“You said you can’t go to the police,” Barbara pointed out. “It could be because you’re somehow involved in all this. You could be an accessory to a kidnapping and not be aware of it!”
“That’s crazy,” Samantha said, “but I guess it’s possible. And not knowing is hurting both Julie and me.”
She extricated herself from Julie’s embrace.
“Come on, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll see if I can get someone to stand in for me. I’m going to take you home.”
Barbara sighed. “I still think you should let things happen on their own. The answers will come, and only then will you be prepared to face the police—and the child’s family.”
Samantha took Julie by the hand and left the room without answering Barbara.
“Are we going?” Julie asked. “I don’t like it here.”
They walked to the elevator.
“You know, you’d feel better if you told me exactly what happened.”
Julie stared down at her pink sneakers.
“There was a baby in a glass box,” she began. “I . . .”
The elevator door opened and they walked inside. Julie clammed up immediately, refusing to speak in front of the other people there. Samantha decided to wait until they were alone before pressing the matter.
When they got off the elevator, Samantha noticed a friend, Dr. John Brightman. She called to him, and his face lit up with a bright smile.
“Hi, Sam,” he said. He was the only person who ever called her by that masculine diminutive. “Thanks for taking over for me the other night. You really saved my neck.”
“Did you enjoy the wedding?”
“It was great,” John said. “And Kelly appreciates that I was able to take her after all. I still can’t believe I got the date mixed up. If I can return the favor . . .”
“As a matter of fact,” Samantha said, “you can return it right now.” She explained the situation to him, claiming Julie had taken ill.
John looked down at Julie, who smiled shyly.
“Hi, pretty thing,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry to hear you aren’t feeling well.”
He turned back to Samantha again.
“Maybe you should have Chris Webster up in pediatrics take a look at her.”
Samantha didn’t reply. She seemed to be thinking. John sensed she was bothered by something. He had only been working at Sangre de Cristo General for a year, but in that time he’d come to know Samantha like a good friend.
“Samantha, you aren’t in trouble, are you?”
Samantha hesitated. She’d confided in her best friend, but Barbara really hadn’t given her any practical advice. Should she involve another person? It really wasn’t fair to include John in all this.
He touched her elbow.
“Sam, I’m your friend,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do . . .”
Samantha sighed. Yes, he was a friend, and she needed all the advice she could get.
“Julie, would you go on to the nurses’ station and pack all your things?”
Julie looked nervous, but Samantha smiled reassuringly and said, “It’s okay. Maria is there, and I’ll be along in a minute.”
Julie left the two adults. Samantha turned to John and said, “Yes, I’m in trouble. Something strange has happened, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” John suggested.
“Well, okay,” Samantha said. “It started the night I took over your shift. The last thing I remember clearly is driving up the road to my house . . .”
John listened attentively until she finished her story. He whistled softly.
“That’s bizarre,” he said. “You can’t imagine who did this to you?”
Samantha shook her head.
“What about a relative?” John suggested.
“I don’t have any relatives that I know of,” Samantha said. “For that matter, I don’t think I have any enemies. None of this makes even a bit of sense.”
John thought a moment.
“The things you’ve told me indicate you might have been brainwashed.”
“Why?”
“To get you to take the child without protest,” John said. “That’s why you’re so afraid every time you try to call the police. They fixed it so you wouldn’t report her!”
Samantha thought a moment.
“I’ll buy that,” she said. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense. But, for heaven’s sake, why? And why doesn’t Julie remember anything either?”
“You have a lot of questions,” John said. “What you need is a private detective.”
“Oh, no!” Samantha said. “No police.”
“A PI isn’t exactly the police,” John said. “And I happen to know one. A good friend of mine, Wil Sherer, retired from the force about eight years ago. He has a private agency now.”
“Well, I suppose I could try,” Samantha said. “It’s a logical next step. I’ll call him.”
John pulled a small black book from his back pocket. He tore a page from it, found a pen, and copied a number. He handed this to Samantha and said, “Promise me you’ll call.”
“I promise,” Samantha said. “Thanks, John.”
But as she held the number in her hand, fear began to rise in her. Despite everything John said, a private eye was a little too close to a police officer for comfort. If she tried to dial the number, would something terrible happen?
16
TATIANA WAS AWAKENED from a fitful sleep by a soft knock at her door. She sat up and opened her eyes. It took a moment to focus them, they were so sore from crying. Her voice was hoarse when she called:
“Come in.”
Olivia entered. She looked at her younger sister sadly, then came to the bed and put her arms around her.
“Tati,” she said softly. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry you got in trouble.”
“She called me a liar,” Tatiana said. “But I didn’t lie, really! Something scared me!”
“What, Tati?” Olivia asked with concern.
Tatiana hung her head. How could she explain, even to the sister who loved her, about the unnamed fear that had gripped her in those woods? She hadn’t seen anything monstrous, she hadn’t heard anything. It was just a . . . a feeling.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Maybe it was shadows in the woods,” Olivia suggested. “Or maybe it was that mean Ralphie Mercken playing a trick.”
