A Stranger's Touch (13 page)

It didn’t come at all.

She cleared her throat several times before she spoke again. “You talk to your sister much?”

He turned away and cracked open the window
,
craving the cool blast that stole his breath. That’s how he wanted to play it.
Cool.

“Always.” His one-word answer sat between them, crowding the small vehicle. Fortunately, Maggie didn’t pursue it.

“How did you get that scar on your chest?”

So she’d seen it. His stomach clenched. What other secrets had he given away in his stupor? “You working your way up to detective?”

“Just answer the question, Spider.”

How could he? Telling her would open up his world. A world she didn’t need to see. And it would only compound her fears for Davie. “Clumsiness.”

“You don’t strike me as a klutz.”

“I must have been daydreaming at the time.” He forced a smile and lowered his voice. “About a pretty girl.”

Wrong move. She stiffened and pulled away. With that extra line, he’d blown it. Said too much. Made her feel uncomfortable. At least, now, they were even. He made a mental note. No more flirting. Not with this lady cop.

“You mentioned you were from Florida,” she said, miles later. “You’re a long way from home.”

“As far as I could get.” And it was time for another move. The nomadic life suited him. Never get close, never get hurt, the words of his sacred credo.

He looked down at the speedometer. Thirty clicks over the limit. Stafford eased his foot off the gas. Speeding wasn’t going to help him get away from her questions. “How about you? You from Calgary?”

“Born and raised. My father was a police officer there.”

“And you’re following the family tradition?”

She tilted her head, looking pensive. “It was important to me. My dad was my hero. I like to think he’s looking down and he’s pleased with my choices.”

Her mouth turned into a frown, probably thinking ol’ dad wouldn’t be pleased with her now—losing her son, embarking on a road trip with a stranger.

“How does Owens fit into the picture?”

“What do you mean?”

Maybe she’d found a way to mask the relationship from her colleagues. But Stafford doubted it. A four-year-old could have seen it. “Was he a friend of your father’s?”

“I grew up calling him Uncle Dale. Believe me, I don’t make that slip at the office.” She was quiet for a moment, her head turned toward the passing trees—
the miles and miles of trees.
“What about you? How well do you know him?”

“Uncle Dale?”

She let out a throaty moan, the closest she’d come to a laugh since he’d known her. “I’m sure
you
don’t call him that.”

“Can’t say I do.”

More road signs popped up, indicating that the highway followed
The Waterfalls Route.
Judging by the lack of cars in the area, they’d missed the peak tourist season. If one existed. Or maybe the other travelers woke at a decent hour.

“What kind of cases have you worked on together?”

Could he lie again? And get away with it? “A couple of arsons. A robbery or two.”

“Any missing kids?”

The inevitable question. He’d expected it. Still, it bashed into him with the power of a cannonball. “Yeah. One.”

“Did you find him?”

Teeth clenched, he drew in a breath. “Yeah. I found him.”

He shook the warm penny around in his fist, directing his tension into that one movement
.
The heat intensified until he jerked his hand away, dropping the coin to the floor.

Stafford hit the brake, flinging out his arm in front of Maggie to protect her. He swerved to the side of the road and came to a full stop.

“What is it?”

“This place looks familiar.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Not personally.” Stafford scrambled out of the car and unzipped his jacket, relishing the chilled air surging against him. He followed the path through the trees. The roar of water to his right echoed the storm churning inside.

He stayed a few steps ahead of Maggie. He needed some time alone. Being with her and answering her simple questions brought back all the memories he wished he could forget.

* * *

Maggie followed Stafford. An invisible barrier surrounded him. Was he absorbed in his psychic visions? Or had she asked one too many questions about his past? She rubbed her moist palms together as she walked, her knees jelly beneath her.

The dirt path led through a maze of trees, their fall colors a couple of weeks ahead of their cousins in the south. Here the leaves whispered to her in yellow, gold and salmon, promising the safe return of her son one minute and warning her of his death the next.

