The Last Time She Saw Him (6 page)

I tear down the hallway toward the garage. Inside, I notice the door to the driveway is open and an icy slice of moon casts its pale light onto Will’s yellow and white baby blanket, crumpled in a heap on the ground next to his Snoopy doll and a discarded package of Marlboro Lights cigarettes.

“I’m going to kill you!” I scream as I race into the warm early September night air. “Give me back my son!”

“Stupid girl,” a voice hisses behind me. Before I can turn around, something connects with the back of my head.

And then there is only darkness.

CHAPTER 4

T
wenty-four. I can see the number floating in neon blue out in the darkness like a single star lost in the night.

“Twenty-four.” I feel my lips move as they whisper the number.

“She’s regaining consciousness,” a woman’s voice says above me. “That’s it, Julia. Come back to us.”

I start to open my eyes when a searing pain shoots across the back of my skull.

“Take it easy there.” The voice belongs to a female paramedic kneeling over me. Next to her is a baby-faced police officer I don’t recognize. “What’s twenty-four, Julia?”

“Twenty-four hours. The amount of time we have to find Will.” I say the words before I realize what they mean.

The first twenty-four hours in a missing person’s case are the most critical, especially when the missing person in question is a child. Within this narrow time frame, all stops have to be pulled out in order to find the child alive or to find the child at all. Sheer panic whispers in my ear and beckons me away from my paper-thin veneer of sanity.

“Someone kidnapped my son. I have to find him.”

“Hold on, I have to check you first. That’s a nasty bump you got on the back of your head. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“No way. Where’s Logan?”

“That’s a brave little boy you have there,” the paramedic answers and points the beam of a narrow flashlight in front of my eyes to check for a concussion. “And resourceful. He found your cell phone and called 911. He’s inside the house talking to the police.”

“The police shouldn’t be talking to Logan without David or me there.”

I sit up quickly and feel a wave of nausea and dizziness wash through me, but I fight through it and force myself up on wobbly legs.

“You really shouldn’t . . .” the paramedic starts.

I regain my balance and keep walking through the darkness to the front door with the steadiness of a well-imbibed patron after last call.

I know what to expect based on the driveway. I pass by an unmarked Crown Victoria and a patrol car and enter my home, now a crime scene, and begin to search for Logan.

“Mom!” Logan cries out from the living room and runs as fast as he can away from the circle of officers surrounding him and lands in my arms.

I press my face against his shiny black hair and whisper that everything is going to be fine. It has to be.

“Are you all right, Julia?” Detective Russell asks. Russell holds a sealed plastic evidence bag in his left hand that contains Will’s favorite yellow and white baby blanket inside. I stare intently at the blanket, which looks both beautiful and obscene in its current state.

“Have you found Will?”

“Not yet. We’re still collecting evidence.”

“That’s not enough.”

“We were just questioning Logan. We’ll need you both to come down to the station later to answer some questions.”

“I can tell you what you need to know right now. Two people broke into my house. I heard two distinct sets of footsteps, so you have at least two suspects involved. They kidnapped Will and when I ran outside to find him, I got hit on the back of the head. Someone called me ‘stupid girl’ right before I went down. And there was a phone message. A warning. The connection was bad and the caller didn’t leave a name.”

“Did you see the people who broke into your house?”

“No, I didn’t see anyone. But I smelled cigarette smoke,” I answer.

“We checked your home security alarm. Someone disabled it.”

“That’s impossible. I set the alarm right after I put Logan and Will to sleep,” I say and then kick into full reporter mode. “We don’t have many neighbors way out here in the country, but you need to canvass the neighborhood to locate any witnesses. Maybe someone saw a suspicious person or vehicle in the area. And registered sex offenders. You need to start knocking on doors right now.”

“We’ve got it covered already.”

“There’s a gas station about five miles from here. They’ve got to have a surveillance tape,” I continue. “And shoe prints. We had a bad storm a few days ago, so there could’ve been mud on the suspects’ shoes. I didn’t hear a car engine, but you need to check for tire tracks outside. We have a long gravel driveway. Go out there and look now if you haven’t done it already.”

Russell turns away from me and says something quietly into his two-way radio.

