“As far as I know, the police don’t have any leads yet. I didn’t know the child, but that doesn’t make it any less tragic. For an innocent kid to go missing here in Springfield Hills is unheard of.” As I spoke, I noticed the three men leaning in, not wanting to miss a single word of the salacious story.
I instantly clammed up.
I wasn’t comfortable sharing information with virtual strangers. For all I knew, one of them could very well have been involved. Everyone was a suspect until the police announced that they had taken someone into custody.
I steered the conversation back to the issue of pool plumbing, and looks of disappointment were evident on their faces.
“Daddy! I can’t find any duct tape, and I need it for my science project,” Zoe yelled from the patio.
“Okay, I’ll find it. Give me a second.”
I returned my attention to Raymond. “How much longer is this project going to take?”
“I can’t give you a definitive answer because a lot goes into building a pool, but I can tell you I checked and it looks like the previous contractor completed most of the plumbing. All we have to do is haul out the mud pile that was left behind. Bring in some fresh dirt and cover up those pipes. You’ll be ready for the concrete pour by the end of today or no later than tomorrow.”
“So, maybe I’ll be able to get a swim in before it gets too cold?” I asked hopefully.
“Anything is possible,” he said, deliberately not committing to a time frame. I supposed his evasive reply was payback for me not indulging his curiosity about the Taylor Flanagan case.
Raymond checked his watch. “Ready for lunch, fellas?”
I couldn’t believe it. They’d only been here for about thirty minutes and were already taking a break. Shaking my head, I headed for the backyard shed to look for duct tape for Zoe.
The moment I stepped inside, I noticed that some of my yard tools had been disturbed. The rake was propped against the wall at a slant, and I always kept it in a perfect upright position. The lawn mower had been moved about two feet from its normal location.
Scratching my head, I looked around wondering if a thief had gotten inside and stolen anything. A cursory glance didn’t reveal any missing items, but something wasn’t right.
The stepladder was marked with muddy footprints that were too small to be mine. Besides, I was a neat person, and being very particular about my tools and other possessions, I would have never left mud tracks inside the shed.
Looking for duct tape, I climbed the ladder and searched inside a cabinet that contained neatly stacked boxes of assorted nails and screws. I found the tape, but noticed that above the boxes was an alcove that was hard to reach. In that darkened area, something red caught my eye. I stretched my arm and fingers to the point of discomfort as I attempted to get a grip on the strange red object. Using my fingertips, I grabbed ahold of it and yanked.
In a state of disbelief, I gawked at the child-sized red boot that I held in my hand. It was such an unexpected and disturbing sight, I flung it from my hand and winced at the sound of it crashing against a shovel, causing it to hit the floor with a metallic clatter.
A combination of shock and fear caused a sharp spike in my adrenaline levels. Feeling lightheaded, I teetered on the ladder. I pressed a palm to my chest and took in a deep, cleansing breath, but it didn’t help. Perspiration trickled down my face, and I gripped the sides of the ladder before carefully descending the steps.
When I reached the bottom rung, I collapsed against a wall. Panting, I cut an eye toward the red boot. It was such an innocent object, yet it possessed the same amount of threat as a gun pressed to my head.
I felt cornered. Trapped. Terrified.
Motivated solely by instinct, I gathered my wits and rushed to the spot where the boot had landed. I picked it up and wondered if the mate was also hidden somewhere inside the shed.
Frantic, I searched every nook and cranny of the shed, but I didn’t find the other red boot.
Panting and sweating as if running a marathon, I encased the boot in a piece of dark fabric that had been wrapped around a collection of wrenches and pliers. I secured the cloth with the black duct tape that Zoe needed for her science project.
Lugging a bag of soil, I exited the shed and threw the cloth-covered red boot inside the deep hole. I poured in enough soil to conceal the damning evidence, and then I returned to the shed and stuck the open bag of soil next to a five-gallon container of paint.
