STOLEN (4 page)

Last seen on Dec 21, 2013 playing in front of her home.

“Michaelah?” Is your name Michaelah?” Hope asked.

Immediately, recognizing her own name, the little girl’s big
brown eyes opened wide, and she removed the thumb from her mouth. “I want my
mommy.”

Hope gave the child a broad smile as she tried,
unsuccessfully, to keep a tear from creeping out of the corner of her own eye.

“Honey, we are going to get your mommy. Okay? We are going
to call your mommy right now, and tell her you are safe, and you are waiting
for her. Okay?” The little girl cautiously nodded her head; her eyes looking
deep into Hope’s as if she were wondering if she could believe, or even trust, what
this woman was telling her.

Suddenly, the mood inside and outside of the room changed. Shouts
of excitement and news of the child’s identity was being broadcast throughout
the building. The story of the found child was being passed on from one person
to another, like the childhood game of telephone. News that Michaelah Sandberg,
the little girl from Queens, who had vanished four months ago, had been found;
and she was safe and alive and right here in this very hospital! What was
previously a somber atmosphere suddenly became celebratory with shouts of
“Thank God,” accompanied by backslapping and other expressions of joy and
wonder.

Cellphone keyboards were being tapped and the news of the
child’s safety was rapidly spreading through the building and social media, as
arrangements were being made to notify the parents and have them brought to the
hospital. Law enforcement and medical personnel hoped they were able to notify
the parents before they heard of the discovery on twitter or television.

After spending some time with little Michaelah, Hope felt
confident enough the child would be able to deal with an extensive physical
exam and interview. Standing by her side and holding the child’s hand, she
stayed with her as she went through a thorough physical examination by Dr.
Lewis’ replacement: Dr. Cheryl Lercher, whose quiet demeanor and soft velvet voice
was a much less intimidating presence than the gruff Dr. Lewis. It broke her
heart to have to put the little girl through the invasive procedure; but there
was no other choice in the matter, and she was content to know it was Dr. Lercher
who would administer the exam. Hope stayed by Michaelah’s side and would not
leave the room until the little girl was reunited with her parents.

With
a minute to spare, Jean got to the courthouse
just in time. Just as she was about to sit down, a court officer came in to
tell her court had been cancelled and her testimony wasn’t needed after all.
The judge had a few personal matters to attend to, and they would let her know
when it would be rescheduled to.

She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or furious, but
she immediately headed back to the hospital. She thought about stopping off at
home and getting a change of wardrobe, but decided against it. She envisioned
the little girl’s face; and the little boy’s screams were still vivid in her
mind. On the route back to the hospital, she drove with the frustration that
she couldn’t be there the moment Michaelah and her parents were reunited. With
all the madness she had to deal with in her line of work, something like that
would have made it all worthwhile. What she didn’t know was there was a delay
in reuniting the family, and she got off the elevator just as Michaelah’s
parents arrived at the hospital. Officials were successful at decoying the
media and Mr. and Mrs. Sandberg were consequently whisked through the sub-basement
of the hospital and brought to the child’s room, via the service elevator, completely
unaware they were passing less than ten feet from the morgue where the little
girl’s presumed abductor laid dead on a cold steel table. Jean got to the Emergency
Room just in time to witness Hope’s initial meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Sandberg.
Without going into too many details, the child psychiatrist was warning them
that Michaelah had been severely traumatized and may have an adverse reaction
to their visit.

“Sometimes,’” Hope explained, “in situations such as this, children
feel betrayed by their parents, and sometimes they transfer their anger at the
perpetrator and they blame their parents for abandoning them.”

Mrs. Sandberg was nodding compliantly, but as Jean watched,
she knew that the woman wasn’t really listening to what Hope was saying. She
was anxious to see her child and that was all she was focused on. The woman
wanted to see for herself that her little girl was actually just a few feet
away from her and alive. Jean knew how she would feel if this had been Bethany;
and she imagined that Michaelah’s mother physically ached to touch her child’s
body and it took every ounce of self-control not to push Hope out of the way. Jean
knew, in her heart, the woman wasn’t going to wait one second longer. She
needed to see her daughter now. It has been an eternity since someone took her,
and it was time to get her baby back.