“Just got word the police chief is on his way over. He wants to talk to you,” Russell says and retreats back toward the garage.

I reach my hand to the back of my pulsing head. I ignore the pain and refocus my attention on Logan, who is still glued to my side. I squat down and squeeze Logan as hard as I can.

“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s all my fault. I hid under my bed like a scared baby.”

“Don’t you say that for a minute. Nothing is your fault. You’re the brave one in all of this. You called the police and saved me.”

“Someone bad took Will,” Logan says.

I can’t let my worst thoughts go there. If I do, I will lose it and never come back.

“Did you see the people who broke into our house?” I ask.

“No. The police asked me that already.”

“We’ll get Will back, I promise. But it’s really important we both tell the police everything we remember.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Logan responds in a small voice.

The reflection of a massive silhouette passes by the front window, and I instinctively draw Logan closer. The stranger enters the doorway, and I immediately recognize the red hair and perfectly manicured beard of Police Chief John Linderman. When Linderman and I first had disagreements over stories, I branded him the “Red Devil,” which quickly caught fire around the newsroom. But through the years, we developed a mutual respect, or at the very least, a mutual tolerance for each other.

“Logan, I hear that you were a very brave young man,” Linderman says.

“Thank you, sir,” Logan answers.

“How are you holding up, Julia?” Linderman asks and beckons Logan and me over to the sofa. “I heard you got pretty banged up out there.”

“Tell me what you have on my son’s case.”

Linderman reaches out his mammoth hand and envelops mine for a second. The simple act of compassion catches me off guard, and the stinging pain of tears begins to start. I blink hard and look intently at a plastic cup filled with water on the coffee table until I steady myself.

“I called the FBI, and an Amber Alert went out right after Logan called 911. Critical Reach is distributing the alert to other law enforcement authorities and the media. Our K-9 unit is here, and we’re tapping your phones to trace any calls if this is a ransom situation. We’re also canvassing the neighborhood and scouring for registered sex offenders. Were you and David on anyone’s shit list recently?”

“What do you mean?”

“You being a crime reporter has its perks of pissing people off. David used to work in the public defender’s office, right?”

“For five years before he went into private practice.”

“He may have racked up some enemies too. Maybe a case he lost and the guy is looking for revenge. I need you both to think about anyone who might have it out for you and let us know.”

Linderman is good. I nod in approval.

“David had a case a while back when he was a public defender. The guy, his name was Joe Matthews, went away for ten years for killing his girlfriend in a domestic. Killed the woman right in front of their three-year-old. I covered the trial. Matthews went wild when the judge gave the sentence. He attacked David, knocked him on the ground, and the bailiff had to break it up. Matthews sent David a couple of letters from jail, blaming him for losing the case, and he threatened he’d get David when he got out.”

“We’ll check him and anyone else David comes up with.”

“I already told Russell this, but there’s a gas station about five miles from here. They may have a surveillance tape.”

“You were always a thorough reporter. We already sent an officer down to the gas station to get the tape. I put Detective Navarro in charge of the investigation. Navarro just got here. He’s getting briefed by the detectives out front.”

“David. I need to call him.”

“We did already. Your husband was just leaving his law firm. He’s on the way here now,” Linderman says and stands back up to his impressive six-foot-five frame. “Logan, hang in there, young man. I’ll tell Detective Navarro you’re ready to talk to him.”

As Linderman leaves, I look around at our once-perfect house. The meat loaf I made for last night’s dinner is still sitting on the kitchen counter and one of Will’s green pacifiers pokes out from beneath the love seat.

A strong hand grips my shoulder and I turn with a start.

“I let myself in through the garage. Didn’t mean to scare you there,” Navarro says. He sits down on the other end of the sofa and stares back at me with both grave concern and controlled rage. “Julia . . .”

“You don’t need to say it. I don’t want anyone else to tell me they’re sorry right now, not even you. Just ask Logan and me what you need to. Let’s just do this, okay?”

Navarro nods and fixes his attention on Logan.

“Is it all right if I talk to you first? Your mom is going to be right here.”

Logan looks up at me and I respond with a reassuring nod.

