“Can you believe that tramp? She obviously loves being in the limelight,” Tessa said, pursing her lips in disapproval.
“I want to thank everyone for pitching in and helping in the effort to bring my baby home safely,” Heather began. “I am heartbroken over this tragedy. And I want to appeal to whoever is responsible for snatching my child. Let her go. I can only imagine how terrified she is. If you’re watching, Taylor, I want you to know that Mommy loves you, and I’ll never find peace until I’m holding you in my arms again.”
She covered her face and made sobbing sounds, and when she removed her hands, it was apparent that her eye makeup was not tear-streaked or smudged.
“Taylor was my best friend,” she continued. “We did everything together…played with her dolls, baked cookies; we even dressed in mother and daughter outfits on many occasions.” Heather smiled wistfully, as if recalling fond memories that she’d shared with her daughter.
“If you did everything together, why didn’t you personally take her out for Halloween?” someone yelled from the crowd.
“I bet you can’t wait to collect Taylor’s money,” someone else jeered.
Heather swiveled her head from one side to the other, trying to determine who had hurled insults at her.
“For those of you who are spreading vicious rumors and insinuating that my boyfriend, Cory, and I are responsible for Taylor’s disappearance, I can only say that there’s a special place in hell for you,” she barked, her face twisted in anger.
From the crowd, more people spoke up, demanding to know what Heather had done with Taylor’s body.
“I don’t have to take this shit!” Heather spat, practically snarling at the crowd. Her long-haired and tattooed boyfriend escorted her back to the house, and her lawyer took over the press conference.
From my perspective, Heather Flanagan did not appear to be a grieving parent, and I found myself wholeheartedly agreeing with the consensus that she was guilty as sin.
I helped with the search for two hours and then went to work. When I returned home at nightfall, I learned that there were no new developments.
Sitting up in bed, Sasha and I watched the local news channel, and we both peered at the TV intently when images of Heather’s press conference from earlier in the day flashed across the screen.
Sasha’s mouth was gaped open as she listened to Heather speak. “I can’t believe she mimicked crying sounds, trying to get the public’s sympathy. It’s painfully obvious that she doesn’t care.”
“I got the same impression while I was out there today. I’m starting to feel foolish for participating in a search for a child we’ll probably never find. Cory, her boyfriend, has a sinister look. He seems to be the type that wouldn’t hesitate to choke the life out of a child and then toss her body in the river.”
Sasha visibly shivered. “That poor little girl didn’t stand a chance with that mother of hers.” She turned toward me and touched my hand. “But we can’t allow our suspicions to stop us from searching for her, Malik.”
“I know.”
I clicked off the TV and snuggled close to my wife, comforted by her sweet smell and her warm, soft body. While waiting for sleep to overtake me, I wrestled with the idea of pulling Phoenix from the search party. God forbid if he ran across another item of clothing and once again did something stupid.
Then again, his absence from the search might cause people to look at him suspiciously, and I doubted if I’d be able to conduct myself in a calm manner if the police came snooping around here and asking questions.
Even though the red boot would never be found, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain that the mate wasn’t hidden somewhere on our property.
The thought of it turning up at a most inappropriate time gave me the shivers.
CHAPTER 24
A month elapsed without any sign of Taylor.
Despite all the accusations made against Heather and her boyfriend, there was no proof that they were involved. With no arrests and no viable suspects, the case was swiftly going cold, and many members of the community no longer expected to see the child alive again.
Wanting closure and determined to make someone pay for the crime, an infuriated neighbor spray-painted the words, “Child Killer,” on Heather’s garage door. People shouted epithets at her whenever she had the audacity to show her face in public, and demanded to know where she’d hidden her daughter’s body.
Rumor had it that Heather was trying to pressure the state into providing her with a death certificate for Taylor, so that she could collect the child’s inheritance. But without a body, there wasn’t any proof that a death had actually occurred.
Residents insinuated that if Heather wanted the money badly enough, sooner or later, she’d figure out a way to lead the police to Taylor’s remains without implicating herself.
By the time the Christmas season rolled around, the search parties grew smaller, the posters began to wither and curl at the edges, and the bright yellow ribbons had turned a dull beige color. Other than a balloon-release ceremony to remember Taylor on her birthday in early December, there weren’t very many gatherings in her name anymore.
Our family had planned to spend the holiday vacationing in Philadelphia. Although each of us could have benefited from spending some time away from Springfield Hills, my parents were so obvious in their show of favoritism toward Phoenix that Sasha and I concluded that a visit to their home wouldn’t be healthy for Zoe’s self-esteem.
Phoenix, however, planned to make a solo trip. He wanted to spend some time with Elle and Everett, and I was secretly delighted to get a break from him. I’d been watching him like a hawk since the day I’d discovered the red boot, and had grown weary of keeping tabs on him and putting up with his sighs and eye rolls whenever I questioned him about his whereabouts.
