by William Mark
“No, shhh. Please, Charlotte you have to be quiet.”
“No, leave me alone!”
Ms. Bennett heard the scream of Charlene upstairs and looked up towards the second floor, trying to figure out exactly what she heard. She looked back at Melinda with complete suspicion.
“Sounds like someone is up late watching television,” Melinda offered. Ms. Bennett wasn’t buying it and left the front door headed to the stairs.
Melinda called out after her but failed to hold her attention. “Shit!”
With the ruse no longer in effect, she dropped the briefcase to the ground and pulled out a small eight inch metal cylinder with a rubber grip and followed Ms. Bennett into the house.
“Oh shit!” Louis said from the van. “This is bad.”
Rachel spun her head around wondering what she could do to help. Beth dove into her backpack and pulled a notebook out. She flipped frantically through the pages looking for something in her notes, an odd reaction to the situation, Rachel thought.
Curt steadily tried to convince Charlotte Morgan to come with him but wasn’t getting anywhere. He heard the failed stall tactic by Melinda at the door and could hear Ms. Bennett calling out for Charlene.
“Call her ‘Honey Bear’!” Beth’s voice chimed in over the ear bud radio.
Curt paused as he struggled with the child, “Huh?”
“Call her ‘Honey Bear,’ it’s what her parents call her…do it!”
“Honey Bear, your mom and dad called you Honey Bear.”
In an instant, Charlotte Morgan stopped fighting the strange man in the trench coat and studied his eyes after he spoke that name.
“What did you say?”
“Honey Bear—that’s what your mom and dad called you, isn’t it? Is that something a bad man would know? Now, please come with me.”
She hadn’t heard that name in a long time and knew it only came from one place, home. At the sound of the name, she was instantly reminded of the lazy Saturday mornings she spent in her parent’s bed watching cartoons, the late evening strolls around the neighborhood holding hands, and the messy adventures of baking cupcakes for no special reason. Charlotte slowly reached out and took Curt’s hand, finally accepting his help. She sprung up, and they quickly made it to the threshold of the bedroom door, but Charlotte yanked free and ran back into the room. Curt immediately thought she duped him, but she reached for something to take with her.
“My journal, please, let me grab it.”
Charlotte ran over to her desk, picked up her journal, and ran towards Curt with complete trust. She grabbed him by the hand, and they ran as fast as her small legs would allow her down the stairs.
From the top of the stairs, Curt yelled out to Melinda for her to head toward the van. She had stepped just inside of the door after Ms. Bennett heard the scream and left to investigate. She stood there with an extended ASP baton in her hand. But she had failed to see where Ms. Bennett went once she entered the dark house. Melinda stood in the hallway just inside the door, waiting for Curt to come down with the child. She looked up at the top of the stairs to see Curt with Charlotte. She smiled, for success was theirs and disappeared out the front door obeying his order.
“Come on.” Curt squeezed Charlotte’s hand giving her the strength to continue with him.
As Curt made it to the bottom of the stairs, a sudden and sharp pain came viciously and unexpectedly to his right leg, causing both of his knees to buckle and fall to the ground. His tight grip of Charlotte’s hand pulled her with him, causing her to trip and slide down the hallway next to him. Ms. Bennett stood over him with a wooden baseball bat in her hand and was in the process of another upswing. Curt scurried backwards and shielded the girl from the ensuing blow, but luckily the follow up swing missed leaving Ms. Bennett off balance. Like a magician pulling the missing card from his sleeve, Curt withdrew his Glock .40 from his hip holster with lightning fast reflexes and aimed it directly at Ms. Bennett’s head, stopping her from reloading for another swing.
“Don’t even think about it.” She froze at the sight of the gun barrel looking dead at her.
“What are doing? You broke into my house, and you’re kidnapping my daughter! Child, run; he’s one of the bad men coming after you, run!”
