Flesh and Blood

by Allison Hobbs

  But when I mentioned it to Phoenix, he wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “No point in going through all that trouble. I’m still learning the ropes from Gramps, and I’m too inexperienced to try to maintain a horse on my own.”

  Inwardly I flinched when he referred to Matthew’s grandfather, Leonard Fawcett, as Gramps. He had bonded with a stranger instead of bonding with me. I supposed I should have stopped trying to win him over with material things rather than spending quality time with him.

  I stood in his doorway trying to think of something that we could do together, and it dawned on me that he’d probably be thrilled if I taught him how to drive.

  “What do you think about getting a jumpstart on driving?”

  “It’s a little early for that. I can’t get a permit until I’m sixteen.”

  “No one needs to know except you and me. We can sneak out at night and get a few lessons in once a week. How does that sound?”

  I expected him to smile broadly at the prospect of driving lessons. But once again, he wrinkled his nose as if I’d invited him to join me at an old school rap concert featuring Big Daddy Kane, MC Lyte, Kool Moe Dee, and Salt-N-Pepa.

  Feeling defeated and foolish for even trying to mend our broken relationship, I eased out of his doorway and trudged down the stairs.

  • • •

  The days leading up to Zoe’s tenth birthday party were hectic. Never in my life had I spent so much time at Party City, Walmart, and Michaels crafts store. Wanting the party to be perfect, Sasha constantly added to the long list of mandatory items for Zoe’s mermaid-themed slumber party.

  We’d originally planned to give her a pool party, but we’d have to hire a lifeguard to ensure the guests’ safety. Despite that extra precaution, we feared that something still could go wrong. Consequently, we decided that a sleepover was the safest option.

  The scene was set for girlie night with an abundance of turquoise, teal, and aqua-green decorations. The entire downstairs was transformed, giving the area a whimsical “under the sea” appearance. Adding to the tropical concept, we scattered plastic seashells, sand dollars, starfish, faux coral, and silk seaweed throughout the living room floor.

  Sasha took the entire oceanic motif to the next level with starfish-shaped pizza, blue punch, seashell pasta salad, and turquoise and white cupcakes.

  Upon arrival with their sleeping bags in tow, the ten invited guests were greeted with bubbles and balloons. Thankfully, we rented a bubble blower and I didn’t have to stand around blowing them through a plastic wand as I’d imagined when I’d heard about the floating soap idea.

  After they ate food and cake, they sang karaoke. Sasha had prepared an itinerary for them to follow that included manicures and games and ended with the girls watching The Little Mermaid, and then going to bed. But the girls had other ideas, such as playing in makeup, swapping clothes, taking pictures for Instagram, and texting boys.

  “We’ve done our part and I think we should leave them alone,” I suggested, tugging on Sasha’s arm and leading her upstairs.

  After an hour or so, Sasha went back downstairs to do a head count, set the alarm, and make sure that each child was comfortable.

  Not wanting any parts of girlie night, Phoenix asked in advance if he could stay overnight at Ryan’s. Although we were still attempting to keep close tabs on our children, we had become acquainted with Ryan’s parents and knew they would keep an eye on him and not allow him and Ryan to wander the streets after their ten o’clock curfew.

  The girlish shrieks and squeals prevented Sasha and me from falling asleep, and we were both awake at midnight.

  “Do you think they’ll ever be quiet and go to sleep?” she asked.

  “I don’t have any experience with slumber parties, so you tell me,” I said jokingly.

  “I never had a slumber party or any other kind of party while growing up. My mother worked hard and was too tired to put up with a bunch of noisy girls. Besides, we didn’t have the room in our three-room cottage.”

  I brushed a lock of hair from her face. “You work hard, too. Yet you took the time to put together a party that Zoe will fondly recall for years to come.”

  “I’m hoping she’ll refer to her tenth birthday as the best day ever,” Sasha said, mimicking a term that Zoe and her friends often used.

