by Sharon Sala
“If you’ll say may, and not can.”
Hope grinned. “May.”
“May what?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know,” Hope said, then she suddenly smiled. “Oh! I know! May I watch cartoons and may I have waffles! Right, Mommy?”
Mary wrapped her arms around her daughter as she laughed aloud.
“Yes, that’s right, sweet pea.” She reached for the remote and turned on the TV, then searched the channels until she found the Disney channel. “Okay. Two cartoons, then down to breakfast, okay?”
Hope nodded, her focus already shifting to the cartoon characters appearing on the screen.
“Hey,” Daniel said, as he exited the bathroom in a pair of dilapidated gray sweatpants. “How did I get so lucky as to find my two favorite girls in my bed?”
Before Hope could answer, he pounced, sending her into fits of shrieks and squeals.
Mary escaped, grabbing clothes as she headed for the bathroom. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, dressing quickly before pulling her hair up into a ponytail, shifting her focus from wife to mother with ease, as if she’d done so many times before.
She paused in front of the mirror, giving herself a quick glance before turning away. Her hand was on the doorknob when something made her hesitate. She stood there a moment, staring down at her fingers, absently noting that she’d broken a nail, and then closed her eyes and took a slow deep breath. There was no earthly way she could explain what she suddenly felt or how she knew it—but she knew it just the same. She turned around and faced herself in the mirror, curious to know if she looked any different.
But her appearance was still the same—hair the color of dark caramel that barely brushed her shoulders, bluish-green eyes in a too-slender face, and lips slightly bruised from the passion of last night’s lovemaking. And still a little too thin.
But she knew that would change.
She reached toward the mirror, laying the flat of her hand against the glass, then against her belly. Last night had been magic. She and Daniel had made love—and also a baby.
She shivered suddenly, uncomfortable with the strong feeling of precognition. Even though another child with Daniel would be a true blessing, there was too much going on now to let herself lose focus. Hope’s safety had to come first.
A short while later, the first waffle was baking and the sounds of Hope’s laughter and Daniel’s commentary on the cartoons kept drifting down the stairs. Mary smiled to herself as she got out some plates and began setting the table. As she did, she went over the things that she needed to do. There was an accumulation of Daniel’s suits that needed to go to the cleaners, a grocery list that would take at least two hours to complete, and she’d never been happier. All she had to do was think back to the emptiness of her life before to put things in perspective.
“Mommy…is my waffle done yet?”
“Almost,” Mary said, as Hope slipped into her seat at the table. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Right behind her,” Daniel said, as he came in the kitchen and swooped Mary off her feet, then kissed her soundly in front of Hope.
Hope giggled. “Daddy’s funny.”
“Daddy makes Mommy’s toes curl,” Mary whispered, careful that only Daniel could hear.
Daniel grinned. “Given another chance…I can do better than that.”
“Be still my heart,” Mary said, and wiggled her eyebrows.
“Mommy…my waffle!”
Mary spun out of Daniel’s arms and headed for the waffle iron.
“One waffle, coming up!”
“With peanut butter and starberry jelly?”
“Of course,” Mary said. “Is there any other way?”
“One can only hope,” Daniel muttered, and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking his seat.
Mary took the waffle out of the waffle iron and put in on a plate, then began fixing it as Hope had ordered. It wasn’t until she was carrying it to the table that she realized her memories were changing. It seemed she’d done this countless times before.
“Yum, Mommy. You always make the best breakfasts,” Hope said, and then took her first bite.
“Always?” Mary asked.
“As long as I can remember,” Hope mumbled.
As long as she can remember. Mary turned away quickly and began pouring batter into the waffle iron to make another waffle, unwilling for anyone to see that her eyes were filling with tears.
“What’s on the agenda, today, honey?” Daniel asked.
“For starters, clothes to the cleaners and groceries.”
“Hope and I can take the clothes to the cleaners and pick up some fertilizer for the lawn at the garden center. You make the grocery run and we should all be back home together about the same time. How’s that for organization?”
Mary took a deep breath and made herself smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Daniel winked at his daughter. “It’s our pleasure, isn’t it Hope?”
“Yes, we’ll help you, Mommy. We’re your good helpers, aren’t we?”
“You sure are,” Mary said. “I don’t know what I would do without you…either of you.”
She poured a glass of juice for Hope and took it to the table, lingering long enough to smooth her hand down the back of the little girl’s hair. Her hands were shaking as she went back to retrieve the next waffle, because she did know what it was like to be without them. It’s just that they would never understand.
Howard Lee slipped into the lower level of the hospital where he worked and made a beeline for his locker. It was his day off, but no one would know the difference. His job schedule was the last thing of concern in a place where, daily, people fought for their lives. Once in his hospital coveralls with the ID badge clipped to his pocket, he was all but invisible to the staff. He dressed quickly, grabbing a mop bucket and a mop to use as cover in case he was questioned, then headed for the pediatric ward. The main pharmacy for the hospital was on a different floor, but each floor stored a small supply of certain drugs, and he knew where they were kept. All he had to do was create a diversion, take what he needed and no one would be the wiser. He’d heard the staff commenting about a strain of flu going around and decided that was what had made his girls sick. He also remembered enough from his own childhood illnesses to guess what medicines a doctor might prescribe.