“She’s not your daughter. Never has been and never will be. She’s coming with me.” Curt lowered his weapon at the woman’s compliance. “Swing on me again, and I’ll shoot you in the head!”
Francine Bennett heard the cold and callous demeanor of the man in the trench coat. She believed he was serious and realized this battle was over, and she had lost; so she lowered the bat. The thought of finding another child as she had found Charlene popped into her head.
“What happens now?” She asked pitifully.
“Nothing but to accept the fate you deserve.” Curt so badly wanted to shoot the kidnapper because she stood for everything he hated, but he knew it would not solve anything. Her fate was sealed the day he first spotted her at the mall and saw the truth hidden behind the young girl’s eyes. This was her creation. Plus, above all else, he knew it would not bring him back.
He looked down and helped Charlotte up from the floor while keeping a close eye on Ms. Bennett. The girl hid behind her savior, hoping her dreams would come true and that she would get to see her real parents and leave behind the hell she was forced into by this woman.
“The police are on their way Ms. Bennett.” She snapped back at the sound of her name. She grew paranoid that he knew her name and had figured out her secret and wondered what other secrets these people knew.
“The police are on their way, and this is the deal. You will not tell them about Charlotte, or about us. That will remain our little secret, and you will forget you ever saw us and never bring us up to the authorities.”
The woman scoffed, but his confidence caused her concern. “Why should I do that?”
“Because, if you bring it up, you will be exposed as a kidnapper which is a capital felony. That’s the gas chamber dumbass.”
Francine Bennett didn’t understand the deal, it sounded as if it was no harm, no foul to her. She didn’t see the catch.
“Okay, so why are the police on their way if I’m to tell them nothing?”
“They will be here…” Curt checked his watch. “…in five minutes to search your garage.”
The mention of kidnapping and the gas chamber didn’t seem to faze her, the promise of remaining silent about the man in the trench coat did cause some concern, but it was the mention of the police searching her garage that caused her to go into a full blown panic mode.
“B-b-b-but, ww-why would they do that? There’s no reason to search my garage; they can’t just do that. Not without reason. You put something in there. Didn’t you?”
“No we didn’t, and rest assured we gave them a good reason to search it.” Curt smiled arrogantly. “And you are going to confess to the hit and run murder of Joey Randolph when they get here too!”
“Huh? Who?” She started breathing heavy to the point of hyperventilation. Curt enjoyed seeing the woman squirm. She started pacing back and forth, the bat still draped in her hand and dragging against the laminate flooring.
“You remember him don’t ya? The little boy you killed six years ago when you hit him with your car. You were probably too drunk to even notice that you dragged his body for half a mile before leaving him to die.”
“But how….” She was dumbfounded at what she heard.
“Because you stole this little girl you piece of trash. Now sit down and wait for the police to get here. If we hear that you failed to confess to the hit and run murder…,” Curt paused and made sure she was listening carefully, “…I will come back here, and I will kill you myself.”
Ms. Bennett believed the threat as Curt’s eyes bore deep into her soul. He had an icy stare when he spoke. She watched helplessly as he left with Charlotte down the stairs and out of her life forever.
“She can’t and won�
�t ever hurt you again. I promise.” Curt added a smile for her sake. She smiled back, and he noticed the darkness behind her eyes began to fade into a bright sense of hope.
This reminded Curt that there was hope. It existed, and it was real. For another day, for another week, he would be able to hold onto that hope, and he desperately needed to believe there was hope out there, even for him.
Beth pulled the Mercedes Sprinter up in front of the brownstone to receive the girl. Melinda was waiting to take the girl from Curt as they walked down to the sidewalk.
“These are my friends, and they’ll take you to your parents. They are waiting to see you.”
