Philip shoved her aside. "Listen, you sick freak! Give us back our son! Only a fucking coward would—"
Sadie watched in horror as Jay grabbed Philip and hurled him against the wall. Even the reporter flinched. The cameraman had the decency to turn the camera away and the crew stepped back.
"You stupid ass!" Jay hissed between gritted teeth. "What are you trying to do, get your son killed?"
"Of course not!"
Sadie clenched Philip's arm. "If you've done anything to hurt Sam—"
"Me? What about you?" He shook a finger at her. "You're the one who let him take Sam, for Christ's sake."
"You weren't there!" she screamed, unleashing her fury. "He was going to shoot Sam, right in front of me. I had no choice!"
"You should've tried!" he yelled back. "You should've done more!"
She gave him a frosty look. "I will always wonder if I could have done more, Philip. I live with that every day."
That night, she saw her face plastered on all the local news stations. She called Jay just before ten.
"Anything?"
"Sorry, Sadie. We haven't heard from him."
She hung up, disappointed.
In the ensuite bathroom, she downed a sleeping pill. Then she brushed her teeth and splashed cool water over her face. Groping blindly for a towel, she found one. Then she raised her head and hissed in a huge lungful of air.
A boy stood behind her.
"Sam!"
She whipped around, but there was only empty space.
"Sam? Where are you, baby?"
She wandered in her bedroom, listless and dead tired. Then she crumpled into bed and slipped into unconsciousness, her sleep haunted by disturbing visions.
Sam was standing just out of reach, surrounded by pitch-black shadows. At first, he appeared at a great distance. Then he moved forward. Behind him, the black void expanded, a tunnel racing to claim him. He peered over his shoulder, and when he turned back, the fear that radiated from his eyes almost made her heart stop beating.
"Hurry, Sam!" she screamed.
The blackness slithered over him and she ran toward him, but her legs were weighted down by some invisible, malevolent force. She was an arm's length away when her knees buckled and she sank to the ground, crying out in anguish.
"Come back to me, Sam! I miss you."
Sam leaned over her, his face a blur, and a flash freeze brushed her cheek. That's when she bolted awake, her pulse beating furiously. She could have sworn that Sam had kissed her. When she touched her cheek, it felt damp.
By morning, she was sure that she had dreamt it all.
Either that or I've completely lost it.
A computerized version of Barney's 'I Love You' song—Sam's choice—interrupted her thoughts.
"Is this line tapped?"
Her hand shook. "I-I don't think so."
"I saw you on TV," The Fog said. "You and your husband."
"He shouldn't have said those things," she said quickly. "He didn't mean it. Please, don't hurt Sam because of it. I'm really, really sorry."
There was a muffled moan, then the slam of a car door.
"So am I," The Fog replied. "You know the Rafferty Tree Nursery, west of Beaumont?"
She held her breath. "Yes."
"Sam's waiting for you. Be here in half an hour. Alone."
"Alone?" she repeated.
There was an impatient huff. "If I wanted to kill you, Sadie, I woulda done it that night. Oh, and in case I need to tell ya, no police."
"Wait! I—"
The line went dead.
Relief flooded her. She was going to get Sam back.
She left a message on the answering machine for Philip. "I'll be back soon. With Sam."
She stared at the flashing message light for a moment.
Well, I'm not telling the police, but if he thinks I'm going to leave and not tell someone where I'm going, he's definitely crazy.
The Rafferty Tree Nursery was a twenty-minute drive to the outer edge of south Edmonton. The family-owned business grew an assortment of trees and shrubs, with acres of wooded land stretching as far as the eye could see.
As she drove, she glimpsed her reflection in the rearview mirror. She was a mess. Her long black hair was dry and dull, and she couldn't remember if she'd even brushed it that morning. The Mars-like craters under her eyes bespoke of little sleep and too much crying. Even the blue of her irises seemed washed out.
"You look like crap, Sadie O'Connell."
But she knew it didn't matter what she looked like, as long as she got Sam back. She could feel his life essence pulling her closer, urging her to step on the gas.
Hurry!
She turned down a side road, ignoring the 'Private Property' sign and the warning that the place didn't open for the season for three more weeks. The eroded dirt road took her past the scraggly branches of deciduous trees—silver birch, trembling aspens and balsam poplars. The farther she drove, the more mature and thick the greenery became, until she was surrounded by a grove of lush, long-needled evergreens.
"Where are you?"
The road came to a dead end, so she parked the car and climbed out. Two footpaths led to either side of her. On the right, a red balloon hovered in the air, its string tied to the branch of a blue spruce. 'This way,' it seemed to beckon.
As she passed, she saw a slip of paper clipped to the string.
Snatching it up, she unfolded it.
YOU HAVE 5 MINUTES TO SAVE HIM!
A mix of adrenaline and terror kicked her into high gear.
She ran.
When a glint of metal caught her eye, she left the path and weaved between the trees, paying no attention to the brittle branches that plucked at her clothes and hair. Her legs pumped harder, faster, until they burned.
Up ahead a horn beeped.
