Shadow Witch

by Geof Johnson

  She said yes and John Paul backed the car out onto the street. Sammi’s guts twisted into a terrible knot as they drove away. What if Mr. Gundy saw me?What if he’s following us right now, waiting to grab me as soon as he can? “Mr. John Paul? Do you see a silver car anywhere?”

  “You mean Mr. Gundy’s Camry? No, I don’t see anybody. Nobody’s following us.”

  “Are you sure? How can you tell?”

  “I’m a cop, Sammi.” He gave her a confident smile in the rearview mirror. “I would know.”

  Sammi didn’t really believe him, but she didn’t have any choice but to go along. She was thoroughly committed to this course of action, for better or worse. She felt like she had fallen into the river again, and she was being pushed along by strong currents she couldn’t control, a helpless piece of driftwood.

  She stared at the back of John Paul’s seat, too frightened to look out of the window at the passing scenery. Mr. Gundy could be anywhere. She squeezed her fists into tight balls and tried to summon all of the courage she could, but all she found was more fear.

  By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the social services building, Sammi was trembling. John Paul let her out of the car and held her hand as he walked her toward the front door. “Everything is going to be just fine,” he said. “I already called them and they’re expecting you. These people here are all very nice.”

  Sammi eyed the two-story building in front of her, and she realized that this was where the raging current had been carrying her all along, this fateful meeting with a social services’ official. Her journey had started when she ran away, maybe even earlier, back when her parents died. And now she was about to come to a fork in the river, and someone inside that building would decide which direction she would take: She would either go home with the Callahans, or with total strangers.

  Please let it be the Callahans.

  They went inside and John Paul spoke with the lady at the reception desk, then led Sammi down a long hallway to another door and let her in. It looked like a small waiting room for a doctor’s office. There were about a dozen matching chairs and a low table covered with old magazines. One wall had a wide opening over a counter, with another, smaller room on the other side, where a young woman was typing on a computer keyboard. John Paul had a quick word with her and then he and Sammi had a seat.

  “I don’t know how long I can stay with you,” he said. “Depends on if I get a call from my dispatcher. But don’t worry. This lady will look after you.

  How can she look after me if she’s staring at a computer screen? “Please don’t leave,” Sammi said.

  “I’m on duty, so if I get a call, I gotta go.”

  He tried to make small talk with her, but she didn’t feel like chatting. Instead, she held his hand and kicked her feet rhythmically against the chair legs, bump, bump, bump, every strike of her heels adding to the drumbeat of her rising anxiety.

  After about twenty minutes, the radio on John Paul’s shoulder crackled, and he answered it. Then he stood and said, “That was my dispatcher. I gotta go, Sammi.”

  “No!” She stood, too, and threw her arms around his waist.

  “You’ll be fine.” He patted her on the back before he pried her loose and nodded toward the lady behind the counter. “Miss Beverly over there said she’d look after you, so you’re in good hands.” Then he abruptly left without looking back.

  Sammi felt tears welling in her eyes as she watched the door close behind him, and she sniffed loudly. I’m alone!

  Miss Beverly got up and leaned over the counter and faced Sammi. “Honey, I’m right here, so don’t worry. One of the social workers will take care of you real soon, so just have a seat and relax. If you need anything, just ask me. Okay?”

  Sammi stood in the middle of the room for a minute, taking short, rapid breaths while her heart raced, until she finally climbed back into her seat and put the fingernails of one hand between her teeth. The only sound was the pounding of blood in her ears and the clacking of computer keys from behind the counter.

  Sammi squeezed her eyes shut and began a new prayer: Hurry, Miss Francesco, hurry! She repeated it over and over until she thought it was enough, and peeked out of one eye to find that she was still alone, hopelessly alone.

  Maybe Miss Francesco forgot.

  She went to the counter and said, “Excuse me, Miss Beverly. Is Miss Francesco coming soon?”

  Miss Beverly looked up from her desk and shrugged. “I’m not sure which social worker will come for you. How do you know Miss Francesco?”

