Kathy hadn’t had time to check her answering machine since lunch. Her mind raced in a dozen directions. “What’d you tell him?”
“That’s just it. He left the courtroom before I could make my decision.”
Kathy’s heart rate doubled. “You aren’t worried, are you?”
“Actually, I am. He wanted custody of Amanda immediately. He knew she was a ward of the court and that she was between foster homes. He hadn’t found out about her until recently, but he wanted full custody.”
A pit formed in Kathy’s stomach. What could this mean? What could the man possibly want with Amanda? “So, where is he now?”
“He could be anywhere, I guess. But if he wants the child…”
“What do you mean?” Panic rose and Kathy’s hands began to tremble. Who was this John McFadden and why was he here in town now? Was he somehow connected with Ben Stovall? Kathy glanced at her watch. Three P.M. Amanda would be getting out of school in ten minutes.
“It took a little while to run the check on him. My guess is he panicked and ran before I could call the police.”
Kathy worked her fingers through her hair and tried to calm her pounding heart. “What’s his rap sheet say?” She closed her eyes, not wanting to hear the judge’s answer.
“Officers are investigating him for drug trafficking, and he’s currently facing charges on attempted murder of a man in Cleveland. A Ben Stovall.”
The room began to spin, and Kathy fought to maintain her balance. “Ben…Stovall?”
Judge Hutchison hesitated. “Stovall pressed charges. The report says the beating nearly killed him.”
“Oh no!” Kathy forced herself to concentrate. “This can’t be happening. Judge, listen, thanks for the information. I’ve got to go meet Amanda at the bus.”
“If you see anything out of the ordinary, I want you to call the police immediately I already notified them that McFadden’s in town. I hate to say it, Ms. Garrett, but my instincts tell me the guy could be dangerous.”
Seconds after hanging up, Kathy called the motel where Ben Stovall was staying. When he answered, she didn’t mince words. “I don’t have much time here, Ben. There’s a man in town by the name of John McFadden. He came before the judge today and wanted immediate custody of Amanda. What do you know about him?”
“He what?”
“I’m serious. We don’t have much time. What do you know?”
“The guy’s dangerous. He’s Amanda’s father, but there’s no good reason why he’d be here unless it’s somehow about me.”
“You remember where I live?”
“Sure, I’m a mile away.”
“Amanda’s bus stop is a block up the street. Meet me there.”
Kathy hung up and raced out of her office, praying desperately that she had nothing to worry about.
And if she did, that she would reach the bus stop in time.
Thirty-two
JOHN MCFADDEN HUNKERED DOWN IN THE FRONT SEAT OF HIS car and watched as the weathered, yellow school bus screeched to a stop.
Deciding which child was his would be the trickiest part. Of course, it would get trickier when police got wind the kid was missing. By then, though, he would have made contact with Stovall and presented his demands. If things went right, he could be done with the kid in an hour or so.
But then, things hadn’t gone great so far.
He fingered his gun and tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan, after all. If the police arrested him, he’d have to prove the girl was his daughter. They couldn’t arrest him for kidnapping his own kid, could they? A gnawing pain ate at the pit of his stomach, and he tried not to think about it.
The bus pulled away, leaving two boys and a girl, who immediately began walking in different directions. John squinted through his sunglasses. So that’s her. He stared at the girl, surprised to feel a twinge of regret. What if he’d stayed with Maggie, worked things out? What would his life be like today if they’d moved in together and raised the kid? Whatever it would have been like, it probably wouldn’t involve him running from the police.
You’re weak, McFadden! Forget the brat! This was no time to be thinking fatherly thoughts. The girl was moving quickly along the shaded, residential street, and he had to get her. He looked around—no signs of cars coming in any direction. It was now or never. He started the engine and moved the car slowly toward the girl. “Let’s get it done with…”
As his car pulled up alongside the kid, she glanced at him over her shoulder and picked up her pace. John was struck by how pretty she was. Just like Maggie had been that summer…
He hit the automatic button and rolled down the passenger window. “Hi, Amanda.” She started, but kept walking, holding her books more tightly to her body. Great. She probably knew about not talking to strangers. He gave the car just enough gas to keep even with her. “I’m a friend of Ben Stovall’s. He asked me to meet you at the bus stop and drive you to the park.”
Hurry, kid. It was only a matter of minutes before she reached that social worker’s house or a car drove up and thought something suspicious was happening. “Ben and Kathy Garrett are going to meet you there. At the park.”
The girl stopped and turned to face him. Fear showed clearly in her eyes, and the feeling in his gut intensified. She bit her lip. “Kathy sent you?”
Thatta girl. Come on, get in the car. “She wanted you to come with me.” He’d have to thank Mike and Alfie later for giving him the right details.
Amanda moved closer to the car. I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”
That was it; he couldn’t wait another moment. He drove up a few feet ahead of her, slammed on the brakes, and pushed open the passenger door. Before she could get past him, he pointed the gun at her. “Don’t make me shoot you, Amanda.” His friendly tone was gone. “Get in the car. Now!”