Moments later, he exited the elevator on the third floor, pausing a moment to locate the staff on duty, then waited until the hall was empty. Without hesitation, he pulled the fire alarm and then slipped into a laundry closet, well aware that an evacuation would immediately begin. In the confusion, he could get what he needed and be gone before anyone knew what he’d taken. Oh sure, they would eventually miss the drugs, but since he’d clocked out at seven this morning, he would be beyond suspicion.
The sounds of running footsteps sounded in the hallway as nurses began calling out to each other, readying to evacuate their floor. As soon as the footsteps moved away, Howard Lee stuffed his employee ID into his pocket and slipped out of the closet. Two nurses ran past him as he ran toward the drug room behind the nurses’ station, but just as he predicted, they paid him no mind. He had to restrain himself from smiling as he slipped behind the desk and then into the room behind.
With little effort, he picked the lock on the drug cabinet, opened the doors, and reached for a bottle of penicillin, when he suddenly remembered the Medic Alert bracelet that Amy Anne wore. She was allergic to penicillin. His mother had been allergic to penicillin. He would have to take a substitute for her. After a quick scan of the shelves, he took two different antibiotics, slipped the vials inside his pocket and relocked the cabinets. On the way out of the room, he grabbed a handful of disposable syringes and headed for the stairwell at the far end of the hallway.
Within minutes, his coveralls were back in his locker and he was leaving through the employees’ lounge just as the first of the fire trucks arrived. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of hi
s home, parked in the garage, then dashed into the house. He hurried through the rooms, then down the stairs into the cellar.
Panicked that the girls didn’t appear to have moved, he took the antibiotics and two syringes from his pocket, then hurried to their bedside, his heart pounding with fear. At that moment, he realized he hadn’t considered the dosages. What if he gave them too much and they died?
Groaning, he dropped onto the mattress at the foot of Amy Anne’s bed, his legs too weak to stand. Their breathing was shallow, their faces flushed. He kept thinking that if he did nothing, they would only get worse. They might even die. He was still trying to decide what to do when Justine rolled over on her back and started to cry.
“My head’s hot. I want my Mommy. Please, I want my Mommy.”
That did it.
Howard Lee set his jaw and took out the first syringe, shook the vial of penicillin because it seemed like a prudent thing to do, and then drew the syringe half-full. He started to pull back the covers and then remembered the area where he administered the shots needed to be disinfected. He grabbed some cotton swabs and a bottle of alcohol from the bathroom then hurried back to the girls. Gritting his teeth, he reached for Justine.
He’d never given anyone a shot before and started to plunge the needle into her tiny arm when he realized he was doing it all wrong. Children’s arms were too small. There wasn’t enough muscle. It had to go in a hip.
He set the syringe down on the bedside table and pulled down her covers. She whimpered in protest and pushed at his hands as he tugged at the hem of her gown.
“No, no,” Howard Lee said. “Daddy is sorry, but he has to do this.”
He rubbed the alcohol swab on her backside, took a deep breath and plunged the needle into her flesh, praying that he was doing this right.
The little girl wailed as the antibiotic went in—a high-pitched, feverish squeal that tore at his conscience. He told himself her shriek was from the shock of the needle prick and not an overdose of medicine, but he couldn’t be sure until some time had passed.
Still shaking, he withdrew the used syringe and laid it aside, got out a fresh one, drew a dose from the other vial for Amy Anne and gave her an injection, too. The fact that she didn’t even acknowledge the pain, was, to Howard Lee, even more frightening.
Once the medicine had been given, he got a washcloth and a basin of cool water and proceeded to bathe their arms and faces. Afterward, he put them in fresh nightgowns and then sat beside their beds, watching until they fell back asleep.
Convinced that he’d done all he knew to do, he gathered up the uneaten food and medicine and went upstairs. As always, he closed the cellar door and locked it behind him, but for the first time since he’d “adopted” the girls, he felt guilt.
He’d gone to great lengths to make sure that their room had been well-lit and ventilated, and that they had plenty of toys and games to entertain them, but it was still a cellar all the same. And, no matter how many ways he tried to justify it, there was nothing healthy about raising children below ground. In his single-minded intent to acquire a family, he’d thought more of himself than the children. He should have provided different accommodations—certainly safer ones. But that was hindsight. He had to deal with the ramifications of what he’d done and then make it better.
He put the antibiotics into the refrigerator then dumped the uneaten food into the garbage disposal. Although his body was crying out for sleep, there were too many things to be done before he could let himself rest, the first of which was to buy food that would be more enticing for sick children.
He popped a couple of No-Sleeps into his mouth and washed them down with a glass of milk, then started to make a grocery list. The first item he wrote down was soup. As a child, it was what his mother had fed him, and his mother had always done what was right.