I’d also begun to develop sleuthing skills, and often spied on Phoenix, checking his phone and other electronic devices for clues that would reveal if he was unbalanced and criminal minded. I was so convinced that he was leading a double life that I sometimes tailed him in my car. I needed to see with my own eyes that he was actually hanging out with his friends as he claimed and wasn’t at a clandestine location chopping up a body or secretly admiring the Wonder Woman costume that belonged to a dead little girl.
Suspecting that my son had killed Taylor Flanagan kept me on edge, and I was constantly on the verge of pleading with him to tell me where he’d hidden her body. The main reason I wanted to know was so that I could get rid of any incriminating evidence that he may have foolishly left behind.
Despite my fatherly intuition that pointed to Phoenix as the killer, he appeared to be as innocent as a lamb. He engaged in normal teenage activities, and I never caught him doing anything that was even remotely sinister. He continued to keep up with his therapy sessions, he helped around the house, and was excelling at school.
From all appearances, Phoenix was a well-adjusted adolescent boy.
But I still needed a break from him. I needed cessation from chronic worry. Not a day went by that I didn’t wonder if I was raising a psychopathic serial killer.
A week before Christmas, I happily drove Phoenix to the airport. He was much more animated and talkative than usual, and I attributed it to him being excited about seeing Elle and Everett.
“Guess what, Pops?”
“What?”
“Matt’s grandfather lives on a ranch—about five miles from our house. He offered to give me horseback riding lessons if it’s okay with you.”
“It’s fine with me as long as you don’t try to convince me to buy you a horse,” I said, trying to make a joke.
“I wouldn’t ask for a horse. I don’t actually need to own one. Matt’s grandfather has two large stables filled with horses, and he said I can ride whichever one I like whenever I visit. Matt’s been riding horses since he was a little kid, and he can’t believe that I’ve never ridden one.”
“You catch on quickly to anything you pu
t your mind to. You’ll be an excellent rider in no time.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said with a smile. In that moment, I saw a light in his eyes that glimmered with childlike joy, and I felt ashamed of myself for mistrusting him and for even thinking that there was a possibility that he was a murderer.
I was sure that Heather Flanagan was the real killer, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.
It was time for me to stop expecting the worst out of Phoenix and to stop allowing the secret we shared to destroy our relationship before it had time to blossom. It was also time for me to start giving Phoenix the benefit of the doubt regarding his innocence, instead of waiting for the other red boot to turn up.
Exhaling audibly, I returned his smile.
This was a new beginning for us, and I could feel a positive shift occurring.
“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” I said sincerely.
“Don’t get mushy, Pops. I’ll only be gone for ten days.”
“I know, but I’m still gonna miss you.”
• • •
Springtime in Arizona began in early March. Despite the fickle heat that sometimes shot up to a hundred, it was a time of the year that I’d come to appreciate and love.
There was no comparing March in Philly, with its cold, biting wind known as “The Hawk,” with spring in Arizona when the lemon, orange, and grapefruit trees bloomed, filling the air with a wonderful, citrusy perfume.
Due to unseasonably warm days, our family was able to get an early start in enjoying our lovely, new pool. Zoe’s swimming lessons weren’t scheduled to begin until May, but in the meantime, we all pitched in, trying to teach her how to float.
But our efforts weren’t very successful. She admitted to a fear of drowning and said she was too terrified to even attempt to hold her breath and submerge her head in water.
“But you love the rides at water parks,” Sasha reminded her.
“That’s different. You only get splashed at the water park, and you don’t have to try to swim underwater.”
I suspected that Zoe’s fear of drowning was merely a phase. In no hurry to learn how to swim, she seemed content to splash around in the pool with an inflatable ring encircling her body for the rest of her life. Sasha and I didn’t think we should force her to do something that terrified her, and there was a strong possibility that we would cancel her upcoming swim classes in May.
From my home office, I enjoyed hearing the gleeful sounds of Phoenix and Zoe playing around in the pool. Often Phoenix would pretend to be a shark, swimming underwater, playfully nipping at Zoe’s ankles and legs. Her squeals of delight verified that the high cost of building a pool had been worth every dollar.
One day while the two of them were in the pool and while I stared at my computer monitor, reading up on tax tips for small business owners, I noticed that the kids were unusually quiet. Assuming they’d tired of the pool and were stretched out on towels, sunbathing, I ventured to the window to check on them.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I viewed Phoenix with his palm placed on top of Zoe’s head, forcibly holding her underwater.
Hyperventilating with fear for Zoe, I knocked over a wastebasket as I raced to the backyard. Running at full speed, I zoomed down the hallway and out the kitchen door. By the time I reached the backyard, Phoenix had allowed her to come up for air. Looking tortured, the poor child was wild-eyed and gasping for breath by the time I made it to the edge of the pool.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Phoenix? Are you out of your mind?” I was dangerously close to hauling off and clocking him in the face, but I somehow managed to restrain myself.
“I’m okay, Daddy. Really, I’m okay,” Zoe sputtered as she simultaneously tried to assure me of her well-being while also trying to recover from being forced to endure her worst fear.
“Chill, Pops. I was only trying to help her,” Phoenix said with a stunned expression as if I was behaving like an irrational, crazy man.