She looked ready to run, so John pulled out his final card. “You leave now, and I’ll kill Kathy Garrett. I know where she lives and when she gets home.” Amanda froze, her eyes wide. “I’ll do it, Amanda. Now get in the car.”
The girl clenched her jaw and hesitated only a moment before walking briskly toward the car and climbing inside. She barely had the door shut when he jerked the vehicle away from the curb and sped out of the neighborhood.
He had expected her to cry or scream or carry on. Instead she sat there, staring out the windshield. Then she broke the silence by humming something. It was the same tune over and over and over again.
“Don’t you wanna know where I’m takin’ you, Amanda?”
The girl kept her eyes straight ahead. “How do you know Mr. Stovall?”
Her voice was a strange combination of jaded maturity and tender innocence. Again he wondered why he was doing this. To blackmail Stovall into dropping the charges against him? It didn’t even make sense anymore. Not when he was driving his own daughter at gunpoint back to his hotel. What if he really did want to have custody rights at some point? She was his kid, after all.
Maybe so, he mocked himself, but no judge in his right mind would grant you a stinkin’ thing after this. Not even visitation.
The girl’s question about Stovall hung in the air. Stovall. This was all his fault. “Well, Amanda, your old daddy knows a lot of things.”
At that she stopped humming and spun around, eyes wide, mouth open. “You’re not my daddy.”
He grinned at her. Sassy little thing…just like he’d been as a kid. “Well, actually, I am your daddy. No time like the present to get acquainted, eh?”
She turned to stare out the windshield, and the dratted humming started up again.
Fine.
If she wasn’t interested in getting to know him, forget her. He ran his finger over the gun in his hand. She wasn’t his daughter. She was just a kid with DNA that matched his. And if she pulled anything funny or caused too much trouble, he’d waste her and hide her body. He wouldn’t have any trouble getting away with it. After all, she was just a
lonely Social Services brat; the system wouldn’t even miss her.
The humming was getting on his nerves. “Would you shut up, already! I hate that song.”
“‘Jesus Loves Me’?” There was no fear, no anger in her soft voice. It was weird. Like she was in some kind of safe place, all by herself. She started humming again.
“Listen, kid, you’re with me now. Jesus ain’t exactly in the picture.”
She just smiled. “Jesus loves me and whoever you are, He loves you, too.”
Of all the—
“You’re crazy, kid. I could shoot you right now, and no one would know the difference. And all you can do is sit there humming some stupid song about Jesus?”
She turned and leveled her gaze at him. “That’s not all I’m doing.”
Why wasn’t she scared? The uncanny calm in her eyes was enough to make his skin crawl. If he hadn’t regretted his decision to take her before, he sure did now. Of course, she was his daughter—so it made sense that she was tough even in the face of a gun. He turned onto a busier street. “Okay, smart mouth, what else are you doing besides staring out the window humming some stupid song about Jesus and getting on my nerves?”
She bit her lip and studied him. “I’m praying for you.”
Ben had a sick feeling in his stomach.
He and Kathy arrived at Amanda’s bus stop at almost exactly the same moment, and there was no sign of Amanda. Ever since receiving the call from Kathy he’d been in a panic, but now he was hit with genuine terror.
He pulled his car up alongside Kathy’s and motioned for her to roll her window down. “Where is she?”
“The bus should have come by now.” Kathy’s face was ashen, and though Ben had only met her that week, he was sure she was feeling the same jolts of raw fear he was.
“So she’s at your house, right? Wouldn’t that make sense?”
Kathy nodded, and the stiff way she held her mouth made Ben think she couldn’t talk if she’d wanted to.
Ben looked around and spotted an older woman across the street. She was hanging a Thanksgiving wreath on her front door, then she turned and stared at them. Ben motioned to Kathy to follow him as he jumped from his car. “Excuse me, has the school bus come already?”
The woman walked the few steps to meet them and her face knit into a mass of wrinkled concern as she considered the question. “A while ago.”
Kathy smiled politely, but Ben noticed her hands were trembling at her sides. “I’m Kathy Garrett. I live down the street; I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Polly. Polly Russell. Me and Grandpa been living here thirty years now. Watch the school bus come by same time every day.”
Ben jumped in. “Mrs. Russell, there’s a little blond girl that gets off at this stop…did you see her today?”
Again concern filled the older woman’s eyes. “I always notice the girl. Reminds me of my own sweet babies; same hair, eyes, and coloring. That kind of thing.”
Kathy shifted anxiously, speaking in quick, choppy sentences. “The girl lives with me and my family. She’s waiting for a foster home. Did you see her? Maybe talking to someone when she got off the bus?”
“Matter of fact, I did. A man pulled up in a big ol’ car and talked to her while she was walking. After a minute or so, she climbed in with him.” The woman looked from Ben to Kathy and back to Ben. “I figured he was her daddy, since she went so willingly.”
“Thanks…thank you, Mrs…” Kathy’s face was white, and Ben thought she might pass out.