“You aren’t coming?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”
Melinda greeted Charlotte Morgan with a wide friendly smile and helped her up into the van. Rachel had moved from the passenger seat to the back and helped the little girl climb into the van. Curt looked up and locked eyes with the new girl for the first time. He hoped that she realized what this team and their mission was really about. It was about this moment. She held his stare and instantly felt an odd connection to the man in the trench coat. He nodded to her and shot a glance over to Alexis then turned and walked down the sidewalk toward the Crown Vic. Rachel sat on the rear bench seat and found herself in awe of the little girl next to her and the success of the mission. She was speechless. Once Melinda buttoned up the van, Beth floored the accelerator and headed to the hotel with Charlotte.
The sirens of the approaching police cars grew louder as they approached Francine Bennett’s loveless brownstone and her garage that held a terrible secret—a secret that would have gone unchecked had Curt not seen the darkness in a little girl’s eyes as she fatefully walked past.
Chapter 4
As the Mercedes Sprinter van pulled up to the front of the towering Grand Hyatt Hotel, Beth turned to look in the back of the van to watch Charlotte as they approached. She wondered if the kid knew what was in store for her. The exterior lights of the hotel reached high up to its roofline, illuminating the giant building, giving it the mystique that it was more than just a hotel; it was an experience. People, tourists, and businessmen and women alike, moved in and around the elegant hotel as the team pulled nonchalantly up to the valet drop off. Beth parked the van short of the valet stand along the half-circle drive-way.
“I’ll be right back; stay here.” Alexis opened the van door and headed up toward the front of the hotel. This was her hands-on portion of the operation. Rachel studied the faces of the team, searching for a heads up of what was happening next, but as she was learning, this was not a talkative bunch. She focused on keeping Charlotte entertained.
Louis started clicking the keyboards behind Rachel and flipping switches on his machines, slowly powering them down.
With his workstation shut down, Louis slid past Rachel and the girl and stepped out of the van’s side door. He stretched his skinny torso and looked around at the passersby. He looked over to the front entrance of the hotel, a huge revolving door large enough for a small group to move through at once, and noticed Alexis making her way out.
Michael and Debbie Morgan were brought to San Francisco on the dime of the Missing Children’s Society to participate in the annual dinner the city held to honor and remember the missing children of Northern California, a number too staggering to accept. It was a difficult trip to make to the neighboring city to the north for such a somber reason, but the parents of Charlotte Morgan never gave up hope. They joined advocacy groups in San Jose and the surrounding cities, helped create public awareness of missing children cases, and had even helped in the recovery of three children since Charlotte had gone missing. They agreed it was their duty as parents.
However, there was no dinner and no ceremony to honor missing children. Alexis had paid their way in full under the guise of the awareness banquet and put them up in the expensive hotel all in preparation of reuniting them with Charlotte. Alexis had promised them tickets to the San Francisco Bay Orchestra as thanks for their efforts in the advocacy programs, but like the dinner, there was no concert either.
Once the identity of Charlotte Morgan was made, Alexis had full faith that her team would be able to recover her and bring her safely back to her parents. She was able to track them down quickly in San Jose and, with her influence and money, able to set the subterfuge with good intentions in motion.
Alexis stopped just outside the front door of the hotel and looked toward the van; Louis was now standing outside. She nodded toward the van and saw Beth acknowledge. Alexis had told the couple that she had arranged for their ride to the concert, and she was going to check its status, furthering the ruse. She looked through the front door of the hotel and waved the couple on to join her outside.
As the couple walked outside, in each other’s arms and fighting against the brisk summer wind, they stopped next to Alexis and awaited their ride, hoping it would be a fancy limousine. Such luxuries seemed inappropriate for parents of a missing child, but they had decided to allow this in honor of their daughter.
“Michael, Debbie…I have a surprise for you,” she said, holding back her excitement that seemed to confuse the forlorn parents. No matter how many times in the past that Alexis had done this, it never stopped causing such an emotional joy inside.
The couple, modest and humble, looked up at Alexis with gratitude.
“Oh, Ms. Vanderhill, you’ve done enough for us. What more could you possibly do?”