  According to Zoe, this past Christmas was the “best day ever” and a month ago, a school trip to the Arizona Bird Observatory had been the “best day ever.” For the most part, she was a happy child, and her mother and I could always be counted on to make sure that her happiness continued.

  The girls quieted down at around twelve-thirty, and I was finally able to drift off to sleep. I was dog-tired from running around in the heat and preparing for the party. I should have fallen into a deep sleep, but I slept fitfully and kept waking up with a start. Each time that happened, I would hurry downstairs to check on the girls and obsessively recheck the alarm system, making sure that it was armed.

  After the third trip downstairs, I returned to bed satisfied that the house was locked properly and everyone was safe and sound.

  In a deep sleep, I dreamed that I was visiting Phoenix at the same hospital in Philadelphia where he had been admitted after he’d overdosed. In the dream, after inputting the numbers to unlock the door of his secured unit, there was a loud beeping sound, indicating that I’d put in the wrong code.

  I could see Phoenix through a large, plate-glass window, and I yelled his name, but he didn’t hear me. I punched in numerous passcodes, one four-digit sequence after another, and the beep grew louder and louder. Overtaken by a sense of desperation, I began yelling for someone to give me the correct code. Suddenly, there was the sound of alarms going off on every floor of the hospital causing me to crumble into a heap on the floor, yelling and covering my ears.

  This time I awakened with the undeniable knowledge that something was wrong. I shot a look at Sasha and not wanting to worry her, I was relieved that she was in a deep sleep.

  I took the stairs two at a time and rushed to the living room. My hand flew to my mouth as I stood in the middle of the room gawking in disbelief.

  It took a few moments to process what I was looking at. Unable to accept the obvious, my brain frantically searched for an explanation, but there was none.

  There were eleven sleeping bags. Little girls curled in various sleeping positions filled ten of them. But the blue sleeping bag, bedecked with fluffy white clouds and rainbows, was empty. The occupant, a freckle-faced girl named Paisley, was gone.

  I struggled to comprehend the awful reality that a child who should have been safe while under Sasha’s and my care was simply gone.

  CHAPTER 26

  Holding on to hope, I raced to the powder room. The door was wide open, but no one was inside.

  I examined the keypad of the security system and discovered that it was set in “Away” mode instead of “Stay.” And making matters worse, the motion detector had been disarmed.

  With overwhelming fear, I punched in the alarm code. The beeping sound reminded me of my dream, and I realized that while I slept, I’d heard an intruder, disarming the system as he’d entered and then arming it when he’d exited with Paisley in his clutches.

  But no random intruder had access to the passcode of our security system. No one except Phoenix could have stealthily gotten inside our home. Paisley knew Phoenix well and she may have trusted him enough to leave without putting up a fuss.

  I had to find her before he harmed her, and I didn’t have time to throw on some clothes. Barefoot and wearing pajamas, I grabbed my key ring from a kitchen drawer, disarmed the system and hurried outside to my car.

  Where would he take her? Is he walking or riding his bike? Does he have a secret hiding place in the woods? I asked myself a dozen or more questions as I backed the car out of the driveway and slowly cruised down the street. There was no point in breaking speed limits since I had no idea where I was going. Turning left and then right, I dr
ove around our neighborhood trying to get inside Phoenix’s head.

  There were hundreds of miles of wilderness in our area, and he could have been anywhere. I gnawed on my middle fingernail as I pictured him luring the child into the woods. But then, I was comforted by the thought that no matter how much Paisley trusted Phoenix and no matter what kind of a story he’d concocted, she’d never willingly enter the woods at night without yelling and putting up a fight.

  Needing her to be quiet, he undoubtedly took her somewhere she wouldn’t feel threatened. But where? Back to Ryan’s house? No, not there. He needed to be somewhere with complete privacy. A place where he could commit a heinous crime without being interrupted.

  Time was of the essence and I implored my sluggish mind to cooperate.