Tatiana pulled away. She stared at her sister with huge chocolate-colored eyes.
“Olivia, I’m scared. Something bad is happening. Things are changing ever since Steven came here.”
Olivia clicked her tongue. “That’s ridiculous, Tati. How could Steven make things change?”
“Mommy’s never been so mean,” Tatiana said. She looked up at her sister again. “What was our other mommy like?”
“I don’t remember her,” Olivia admitted. “You were just a baby and I was only two when she left.”
“Maybe she’s nice,” Tatiana said. “Maybe, if she knew what nice girls she left, she’d come back.”
Olivia stood up. “Tati, that’s just crazy talk. You know Rachel is our mother now. Anyway, I came up to tell you she wants you to move all your things out of here and into my room.”
“What?” Tatiana was shocked.
“This is going to be Steven’s room,” Olivia said with an apologetic shrug.
“But he isn’t staying!” Tatiana cried. “They said it would only be for a few days!”
“I guess he’ll be here longer,” Olivia said. “I have to go now. Katherine and Michelle are waiting to play.”
She closed the door as she left the room. Tatiana grabbed the nearest stuffed animal and threw it with all her might. The toy dog hit the wall with a soft but satisfying thud, then fell in a twisted heap to the floor. Tatiana jumped from the bed and ran to pick it up.
“Bear!” she cried. She picked up the floppy dog and hugged i
t close. “Did I hurt you?”
Bear, of course, did not answer.
Tatiana held him tightly, feeling anger beyond her years. It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair! If they’d been in the woods, they’d know Steven was up to something! Then her mommy (her second mommy—not her real mommy, she decided) would know she wasn’t a liar at all.
She began to throw all her things into the center of her bedspread, planning to gather it all up together like a hobo’s bundle. No way was she going to leave one item in here for stupid Steven to mess up!
One by one, each of her belongings went into the pile. Her anger grew until at last she threw a doll with such force that it bounced against the headboard and landed with a flattened nose. At once Tatiana ran around the bed to pick up the injured doll. She hugged it close and began to cry loudly.
“It isn’t fair, Daisy! It isn’t fair!”
Downstairs, Eric had come home from the hardware store. When he walked into the house, he stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up.
“Rachel?”
Instead of his wife, he heard Tatiana’s loud wails. Wondering what had made the child so miserable, he hurried up to her room. Eric found his daughter sitting with her back against the side of her bed, her “Daisy” doll clutched tightly in her arms.
“Tati? What’s wrong, honey?”
Tatiana looked up at him with red, brimming eyes.
“She’s making me give my whole room to Steven,” she complained. “Olivia says Mommy wants me to take everything out of my room and give it to him, forever!”
Eric crouched down.
“Honey, you must have misunderstood,” he said. “Nobody’s going to make you give up your room forever!”
“But . . .”
Eric helped her to her feet.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ll find your mother, and she’ll explain things. Everything will be all right, you’ll see.”
Sniffling, Tatiana wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Eric found a box of tissues on her dresser and handed some to her. Then they went downstairs together.
They found Helga ironing in the laundry room.
“Mrs. Freleng went out?” Eric asked.
“She went shopping,” Helga said. She nodded her head toward Tatiana. “She is not supposed to be out of her room.”
Eric frowned at his daughter. “You didn’t tell me that. What happened, exactly?”
Tatiana hung her head. “Something got Ralphie Mercken in the woods, and Steven did it, and when I told Mommy, she didn’t believe me, and now I’m in trouble.”
“What do you mean, “something got Ralph Mencken in the woods’?” Eric repeated.
Tatiana told him what she’d told Rachel. When she finished, Eric looked to Helga for clarification, but the German woman only shrugged.
“Do you believe me?” Tatiana asked hopefully.
Eric sighed. “I know you don’t tell lies, Tatiana. But maybe you were mistaken. If Ralph had bullied Steven, why would he lie about it?”
“Mr. Frelong,” Helga said, “if I may say something? You were a boy once. Would you tell when someone was stronger than you?”
Eric thought about this, then nodded.
“Steven was too embarrassed to admit what happened,” he said. He looked down at Tatiana. “But it’s hard for me to buy that part about the wind.”
“It’s true!”
“If it had really happened,” Eric pointed out, “then there would be leaves and branches down in this whole area.”
He pointed out the window, across the back field.
“But look at the edge of the woods,” he said. “Not a broken branch or fallen leaf to be seen!”
Tatiana’s lower lip began to tremble.
“You don’t believe me either,” she said.
Eric picked her up and hugged her.
“Honey, I don’t think you’re lying,” he said. “I think you have an overactive imagination. And I think that you should respect Steven’s wishes for privacy. If he wants to talk about what Ralphie did, he will.”
They heard the front door open and close.
“Come on, your mother is home,” Eric said as he put his daughter down again. “Let’s talk with her.”
“Daddy, I’m scared . . .”
“Of what?” Eric asked. “She’s your mother, and she loves you. She’d never hurt you!”