Hope glanced up and was relieved to see Jean join the
growing number of spectators. Jean made her way over to Hope, who was offering
a few more words of preparation to the little girl’s parents. Jean didn’t envy
her friend, knowing all too well her friend was presented with the dilemma of
how much to tell, and how soon she should tell it. She wouldn’t want to have to
make that call. Should the parents be informed this soon about how much law
enforcement and medical personal knew about their child’s experience? Would the
truth be easier to swallow now than leaving it to their imagination? Was it
necessary to ruin the moment of reconciliation with the horrific details of the
child’s captivity? She wanted to ask Hope how much they had already been told
about what their daughter had been exposed to, and what this precious little
girl had witnessed, and had to submit to. On her way back from the courthouse, Jean
had called and spoken with Detective Frank Robinson, who was one of the first
to see the child at the hospital; and briefly spoke to one of the physicians who
examined the child. Doctor Lercher found evidence of physical and extensive sexual
abuse on the tiny little girl’s body. Frank was the first to turn on the camera
that was in the cabin and watched less than thirty seconds of the tape before
he shut it off in anger, fighting the urge to destroy the very expensive
equipment by throwing it against the wall.

Jean felt the anxiety in the room and wasn’t surprised when Hope
succumbed to the demands of the parents and finally gave in. Jean assumed a
thorough physical examination had been conducted and that the two nurses in the
cubicle with Michaelah were given the go ahead to begin cleaning her up and
trying to prepare her for her parents’ visit. Michaelah remained quiet. Just a
nod or a shake of her head was all the nurses were getting from her. It was
Jean that finally made the first move. Walking over to the cubicle, she
carefully pulled the curtain back enough so Mr. and Mrs. Sandberg were finally able
to see Michaelah for the first time in months. Michaelah was looking out the
window and did not see the group quietly enter the room. The little girl did
not move, but continued staring out the window panels that started at the floor
steam radiator and went all the way to the ceiling. She didn’t become aware of either
her mom or dad until they moved into a position where their reflections came
into her line of vision. She appeared to recognize her father first, but still
did not make any move to turn around. Mrs. Sandberg couldn’t stand it any
longer. She stood for a mere three seconds before she cried out her daughter’s
name. Only four seconds had passed, but it must have felt like an eternity to
Mrs. Sandberg, before Michaelah slowly and methodically turned her tiny little
body around. Her eyes fixated on her mother, and then her daddy, but she
remained frozen and didn’t move another muscle. No longer being able to keep
away, Mrs. Sandberg threw out her arms towards her daughter. Michaelah
immediately jumped back, to get away, and then her body froze in terror. After
a second or two, she turned her head, frantically looking around the room, as
if there was somebody or something she was expecting to see. Then the little
girl bit down on her lip so hard it began to bleed. That was too much for Kate Sandberg.
Her mother’s instinct was to fix her baby’s booboo, and she immediately walked
over to her baby and whispered to her. “Mommy’s here, baby. Mommy’s here.” Mrs.
Sandberg took the corner of the blanket and moistened it with her own spit and
gently wiped it across the little girl’s mouth and chin, removing all evidence
of blood. With it came the last of the remnants of the bright red lipstick. Her
father walked over and carefully planted a kiss on his daughter’s matted head. Michaelah
watched them both carefully and intently, not making a sound, but allowed them
both to caress and touch her, although her body remained stiff. It wasn’t until
Mrs. Sandberg began to walk over to the sink to find a more appropriate cloth
to wash her daughter’s face did Michaelah call out. “NO! DON’T GO!” The sound
of her voice was barely recognizable to her parents, due to the fact her voice
was hoarse from her vocal cords being strained.

Jean imagined it happened from the child screaming, which
she had used as her only possible weapon against her abductor.