Her stomach cramped. Would Davie be waiting around the next bend, smiling and waving to her? Or would they find him in a shallow grave?

And why didn’t she know? Why didn’t she
feel
, with absolute certainty, whether her son was alive or dead?

She crushed her arms against her middle. She had to hold it in. Keep it together. Focus on the here and now. Not the fears spinning around her brain and eating at her heart. She forced her police training to the surface and looked up to observe her surroundings.

She saw Stafford heading toward the parking lot. He stopped and slowly retraced his steps, as if he were feeling his way through a place he’d seen before but couldn’t quite remember. He reached a low bridge and paused on it, still as the planks beneath him. Then, like a bloodhound on the hunt, he lunged off the edge and onto a dirt path, jogging away from the main trail.

She waited a moment, wondering if she should join him and if her legs would cooperate. When Stafford disappeared behind the trees, she stepped down and followed him, her feet brushing against the low-lying bushes.

The sound of water grew stronger. She hurried her step and came out on a clearing. In front of her, a wide, fast moving river dropped off the edge of a cliff, thundering down into a fierce waterfall.

She froze, tried to inhale and couldn’t. She remembered her dream, the huge wave engulfing Davie, snatching him from her, crushing both their lives.

The first time she’d met Stafford, he’d said something about Davie drowning. Had the woman taken her son this far only to throw him into the fall’s golden waters?

Tears filled her eyes. She bent her head, surprised there was any moisture left. She blinked and brought a small object into focus. It lay at the base of the falls, battered and torn, beckoning to her from the churning waters.

A child’s blue jacket.

“Davie!”

Everything stopped—her heart, her breath, the sounds around her. She gulped back the sour taste in her mouth.

The trees started to spin. Her legs collapsed out from under her. Teeth bared, screams burning her throat, she crawled forward on her belly.

Water slapped her face. Each hit an accusation.
This is your fault. Your fault.

She dug her fingers into the loose rock and dirt. Jagged stones cut into her flesh like knives, as she clawed her way down the side of the waterfall to get to her son.

Then something grabbed her, fused to her like the wet clothes that stuck to her skin. She batted it away, kicked at it. The arms held tight, gently immobilizing her. They spun her around.

“Maggie. He’s not there. It’s just a jacket. Not Davie.”

She struggled but couldn’t get away. The strong arms held her close. A gentle voice whispered in her ear.

“Think, Maggie. The woman dyed his hair. She’s disguised him. That means he’s still alive.”

Warmth filled her, from Stafford’s words and from the heat of his body pressed against her. He stroked her cheek, his knuckles gently tracing the outline of her jaw.

“Breathe with me, honey. Nice and slow.”

She concentrated. Tried to follow his breath. But she was taking two gulps for each of his.

He wrapped his hands around hers. Blood trickled down both their wrists from her broken skin. He leaned into her until their foreheads touched. Until her breathing steadied.

“I found something, Maggie. Something real. Something you can trust.”

He pressed an object into her hands, something thin and papery. She looked at it for several seconds before her brain registered its meaning.

A hockey card.

Stafford nodded. “It’s Davie’s. I can sense him.”

A sob welled up in her throat, thankful her child was alive, fearful the card might be the only trace of him they’d ever find. She looked at Stafford through a blurry screen. He touched her shoulder. He didn’t question her, just reached out to take back the card.

She hesitated, clasping it to her chest. Holding it made her feel like she had a small part of her son back. She wanted to cradle it, rub it against her cheek, smell his scent on it. But that wasn’t going to help Davie. And that’s all that mattered. If she could find him, everything would be all right. No matter what he’d endured, she’d be able to make him better.

And there was Stafford, his hand outstretched, offering that hope.

Last night, she’d made up her mind to trust him. Now, it went deeper. If she needed a strong arm to lean on or a shoulder to cry on, she knew he’d be there for her. Body and soul.

She passed the card to him. As he cupped it, she did as well, framing her hands around his.

