“I’m rinsing out my cup,” Julie said.
“That’s nice of you,” Samantha said. “Someone’s taught you good manners.”
Julie didn’t respond, as if she was growing bored of this mysterious “someone.”
“Can I go outside and play with the dogs?” she asked.
“Later,” Samantha said. “Right now, I have someplace important to go. Barbara Huston said you could stay at her place for a few hours.”
“She’s the doctor from the maternity ward?”
“The very same,” Samantha said. “Barbara’s very nice. You had a bad scare, so you didn’t really meet her.”
Julie nodded, her hands holding fast to the edge of the sink. “It was scary, where the tiniest babies were.”
“Can you talk about it now?”
Julie turned around. “I think so. I went up there looking for Dr. Huston, because you said she’d show me the babies.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise,” Samantha said.
“There weren’t many people there,” Julie said. “I guess everyone was busy eating lunch. I took a look around, and I found the nursery.”
She pouted. “They had the shades pulled down. I could hear crying, but I couldn’t see a thing. Anyway, then I saw a window open down the hall.”
She went on to tell how she’d crept into the preemie ward, but hadn’t found any babies right away.
“Then I heard crying, and I looked behind a curtain.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered visibly.
“It was terrible! I saw that baby in that glass box and I was so scared! It made me think of a bad thing, of being stuck in a glass box I couldn’t get out of!”
Chills ran through Samantha as she tried to imagine what had happened to the child to make her think of such a thing.
“That is frightening,” she said. “But don’t you worry. You see, I’m going to see a private detective today. He’s going to help us find out where you came from.”
“Really?” Julie said. “What if it’s a bad place? Will I have to go back?”
Samantha thought about this. The idea of giving Julie up was still too painful to contemplate.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But once we clear this up, someone is going to be in a lot of trouble. I don’t think anyone will make you live with people who play mean tricks like this.”
Julie put her arms around Samantha and gave her a big hug.
“Let’s get going,” Samantha said. “I have to be at the detective’s office in an hour.”
Actually, she was there in almost half that time. She found Wil Sherer’s address on Laredo Street, one of a row of renovated Victorian houses. There was a small patch of pebble-covered land in front, decorated with various species of cactus. Dustballs and bits of scrap clung to the needles, blown by the wind. Forgotten newspapers, tattered and soggy, lay to either side of the walk. Samantha wondered what land of detective kept his home in such disarray.
She climbed up the stone stairs onto a porch still strewn with last autumn’s leaves. She located a bell next to the dark green storm door and pressed. There was an L-shaped tear in the screen. Behind it, the inside door stood open, allowing a view straight back to the kitchen. A figure, silhouetted by backlight pouring through a rear window, stood at a refrigerator tacking up a piece of paper.
“Come on in, Dr. Winstead,” Wil Sherer called.
Samantha entered a small and dusky living room. The bare floor, patched with dull spots where the polyurethane finish had worn off, was littered with newspapers, clothing, and other domestic debris. Next to a television set stood a beautiful turn-of-the-century mission chair, its back resting in the rearmost notch of its arms. A slate-gray jacket had been tossed into it. The antique chair seemed out-of-place in this mess, as did the Shaker-style table that stood in front of it. A suitcase lay open and unpacked on the tabletop.
Samantha had never seen such a mess. She hoped Sherer proved to be a more efficient detective than he was a homemaker.
The man in question appeared at the living-room door.
“Sorry,” he said, “I was weeding through messages my housekeeper left.”
Like his home, Wil Sherer was a mix of styles. It was hard to guess his age: his eyes were marked with crow’s-feet, but his light brown hair had no gray in it. He wore it in a punkish cut, short and raggy around the front and sides and long down the back. There was a three-day growth of beard on his face, outlined by heavy cheekbones. The T-shirt and whitewashed jeans he wore would have given him a James Dean look, except for the Top-Siders he wore. He stared quizzically with cobalt eyes, waiting for an answer.
Samantha was incredulous, and could only say, “You have a housekeeper?”
Wil’s laugh was deep and hearty.
“Actually, a kid who came in to feed the animals,” he said. “He answered a few calls too.”
He held up a hand. “Wait a second.”
He disappeared into what seemed to be a bedroom. Moments later he emerged wearing an ecru pullover shirt decorated across the chest with spice-colored Indian designs.
“Come on, let’s go back in my office. It’s more comfortable there.”
He offered her a hand, as if she couldn’t navigate solo through all the clutter. His grip was firm and warm.
“Sorry about the mess,” Wil said. “I just got back from Africa two days ago.”
“Africa,” Samantha said. “How exciting! What did you do there?”
She expected to hear a glamorous story of a safari.
“Child-abduction case,” Wil explained. “I’ve been working on this one for three years.”
“Did you find the child?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t easy getting him,” Wil said. “I had some mercenaries involved in ‘rekidnapping’ him. But it was worth it. He’s home with his mother now.”
Samantha smiled. How could anyone be so matter-of-fact about such an adventure?
