happening.”

  “No more than we are,” she said. “Hope is in her room. I’ll call her.”

  “We need to make this real informal. How about we set up in the kitchen? Maybe with cookies and milk?”

  Mary smiled. “It will be her second round. Something tells me she won’t object.”

  Reese chuckled. “Yeah, she’s hell on chocolate chip cookies, isn’t she?”

  Mary nodded, but her thoughts were somewhere else. Chocolate chip cookies were her favorites? Another thing I hadn’t known. “Please see yourselves to the kitchen. We’ll be right there.”

  As she started up the stairs, it occurred to her that Reese Arnaud probably knew more about her daughter’s likes and dislikes than she did. The thought was not only daunting but made her feel lacking as the mother she wanted to be. She headed down the hall and then pushed the door open to Hope’s room.

  “Hi, Mommy! Is Daddy home yet?”

  “No, but you have a visitor.”

  “Who? Is it Molly?”

  “Close, but not Molly.”

  Abandoning the puzzle she’d been working, Hope jumped up from her little chair and ran out of her room and down the hall.

  “Don’t run down the stairs,” Mary cautioned, then groaned beneath her breath as Hope bounded down the stairs anyway.

  Mary hurried down behind her and followed Hope into the kitchen, just in time to hear her cry.

  “Uncle Reese…it’s you! Did you bring Molly to play with me?”

  Reese Arnaud scooped the little girl up into his arms and gave her a quick hug.

  “No, but I brought your pink jacket.”

  “Oh, goody. Is that where it was?”

  He grinned. “Yep. I wanted to wear it, but pink’s not my color.”

  Hope giggled. “Uncle Reese, you’re so silly. You can’t wear my jacket. You’re too big.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said, then pointed to the officer he’d brought with him. “This is my friend, Kelly. We’re having cookies and milk. Want to have some with us?”

  Hope looked to Mary for permission. When Mary nodded, she wiggled out of Reese’s arms and headed for the fridge.

  “I’ll get my own milk,” she said, and dra
gged a nearly full gallon of milk from the shelf.

  “Maybe I’d better help,” Mary said, and grabbed the gallon carton from Hope’s hands before the milk hit the floor. “Why don’t you sit down by Uncle Reese while I get your snack?”

  Before Hope could settle, they heard the front door open.

  “Daddy’s home!” Hope cried. “Daddy! We’re in here!” she yelled, and then snagged a cookie from the plate before anyone changed their minds about letting her have a second snack.

  Mary nodded at the two officers then went to meet Daniel.

  “Sorry I’m late. Got a late phone call I couldn’t ignore. Have they started yet?” Daniel asked.

  “No, they just got here.”

  “Good. Give me a second and I’ll join you.”

  He set his briefcase on the floor beside the hall table and then took off his suit coat and hung it on the newel post as they passed the staircase.

  As they entered the kitchen, Daniel’s gaze met and then slid past Reese Arnaud to the little girl sitting across the table from him.

  “Hey, punkin…did you save me any cookies?”

  Hope giggled and took another big bite. “Nope.”

  “You little pig…then I’m going to eat yours,” Daniel teased, and grabbed at his daughter’s wrist, pretending to eat her cookie.

  Reese’s nerves were on edge as he waited for the hilarity to cease. He couldn’t help thinking about the two missing children—wondering if they were even alive—knowing if they were, they might never laugh again.

  Finally, the silliness stopped as Daniel sat at the table and then took Hope on his lap. At his nod, the sketch artist took a pad and charcoal pencil from his briefcase and started to draw. Immediately, Hope’s interest shifted.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Reese leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Hope’s face.

  “He’s going to draw me a picture.”

  “What kind of a picture?” Hope asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, do you have a suggestion?”

  Hope grinned. “A horse! Draw a picture of a horse!”

  Mary slid into the seat beside Daniel and Hope. She didn’t touch them, but she needed to be close. What happened during the next few minutes might be vital to finding the missing children as well as keeping her own daughter safe.

  “How about a clown?” Mary asked. “Ask him if he knows how to draw a clown.”

  Reese already knew that Hope had referred to the stranger at school as looking like a clown. He nodded his approval at Mary for introducing the subject for him.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Reese said.

  Hope frowned. “I don’t think I like clowns.”

  “Why not?” Reese asked.

  Hope leaned back against Daniel’s chest, taking comfort in his presence.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Daniel said. “You can tell Uncle Reese.”

  “I did something bad,” she said, and then looked away.

  “No, it wasn’t bad,” Daniel said. “But it was wrong, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “So, tell me what happened, honey.”

  “I talked to a stranger at school.” Then she added. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  “That’s right, children don’t talk to strangers, but the stranger did something bad, too, didn’t he?”

  Hope’s eyes widened. It was the first time she’d thought about what had happened from another standpoint.

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  “He talked to you when your mommy and daddy weren’t there. He knew better, but he did it anyway. I need to find that man and tell him not to do that again. Do you think that you could help me?”

  “I don’t know where he lives,” Hope said.

  “But you know what he looks like, don’t you, honey?”

  Hope thought about it a moment, then looked at Daniel and Mary.

  “It’s okay, honey. Mommy and Daddy want you to help Uncle Reese,” Mary said. “Do you think you can?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “Great,” Reese said, and gave her nose a tweak. “So come sit in my lap and you can watch Kelly drawing, okay?”