  Then, it hit me. Phoenix was at Matt’s grandfather, Leonard Fawcett’s, ranch. The place was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountainous backwoods and over fifty acres of land. Phoenix and old man Fawcett had taken me on a tour of the place back when Phoenix had first shown an interest in horseback riding. While there, the old man confided to me that he was going blind and was headed for a nursing home if his children had their way.

  The ranch had seen better days, and judging by the lack of upkeep, it appeared that Mr. Fawcett’s vision problems and advanced age were making it difficult for him to handle the responsibility of running such a large place. I noticed that quite a few isolated structures were scattered throughout the grounds. There were horse facilities that included two twelve-stall stables, a hay barn, several old sheds, an office building that was no longer in use, and a desolate-looking storehouse with a rusted lock dangling on the outside. And the diverse terrain included enormous rock formations as well as smooth riding trails.

  As secluded and as rundown as Mr. Fawcett’s ranch had become, it would be viewed as a haven to someone who had something to hide.

  I hit the brakes and was about to turn the car around and head out to the ranch when it occurred to me that Phoenix wouldn’t attempt a five-mile trip on a dark, rugged road with a little girl in tow.

  He took her somewhere closer.

  Where are you, Phoenix? Where the fuck are you?

  Struck by a flash of clarity, I knew with certainty where he’d taken her.

  I parked my car a couple houses away from the Westfields’ former residence. Not wanting to be noticed by neighbors, I crept to the back of the empty property, pajama-clad and barefoot. I jimmied the basement window open and slithered in.

  In the pitch darkness of the empty home, I could feel my heart slamming against my chest as I felt along the walls, finding my way to the main level of the home.

  Don’t let me find Paisley bloody and battered. Please, let her be all right.

  The Westfields’ home was designed similar to our house and I made my way through the darkened kitchen and dining room with ease. In the vast family room, I could hear the soft murmur of a voice coming from upstairs. I crept closer to the stairwell and was able to hear the voice more clearly. It was undoubtedly Phoenix’s voice, but I didn’t detect anger and he wasn’t ranting like a lunatic. There was a rhythmic quality to his vocals, like he was reciting or reading something. A killer’s manifesto? Some sort of satanic chant?

  I didn’t know what to think. Desperate to find Paisley unharmed, I raced up the stairs. The thick carpet muffled the sound of my pounding footsteps, and when I made it to the top of the landing, both Phoenix and Paisley released utterances of surprise.

  But neither of them was more surprised than I when my eyes landed on a camping tent that Phoenix had set up in the middle of the empty bedroom. He and Paisley were seated inside the tent, their silhouettes illuminated by the glow of a flashlight.

  “Phoenix! What the hell is going on?” The words came out breathless and in a rapid-fire staccato.

  Phoenix popped his head out of the opening, and a look of astonishment appeared on his face. “What are you doing here, Pops?”

  Paisley peeked out next and offered me an awkward smile.

  Although I felt immense relief at finding her alive and apparently unharmed, I couldn’t contain my rage.

  “This is crazy. What is your problem?” I yelled as he crawled out of the tent.

  Wearing a mermaid pajama set and a pair of flip-flops, Paisley emerged and stood next to him.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her as my eyes swept over her tiny frame, making sure there were no injuries on her body and no signs of foul play. Thankfully, she looked perfectly fine.

  “Why would you lure Paisley away from the slumber party and bring her here?”

  “I didn’t lure her anywhere. She was awake when I got home and she wanted me to play a video game with her. I told her I couldn’t because we’d wake everyone up. She looked like she was about to cry, and I was reminded of how scared I used to feel when I was wide awake and my parents were sound asleep. I felt sorry for her, and I offered to bring her here.”

  “For what reason?”

  “To read her a story and help her fall asleep. See…” He opened the tent’s flap and shined the flashlight inside, revealing a Harry Potter book that was cushioned by a blanket that he’d taken from our linen closet.

  My heart still didn’t soften toward him. What he’d done was irresponsible and thoughtless, especially since there still weren’t any answers regarding Taylor Flanagan’s disappearance. No rational-thinking person would have behaved so recklessly during these sensitive times. But Phoenix was only fourteen and despite his intelligence, he occasionally did stupid things.