I dusted off dirt from my hands as I left the shed, and I wondered if a three-hundred-dollar tip would persuade Raymond and his crew to finish the job today.
• • •
When Sasha arrived home that evening, I greeted her with a quick kiss. Not wanting Zoe to overhear our conversation, I motioned for her to follow me upstairs to the privacy of our bedroom.
Although I was devastated by my discovery in the shed, I tried my best to hide my anxiety. With a steady voice and a calm demeanor, I brought Sasha up to speed regarding the abduction, and shared with her the information that Tessa Jordan had shared.
“Do you mean to tell me that the child was snatched right outside of her own front door?” Sasha said with horror in her tone as she shook her head incredulously.
I nodded distractedly. With my thoughts focused on the child’s red boot that I’d discovered, it was difficult to keep up my end of the conversation.
“You’re awfully quiet, Malik. How can you be so calm at a time like this?” she asked. “What happened to Taylor Flanagan is every parent’s worst nightmare, and until they catch the guy who’s responsible, I’m not going to have a moment’s peace.”
“I’m upset, too, Sasha. In fact, after being out there in the heart of the search with tracker dogs and helicopters whirring, the reality that there’s a real-life monster on the loose has me on edge, but I don’t want the kids to know how shaken up I actually am.”
“They should know,” she snapped. “And they should be equally upset. We can’t sugarcoat a situation like this. The first few hours after a child is abducted are the most critical, and little Taylor has been missing for almost twenty-four hours. I hate to say it, but Taylor is probably already dead,” Sasha said, her voice cracking.
“We don’t know that,” I soothed. “She could very well be one of the kids who beat the odds. She could be hidden away in some remote place…but still very much alive. I prefer to be optimistic, Sasha.”
“Optimism is not helpful at a time like this. I think we should be up-front with Phoenix and Zoe and present them with the worst-case scenario, so that they know it’s imperative to follow safety tips. We have to ratchet up our own supervision of them and set boundaries about the places they can go.”
“I don’t know if scaring the hell out of them is the right thing. Sure, we want them to be cautious, but we don’t want them to be overly fearful and anxious.”
Sasha eyed me curiously. “What’s gotten into you, Malik? If there was ever a time to be overly cautious, that time is now. We can’t watch over them every second of the day, and for their own protection, they need to be on high-alert. We have to sit them down and go over the basics on how to avoid and—if necessary—how to escape potentially dangerous situations.”
“You’re right. My mind is all over the place. I have this thing—this desire to preserve Zoe’s innocence, but I’m obviously being ridiculous.” I made an apologetic face.
“You’re not being ridiculous,” Sasha said in a softened tone. “You’ve always been a doting parent to Zoe, but I need you to get tough and support me in laying down the law to her—and Phoenix, too.”
“Yeah,” I muttered disinterestedly as my mind wandered back to the red boot I’d found. “Uh, about that talk with Phoenix and Zoe. It might not be a good idea to lecture them together. Phoenix is at that age where he’s a know-it-all, and he’ll probably try to blow us off when we speak to him about taking extra safety precautions. To get through to him, I may have to pepper my words wit
h profanity and possibly grab him by the collar and scare some sense into him. That said, I prefer to speak to him privately.”
Sasha nodded. “I get it, Malik. Teenagers think they’re invincible, and they think their parents’ concerns are baseless and unreasonable.” Sasha looked down at her watch. “Where is Phoenix, by the way? Shouldn’t he be home by now?”
“I texted him about twenty minutes ago. He’s still out with his friends, searching the woods. He wanted to stick around for the candlelight vigil that’s being held tonight, but I told him to wrap things up and start heading for home.”
Sasha joined Zoe in the dining room where she was practicing her science experiment.
I paced in the living room as I waited for Phoenix, periodically peeking through the curtains, and then continuing to pace. At last I saw his bike lights and reflectors, and I hurried outside.
The moment he hopped off his bike, I nodded toward the car and gruffly said, “Get in.”