She rounded a lodgepole pine and skidded to a halt ten yards from the back end of a rusted yellow Chevy. It was parked between two trees with its rear wheels raised on cement blocks. The heavy snow on the trunk and bumper indicated that the car had been there for a while, which was not surprising since she was farther into the nursery than customers were allowed.
She widely circled the car. Its side windows were grimy, the interior shadowed.
Then she saw him.
"Oh God."
Sam was slumped over the steering wheel, still dressed in his pajamas, a Blue Jays baseball cap pulled low over his head. His mouth was bound with electrical tape.
"Sam!" she shouted.
He didn't move.
Horrified, she raced toward the car.
A fateful mistake.
Her right foot hooked a thin metal wire before she could even comprehend what it was. From that second on, everything dissolved into a hellish nightmare and her entire world was blown off its axis. A deafening roar rocked the earth, throwing her to the ground while bits of searing metal ripped through the air.
"Nooooo!" she screamed.
A smoking, black wad landed near her outstretched hand.
Sam's baseball cap.
The Fog had fulfilled his promise.
Sam.
"Oh Jesus, no!"
She scrambled to her feet, but a second explosion sent her flying backward through the air. Her head smacked against a rock. Sharp pain surged through her, over her, and when she touched the back of her head, her fingers came away covered in blood.
Consciousness faded in and out.
"Sam…"
Something floated above her.
The red balloon.
It hovered, then lifted into the smoke-filled sky, its thin string dangling beneath it.
She raised a quivering hand. "Come back."
A devilish face blocked the light. In a blurred shadow, it leaned down and laughed at her, its breath rancid.
"Why?" she moaned.
"I always keep my promises," it whispered.
Then Sadie slipped into oblivion.
15
"Can I come in
?"
Dressed in uniform, Jay Lucas lingered in the doorway of the hospital room—a bouquet of drooping flowers in one hand, a drenched raincoat in the other.
Sadie guessed it wasn't just a courtesy call. "Of course."
"How are you feeling?" he asked, slipping the flowers into a water jug on the side table.
"Short of some scratches and a mild concussion, I'm…fine."
And she was. Physically. Mentally was another story.
It had been two days since Philip had led the police to the nursery after hearing her message on the answering machine. They had discovered the smoldering wreckage of the car, and her unconscious body nearby.
She took a deep breath. "Did you find Sam?"
Jay shook his head.
"He could've been thrown clear," she said. "Did you check the bush—?"
"Sadie, we found blood from two victims."
"Two?" She sat up, wincing from the pain. "That doesn't make sense."
"Unless there were two kids in the car."
"But I only saw Sam."
"The other could've been in the back seat or…"
"Or the trunk," she finished for him.
The detective nodded grimly.
"The blood—are you sure it's Sam's?" she asked, fearful.
"It matched the DNA from the toothbrush you gave us."
A tear leaked from one eye. "And what about other evidence?"
"We found detonator fragments. Military issue."
"That's good, right?" she wept. "Makes it easier to find him?"
"Unfortunately, nowadays, people could find one on the internet, if they looked hard enough.
She hitched in a breath. "I have to make arrangements. To bury Sam."
"Sadie, I, uh…"
"What?"
His face drooped. "There's nothing to bury."
She eyed him blankly.
"There's nothing left of him," he said softly. "There were two bombs. They disintegrated almost everything. It's going to take weeks for forensics to sift through the remains. And even then, they're so tiny…"
She shuddered. "Little bloody pieces."
"Huh?"
"Something The Fog said to me." She turned away, drained. "What about the balloon?"
"We found it in a tree, a few yards from the scene. It's been sent to trace. If we're lucky, we'll pull a print or DNA from saliva."
Sadie studied the ceiling for a moment and found herself reliving the explosion, the fiery inferno of the car, the smell of burning flesh…the screams. Her screams.
She wiped her eyes. "If only I hadn't moved."
"You didn't know about the tripwire."
"But I should have called you, waited—"
Jay reached for her hand. "We'll get him, Sadie."
She looked into his eyes, comforted by the steely promise of justice. She didn't doubt the man. He would hunt down The Fog…or die trying. She hoped to God it wasn't the latter. She'd grown fond of the old man.
"Thanks, Jay," she whispered.
His face crinkled with concern. "I heard Philip is…uh…"
"In an eight by twelve foot cell," she said wryly.
Bridget had been true to her word, although apologetic about the rotten timing. Philip had been formally arrested that morning.
"He pled guilty," Sadie told Jay. "But his lawyer thinks he'll get a reduced sentence."
Jay nodded. "Because they found the money."
"Every penny of it. Philip was depending on it for his retirement plan." She shook her head. "I don't think he planned on retiring in prison though."
"You're lucky, Sadie."
Her mouth dropped. "Lucky? How can you say that?"
Jay shifted uncomfortably. "What I mean is, they could've taken your house, your vehicles, frozen your bank accounts."
"Those things mean nothing," she said in a dead tone. "They could have it all if it meant I'd have Sam back."
There was an awkward moment of silence.
"They letting you out soon?" Jay asked eventually.
"Just before supper."
"You need someone to come get you?"
She shook her head. "My friend will be here."
Jay moved to the door. "If you need anything let me know."