But she already did, Tatiana thought. She wanted to tell her father this, but she was just too young to put the concept of emotional hurt into words.
Rachel and Steven were halfway up the stairs, both burdened with packages, when Eric stopped them. Rachel turned around and gave Tatiana a hard look.
“You weren’t supposed to leave your room,” she said. “Eric, did Tatiana tell you she’s been a bad girl? She was sent to her room for lying.”
“She told me what happened,” Eric said. “I think we need to talk.”
“Steven,” Rachel said, “take these up to your room and unpack them. I’ll come up in a few minutes to help you put them away.”
“Okay,” Steven said. “But I can just leave them in the bags. I don’t want to take any of Tatiana’s drawers away.”
He turned to the little girl, but Tatiana only stuck her tongue out at him. “Did you see that?” Rachel cried. “That child is becoming a brat! She needs to be punished, Eric! She’s selfish and spoiled and—”
“That’s enough, Rachel!” Eric snapped. He put an arm around Tatiana.
“You go on outside and play, honey,” he said. “Forget about what happened. You let me handle everything.”
Tatiana opened her mouth to say something, but decided she’d better not press her luck. Instead, she opened the front door and ran from the house. At that moment she wanted to be as far away from stupid-old-Steven, and her mother too, as possible.
Not to be outdone, Rachel looked at Steven.
“Go on up,” she said. “And don’t worry about the drawers.”
Steven hurried up the stairs, grateful to be away from a family altercation.
17
SAMANTHA SETTLED Julie in front of a cartoon show with a cup of hot chocolate. Then she took the paper John had given her upstairs to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the phone for a long time. She wondered if the horrible feeling of dread would overcome her again, freezing up her insides and making her want to scream.
She didn’t give herself much more time to dwell on the possibility. Her hand shot out and grabbed the receiver, punching in the numbers as if afraid that, any second now, something would make her fingers stop moving.
Nothing happened. It was going to be all right.
She had let the line ring about fifteen times and was about to hang up when a voice answered with words she couldn’t decipher.
“Pardon me?” she asked. “Is this the Sherer Detective Agency?”
There was a moan, and a moment later a voice said, “This is Wil Sherer. Sorry. I was sleeping.”
Sleeping, in the middle of the day? Samantha wondered how good a detective he could be if he had so little to do.
“Uh, what can I do for you?” Sherer asked.
“My name is Samantha Winstead. We have a mutual friend, John Brightman?” Samantha introduced herself. She heard an acknowledging sort of noise from the other end of the line. “I have a problem, and he told me you might be of help. You see, I—”
“Wait,” the detective said. “I don’t discuss business over the phone. Can you meet me this afternoon?”
Samantha looked toward her door, as if she could see downstairs to where Julie sat watching television.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I have a child here. Well, I could try to get a baby-sitter.”
“I like kids,” Sherer said. “You can bring him along.”
“It’s a girl,” Samantha said. “She’s the object of all this. And I’d prefer not to bring her.”
She felt that Julie had been upset enough that day.
&nb
sp; “Well, you make arrangements,” Sherer said. “I’m just off a case, so I’m pretty free for the next few days. Just give me a call.”
He hung up before Samantha could say another word. She looked at her alarm clock. According to the time, Barbara Huston was off-duty. If she hadn’t gone out after work, she’d be home by now.
“Wishful thinking,” Samantha said. “Barbara’s probably got a date. Even if it is a week night.”
But Barbara was her only choice. She prayed her friend would be home, and willing to baby-sit. Samantha was certain that if she didn’t meet Wil Sherer this afternoon, she’d never meet him. Her fear of anything to do with the police promised that.
She dialed Barbara’s number and was delighted when her friend answered the phone.
“Hi, Barbara,” she said. “Are you busy this afternoon?”
“Not until eight,” Barbara said. “Hang on, I have to switch ears.”
A moment later: “I’m cooking here. Fred Matlin is coming for dinner.”
“Who’s that?”
“One of the guys from the lab,” Barbara said. “Why do you want to know if I’m busy?”
Samantha felt like an intruder. “Forget it. I was going to ask you to watch Julie, but . . .”
“Where are you going?”
Samantha told her about Wil Sherer.
“Samantha, are you sure?” Barbara asked. “I mean, think of the way you reacted each time you tried to call the police!”
“It didn’t happen this time,” Samantha said. “I can’t see any other way to solve this mystery.”
“Well . . .” Barbara seemed to be thinking it over.
“Can you bring Julie to my apartment?”
“You’ll watch her?” Samantha asked. “What about your date?”
“He doesn’t get off until seven. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?”
“I should think so,” Samantha said.
“Then bring Julie on over,” Barbara said.
They agreed on a time, and hung up. Samantha immediately dialed Wil Sherer’s number and made arrangements to see him within the hour. Then she went downstairs. The television was turned off, and Julie wasn’t in the living room. Following the sound of running water, she traced the child’s whereabouts to the kitchen.
Cries of the Children Page 10