Mrs. Sandberg stopped in her tracks and returned to the girl
immediately, both parents holding the child tight. It was obvious to Jean and
everyone else in the room that the pressure of those hugs might have caused the
child some pain, but the little girl was finally in a safe place and she wasn’t
letting go. The sounds of her sobbing now sounded different then when she had
been first found. When Jean first heard the child cry, she heard real pain and
fright in her quiet sobs, as if she was too afraid for anyone to hear her cry.
Now her cries were loud and strong, as if she now felt safe enough to let it
out; and Jean realized the cries turned into a sobbing of relief. Jean glanced
over at Hope and both knew that it was going to be a long recovery for this
child and her family.

As
soon as he was able, Marty made his way
downstairs to the Emergency Room. The good news was that his father was awake
and was resting comfortably. Marty was anxious to find Hope or Jean. He hadn’t
heard from either of them since they left after the incident with the little
boy; he heard the rumors going around the hospital that a kidnapped child had
been found. Marty thought of the little boy he had held in his arms earlier and
felt a sense of relief that he was going to be fine.

Jean was nowhere in sight, but Marty did see a uniformed
officer standing in front of one of the cubicles and a small crowd had
positioned themselves in front of the nurse’s station. He immediately tuned
into Hope’s voice among the group. She was deep in conversation with Frank
Robinson, a detective with his squad, and both were politely ignoring the congregated
group trying to get their attention, which consisted mostly of news reporters
and cameramen.

“How is he?” Marty asked, as he pushed through the mob,
handing her the cellphone she had left in his possession. He nodded to Frank as
he made an effort to disperse the crowd.

“I don’t know yet. Last time I looked, he was still
sedated.” She told him as she politely excused herself from the group.

“Do you know who the other kid is?” One of the reporters
cried out.

“Where did they find him?” Another one shouted.

Reporters continued shouting out questions, but Hope just
gave that sweet smile of hers. When they realized that Hope was not going to respond
to them with any answers, they focused their verbal attack on one of the other
physicians. Marty followed about a foot behind her.

He suddenly realized something wasn’t making sense; he was
thoroughly confused. The rumor he’d heard was that a kidnapped child had been
found. The questions the reporters were shouting out sounded like they did not
know who the boy was or where he came from. Another uniformed officer was
standing guard in front of a cubicle, and Hope stopped in front of it. She
pulled open the curtain. A nurse’s aide was keeping vigil, seated next to the
boy who was sedated and still sound asleep on the examining table. The aide was
taking advantage of the fact the boy was snoring softly. She was using the quiet
time; totally engrossed in a paperback book. She glanced up and smiled when they
walked in.

There was no question in Marty’s mind that this was the same
little boy he had held in his arms earlier, even though his teeth weren’t
showing and he was snoring softly—instead of squawking like a trapped bird. His
small chest was gently rising and falling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Hope ran her hand through a mess of his dark brown hair. It fell back in a soft,
thick wave and it reminded him of how she would do the same to his after it had
been shampooed and dried.

“What are you reading?” Hope asked the young aide.

Looking over at the sleeping child, and being very
deliberate to make sure she didn’t wake him up, she answered Hope by lifting
the book up just enough to allow Hope to read the front of the book’s cover.

Apparently not being able to maintain her silence, she
whispered a response as well.

“
Bishop Street”
by Rene Schultz, she’s really good.
Have you read her?” The young girl smiled, showing a mouthful of teeth so white
it actually hurt to look at them.

Marty didn’t think there was a book out there that Hope
hadn’t read. If she wasn’t working, she was reading. She often would come right
out and apologize, thinking that the time she spent being immersed in a novel
was annoying to Marty, but he really liked the fact that she enjoyed it as much
as she did.

“Has he stirred at all?” Hope glanced over and read the
girl’s nametag. It read Vanessa Lubin in big block letters.

The name Lubin was the same as the one on the name tag of
the man Marty had handed the boy over to earlier. He wondered if they were
related.