“You must be glad when such a long case turns out successfully.”
“You bet,” Wil agreed.
Unlike the living room, Wil’s office was neat and efficiently furnished. Samantha guessed Wil spent most of his time in here. An oak and black laminate computer center had been built around one corner of the room, well-lit by overhead track lights and two tall prairie windows. Books and other knickknacks filled some of the cubbies, but most were occupied by small cages and aquariums.
“You have so many pets!” she exclaimed. ‘Julie would love it here.”
Samantha neared one cage and searched among the rocks and branches inside. She couldn’t see anything.
“Barney lives in there,” Wil said. “He’s a reticulated python. I don’t think Julie would like him very much. He’s got a bad temper.”
Wil showed her the marks of a bite on the heel of his right hand.
“Is Julie your daughter?”
“Oh, no,” Samantha said. “She’s the reason I came to see you.”
Wil swung a wheeled office chair around and pushed it toward her. She sat down. He started to do so himself, but stopped.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve been out of touch with civilization for so long I’ve forgotten my manners. Do you want some coffee or tea or something?”
“No, thanks,” Samantha said with a smile. As far as she could see, Wil’s manners were just fine.
“Then let’s get on with your story,” he said. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I want you to find Julie’s real family,” Samantha said. “You see, I only met her a few days ago. I woke up in a strange motel room, and there she was.”
“Did she say how she got there?”
Samantha shook her head.
“She said she came from some kind of home,” Samantha said. “She can’t remember anything else. At least, nothing concrete. She does have some frightening memories—almost ‘daymares.’ “
Wil sat back in his chair, rubbing his thumb along his jawline.
“Let me understand this,” he said. “You’ve got some kid living with you that you don’t know, have never seen before, and want to get rid of?”
“I didn’t say that!” Samantha protested. “I really care about Julie. In truth, it’s the very fact that I’m beginning to love her like a daughter that’s brought me to you. I can’t let myself become attached to this little girl if her family is waiting for her to come back. Detective Sherer, I need to find out who she is and where she came from. I need to know why she’s been given to me, of all people.”
“First of all, let’s stop with the ‘Detective’ and ‘Doctor’ business, okay?”
“Okay. ‘Samantha’ will be fine.”
“I guess you’ve called the police?” Wil asked.
He noted the sudden look of anxiety in his new client’s eyes.
“No, I can’t call the police,” Samantha said. She began to twist her fingers together nervously. “Something bad will happen if I do.”
“Like what?”
“I. . . I don’t know,” Samantha said. “But every time I try to call them, I become so terrified it’s like falling off a ledge!”
Wil heard that the calm, strong voice she’d used when she first came in had been reduced to a tremulous, mouselike gasp.
“Hey, take it easy,” he said.
Samantha shook her head, swallowing. “I’m fine, really.”
“No, you’re not fine,” Wil said. “You won’t be fine until we figure out what’s happening here. So, why don’t you start from the beginning?”
Samantha thought for a few moments, trying to find a starting point. Suddenly Wil got up.
“Wait a second,” he said. “I want to put this on tape, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s fine with me.”
“Good, it’ll make my job easier,” Wil said. “Hang on a second.”
He went to a door at the back of the room and opened it.
“The tape recorder’s right here in the closet,” Wil said, mostly to himself. “At least, I think it is.”
Samantha watched him as he reached up and pulled a light cord.
When she saw the old police uniform hanging neatly by itself on the rack, she began to scream.
“Get it away! Get it away!”
Wil grabbed his tape recorder, turned off the light, and closed the door. He hurried to Samantha.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
Now that the closet was secured again, Samantha opened her tear-filled eyes and gasped for breath.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“The . . . the uniform,” she said. “You’re a cop?”
She gazed at him with wide eyes that begged him to say it wasn’t true.
“Not these days,” he said. He scratched his head, looking at the closet. “Someone’s really done a number on you, Samantha. I don’t know what this is all about, but I’m intrigued. Are you ready to talk to me? Or do you need a few minutes?”
Samantha shook her head. She wiped the tears from her eyes and straightened her shoulders.
“I’m ready,” she said in a husky voice. “I’m ready to put an end to this craziness, once and for all. Make yourself comfortable. This is a long and crazy story. . . .”
For the next forty-five minutes Samantha told the detective all she could about her strange situation. The tape recorder hummed in the background, while various critters busied themselves in their small homes. When at last she finished, Wil reached over and pressed the Stop button. Then he glanced down at the pad where he’d also been taking notes.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he said.
Samantha watched his full lips move silently as he read to himself. She felt uncomfortable that she’d had one of her “attacks” in front of a virtual stranger. He probably thought she was some kind of hysteric.
One of the animals began to fuss noisily. Samantha stood up and looked inside a cage to find a butterscotch-colored mop skimming around the cedar-chipped floor. Wil looked up at her, one arm resting on the oak top of his desk.
“That’s a Peruvian guinea pig,” he said. “Her name is Brandy.”