  “Uh....” I probably shouldn’t have said that. “The policeman told me about her. He said she’s nice.”

  “They all are, so don’t fret, honey, just sit down and look at a magazine or something.”

  Sammi returned to her chair, but couldn’t seem to do anything but worry. Maybe if I draw something...a flower for Mrs. Callahan. She opened her backpack, which was on the seat beside her, and pulled out her colored markers and a drawing pad.

  After several minutes and a few wasted sheets of paper, she gave up. Her hands were so shaky that everything she attempted looked more like the scribbling of a toddler than art.

  Maybe I should try to read instead. She put the markers and pad back into her pack and pulled out a book, one of The Boxcar Children stories, and opened it to the spot where Mr. Callahan had left off the last time he’d read to her. She didn’t get far, though, because she couldn’t focus on the words. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything, except her silent prayer for Miss Francesco to hurry.

  What’s taking so long?

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, the pudgy social worker came through the door and Sammi’s heart leaped. Miss Francesco sat beside her, put one arm around Sammi’s shoulders and gave her a hug.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Miss Francesco said. “My first appointment went way over time.”

  “Can I go home now?” Sammi asked.

  “Oh, no, we’ve only just started. I’m going to see my supervisor and get him to sign the paperwork, and then we’ll be done.”

  “How long will it take? I’m scared.”

  “I’m sorry, but it shouldn’t be long.” She stood and said, “Hold tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Miss Francesco left, and Sammi felt excited for a short while. But Miss Francesco didn’t come right back. Sammi watched the door for an eternity, but it remained closed. She felt her hopes fading and her anxiety returning.

  She forgot about me.

  She started biting her nails again, but when she tasted blood on one finger, she sat on her hands so she wouldn’t do any more damage. Hurry. Please, please hurry!

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, the door opened again and a large man came in with Miss Francesco. He had thinning black hair and wore a yellow short-sleeved shirt with a blue bow tie. He stood in front of Sammi with his hands on his hips and looked down at her and smiled faintly.

  “You must be Sammi Price. I’m Mr. Norris.” He regarded Sammi for a moment with one eye narrowed. “So, you’ve run away from your foster home, huh? Pretty young for that, aren’t you? Usually it’s the teenagers who do that.”

  Sammi couldn’t answer. Her tongue felt thick and dry, like she’d just eaten a handful of sawdust.

  “Miss Francesco wants me to authorize a request to transfer custody of you from Bartram County to us. We don’t normally do that, but Miss Francesco insisted that I talk to you before I say no.”

  Sammi managed to swallow as she looked up at the big, official-looking man, but her throat was still too dry to talk.

  “Miss Francesco says that you claim your foster father abused you. Is that true?” Sammi nodded and he said, “Well...that’s still not enough of a reason to transfer custody. Bartram County can find another home for you after we send you back.”

  Sammi suddenly found her voice. “No! Mr. Gundy will get me! I can’t go back. I won’t! I’ll run away again.”

  “He’s
your foster father?”

  “Yes, and he’s mean and bad as the Devil.”

  “Mr. Norris,” Miss Francesco said, “Mr. Gundy is now wanted for the murder of his wife. The policeman that brought Sammi in thinks that Mr. Gundy may be looking for Sammi, that he’s obsessed with her.”

  “Huh.” Mr. Norris wrinkled his brow and exhaled slowly. “Boy...that’s awful. We don’t want anything bad happening to you, Sammi.” He pinched his mouth up and looked thoughtfully at her. “Maybe we should go ahead and request custody. It’s not that big of a deal. I just have to fax the paperwork to Bartram County and they’ll probably go along with it. Shouldn’t take more than an hour. After that, I’ll get Miss Francesco to find a temporary home for you until we can place you with a good foster family.”

  “I wanna stay with the Callahans,” Sammi said quickly.

  “Who?”

  “Larry and Lisa Callahan,” Miss Francesco said smoothly. “They just finished the foster parenting course last night.”