“If you ever do anything like that to her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ neck…do you hear me?” Spittle flew from my lips, and I was practically foaming at the mouth as I took angry steps toward him.
“Daddy, your language,” Zoe shouted, covering her ears.
Ignoring her protestations, I pointed a finger at Phoenix as I revved myself up, ready to continue my tirade.
“Stop it, Daddy. Please. Phoenix didn’t do anything wrong. I asked him to help me learn how to hold my breath under water. I wanted to surprise you and Mommy by overcoming my fear.”
My anger was replaced with shame, and I couldn’t meet Phoenix’s eyes. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for jumping to conclusions, but instead of expressing regret for my violent reaction, I inexplicably continued to chastise him.
“I don’t care if she asked for your assistance. You should have used better judgment before you held her head under water.”
“Man!” he uttered in frustration. “I can’t win with you. You blame me for everything…whether I’m right or wrong, and it’s never gonna change.” He jumped out of the pool and wrapped a towel around his waist. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the ranch and spend some time with the horses. Is that okay with you?” he asked snidely.
“Go ahead,” I mumbled in a tone that suggested that I didn’t care where the hell he went.
“And this time, don’t bother following me because you’re a lousy detective.”
I was surprised that Phoenix had known all along that I followed him, and the realization scorched my cheeks with red-hot embarrassment.
“What’s Phoenix talking about?” Zoe asked.
“Nothing that concerns you, honey,” I mumbled. “Hey, you’re starting to shrivel up like a prune,” I said, changing my tone from furious to cheerful. “It’s time to get out of the water. Okay, Zo-Zo?”
She nodded hesitantly as she watched Phoenix stomp toward the house. She turned her head in my direction and gazed at me questioningly.
I shrugged as if Phoenix was being overly dramatic for no reason.
I should have run behind him and expressed a sincere apology. I also should have brought to his attention the fact that I had stopped following him way back in December.
But I didn’t.
After the pool incident, the gap between Phoenix and me widened even more. Due to my ego and my pride, I did nothing to repair our badly damaged relationship.
CHAPTER 25
After a week of avoiding each other and barely speaking, the tension between Phoenix and me did not dissipate.
“How long is this thing with you and Phoenix going to last?” Sasha asked one morning as we were having coffee and preparing for the day.
“What thing?”
“The rift.”
“What rift?”
She sucked her teeth in exasperation. “Zoe told me that you jumped all over Phoenix for no reason while they were playing in the pool last week.”
“I had good reason. He was dunking her head under water, knowing full well that she has a fear of drowning.”
“But you were told that it was Zoe’s idea.”
“Zoe’s only nine years old, and—”
“She’ll be ten next week,” Sasha reminded me.
“My point is she’s too young to know the proper ways to overcome her fear. You should have seen her face when he finally let her up. A swim instructor would never use such a cruel method on a student.”
“But he’s not a swim instructor; he’s just a kid. Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on him?”
“Not really.”
“Zoe told me that she asked him not to let her up until thirty seconds had elapsed.”
“I don’t care what Zoe told him. He should have known better than to go along with it.”
“You’re being unusually stubborn.”
“If Zoe told him to count to thirty while she jumped off a cliff, would he have agreed to do that? I think not.”
<
br /> Sasha cracked a smile. “Now, you’re being silly. Honestly, Malik, you need to fix this. You are creating such a bad vibe in the household, I’m tempted to call Ahiga and ask if he would come over and perform a Native American ritual to bring peace back into our home.”
“Are you making fun of the traditions of the Mojave people?”
“Of course not. My own people at home in Madagascar are indigenous, and we have many rituals and traditions that westerners would frown upon. But I can’t get a Malagasy elder to travel all the way to America on the fly. Ahiga, on the other hand, is conveniently only twenty minutes away.”
“I realize you’re being playful, but do me a favor…”
“Yes?”
“If you should happen to speak with Ahiga in the near future, please don’t mention my beef with Phoenix.”
Sasha lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “Why not?”
“Ahiga tends to act like he’s my father, and he would actually drive over here with a ceremonial peace pipe. And then he’d take us out in the backyard and make us smoke it.”
Sasha gave a full belly laugh.
“I’m not being funny. I’m serious,” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks for giving me some leverage. And now I’m definitely going to call Ahiga and tell on you.”
“You wouldn’t sell your own husband out, would you?”
“I most certainly would. I’m tired of the friction in our home. You’re the adult, Malik, and it’s up to you to make things right with your son.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “You win, Sasha. I’ll patch things up with Phoenix. I promise.”
Over the course of the next few days, I tried to strike up conversations with Phoenix, but he continuously gave me the cold shoulder. He was spending more and more time riding horses at the ranch, and when he wasn’t physically there, he visited horse-related websites. He seemed obsessed with horses, and as a way to bury the hatchet, I offered to buy him his own horse. I’d done my homework and discovered that we had more than enough land to build a stable and provide open space for the horse to get some exercise.
Flesh and Blood Page 17