“Wait. Can I lock up my bike, first?” There was irritation in his tone.
“Funny how you were never concerned about securing Baxter’s bike whenever you borrowed it. You simply tossed it on the ground like it had no value.”
Phoenix flinched at the mention of Baxter’s name. We had an unspoken agreement not to talk about Baxter because it made Phoenix uncomfortable. But tonight I relished the opportunity to break our pact, and I took pleasure in seeing Phoenix’s wounded expression.
“Where are we going?” he asked snappishly.
I backed out of the driveway without bothering to answer him.
“Where are we going?” he repeated.
“To the convenience store.”
“For what?”
“We’re out of dish detergent.”
He grimaced like there was a bad taste in his mouth. “And you need me to go with you because…?”
“Because we need to talk.”
“Oh, God! What did I do now?” His voice was testy and filled with theatrical persecution. “Seriously, what are you accusing me of this time?” he asked while smirking at me.
“I found Taylor Flanagan’s red boot,” I said with a calm demeanor. However, my words had power, and they knocked the pompous smirk right off his face.
CHAPTER 23
Phoenix’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t do anything! It’s not what you think, Pops.”
“Tell me why a child’s fuckin’ boot was hidden in the goddamn shed?” Uncharacteristically, I hurled profanities and bellowed in a voice so loud, Phoenix nearly jumped out of his skin.
His lips began to tremble, but I didn’t feel a shred of compassion. He had lied repeatedly and used my unconditional love for him to play me. No more! I was through being Mr. Nice Guy.
I balled my fist up and shook it in his face. “I’m two seconds from busting you in your mouth, so start talking, you little bastard.”
Having never seen the side of me that was coarse and street-hardened from my junkie years, Phoenix recoiled in shock and fear.
“I…I…found the boot in the woods, underneath a log. I was going to turn it over to the police, but I figured, why get involved and possibly become a suspect when it might not even belong to the missing girl? I hid it because I didn’t know what else to do—I was scared.”
“Stop it!” I shouted. “It’s crystal-clear that you’re lying. If you can’t convince me that you’re telling the truth, how the hell are you going to convince the police?”
“I’m not lying. What reason would I have to hurt a little girl?”
I had no idea why he’d hurt a small child, and a part of me believed that he’d happened upon the boot like he’d said and decided to keep it. But for what reason would he bring it home and hide it? An innocent person wouldn’t want any part of a victim’s belongings. But then again, teenagers sometimes harbored morbid thoughts. Maybe he thought it would be fun to show it off to his friends—a way to freak them out, just for laughs.
Phoenix sat next to me, nervously zipping and unzipping the front of his hoodie. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“I’m confused and angry that you’d do something so stupid as bringing home evidence in something as serious as a missing child case. But I’m still your parent, and I love you no matter what.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I got rid of the boot.”
There was a flicker of something in Phoenix’s eyes. It could have been relief. It also could have been disappointment. The flicker happened too quickly for me to identify the emotion he was feeling.
“If you have any other articles of the child’s clothing, you need to tell me now. I won’t be able to help you if you continue to lie to me.”
“I only had the boot. That’s it. That’s all I found.”
Feeling calmer, I drove to the store and left Phoenix in the car while I went inside and picked up dish detergent. We rode back home in silence, but after I pulled into the driveway, I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. It was my way of letting him know that I intended to stand by him no matter what.
If he was indeed, the monster that I was afraid he might be, then I had to protect him. He was my flesh and blood, and he was my responsibility.
• • •
In our effort to supervise the children more closely, Sasha and I decided to take turns driving them to and from the bus stop every day. We also coordinated our work schedules, so that we could donate a few hours a day to the search party.
On our way to the bus stop, Phoenix carried Zoe’s science project to the car. After Zoe was strapped in the backseat, he carefully handed her the Cyclone in a Bottle experiment. From the rearview mirror, I watched how Phoenix and Zoe interacted. He was a patient and protective big brother, and his gentle treatment of her assured me that he couldn’t have possibly done anything to endanger an innocent seven-year-old.
