Janice Johnson - Making Her Way Home

When did I last have fun?

Never? There must have been times, but if so they were lost in the more painful memories.

I could drive back to the park. The impulse was powerful. She saw herself walking slowly, calling, “Honey? I’m here,” as if Sicily were only hiding. Which she wouldn’t be. But…what if she’d fallen and hurt herself, been knocked out, and was now regaining consciousness in the dark? What if she had a broken leg and couldn’t get up to walk?

The idea of continuing to do nothing but sit here was unendurable. Beth heard a thin, anguished sound and realized she’d made it. She was horrified; she knew better than to make any noise at all! No matter how much she hurt, she knew how to be silent.

She made herself draw slow, deep breaths. Look around, ground herself. This was home. Her home. No one was hurting her; that was long in her past. Her hurt now was for her niece, who had to be scared and bewildered somewhere.

She’d have her cell phone if she went back to the park, so Sicily could call her if she were able. Detective Ryan could reach her, too, in case he had news.

A part of her knew this was ridiculous, but she rushed to her room and changed clothes, into jeans and a sweatshirt warm enough for the evening, plus thick socks and athletic shoes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and looked quickly away from that pale, haunted face.

She carried a flashlight in her glove compartment, but she had a better one here in the house, big, sealed in rubber, with a bright beam. Beth grabbed that, and a zip-up sweatshirt she’d bought Sicily, because if she was out there she’d be cold.

Then Beth left the house.

* * *

SICILY WOKE WITH A START TO A scraping sound. By the time the trunk lifted, she realized what she’d heard was key in the lock. She cringed toward the back of the trunk, then thought, No! I should have jumped out. Really fast, and run.

Too late. A man bent over her, too quick for her to really see him. He flung a blanket over Sicily. Even as she started to fight, he bundled her in rough, scratchy wool so tight it was like the Egyptian mummies. She could hardly move at all except to buck and kick and she couldn’t get enough air to scream.

Nothing she did made any difference. He was way bigger than her, and he carried her in his arms, not over his shoulder, where she might have been able to squirm her face or arms free. He didn’t walk very far. Doors opened and closed. She thought maybe they went down some steps, which she couldn’t figure out until she understood. Basement. Once he banged her head against a hard surface, maybe a door frame. More steps and then abruptly she was dumped onto what felt like a mattress.

As she fought her way free of the blanket, the door slammed shut and she heard the distinct slide of a lock. Sicily found herself in complete darkness. No light came in any window, and for a minute she heard nothing at all. And then…was that a television?

* * *

WHETHER DRIVEN BY UNEASINESS or only a gut feeling, Mike went straight back to Edmonds. He’d wanted to assess the grandparents, but he had the bad feeling he’d made a mistake. He should have parked down the street and kept an eye on Beth Greenway’s house.

He pulled up in front to find the porch light on and one light somewhere inside, but the house was darker than when he’d left. If she’d gone to bed, why had she left lights on at all? He had trouble imagining her brushing her teeth, changing into a nightgown and settling comfortably into bed. Maybe with the aid of a sleeping pill—but would she be willing to knock herself out so that she might not hear her phone ring?

Yes. If she already knew where Sicily was. If her anxiety was only for herself.

He went to the porch and rang the bell, hearing the deep tolls inside. There was no stir of activity. He rang again. Swearing, Mike circled the garage and found a side window. Of course it was dark inside, but he stood patiently waiting until his eyes gradually adjusted enough for him to see that the small space was empty. Goddamn. Where had she gone?

He went back to his Tahoe and sat with the door open so the overhead light was on. He snatched his cell phone from his belt, then had to flip open the notebook he carried to find her number.

She answered on the third ring, her voice quick and eager. “Yes?”

“Where the hell are you?” he growled.

“Detective Ryan? Did you find anything out?”

“No. What I want to know is why you aren’t home.”

The silence was long enough he began to wonder if the call had been dropped, or she’d ended it. But finally she said, “You came back to see if I was there.”

He could have lied and told her he’d come back to check up on her because he was worried about her. He didn’t. “Yes.”

“I’m not.”

“I figured that out.”

“How?”

“Your car isn’t in the garage.”

Another pool of silence fell, but he didn’t make the mistake this time of thinking she wasn’t there. This time he could feel her, all of that tension stretched quivering and tight beneath the surface.

“I’m at the park.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t do nothing but sit there. I’d have gone crazy. Knowing that no one was looking for her…” Beth’s voice cracked.

“It’s pitch-dark!”

“I brought a flashlight,” she said defensively.

“How long have you been there?”

“I left not that long after you did.”

He slammed his door and turned the key in the ignition with a jerk. The engine had barely roared to life before he gunned away from the curb. “You thought you’d find her in the dark when twenty trained search-and-rescue personnel couldn’t find her in daylight.”

“No.” She said it so softly he strained to hear. “But I had to try. I didn’t today, you know, not once…after everyone else started looking. All I did was sit there and wait. I can’t do that anymore.”

Pity joined the anger and frustration crowding him. He could imagine all too easily how she felt. If she were sincere and this wasn’t all an act for his benefit. If she were actually at the park at all.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

“Um…on the beach. I keep thinking she could have fallen and been knocked out. And now it’s dark. If she woke up and it was completely dark…”

Something in her voice told him she wasn’t entirely talking about the missing child. “Darkness can be comforting,” he said. “It can hide you.” He didn’t even know why he said that.

“Yes.” She sounded calmer. “I know that. You’re right.”

“Are you ready to come home?”

“No. I feel better being here.”

He growled an obscenity under his breath, but she must have heard because she said stiffly, “It’s my choice. The park isn’t closed. I can answer the phone here, as well as at home. I can’t sleep anyway.”

“She’s not there, Ms. Greenway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I think we both know that.”

“No! No, we don’t. And if I want to keep looking for her, that’s my business. If you need to talk to me in the morning, you know where to find me.” She ended the call.

He reached the freeway and got on. Traffic was sparse at this time of night, so he’d make good time. Once he’d maneuvered into the inside lane and was pushing the speed limit, he hit redial on his phone. She didn’t answer.

* * *

THE NIGHT WAS SO QUIET, SHE heard the powerful engine when a vehicle pulled into the parking lot up above. Beth knew who it was. For a moment, guilt squeezed her throat, but it subsided when she remembered that he was here not out of concern for her, but because he thought…what? That she was taking dinner to Sicily, wherever she’d stowed her? Was visiting the grave? Who knew? He’d already have seen her car, which confirmed that she was here. That didn’t mean she had to go to meet him. He’d never find her if she didn’t want him to.