“I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, son, and I’m sorry. I need you to tell me whatever you remember, even the small stuff you think might not be important. Tell you what, are you hungry? I am. I usually don’t get up in the middle of the night like this, so I need a little sugar to keep me going.”

Navarro pulls a package of six small powdered sugar donuts out of his coat pocket. He opens the packet and pops one in his mouth and then pushes the donut packet across the coffee table toward Logan. Logan carefully reaches his hand across the table and picks up a donut.

Donuts and cops
, I think to myself.
How damn cliché, Navarro.

“I understand that some people broke into your house and took your little brother. That must have been very scary,” Navarro says, stuffing another donut in his mouth. “I know I would’ve been scared if someone came into my house, especially if I was sleeping.”

Logan looks at Navarro and nods in agreement.

“I need your help. Do you think you can help me?”

“Yes, sir,” Logan says.

“Call me Ray,” Navarro says. “Now, can you tell me what you remember?”

“Well, sir, I mean, Ray, sir,” Logan starts. “My mom told me a bedtime story and I went right to sleep.”

Logan looks over toward me, and I gesture for him to continue.

“I was having a bad dream and woke up. I heard a sound down the hall and called out to my mom, but she didn’t answer. My nightlight went out and the hall light, too. Mom always leaves the hall light on for me. I got scared and hid under my bed.”

Logan begins to fidget, and I put my arm around his shoulder and hold him as tightly as I can.

“It’s okay, Logan. Everyone is afraid of something. I’ll tell you a secret,” Navarro says and leans in toward Logan. “I’m scared to death of bats.”

“Bats aren’t that bad,” Logan says as he tries to suppress a slight smile.

“You’re braver than I am,” Navarro says. “So let’s keep going here. After the lights went out, what happened?”

“I felt like a little baby hiding under my bed, and I was going to come out, but then someone ran into my room. I thought it was my mom. But the person dropped their flashlight on the floor, and I saw their boots. My mom doesn’t have boots like that, and we aren’t allowed to wear shoes in the house anyway because of Will and all the germs and stuff.”

“That’s good, Logan, real good. Can you tell me what the boots looked like?” Navarro asks.

“They were brown. And they stunk, kind of like when you’re driving by a farm and you can hardly take it because it smells so bad.”

“Like manure?” Navarro asks.

“Yes, sir, I mean, Ray, sir,” Logan says.

“Were the boots big, like a man was wearing them? Or were they smaller, like women’s shoes?”

“It was dark. I couldn’t really tell.”

“Okay. So this person is standing over your bed. Did they say anything?” Navarro asks.

“Well, they did, but it wasn’t nice. Mom and Dad won’t let me say those kinds of words.”

“It’s fine this time. Your mom and dad aren’t going to mind,” Navarro replies. “Right, Julia?”

“Absolutely. Tell him what you heard,” I say.

Logan clears his throat nervously. “They said something really bad. It was something like, ‘Selfish is as selfish does. Dirty, selfish little girl. Dirty, selfish little whore.’”

A tear slips down Logan’s cheek, and he wipes it away with his pajama top.

“Hang in there,” Navarro says. “Logan, buddy, can you tell me if the voice was a man’s voice or a woman’s?”

“I’m not really sure. They just sounded really angry. It was definitely an adult’s voice though,” Logan says. “Then they started humming.”

“Humming? Like humming a song? Do you know what song it was?” Navarro asks.

“No, I’m sorry I don’t,” Logan says. “I think I might have heard it when Dad used to take me to church, but that was a long time ago, and I’m just not sure. I’ll let you know if I remember.”

“Great, a crazed, angry, religious hummer,” Navarro mumbles under his breath and then turns his attention back to Logan. “You’re doing real good. What happened after the person in your room started humming?”

“I was sure they were going to look under the bed and find me. I closed my eyes for a second. Like if I opened them, they’d be staring right at me.”

“But they didn’t find you.”

“No. The person left. I heard them run out of my room real quick, and they never came back. I stayed under the bed until my mom came in. She told me to lock the door when she went to go look for my brother. Then a few minutes later, I heard my mom scream for Will outside. That’s all I can remember.”