“Vanessa? Has anything changed?”

As she shook her head in response, Marty noticed her hair was
almost as white as her teeth at the top and the color deliberately stopped five
inches from the bottom where it became a dark shade of brown. It was different,
but it seemed to suit the girl. Marty was listening to the conversation, but his
attention was diverted when he noticed the light blue cotton blanket covering the
boy had slid down and was now exposing his right leg. Now he was moving and
jerking in his sleep and they watched as he kicked off the blanket. It was now
exposing his right leg all the way up to his thigh. Hope noticed it too and reached
over to cover him. He knew what she was thinking because he was thinking the
same thing. The Emergency Room was cold and she didn’t want him to be
uncomfortable, even if he was fast asleep.

Hope picked up his chart and scanned it quickly.

“He should be out for at least another hour, Vanessa. I’ll
be in the building; can you page me if he starts to stir?”

She looked at the boy’s chart again and appeared to be
satisfied. “I see Dr. Lercher’s been in to see him again.”

“Yes, Dr. Rubin, she was here about twenty minutes ago,
checked his vitals. She said everything was fine. Do we know who he is yet?” she
asked Hope, as she glanced up at Marty and then glanced back down at the little
boy sleeping soundly.

 “I heard they identified the little girl as the girl who
was missing from Queens. Her parents must be thrilled. I
just . . . .” Her voice trailed off. There was some sadness
in her voice.

It really wasn’t necessary for her to say what she was
thinking, and Marty wasn’t quite so confused anymore. It was clear to him now what
had happened. There were two children brought into the hospital this morning.
One male and one female. Both children obviously had been traumatized, but to
what extent, they weren’t aware of yet. As he watched Hope put the chart down, he
took it as a clue she felt nothing more could be done at the moment.

“Have you eaten yet, Hope?” Marty asked her, as he took
notice of how tired she looked. Whenever Hope got tired or hungry, for some
reason, the bottom of her eyelids would turn a salmon shade of pink.

“Starved, let’s go to the cafeteria and grab something to
eat.” She answered and then turned back to Vanessa. “Can I bring you something,
Vanessa? I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

The girl shook her head no and thanked her and went back to
her book. Hope didn’t say another word until they were back out in the corridor
in front of the elevator. “How’s the Captain doing? Is he awake yet? Is he out
of recovery?” She pushed the button for the basement where the cafeteria was
located.

“Yes. He was sucking on some ice chips when I left; and Mary
was staying with him. Doctor Cohen says my eighty-year-old father has the
constitution of a sixty-year-old man, and the stubbornness of a fifteen-year-old
teenager. Damn, he has him pegged.”

The elevator doors slid open and in front of them were now two
attendants trying to maneuver what must have been a five-hundred-pound patient
out of the elevator. The wheels on the gurney seemed not to be cooperating. The
sum of the weight of the two attendants together didn’t equal the weight of the
man on the table and they were fighting to get the wheels over the metal strip
on the elevator floor. Marty moved into a position so that he could help, and he
managed to steer the wheels of the gurney at an angle, where they could maneuver
their way out of the elevator and into the hallway, so that he and Hope could
get in. When the doors closed, Marty could have sworn he got a whiff of cannabis.
He doubted that any of the men had been smoking in the elevator, but it sure
had penetrated one, or both, of their clothing.

The lunch crowd was gone, but the cafeteria was still open
for business and two employees were cleaning up. One was wiping down the
stainless steel counters and starting to put things away while the other one
was sweeping the remnants of food from the floor. Both looked at them with some
apprehension and annoyance. Not daring to ask for something hot to eat, Marty
and Hope both settled on prepackaged chicken salad sandwiches, a diet coke for
Hope, and sweet iced tea for Marty. At least the cashier seemed not to mind the
late customers and tallied up their bill with a smile.