“Wow, look at Myron’s eye,” Zoe said enthusiastically as she pointed to one of the boys who taunted her regularly. “It looks like the bully got a taste of his own medicine.”
“Yep, I’m sure he got what he deserved,” Phoenix replied stoically.
I gazed out my window and saw that Myron was sporting a black eye. I shot an accusing look at Phoenix, and he shrugged like he had no idea what had happened to the boy.
But I knew better. I knew instinctively that Phoenix was responsible. Hell, I would have gladly beaten the crap out of those two kids if there wasn’t the risk of facing criminal charges.
Phoenix reached for the door handle and I clutched his arm. I wanted to congratulate him for sticking up for Zoe, but that would have sent the wrong message and given him the impression that I approved of physical violence.
“You made your point, so make sure you don’t touch the other boy,” I said in a lowered tone.
He scowled. “I didn’t hit that boy. I wouldn’t lay a hand on either of those stupid little kids.”
I released his arm and sighed.
If he would lie about something that I wasn’t concerned about, then he’d certainly lie about any involvement in the disappearance of a child.
Not knowing the truth had placed me on an emotional roller coaster. My heart ached for the little girl and her family, and I desperately wanted the child to be okay. But at the same token, I was terrified for Phoenix’s well-being.
If my son turned out to be responsible in any way, the residents of the town would be out for bloodshed and who could blame them? Over and over, I asked myself if Phoenix was a sicko and a killer or was it truly a lapse in judgment that prompted him to hang on to evidence as if it were a trophy?
If I wanted to get to the truth badly enough, I could have beaten a confession out of him, but knowing the truth came with consequences. If my conscience compelled me to turn him in, Phoenix’s life would essentially be over, and our family’s reputation would be tarnished forever.
Sitting behind the steering wheel, I kept a watchful eye on Zoe as she climbed aboard the elementary school bus. I continued sitting with the motor idling wh
en the middle school bus arrived, and I didn’t drive away until I saw Phoenix take a seat on the bus that was headed to the city’s high school.
Before rejoining the search party, I stopped at home and watched as concrete was poured inside the gaping hole in our backyard. Feeling immensely relieved that Phoenix’s secret was safe, I left the house.
There was an undercurrent of tension when I reached Birchwood Circle and I wondered if there’d been any new developments since yesterday. I scanned the crowd and spotted Tessa Jordan and made my way in her direction. From Tessa I found out that Heather Flanagan was scheduled to give a statement in ten minutes.
“See that fellow with the suit on?” Tessa asked, pointing to a balding man with a bushy mustache. “That’s Heather’s lawyer, and he set up this little press event, allegedly to keep Taylor’s name and face in the news, but I think he’s trying to soften Heather’s image. People are noticing that she doesn’t seem to be grieving like a normal mother. If it were my child, I’d have to be put on medication and hospitalized until somebody brought her back home. Heather, on the other hand, has been acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.”
“What makes you say that?”
“One of the photographers that’s been roaming around here used a long-lens camera and was able to get a video of Heather and the boyfriend relaxing on the patio, laughing and drinking Tequila. Some grieving mother.” Tessa rolled her eyes, conveying her disgust.
I found a bit of comfort in Tessa’s comments. It was becoming more and more clear that Heather Flanagan was not the least bit distraught over the disappearance of her daughter.
And she had a motive—money.
Phoenix, however, had absolutely no reason to want Taylor dead.
Tessa elbowed me, bringing me out of my reverie. “Here she comes,” she hissed.
A microphone and stand had been set up on the pavement in front of the Flanagan home. As Heather approached it, I instantly noticed that she’d lightened her hair and changed it to a more glamorous style. She was being depicted as an uncaring mother, and her ripped jeans and off-the-shoulder top didn’t help her image.
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