Alexis smiled a knowing smile and could only anticipate the happiness she was about to bring to these fine people. To stop herself from breaking down, she turned back to the van and waved at Beth eagerly.
Debra Morgan had never given up hope that her daughter was alive. She had never given up hope that she would one day return to her, but she questioned God’s motives daily as to why He would allow her child to be taken. She prayed each day that God would forgive her for the sin she unknowingly committed causing him to take her precious child. She prayed for forgiveness, not knowing exactly what sin she had committed, but still she prayed. She took this as a sign from God and joined the advocacy group with full force and motivation, knowing if she helped others, she would be rewarded one day. But when the day didn’t come, the stress of giving what she didn’t have was tremendous and weighed heavily on her relationship with her husband and others. They tried to conceive another child, but they lost two pregnancies to miscarriages. The doctor said that it was nature’s way of taking care of things, but she knew it was God’s will. She didn’t share this with her husband, but she was on the brink of giving up. She felt her small sliver of hope slipping away.
With all Debra had to endure, she saw Alexis Vanderhill standing before her talking of a surprise and looking down the sidewalk to a large black van parked by the sidewalk. Something inside of her stirred. It was hope rising from the depths of her being. Her hold on her husband loosened as she walked toward the van, feeling drawn to it without knowing why. Her husband looked on, trying to assess what was happening but was unable to put it together.
Debra felt herself floating towards the van as her body buzzed with a sense of overwhelming anticipation. She saw a thin dark-haired woman step from the side of the van and stand in front of a nerdy gentleman with a kind face. She stopped as they looked at her in bewilderment. Debra felt stupid, that she had been mistaken. Her hope began to dissipate into nothing.
But there was no mistake. The next set of feet that stepped out of the van belonged to Charlotte, dressed in pink and green pajamas and clutching a worn out notebook. She looked up at the dark-haired woman for direction. She smiled down at her and glanced over at Debra Morgan, not less than fifty feet in front of the van. Charlotte trustingly followed her gaze and locked eyes with her mother…her real mother.
Debra’s body went numb; her heart exploded with a euphoric bliss she had been saving specifically for this moment. Her eyes burst with tears, and the stress from four long years of agonizing torture m
elted away as she finally laid eyes on her child—alive. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, thanking God for finally rewarding her and bringing her beloved Charlotte home.
“Charlotte?” She called out through the sobs as she held her arms open.
Charlotte Morgan had gone through a lot. She had her world thrown into a wild tailspin of confusion that created more questions than answers. She saw the ghostly image of her mother crying on her knees and felt scared, not overjoyed like she had imagined during so many lonely nights in the past four years.
Rachel Goodwin stepped out of the van to watch the reunion and stood next to Beth. She saw the hesitation in the young girl and the confusion set in for the mother.
Charlotte looked up at Rachel with a need of guidance.
Rachel knelt down next to the child, “It’s okay, Charlotte.” The girl reached around her neck and squeezed, somehow scared to let go of the reality she’d known for the past four years. Rachel knew that children taken at a young age learned to adapt to their surroundings rather quickly and were, in some degree, brainwashed by their captors. Therapy sessions were in the girl’s future, but in this moment she wanted to encourage the girl to go to her mother to start the healing process.
“That’s your mother, honey, and she misses you so very much. This is where you belong. You can finally go home now.”
The hesitation in the child struck a hard shot of fear and anger deep inside Debra’s core, but this was her child. She wasn’t going to let go without a fight, not when she was so close.
“Charlotte, it’s me, Mommy! C’mere Honey Bear!”
Charlotte heard the love and warmth from her mother and let go of Rachel. She let loose a cry of her own and ran straight towards her mother. Charlotte’s face was streaming tears of joy as she ran to her mother’s open arms. She threw open her little arms and jumped at her mother, hugging her as tight as her small arms could bear.
“Oh, baby, baby, oh Honey Bear, I’ve missed you so much!” Debra said amidst the barrage of hugs and kisses. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry!”