Marty led Hope over to a table in the far corner, hoping they
could have at least ten minutes of peace. He thought of throwing their cellphones
in the garbage container, but with his dad just out of surgery, and his partner
Jean in court this afternoon, he thought better of it. They took off the Saran
Wrap from their sandwiches, and Hope couldn’t get it into her mouth fast
enough. The woman eats as if she was raised in his house, with seven older
brothers, Marty thought.

In his house, if you didn’t get to the food fast enough, you
were out of luck. Hope, on the other hand, never had to fight for food. She was
blessed with only one brother and a stay-at-home mom who made a career out of
it. Grace Kelly Rubin made it her mission in life to make sure all of the
nutritional needs of her family were met. According to her daughter, the woman spent
her days perfecting her meals and insisting her family eat. Don’t dare to put
the fork down for half a second or the lady would get offended. She would look insulted,
and then inevitably ask, “Don’t you like it? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it taste
right?” Poor Hope and her brother grew up eating food they couldn’t stand, or
when they weren’t hungry, just so they wouldn’t hurt their mother’s feelings. Even
so, Marty loved his future mother-in-law Grace Rubin, and she loved him. She cannot
wait for Marty to marry her spinster daughter. (Not technically a spinster because
Hope was once married, but her divorced daughter was in her thirties—unmarried—and
she was constantly reminding Hope that her biological clock was rapidly ticking
away.)

It was not as though the woman didn’t have other
grandchildren; Hope’s brother Lenny had three children. But for Hope not to
give her mother the benefit of becoming a grandmother from the womb of her only
daughter was the ultimate sin in Grace’s eyes. And she was never going to let
Hope forget it. Yet, for all of Grace Rubin’s faults, she loved her two children,
and God help the person that tried to hurt either of them. Marty supposed his
future mother-in-law’s only real sin was that she loved her children too much
and refused to let them go.

‘”Do you want to fill me in?” Marty asked Hope as she woofed
down her sandwich. As cute as she was, she left her ladylike behavior behind
when it came to eating. As little as she was, she could out-eat Marty any day
of the week.

“I don’t know all the facts, Marty. You need to talk to
Jean. The only thing I know is that both of the children were discovered in a
cabin up by Hunter’s Cove. You know that old hunting lodge? I haven’t had a
chance to even talk to or really examine the little boy. The little girl is
Michaelah Sandberg.”

Marty recognized the child’s name immediately. There had
been an Amber Alert back in December when she first went missing. The tri-state
area had conducted a massive search by law enforcement and hundreds of
volunteers. After a few weeks, the search and rescue had been called off, law
enforcement officials claiming they could no longer spend the funds or continue
using their personnel on what they assumed to no longer be a search and rescue
but a recovery mission. The girl’s parents vehemently opposed the change in
tactics, refusing to believe they would not find their daughter Michaelah alive.
They continued to organize volunteer searches. Law enforcement knew the odds
were that if the child wasn’t found within the first 48 hours, the chances were
she wouldn’t be found alive at all, but it does happen occasionally. Luckily,
for Michaelah and her family, she was one of those that had beaten the odds.

Hope’s eyes normally were tinted a shade of aquamarine green,
unless she was upset, and then they would turn a deep forest green, which was
what they were now. Marty could tell, by looking at her eyes, something she
discovered during the child’s physical examination had made her furious.

“Do we know who the boy is?” Marty asked, trying to divert
her thoughts. She shook her head, and then looked up at him as if he was the
one who should have the answer, or at least was capable of getting it.

Marty had taken some time off so he could be with his dad
during and after his surgery. Neither of them vocalized it out loud, but as
long as the child’s identity remained a mystery, they both knew he wouldn’t be
able to keep his hands off this case and would be going back to work.

“I spoke to Detective Frank and he said that they took the
child’s fingerprints, and they are trying to see if they can find him in the
system, match him to a missing child. He has been asleep since you saw him
last. Apparently, he hasn’t said anything that anyone has been able to
understand. What did it sound like to you, Marty?” She questioned him. Marty
figured she was referring to the child’s bellow as he ran down the hall.