  “How long have you been coming to the Westfields’ place? Do you realize that trespassing is a crime? You could go to jail for this, Phoenix,” I yelled.

  “Calm down, Pops.” He pressed both palms downward, gesturing for me to bring down the volume.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. With everything that’s going on in the neighborhood, why would you do something so incredibly stupid?” I folded my arms, waiting for an explanation.

  “I couldn’t get to sleep at Ryan’s, and so I came home and…”

  “You’re lying and we both know it.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Please, stop it!” My hand shot up like a crossing guard bringing the flow of traffic to a sudden halt. I narrowed an eye. “You were never at Ryan’s house, were you?”

  “I was there for a while, but then I left and came over here.”

  “Why, for God’s sake?” I asked with my arms outstretched, shaking my head in disgust.

  “I don’t know. I come here whenever I have a lot on my mind. It’s quiet and I can figure things out.”

  I wanted to ask what kind of things did a fourteen-year-old need to figure out, but I was too exasperated to continue listening to his explanations. He always had a handy response to any question I asked him. I was getting to the point where I was questioning my own behavior. It couldn’t be normal for a father to secretly suspect that his son could possibly be a killer. Maybe I was the one who needed to be in therapy.

  “You had no business bringing Paisley here.”

  “Are we in trouble, Mr. Copeland?” Paisley asked in a timid voice.

  I raised a hand, indicating that I didn’t want to hear from her right now. Guiltily, her eyes shot downward.

  And she wasn’t exactly blameless. At ten years old, she should have known better than to leave the house in the middle of the night, no matter what Phoenix suggested.

  I returned my seething gaze on Phoenix, waiting for him to make me understand his thought processes, but he didn’t offer anything more.

  I let out a weary sigh. “It’s late and I’m tired. Let’s get out of here.” I waved an impatient hand, beckoning him and Paisley to follow me downstairs.

  “What about my tent?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “Leave it!”

  “But…”

  “Leave the damned thing. You had no business carting it over here in the first place.”

  �
�Man!” he uttered in annoyance, as if he’d been unfairly wronged and was fed up with being mistreated.

  I yanked the flashlight from his hand and led the way.

  The three of us walked in silence to my car.

  Two minutes later, we arrived home, and Phoenix went straight upstairs to his room.

  Yawning and stretching her arms, Paisley meandered over to her empty sleeping bag. It was on the tip of my tongue to warn her against mentioning her adventure with Phoenix to her parents. But something told me I didn’t have to worry about her volunteering information. Kids were great at keeping secrets from their parents, particularly secrets that had the potential of getting them in trouble.

  Like a tired old man, I grabbed the railing for support as I slowly climbed the stairs. The only thing that could make this night any worse would be if Sasha was awake and sitting up in bed, waiting for an explanation as to why I’d gone out in the middle of the night.

  I lacked Phoenix’s expertise in quickly concocting a believable story, and I had no idea what kind of lies would emerge from my mouth. When I crept inside our room, my tension lifted. Sasha was curled on her side and was sleeping like a baby.

  I eased into the master bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub and carefully washed the soles of my feet. As I watched the dirt run down the drain, I wondered once again if I was nuts to think that Phoenix wasn’t as innocent as he pretended to be.

  Until someone was officially charged with Taylor Flanagan’s disappearance, I would continue struggling to believe that my son was totally innocent.

  CHAPTER 27

  I noticed that there weren’t as many parents dropping off and picking up kids at the bus stop. The beauty of the spring season seemed to have created a false sense of security, convincing many of the residents that if Taylor’s mother and her boyfriend weren’t responsible for her disappearance, then it must have been a drifter or vagrant—someone passing through. There was a general feeling that no one from Springfield Hills could possibly be responsible. The residents were upstanding citizens that were family-oriented and had Christian values, and were also far too image-conscious to get involved in something as repulsive as abducting a child.