“There’s confusion. And fear. But he’s okay.” Stafford turned the card over and sandwiched it between his palms. “He’s thinking about you. Wants you to find him. He left this as a message. Like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs.” A smile danced on his lips. “Smart kid.”

A sweet ache flowed through her chest. “Where is he?”

Stafford closed his eyes. The muscles of his face relaxed. His skin glowed, as if an internal light illuminated him.

Maggie’s heartbeat counted each second as it ticked away. “Where do we go, Stafford? Just tell me that.”

For an instant, his haunted eyes locked onto hers. Then he bowed his head, his chin sinking toward his chest. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Plunk, plunk, plunk.

Davie kicked the seat in front of him as they drove along. They hadn’t passed a town in forever. Or seen another car. Just more boring trees. More boring road.

But moving was better than being still. When the woman was busy driving, she couldn’t do anything to him. She always waited until they stopped for the night to do the bad things.

She’d tie him to the bed with the phone cord. Then she’d take off his pants and underwear and wrap towels around him like a diaper.

He didn’t like that. It made him feel like a big baby. He hadn’t wet himself since he was five. Then his mommy and daddy had stopped loving each other, and Davie started having accidents all over again.

His parents told him that lots of older kids tinkled in their sleep and not to worry about it. They bought him special nighttime pants to wear and made sure he didn’t drink too much after supper. That helped. He’d been dry for months now. Until this woman took him. Every time she put him to bed, he promised himself he wouldn’t pee, no matter what. He’d stay awake all night and hold it in, if he had to. But it never worked. By morning, he’d be wet, smelly, and mad at himself. His face burned just thinking about it. And the part after.

She’d take off the rest of his clothes and make him stand in the bathtub. She’d scrub him with the washcloth and
rinse him off with cold water. He’d hold himself stiff, his teeth knocking together, as he hid his dinky with his hands.

He didn’t like her seeing him naked. Davie hadn’t run around without his clothes on since he was four. It was rude. At least, in front of strangers. Especially girl strangers.

Plunk, plunk, plunk.

“What are you doing back there?”

Davie stopped wriggling. He snuck a look at the rearview mirror. The woman’s black-button eyes glared at him.

“Are you tired?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to stop. Didn’t want to go to another motel.

“We’re almost there. I promise.”

Davie glued his lips together
.
He wasn’t going to cry. He’d be quiet. A good boy. Then she’d drive a little further and he’d be safe a little longer.

“Let’s listen to some music. I’ve got your favorite here.”

He heard her fumbling with a couple of plastic cases before putting something into the car’s player. After a chunk of silence, the music began.

It wasn’t Davie’s favorite but it did make him smile. It was from the movie with the big, green ogre. He must have seen it a zillion times. He owned two copies. One he kept at home, the other stayed at his dad’s place.

The woman cranked up the volume and sang. Davie tried not to giggle, but she looked like a cartoon character, jerking her head from side to side along with the music. Soon, her body started moving too. Back and forth. Davie did the same thing, rocking sideways in his seat to the beat. Then the whole car began swaying over to the other side of the highway and back again.

Davie’s tummy crammed up against his heart. He never crossed the yellow line when he road his bike. A car could come the other way and hit you. Then splat. You’d be flat as a cheese pizza. But no one else was on the road. Hadn’t been for most of the day. So
what did it matter?

Doo-doo, doo-doo...

The woman sang that part real loud. Davie couldn’t blame her. It was the best part of the song. He took a breath, ready to join in, when the music stopped.

In the mirror, the woman’s eyes looked big and scared. Davie wondered what made her change so fast. Then he heard it.

A siren.

He looked around and saw flashing lights. A police truck moved up alongside the car.

Davie wrapped his arms around himself to keep his heart from banging right out of his chest. His wishes were coming true. His mommy had followed his hockey card clues and found him.

He looked through the truck’s windows to see her. But he only saw a guy. The man jerked his thumb at the woman, signaling for her to stop.

She whimpered like a sad puppy. “What do I do? What do I do?” Instead of stopping like the officer wanted, she went faster.