She listened to the detective's footsteps echo down the hall. Then she eased herself from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Waves of nausea wracked her aching body and she collapsed in front of the toilet. Resting her burning forehead on her arms, she pictured Sam bound and gagged in the car.
"There's nothing left of him," Jay had said.
Then why does it feel like Sam's still with me?
She threw up. Moaning softly, she yearned to crawl into the toilet, to be flushed out with the soiled water. A nurse found her with her forehead resting on the toilet seat and helped her back to bed.
Later that afternoon, Sadie checked out of the hospital. Leah was waiting in the lobby to take her back to the house. The drive home was as endless as the pouring rain and dull gray sky, which matched her dismal mood. She said very little to Leah. There was too much on her mind.
"Thanks for the ride," she said, unlocking the front door.
Leah's eyes filled with concern. "Want me to stay with you tonight?"
"No." She stepped inside the house and began to close the door, but Leah's arm shot out.
"Sadie, don't push me away. I want to help—"
"There's nothing you can do. I just want to be alone."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks though." She closed the door and leaned against it. "There's nothing anyone can do to help me."
She drifted from one room to another, calmed by the anti-depressants the hospital had given her and by the pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows. Every time she passed in front of the door to Sam's room, she'd pause and rest a hand against it. But she could never quite bring herself to open it. Eventually, she'd have to pack away his toys, his clothes…his life.
Not yet. Later. When I'm ready.
They decided to have a service, complete with burial.
"For closure," Philip had said when she visited him in jail.
At first Sadie had been hesitant. A funeral would make Sam's death more real. And she didn't want it to be real. Then there was the matter of a coffin. Philip had argued that they could just bury a plywood box, something symbolic.
"A box." She gaped at him as if he had lost his mind. "Sam deserves more than a cheap wooden box."
She ventured out alone and bought a child-sized coffin.
The morning of Sam's funeral was appropriately dreary and filled with a flurry of well-meaning but unwanted visitors who dropped off indistinguishable casseroles and obligatory fruit baskets. By lunchtime, Sadie had run out of counter space and there was no room in the fridge.
Then there was the family to deal with. Philip's brother, sister and father had bused in from Seattle, while her parents, looking tanned and healthy, had flown up from Yuma. Her brother had shipped out to Afghanistan the week before, leaving her sister-in-law Theresa with the kids.
"Damn, Sadie," Theresa said on the phone. "I'd give anything to be there. I know Brad would too. I-I'm so sorry. I'm going to miss Sammy so much. His sweet little face, his laugh, his—"
Sadie hung up on her.
She felt a flicker of remorse. She hadn't meant to be rude, but hearing Theresa talk about missing Sam made her clench her hands into fists. This is my loss, she wanted to shout. Not yours!
Philip called at lunchtime. "How are you holding up?"
"How do you think?" she said, trying to keep the resentment from her voice.
"A wreath is being delivered to the cemetery at two-thirty."
"You should be here for this, Philip."
"I tried, but they won't let me out. It's not fair."
"Sam is dead," she snapped. "How fair is that?"
There was an empty pause. Then she heard him clear his throat. "Say goodbye to my boy for me, Sadie."
<
br /> "I can't even say goodbye to him for me," she said bleakly.
Two hours later, she allowed her father to tuck her into the backseat of the Mazda and they headed for the cemetery, her mother beside her, sniffling into a tissue. Chuck, her father-in-law, drove Philip's brother and sister in the Mercedes.
The service was painful yet brief. Other than family, Leah, Liz, Jean, Bridget and Jay attended. Matthew Bornyk sent his condolences, even though Sadie hadn't thought to invite him. And why should she? His daughter might still be alive.
After a short prayer from a pastor her father had found, she waited while everyone placed a single white rosebud on the coffin lid. Since there were no human remains, they were burying a single object—the blackened baseball cap. Slowly, the small white coffin with its white satin lining that only Sadie had seen was lowered into a muddy pit in the Cherished Children section of Hope Haven Cemetery. She watched it disappear into the gaping hole and her heart sank with it.
Tears streamed down her face, and she shuffled closer. As she hovered at the edge, she yearned for someone to push her in. She wouldn't even fight them if they did.
She closed her eyes, inhaling the soft scent of a white rose.
Then she tossed it into the pit.
"Sleep, little man," she said in a trembling voice. "Snug as—"
She broke down, sobbing hysterically.
"Come on, honey," her mother said, gently taking her arm.
"I'm so sorry," Sadie wailed. "Forgive me, Sam!"
"Let him go, Sadie."
"How do I do that, Mom? How do I say goodbye to my baby?"
"I don't know, honey," her mother said, batting away a tear. . No mother should ever have to bury her child."
They shuffled toward the car, each engulfed in misery.
That evening, Sadie couldn't take it anymore. The constant bodies and mundane conversations in every room irritated her. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and she told her mother so. Finally, Philip's family went back to their hotel, and her friends went back to their own homes, their own lives.
She curled up on the sofa and rested her head in her mother's lap. "I've lost everything, Mom. Everything."
Her mother stroked her hair. "I know it feels that way, Sadie, but it will get better. I promise. It'll hurt less, with time."
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