Cheryl Tardif - Children of the Fog

Sadie stared at the yellow dump truck. “Fill it with a stuffed bat and Sam will think it’s awesome.”

Her son’s fascination with bats was almost comical. The television was always tuned in to the Discovery Channel while her son searched endlessly for any show on the furry animals.

“What did Phil the Pill get him?” Leah asked dryly.

“A new Leap Frog module.”

“I still can’t believe the things that kid can do.”

Sadie grinned. “Me neither.”

Sam’s mind was a sponge. He absorbed information so fast that he only had to be shown once. His powers of observation were so keen that he had learned how to unlock the door just by watching Sadie do it, so Philip had to add an extra deadbolt at the top. By the time Sam was three, he had figured out the remote control and the DVD player. Sadie still had problems turning on the TV.

Sam… my sweet, wonderful, little genius.

“Maybe I’ll get him a movie,” Leah said. “How about Batman Begins ?”

“He’s turning six, not sixteen.”

“Well, what do I know? I don’t have kids.”

At thirty-four, Leah Winters was an attractive, willowy brunette with wild multi-colored streaks, thick-lashed hazel eyes, a flirty smile and a penchant for younger men. While Sadie’s pale face had a scattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones, Leah’s complexion was tanned and clear.

She’d been Sadie’s best friend for eight years— soul sistahs . Ever since the day she had emailed Sadie out of the blue to ask questions about writing and publishing. They’d met at Book Ends, a popular Edmonton bookstore, for what Leah had expected would be a quick coffee. Their connection was so strong and so immediate that they talked for almost five hours. They still joked about it, about how Leah had thought Sadie was some hotshot writer who wouldn’t give her the time of day. Yet Sadie had given her more. She’d given Leah a piece of her heart.

A rugged, handsome Colin Farrell look-alike passed them in the aisle, and Leah stared after him, eyes glittering.

“I’ll take one of those,” she said with a soft growl. “To go.”

“You won’t find Mr. Right in a toy store,” Sadie said dryly. “They’re usually all taken. And somehow I don’t think you’re gonna find him at Karma either.”

Klub Karma was a popular nightclub on Whyte Avenue. It boasted the best ladies’ night in Edmonton, complete with steroid-muscled male strippers. Leah was a regular.

“And why not?”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Because Karma is packed with sweaty, young puppies who are only interested in one thing.”

Leah gave her a blank look.

“Getting laid,” Sadie added. “Honestly, I don’t know what you see in that place.”

“What, are you daft?” Leah arched her brow and grinned devilishly. “I’m chalking it up to my civil duty. Someone’s gotta show these young guys how it’s done.”

“Someone should show Philip,” Sadie muttered.

“Why—can’t he get it up?”

“Jesus, Leah!”

“Well? Fess up.”

“Later maybe. When we stop for coffee.”

Leah glanced at her watch. “We going to our usual place?”

“Of course. Do you think Victor would forgive us if we went to any other coffee shop?”

Leah chuckled. “No. He’d start skimping on the whipped cream if we turned traitor. So what are you getting Sam?”

“I’ll know it when I see it. I’m waiting for a sign.”

“You’re always such a sucker for this fate thing.”

Sadie shrugged. “Sometimes you have to have faith that things will work out.”

They continued down the aisle, both searching for something for the sweetest boy they knew. When Sadie spotted the one thing she was sure Sam would love, she let out a hoot and gave Leah an I-told-you-so look.

“This bike is perfect. Since his birthday is actually on Monday, I’ll give it to him then. He’ll get enough things from his friends at his party on Sunday anyway.”

Little did she know that Sam wouldn’t see his bike.

He wouldn’t be around to get it.

“Haven’t seen you two all week,” Victor Guan said. “Another day and I would’ve called nine-one-one.”

“It’s been a busy week,” Sadie replied, plopping her purse on the counter. “How’s business, Victor?”

“Picking up again with this cold snap.”

The young Chinese man owned the Cuppa Cappuccino a few blocks from Sadie’s house. The coffee shop had a gas fireplace, a relaxed ambiance and often featured local musicians like Jessy Green and Alexia Melnychuk. Not only did Victor serve the best homemade soups and feta Caesar salad, the mocha lattés were absolutely sinful.

Leah made a beeline for the washroom. “You know what I want.”

Sadie ordered a Chai and a mocha.

“You see that fog this morning?” Victor asked.

“Yeah, I drove Sam to school in it. I could barely see the car in front of me.”

She shivered and Victor gave her a concerned look.

“Cat walk over your grave or something?” he asked.

“No, I’m just tired of winter.”

She grabbed a newspaper from the rack and headed for the upper level. The sofa by the fireplace was unoccupied, so she sat down and tossed the newspaper on the table.

The headline on the front page made her gasp.

The Fog Strikes Again!

Her breath felt constricted. “Oh God. Not another one.”

A photograph of a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting on concrete steps dominated the front page. Eight-year-old Cortnie Bornyk, from the north side of Edmonton, was missing. According to the newspaper, the girl had disappeared in the middle of the night. No sign of forced entry and no evidence as to who had taken her, but investigators were sure it was the same man who had taken the others.

Sadie opened the newspaper to page three, where the story continued. She empathized with the girl’s father, a single dad who had left Ontario to find construction work in Edmonton. Matthew Bornyk had moved here to make a better life. Not a bad decision, considering that the housing market was booming. But now he was pleading for the safe return of his daughter.

“Here you go,” Victor said, setting two mugs on the table.

“Thanks,” she said, without looking up.

Her eyes were glued to the smaller photo of Bornyk and his daughter. The man had a smile plastered across his face, while his daughter was frozen in a silly pose, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.

Daddy’s little girl, Sadie thought sadly.

Leah flopped into an armchair beside her. “Who’s the hunk?”

“His daughter was abducted last night.”

“How horrible.”

“Yeah,” Sadie said, taking a tentative sip from her mug.

“Did anyone see anything?”

“Nothing.” She locked eyes on Leah. “Except the fog.”

“Do they think it’s him ?”

Sadie skimmed the article. “There are no ransom demands yet. Sounds like him.”

“Shit. That makes, what—six kids?”

“Seven. Three boys, four girls.”

“One more boy to go.” Leah’s voice dripped with dread.

The Fog, as the kidnapper was known, crept in during the dead of night or early morning, under the cloak of a dense fog. He wrapped himself around his prey and like a fog, he disappeared without a trace, capturing the souls of children and stealing the hopes and dreams of parents. One boy, one girl. Every spring. For the last four years.

Sadie flipped the newspaper over. “Let’s change the subject.”

Her eyes drifted across the room, taking in the diversity of Victor’s customers. In one corner of the upper level, three teenaged boys played poker, while a fourth watched and hooted every time one of his friends won. Across from Sadie, a redheaded woman wearing a mauve sweatshirt plunked away on a laptop, stopping every now and then to cast the noisy boys a frustrated look. On the lower level, one of the regulars—Old Ralph—was reading every newspaper from front to back. He sipped his black coffee when he finished each page.