  “Yes,” Hope said, and slid out of Daniel’s lap.

  “So, this is how we do it,” Reese said, as he settled the little girl in his lap. “I’ll ask you questions about what he looked like and Kelly will draw what we tell him to draw.”

  “Was his face round like a balloon, or more square, like a box?”

  “Round,” Hope answered immediately. “Just like his eyes. They were big and round, too.”

  Reese’s pulse accelerated. Maybe this was going to work after all.

  Chapter 8

  Howard Lee took a chunk of raw hamburger from the bowl on the counter, made a third hamburger patty and then put it in the hot skillet beside the other two he already had cooking. He turned down the heat, blithely unaware that his premature meeting with Hope O’Rourke had put himself in danger. A few minutes later he took the meat from the pan and put them on a platter to cool while he began to fix the buns.

  Amy Anne liked ketchup on her hamburger. Ketchup and nothing else. Justine like mustard and pickles and wanted her hamburger cut into quarters. He put the burgers onto the plates and then added a handful of chips for each girl.

  He hummed as he worked, confident that his growing family was intact. Once the plates were to his liking, he moved to the cabinet, took out a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping medicine and measured a small dose into two cups, then filled the cups with milk, adding a dollop of chocolate syrup to make sure the taste of the medicine was masked. He’d never intended to use this method of control, but after the first night with Amy Anne in the guest room, he’d been forced to resort to other measures.

  A few minutes later he started down into the cellar. As he did, he heard a scurrying of feet and smiled to himself, knowing that his girls were aware of his imminent arrival.

  “Daddy’s here,” he called, then frowned when there was no welcoming response.

  It aggravated him that after all he’d given them and done for them, they still withheld their affections. Even though their room was technically a cellar, he had not spared expenses in outfitting it. Besides the large room that served as living room and bedroom, he’d gone to a lot of trouble to install their own bathroom with tub and shower.

  There was a television, a VCR and more than a dozen children’s videos for them to watch. There were two white twin-size brass beds against one wall and a wooden table and chairs near the center of the room, piled high with coloring books, crayons and puzzles. As he came down the steps, he noticed that none of the toys had been moved, although the television was on.

  Refusing to admit that his plan to create his own family was less successful than he had imagined, he set the tray down on the table and then fixed a place setting at each chair, carefully laying out their plate of food, a napkin, a fork and their cups of chocolate milk.

  “Look what Daddy’s made for you tonight.”

  “My daddy doesn’t know how to cook,” Justine murmured, and slipped into one of the chairs.

  Howard Lee frowned. “I’m your Daddy now,” he said sharply.

  Justine’s lower lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears, but she’d learned early on that arguing with the man just made things worse. Without saying anything more, she began nibbling on a potato chip as the man took Amy Anne in his lap and started to feed her.

  As usual, ever since she’d been with the man, Amy Anne only sat and stared.

  “Eat your hamburger,” Howard Lee said.

  Justine grabbed one of the pieces and took a big bite, not because she was particularly hungry, but because she didn’t want to make the man angry.

  “Is it good?” Howard Lee asked.

  She nodded.

  “Drink all your milk, too.”

  She eyed the cup of chocolate milk, wishing she had the nerve to tell him she didn’t
like chocolate in her milk, then thought better of it.

  “When can we go outside and play?” Justine asked.

  Howard Lee’s frown deepened. The dilemma of keeping his family intact was warring with the knowledge that growing children needed fresh air and sunshine.

  “After we move. When we get to our new house, then you can go outside, all right?”

  The food suddenly knotted in Justine’s stomach. She didn’t want to go anywhere with the man but back to her real home. She thought of Charlie, her puppy, and her mother and daddy. She wondered if they cried for her like she cried for them.

  “I want my mother,” Justine muttered, then took another bite.

  Ignoring her discontent, Howard Lee shifted Amy Anne to a more comfortable position, then picked up the hamburger and offered her a bite. At his bidding, Amy opened her mouth, accepting the food without acknowledging the giver.

  “See, Amy Anne, just like you like it,” Howard Lee said. “Is it good?”

  Even if she’d been capable of answering, she would have been hard-pressed to tell Howard Lee what he wanted to hear. There was no longer such a thing as “good” in Amy Anne’s world.

  Hiding his frustration, he dabbed at a dribble of ketchup hanging at the corner of her mouth and then offered her a drink of milk. She drank without purpose, neither acknowledging hunger or thirst, but simply acquiescing to his demands. It wasn’t what he wanted, but her withdrawal had left him with no leverage.

  “When you finish your food, we need to take our baths and get ready for bed,” Howard Lee said.

  Justine looked down at her half-eaten burger and wanted to cry. She wanted to play in her yard and sleep in her own little bed. At home, she always slept with her dolly, Freckles. The man had given her a different dolly to sleep with, but it wasn’t the same.

  “Drink your milk,” Howard Lee said.

  Afraid of what he might do if she chose to disobey him, she emptied the glass. Within minutes, both she and Amy Anne were asleep where they sat.

  Howard Lee smiled to himself in satisfaction as he began to take off their clothes. It was always easier to bathe them and put on their nightclothes when they were quiet and compliant. He set Amy Anne aside, went into the small bathroom and ran some water in the tub. Then he turned around, looking from one little girl to the other and decided.