“She’s cute,” Samantha said.
“Cuter than the python, anyway,” Wil agreed.
Samantha returned to her seat and gazed hopefully at the detective.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think,” Wil said, “that the very first thing we must do is locate the orphanage Julie came from. You said you looked it up in both Millersville and Ashleigh?”
Samantha nodded, her Dutch-boy hair bobbing.
“There wasn’t any such place listed.”
“Well, it may not even be in Colorado,” Wil said. “I’ll check with Social Services. Finding Henley is another matter entirely. I’d bet it was a pseudonym. Did the kid remember anything about him?”
“Not a thing,” Samantha said. “But those dreams I told you about—maybe the man forcing her into a box is Mr. Henley?”
She became pensive. “I wonder if she was also brainwashed? I wonder if we’ve been ‘programmed’ to like each other?”
Wil leaned forward, taking both her hands in his. It was the gesture of a longtime friend. Samantha considered him with hazel eyes.
“You care about her,” he said in soft, deep tones, “because you are a kind and caring person. I can tell that by the way you responded to my pets. I’ve worked on many child-abduction cases, and I’ve seen true evil. That’s what people who did this to you are—true evil. But I think we can find them, and I know we can stop them.”
For some reason, Samantha felt completely mesmerized. His words reached her as if through a dream. It was a few minutes after he had finished speaking before she managed to extract her hands from his.
“Uh, yes . . .” she stammered. She made a show of looking at her watch. “Oh, it’s late. Julie will be wondering about me.”
“I’ll need a picture of her,” Wil said. “To run through Missing Persons.”
Samantha looked worried.
“You may not be able to get to the police,” Wil said, “but no one tampered with my mind.”
“Of course,” Samantha said.
She stood up. Wil did the same.
“When can I expect to hear from you?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Wil said. “Are you working then?”
“Yes,” Samantha said. “Ask for Marie. If I’m not available, she’ll get a message to me.”
She started out of the office. Wil hurried to precede her, kicking trash out of her way as they walked to the front door.
“I’m going to enjoy the challenge of working on this case,” he said as he opened the door for Samantha.
“As long as you help end it,” Samantha said. “Because I don’t enjoy being someone’s pawn.”
18
LORRAINE WAS BEGINNING to feel restless. She’d exhausted all her activities, and though she held on to the fashion doll, she didn’t really feel like playing with it. It was scary, being kept inside like this. She kept feeling she had to be on her way to . . . somewhere. If only she knew where to find her family!
She began to skip around the apartment, her shoes thudding loudly on the bare wooden floor. A moment later there was a pounding noise from beneath the floor. Someone was hitting the ceiling with a broom. Bettina looked up from her knitting.
“Don’t do that, child,” she said. “Sounds travel quickly in an old building like this.”
Lorraine came to the couch and bounced into the cushions.
“There’s nothing more to do,” she said, frowning.
Bettina went on knitting. Lorraine thought the old woman was ignoring her. But after a few minutes she came to the end of a row and set the work aside.
“I know it’s hard,” she said. “But I promise you, we won’t stay in here forever. We just have to be certain that man never learns where you are. I’m sure you’re right to be afraid of him. The only safe thing
to do is stay hidden for a while.”
Lorraine shuddered, and moved closer to the old woman. Bettina put an arm around her.
“I don’t know how to deal with such an intelligent child,” Bettina said. “Your mind works too quickly. Most children would take days to complete the activities you’ve finished in a few hours.”
She looked around herself at the barren apartment.
“It’s too bad we don’t have a television,” she said. She snapped her fingers. “But why not? We certainly have enough money for a small set, don’t we? I saw one in that electronics store down the block. It was only one-ninety-nine.”
“Tax will make it about two-fifteen,” Lorraine estimated. “Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to run out of money and have to go back to the streets again.”
“We’ve paid a month in advance for this place,” Bettina reassured her. “And I think the hours will pass more quickly with entertainment.”
She stood up and went to the closet; actually, a door-less recess into the wall. Bettina pulled out her jacket and put it on. Then she took the case of money from its hiding place and removed some of it.
“Two hundred fifty dollars,” Lorraine said, immediately aware of the amount.
“I thought perhaps I’d get a few board games too,” Bettina said. “Surely a smart little girl like you is old enough to play with an adult.”
She tucked it deep into her pocket.
“I’m going now,” she said. “I won’t be but a few minutes, so you keep the door locked tightly and don’t let anyone in!”
She unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.
“Remember, I’ll be back in a short while,” she said. “Keep the door locked. And stay away from the window!”
“I will,” Lorraine promised, having no desire to see that frightful stranger again.
She listened as the old woman descended the creaking staircase. The sound subsided after a few moments, but then Lorraine heard the very clear sound of the front door being slammed.
She went to the kitchen for a drink of water. A few minutes later, a knock beckoned her to the door, but she stopped in her tracks halfway across the room. Bettina had said not to let anyone inside. What if that bad man had gotten into the building?
Cries of the Children Page 11