  Mr. Norris frowned. “How do you know about them, Sammi?”

  “Uh...Miss Francesco told me about them...a little while ago.”

  Miss Francesco nodded. “They’re a real nice couple, and they’re hoping to foster a little girl if they can.”

  “And they have a daughter named Fred,” Sammi said. “I wanna live with them.”

  “Fred?” Mr. Norris pursed his lips. “That name sounds familiar. Is that Fred Callahan, the girl who got kidnapped back in December?”

  “Yes,” Miss Francesco said. “But she’s back home and she’s fine.”

  “I remember that family.” A lopsided smile spread across his face. “I saw them on the news. That’s great that Fred got back safe and sound.” His big head bobbed slowly for a moment as he looked at Sammi, and Sammi could almost see the gears turning in his brain. Please say yes. Sammi willed it as hard as she could, her eyes locked with his. Say yes. Say yes.

  Then he shrugged. “What the heck. If Miss Francesco says they’re a good family, who am I to argue?” He chuckled and patted the dark-haired social worker on the shoulder. “I’ll go send the paperwork to Bartram right now, then we’ll see about getting you placed with the Callahans, Sammi. How’s that sound?”

  It sounded wonderful. She had never heard anything that sounded better.

  Two hours later, Sammi was in the car, on her way home with Mrs. Callahan. “We did it!” Mrs. Callahan grinned joyfully. “Can you believe it, Sammi? I get to be your foster mom. I’m so happy I could just pop.” She glanced across the car at Sammi. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am. Very happy.”

  Happy and relieved. Sammi wasn’t going back to Bicksby and she wasn’t going to live with a family of strangers. She was going to live with the Callahans, what she’d wanted for a long time.

  Mrs. Callahan stopped at a red light and rummaged through her purse until she pulled out her cell phone and handed it to Sammi. “We need to call everybody and tell them the good news. Call Larry first. He’s in my phone book. He’ll be ecstatic. Call Fred, too. She’s at work.” She tapped the steering wheel and nodded. “Call Adele and leave a voice mail, ’cause she can’t take personal calls. Then call Carl and Jamie.”

  “And Mrs. Sikes and Mrs. Wallace and Mrs. Moore,” Sammi said. “They’re at the school.”

  “You know that number by heart? Yeah, call them.” Lisa laughed heartily, a rich, warm sound that Sammi loved so much. “You’re gonna call another planet and it’s not even long distance! Do we have a good cell phone plan or what?”

  Sammi laughed too. “Can I call Melanie and Bryce and Nova?”

  “Sure.” Lisa waved one hand loosely. “Call everybody.” She grinned again. “I feel like celebrating. We should go out to eat tonight.”

  “Mr. Gundy might see me.”

  “Oh, right. Well...we can celebrate at home. Tell everybody to come over after work and I’ll get takeout from the barbecue place or something. We’re going to have a little party! The Welcome Sammi to the Family party.”

  Sammi liked the way that sounded, too. Family. She rolled that word around in her mind, savoring it like a special piece of candy, all the way home.

  Rachel was the last person to leave the Callahan’s house after the party that night. She paused at the front door with Lisa and looked at Sammi, asleep on the couch, curled up against Larry’s side. Larry was asleep, too, his chin propped on his fist, his elbow leaning on the arm rest.

  Rachel smiled at them and said, “They look so tired.”

  “I don’t think either of them slept very much last night,” Lisa said. “I know I didn’t. I heard Larry tossin’ and turnin’ ’til almost dawn.” Lisa shook her head gently as she looked at the dozing pair. “Sammi sure seemed happy tonight, didn’t she?”

  “We’re all happy,” Rachel said. “You should’ve been at the school today, right after Sammi called with the good news. I announced it to the other kids and they all cheered. Leora was so happy that she cried.”

  “It feels really good, you know? I always wondered why people would want to be foster parents, because it seemed weird, letting a strange kid stay in your home, but now I know why they do it. Doing something this special for a child, especially somebody like Sammi, it’s just...amazing.”

