Marcia Talley - Through the Darkness

“Oh, puh-leeze, give me credit for a little intelligence, will you?”

Dante massaged his temples with his fingers, as if trying to erase the pain. In my opinion, my son-in-law had a lot of explaining to do, but I feared that what Emily was about to say might poison the well forever.

“So, you turned her down,” she continued, relentless.

“Right.”

“You sent her away.”

“Yes.”

Dante closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of his chair as the significance of what he’d just said sunk in.

“And she came back that Monday?”

“I don’t know, Emily. You may recall that I was tied up with that reporter. If Joanna came back, I certainly didn’t see her.”

As much as I hated to fan the flames, I felt I had to jump in and set the record straight. “She did come back, Dante. She stuck her head into the office for a second while I was sitting there. She was looking for you.”

“My God.” Emily practically screamed the words.

“Em-” Dante began, but Emily interrupted him.

“What on earth would make Joanna kidnap Timmy? I have tons of ex-boyfriends,” she added maliciously, “but as far as I know, none of them ever tried to kidnap my children!”

Dante leaned forward and pressed his hands between his knees, as if trying to control their shaking. “I don’t know, Emily. I dated the woman. When I met you, I broke up with her. End of story.”

“Apparently not,” my daughter said.

Dante turned to me. “Did Joanna say what she wanted?”

“Just that she was looking for you.”

Dante exploded. “Jesus Christ! I’ll kill her. I swear to God I’m going to kill her. Where did you say she’s living?”

“She’s got an apartment out on Bestgate Road.”

Dante bolted from his chair, and considering the black mood he was in, took Emily surprisingly gently by the arm. “Let’s go.”

Emily shook his hand away. “You go. I’m going to call the FBI.”

“Stay put,” I told them. “The FBI is already on it. Agent Crisp told me that when she warned me against stalking Joanna.”

“The hell with that! Come on, Emily!”

Emily glanced from me to her husband. I suspected she would have gone off with him, too, but was saved from making any decision by the sound of my cell phone, chirping its buttons off to the tune of “Old McDonald Had a Farm” from my purse, which was sitting on the landing.

“Connie?” By the time I reached the phone and punched the Talk button, I must have sounded breathless.

Connie sounded breathless, too. “Joanna’s packed up Timmy and the suitcases, Hannah, and she’s on the move. I’m right behind her on Route 50, heading west. Unless I miss my guess, she’s heading for New Carrollton.”

New Carrollton station, at the intersection of Route 50 and I-495, better known as the Capital Beltway. From there, Joanna Barnhorst could take a train, or bus, or hop on the Metro. My bet was on the train.

Thinking about Amanda Crisp and her FBI team who were supposed to be on the case 24/7, I asked, “Have you seen any Ford Tauruses in the vicinity? Crown Vics?”

“You think I noticed that?”

“Right. Silly question. Best to hedge our bets, then. Stick with her,” I said, “We’re on our way.”

Except when the children were in the car, my son-in-law drove like Dale Earnhardt, Junior, and had four points on his license to prove it. In his present state of mind, I had doubts we’d arrive in one piece with Dante at the wheel, so I insisted on driving while my daughter yelled encouragement from the backseat. “Can’t you go any faster?”

I pulled into the HOV lane. “If I go any faster, I’ll get stopped for speeding, and where would that get us?”

From a spot in the console, my cell phone chirped again. “You get it,” I told Dante as I overtook and passed a truck on the right.

Dante clapped the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” He listened for a few seconds, then turned to me and said, “It’s Connie reporting in. Joanna’s in the parking garage at New Carrollton, so it’s either the Metro or the train.”

“Jeeze.” I slammed my foot down on the accelerator. The speedometer shot up to a terrifying eighty. In the backseat, Emily kept muttering faster-faster-faster under her breath, nearly driving me insane. Nevertheless, I made it from the Annapolis city limits to the Capital Beltway in a record fifteen minutes. I shot right off the highway and onto the exit ramp, crossed over the Beltway, ruined my shock absorbers by taking a series of diabolical speed bumps way too fast, pulled past the taxi rank and into the Kiss and Ride.

As we climbed out of the car, Dante still had Connie on the line. “Where’s she now?” he hissed into the phone. “There’s a train for Florida in ten minutes,” he reported while punching the End button with his thumb. “Connie thinks that Barnhorst will be on it. Let’s go!”

With Dante in the lead, we charged through the double glass doors and into the train station. Just inside, Dante stopped cold, so abruptly that we piled into him. We were all looking around for Connie.

I spotted her first, over by the automated ticket machines.

“Thank goodness you’re here. I thought I’d have to buy a ticket.”

Connie pointed to a row of seats near the women’s restroom where Joanna Barnhorst sat with Timmy in her arms. The very picture of motherhood, she was rocking him gently.

Dressing Timmy for their journey, she’d abandoned the pink theme. My grandson was dressed in yellow overalls and a white top with a picture of Nemo the clownfish embroidered on it. I recognized it as one of the outfits she’d bought for him at Sam’s Club earlier in what was turning out to be the longest day of my life.

While I was mindlessly admiring Tim’s new outfit, Emily streaked past me in a fury. She stopped dead in front of Joanna Barnhorst and stood there, solid as a tree and about as movable. “Give me back my child.”

Joanna looked up with what could only be described as a demented smile on her face. “She’s my child. I told you that before. Don’t you listen?”

“I’m telling you one more time. Give me back my baby, or I’m going to take him away from you.”

Joanna clasped the sleeping child to her chest, burying his chubby face in her bosom. “No. She’s mine.”

Dante surged forward. “Joanna, whatever I may have done to you, Timmy doesn’t deserve to be taken away from his mother.”

Still holding Timmy, Joanna stood up and tried to sidestep the pair of them. “You should have thought about that a long time ago,” she snapped.

“Give Timmy back now , Joanna.”

“No!”

I didn’t expect what happened next. Emily’s hand shot out and struck Joanna a stinging blow across the cheek.

“Help!” Joanna screamed. “They’re trying to steal my baby!”

In the confusion, Emily snatched Timmy from Joanna’s arms and bolted for the door, with Joanna close behind yelling, “Stop! Stop!”

At the door, Emily suddenly whirled. With one hand, she grabbed the bib of Timmy’s brand new overalls and ripped them off. Then she tore off his disposable diaper. Holding Timmy aloft, naked except for his t-shirt, waving her child back and forth before the astonished room of waiting passengers like an oscillating fan, she yelled, “What did you say your daughter’s name was, Joanna?” She lifted Timmy higher, like a trophy, and consulted the crowd. “Does this look like a little girl to you ?”

“Not with that pecker on him,” muttered a drunk who had, until recently, been snoozing on one of the chairs.

Abruptly awakened from a sound sleep, and undoubtedly cold, Timmy began to howl.