He finished the list, then went to check on the girls one last time before leaving the house. They seemed to be resting a little easier. Satisfied that he had done the right thing, he hurried back up the stairs and out the door to the supermarket.
Reese Arnaud sat at his desk, staring at the sketch of the blond-headed man with funny teeth. It had gone out last night with the late shift of officers and even though he’d known it would be a long shot, he’d hoped for some news this morning when he’d come to work.
But when he’d reached his desk and found nothing but a handful of phone messages regarding other cases, his hopes had been dashed. Disappointed, he reached for his coffee cup. Phone time was prime time for sneaking that extra jolt of caffeine, and something told him he was going to need it today.
A short while later, he had returned all the calls and was finishing up some paperwork when his gaze fell on the sketch once again. He picked it up, then cursed softly beneath his breath. The more he looked at it, the more he realized what a stretch this was going to be. Just because some man got too friendly with one little girl on public school grounds did not mean he was the person responsible for the disappearance of two others. The world was full of perverts. Assuming that this one was the one they were looking for was too much to expect.
A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw and he could feel another pulling at the corner of his eyelid. They needed a break in this case—and soon. He had to find those missing girls. Maybe then he would be able to sleep.
Mary stood at the door waving goodbye to Daniel and Hope, then hurried back into the house to get her purse. Daniel had promised Hope a trip to the park this afternoon and Mary wanted to go, too. Being given a second chance had made her all too aware of how precious life was and how swiftly it could be taken away.
As she swung her purse over her shoulder, something bumped against her side. Frowning, she thrust her hand into the bag. Moments later, her fingers curled around her cell phone. Her purse was already heavy and she started to leave it behind, then at the last second, changed her mind. With one last glance around the room, she hurried out the door, taking care to lock it behind her. A short while later she was pulling into the supermarket parking lot with nothing more serious on her mind than what kind of breakfast cereal to buy.
Howard Lee was standing in the soup aisle, debating with himself as to whether it would be more judicious to purchase dehydrated soup that came pre-packed in envelopes or the canned kinds that only needed to be heated. He wished his mother was still alive. She would know which kinds of soups sick children preferred.
A woman with two toddlers at her heels turned down the aisle in which he was standing. He watched her coming and considered asking her for advice, but her children were raising such a fuss he decided against it. He winced at the shrillness in her voice as she yelled at one of the kids to shut up. It was a good thing he’d decided against talking to her. She wouldn’t have anything positive to say.
Frustrated, he picked up a can of chicken noodle soup and began reading the instructions. Heat and eat seemed simple enough. Maybe that would work. He tossed a half-dozen cans in his shopping cart and then moved slowly down the aisles, adding a box of crackers, a couple of jars of flavored applesauce and a small bag of vanilla wafers.
He was on his way to the checkout counter when he remembered he was almost out of milk and juice. Wheeling the cart in a quick one-eighty, he found himself face-to-face with a pretty dark-haired woman who was just turning down the aisle. Their carts bumped slightly and then each of them swerved in an opposite direction.
“Oh! Excuse me!” Howard Lee said, and then smiled bashfully. “These things need horns and sirens on them, don’t they?”
Mary started to apologize for her own inattention to what she’d been doing and then she focused on his smile. She knew he was waiting for a response from her, but she couldn’t speak for staring at the spaces between his teeth.
“Ma’am…are you all right?” Howard Lee asked, thinking he must have bumped her harder than he’d first believed.
Mary blinked. “Uh…yes…I’m fine.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm a racing he
art as her gaze slid to his face. A tall skinny man with yellow hair, round eyes and funny teeth. A clown face. Just like Hope had described.
Howard Lee frowned. What was wrong with this woman? Then he looked at her again, thinking she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her. Shrugging it off, he gripped the shopping cart.
“I’ll just be going then,” he said. “I need to get home to my girls. They’re not feeling too well.”
He steered his cart around Mary and moved toward the far end of the store where the refrigerated section was located.
Mary’s heart was pounding erratically as she thrust her hand in her purse, searching for the cell phone. She pulled it out with a jerk, then punched in the numbers to Daniel’s office with trembling fingers. Twice she messed up and had to start all over. By the time she got the right numbers entered, she was shaking all over.
She closed her eyes as she counted the rings, praying that he would answer.
Howard Lee had the milk in his cart and was reaching for the orange juice when he remembered where he’d seen the woman—at the school—picking up the little girl he was going to adopt. But she hadn’t seen him, so it didn’t make sense why she would have been staring at him in that way.
He put the orange juice in his cart and then started toward the checkout stand, when he caught sight of her again. She was still in the same aisle, and using her cell phone. That, in itself, didn’t set off any alarms until she looked up and saw him watching her. The fear on her face was shocking. In that moment, he knew it was over. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he knew that she knew.
The phone was still ringing and Mary was trying to figure out where Daniel had gone and why he didn’t answer when she looked up and saw the clown man watching her from the end of the aisle.
“Oh God, oh God,” she muttered, debating with herself as to what to do. Then it hit her. Reese. She should be calling Reese Arnaud, not Daniel. She disconnected her call and quickly punched in 9-1-1.