  “She’s such a good kid.”

  “I learned a lot while taking the foster parent course. Not all kids in the foster system are as wonderful as Sammi. Many of them have cognitive and physical disabilities, sometimes because their birth mothers drank alcohol or abused drugs while they were pregnant. Those kids have it rough, and they can be a challenge to deal with. Some foster parents are willing to take in kids like that, but I don’t think I’m a strong enough person.”

  “Yes you are, Lisa. Remember when Fred was kidnapped?” You managed to get through that okay.”

  “Are you kidding? I was a complete mess. I don’t think I could’ve made it if it weren’t for you and Adele.”

  “Yes you would’ve.”

  “Well, thanks for saying that.” She gave a quick smile. “You know what’s funny? Some of the families in Bartram County who fostered Sammi sent her back to child services because they thought she had a disability, because she hears voices.”

  “Because she’s a witch.”

  “Right. But around this house, it helps her to fit in better.”

  “I doubt that all foster kids are as happy as she is. But not many foster kids get to pick their own foster family.”

  Lisa’s eyes began to glisten. “She did pick us, didn’t she? From hundreds of miles away. Of all the countless families out there, she picked mine. And yours, too, really.”

  “She picked all of us. She knew what we’re like long before she met us, and she decided that this was the place she needed to be.”

  Chapter 24

  Duane Gundy considered moving his automobile again after he’d gotten more suspicious stares from the neighbors. He was on Birchwood Drive, searching for Sammi, after spending the earlier part of the day back on Applewood. People had stared at him there, too, as he tried to slouch inconspicuously behind the steering wheel, parked on the side of the road, watching the cars come and go.

  Another walker glared at him as they passed Gundy on the sidewalk and his paranoia got the best of him. I’d better get out of here before somebody calls the cops on me.

  He started the engine and drove away, and as soon he turned onto the main road, he found himself stuck behind a slow-moving RV on the two-lane highway.

  Damn tourists. He pulled up to their back bumper and honked his horn. The car behind Gundy was tailgating him, too, and others were beginning to stack up in their wake, a parade of disgruntled motorists.

  He laid on the horn again and rolled down his window, ready to flag a middle finger at the giant aluminum tortoise, when a police car zoomed past, lights flashing, but with their siren off, heading in the opposite direction. He watched it in the rearview mirror until it turned into the subdivision
he’d just left, and he exhaled heavily.

  Damn, that was close. They’re probably lookin’ for me. If I hadn’t been pushed up so close to this RV, they’d a’ seen me. Hell, they might already have.

  He pounded his fist on the steering wheel for a few seconds, then gunned the engine and pulled around the slow-moving monstrosity in front of him, forcing the oncoming car in the other lane to jam on their brakes.

  As he sped away he thought, Time to get another vehicle. I’ll get one tonight.

  * * *

  Carl waited in the Callahan’s living room with Lisa and Larry for Jamie to bring everyone home from the Rivershire School.

  Jamie stepped through the doorway and seemed to immediately notice the serious look on his father’s face. “What happened?” Jamie said.

  “Sammi,” Lisa said, “why don’t you go say hello to Fred? She’s upstairs in her room.”

  “But I wanna hear what happened.”

  “Fred really wants to see you right now.”

  “But I —”

  “Now, Sammi.”

  Sammi frowned and trudged upstairs. Carl watched her go, and when she was out of earshot he said, “I just got word from the police station. Somebody called to complain about a suspicious-looking man in a silver Camry on Birchwood Drive.

  “What was he doing?” Evelyn asked.

  “Sitting on the side of the road. Apparently he parked on one end of the street for a while and then moved to the other, and the neighbors thought he might be casing their houses. They had a couple of burglaries there a few months ago, and they’re pretty uptight about strangers watching them from parked cars.”

  “Was it Gundy?” Jamie asked.

  “We don’t know. Nobody thought to get the license plate number, but my gut feeling is that it was. Unfortunately, we don’t have the manpower to stake out every street in Hendersonville with a name that ends in wood.”