Cheryl Tardif - Children of the Fog

Sadie lost it. She howled with anguish and sank to the floor, working herself into such a frenzy that Philip couldn’t calm her.

“Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing,” Jay said, trying to comfort her. “That means he would have made sure there was no infection. I think Sam is still alive.”

There was no comfort in the detective’s words.

When he was gone, she doubled over, weeping. “The bastard hurt Sam, and it’s all my fault.”

No it isn’t, Mommy.

“Yes it is,” she argued with her son’s ghost.

Without a word, Philip isolated himself in his office. In that one move, he had virtually washed his hands of her. And they both knew it.

She stumbled upstairs to the bedroom, reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a manila envelope. Inside were the documents that Philip had signed the night before.

“I know I was a rotten husband,” he’d told her. “But I don’t want you to hate me, Sadie.”

She stared at the divorce papers, pen poised, ready to lay down her signature—until uncertainty overwhelmed her. She wasn’t sure why. Their marriage had been over years ago.

So why was she hesitating?

Maybe because she was afraid that if she signed them, signed away her marriage, that Sam would never return. Perhaps by holding onto her marriage it would make him come back. Maybe there was still hope for her and Philip.

She pursed her lips. “Who are you trying to kid?”

She scribbled her signature on the papers.

For a long moment, she stared at the pen stroke that wiped out her status as a wife. It had been so easy, so quick. Her marriage was over—dead.

Like Sam, taunted her subconscious.

“No,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

She hurried downstairs. Philip hadn’t left yet.

“Here.” She dropped the envelope on the desk in front of him. “Signed, sealed and delivered. I’ll be out of the house by the end of the month.”

At least he had the decency to look uncomfortable.

“Where will you go?” he asked.

“I don’t know exactly. I might stay with Leah for a few weeks, until I find myself a new place.”

“I meant what I said before. You can keep the house.”

Her head jerked. “I don’t want it, Philip. Someone stole our son from this house. It’s poisoned now, tainted. But I do need something from you.”

“What?”

“Make sure this is taken care of.” She indicated the envelope.

“I’ll have it filed immediately.”

“You do that.”

He watched her, a wild look in his eyes. “I tried to be a good husband, but I’m just not cut out for it. I-I did love you, Sadie. The best way I knew how. But then Sam came along and everything… changed. You changed.”

“We both did, Philip.”

Easter used to be Sadie’s favorite holiday. Not this year though. No one called her with a cheery ‘Happy Easter’, as in years past. No flowers from Philip, even though they’d always been bought in haste at Sobeys. And no Sam. Instead, Easter Sunday arrived with a drizzle of rain and stormy skies, perfect weather for Sadie’s mournful mood.

She was cleaning the kitchen when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

Heavy breathing greeted her.

“Leah, I’m really not in the moo—”

“Sam’s left you an Easter gift,” a voice rasped.

Her blood ran cold. It had been two weeks since she had heard that voice.

“It’s on the porch.”

Her breath quickened. “Wait! Please! Don’t hurt—”

Click.

Dropping the phone on the table, she tottered toward the front door and whipped it open, half hoping—half praying—to see Sam. All she saw was a small ring box.

She phoned Jay.

“I’m right around the corner,” he said. “We’re already searching the neighborhood.”

He pulled up a few minutes later in an unmarked police car. Patterson was with him.

“We’ve got your phone tapped,” Jay explained when he noticed her questioning look.

“Did you trace the call?”

“He wasn’t on long enough.”

The younger detective quickly scoped the yard, checking the perimeter of the house, while Jay followed her to the porch.

“Did you move it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not an inch.”

“Good.”

He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, crouched down near the box and cautiously lifted the lid. Releasing a hissed breath, he gave her a fleeting look. Then he eased the box into a clear plastic bag and sealed it.

“Take this to the lab,” he said to Patterson when the man returned. “I’ll stay with Ms. O’Connell until her husband arrives.”

Patterson drove away, tires squealing.

“What was in the box?” she asked, her stomach quivering.

“Sadie, I think we should wait—”

“Just tell me, Jay. It’s better than letting my imagination run wild. What was it?”

“A child’s toe.”

Sadie’s knees buckled and she collapsed against the house.

Jay rushed to her side. “Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he said, helping her inside. “I’ll call Victim Services for you.”

“No!” She grabbed his arm. “I need to be alone.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she had said. “I don’t mean you have to go. I just don’t want to be surrounded by strangers. I need to think. I need to call Philip. I need… oh God!”

She sagged into a chair at the kitchen table and rocked back and forth, trying not to think of the box. Or Sam’s toe. Or the monster who took him. She hugged her arms across her chest.

Sammmm!

“Where do you keep your tea cups?” Jay asked firmly.

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her mind. What will he cut off next? Another toe? Another finger? Something else?

“Sadie?” Jay touched her arm.

She choked back a sob. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Tea cups?”

“In the china cabinet,” she said, watching him.

Jay found the kettle, filled it and plugged it in. When the water boiled, he looked at her and she pointed to a cupboard where she kept the teapot and tea. A few minutes later, he poured two cups of the strong brew, laced them with lots of cream and sugar, and hefted his bulk into a chair.

“I’m not very good at knowing what to do in situations like this,” he apologized.

“The tea is good,” she said. “Thanks for the distraction.”

“My mother always used to say that the world’s troubles could be solved by a pot of tea,” he mumbled. “It’s the only thing I can think of doing when things go bad.”

She studied his tired, wrinkled face. “And things are really bad, aren’t they?”

“We don’t know if it’s Sam’s toe,” he said quietly. “I’ll have it analyzed right away.”

She blinked rapidly, holding back the tears. “He said he’d send Sam back in pieces. First his finger, now his toe.” She moaned and cradled her head in her hands.

“I wish I could do something, Sadie.”

She heard the helplessness in his voice. She felt the same way.

“Thank you, Jay.”

“I’m sorry that you’re being taunted like this,” he said. “And I’m so sorry he’s hurt your son.”

She nodded mutely.

“I want you to know we’re doing everything…” His voice drifted away. “Hell, I know there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you feel any better.” Frustrated, he ran a hand through his thin gray hair. “I’d give anything for a break on this case.”

She felt a surge of pity for Jay. His face was lined with worry and years of hopeless cases. “Thank you.”

“I’ve spent too many years on the job,” he confessed. “It doesn’t get any easier.”