“The child’s okay, isn’t she?” Alarm filled the woman’s features at the thought that something may have happened to the little blond girl. Ben knew how she felt.
“It’s fine. We’ll take care of it. Thanks.” He nodded at the woman and led Kathy by the arm back to his car. “Pray. Start and don’t stop.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing.” Kathy’s voice was shaky.
Father, how can this be happening? I’ve just found Amanda, Maggie’s very own daughter, and now she’s been kidnapped by…by… He remembered McFadden’s blows as he lay on the pavement, the merciless kicks to the—
No. Ben couldn’t bring himself to think of Amanda with that man. It was too horrible to imagine. She’d already been through so much…
Dear God, let her be home by now. Protect her. Please!
He helped Kathy into his car and—leaving her car parked at the bus stop—they sped down the street to the Garrett home.
“What if…?” Kathy’s question hung in the air as he parked the car.
“Don’t! That woman might be wrong. Maybe Amanda’s already here.” He followed Kathy as she raced inside, but she stood frozen in the entry and hugged herself tightly. “Hey, kids, I’m home.” Each word was an effort. “Is…is Amanda here?”
“Not yet, Mom. How was your day?” It was the voice of a teenager from a room across the house.
Ben forced himself to breathe as the hurried exchange went on. No, God. No! Let her be okay Please…
Amanda wasn’t there. Kathy sat down on the sofa and leaned over her knees, rocking slightly. “He took her. McFadden took her. I feel it in my heart.” A sob caught in her throat and she pointed to the phone. “Hurry, please. You make the call.”
Without hesitating another moment, Ben picked up the phone and dialed 911. The dispatcher barely got two words out before he blurted, “My daughter’s been kidnapped.”
Officers Aaron Hisel and Buddy Reed deeply enjoyed their work as Cincinnati police officers. As partners they had seen each other through ten years of arrests and criminal investigations—not to mention the births of their combined seven children. They were family men, dedicated to keeping the streets safe.
It was just before four o’clock, when the two would normally have been making their way back to the office and checking out for the day. But they were working on a case they were close to breaking, a case that put them squarely in the heart of Woodland, a suburb just east of the city.
They had spent much of the day interviewing witnesses and were making more progress than they’d hoped when the call came in. An APB to be on the lookout for a white male suspect named John McFadden, driving a gold Acura. McFadden was already facing charges of assault and attempted murder and now he was running from the law.
Hisel glanced at Reed. “Didn’t we get that call a few hours ago?”
Reed nodded as he turned the wheel. “I thought so, too. Check with dispatch, will you?”
Hisel picked up the radio and called headquarters. “This McFadden APB, is that an old call? We got word about him earlier. Something about him leaving the courthouse in the middle of a meeting with Judge Hutch. Hutch ran the rap and found an attempted murder charge. Are we talking about the same call?”
The radio crackled as dispatch answered. “Negative. You must have missed the first part of the call.”
“What else do you have on him?” Hisel grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from where it was clipped on the dashboard.
“He just kidnapped a seven-year-old girl. She’s got long blond hair, blue eyes. Took her from her bus stop approximately thirty minutes ago. There’s reason to believe he’s armed and dangerous.” The dispatch provided the location of the bus stop and repeated the license plate number of the Acura McFadden was driving.
Hisel’s stomach clenched and he exchanged a glance with Reed just as his partner flipped the squad car around and headed toward the address.
“Let’s go get him.” Hisel thought of his own children, safe at home with their mother. Then he thought of all the unspeakable things a child might suffer in the course of a kidnapping.
He and Reed had discussed it a hundred times over the years and each time their consensus was the same. High on the list of crimes that were the worst, most atrocious, horrific actions a person could commit were those that caused the blood of both officers to boil.
Crimes against children.
Thirty-three
THE MEAN MAN WAS DRIVING VERY FAST.
DEEP INSIDE IT MADE Amanda nervous, but she wouldn’t let him see that.
She wondered where he was taking her. Would he really kill her when they got there? Jesus, help me be safe, please.
She knew God would answer. After all, He’d saved her from the boys and their baling twine; He’d rescued her from Mrs. Graystone. No matter what happened to her, God always brought her through okay, and Amanda knew there was a reason. The Lord had a forever home for her and somehow He would find a way to get her there.
She glanced at the man. His face was all sweaty. Shivers ran down her arms and she was glad he wasn’t her father. What a terrible lie. She turned to stare straight ahead. Help that man know about You, God. He needs to change and love You more.
The few times the man had talked to her, he’d been grouchy and scary, but Amanda wasn’t frightened. God wouldn’t let him hurt her.
“Whatcha looking at, brat?” The man’s face twisted up in an angry look.
“I’m p-p-praying for you.”
“Praying? What’re you doing that for?” The man’s voice was growly and hard.
“It’s what I always d-d-do when someone’s mean.”
She could hear Mrs. Brownell’s kind, caring voice: “That’s a good girl, Amanda. You pray for them. And make sure to tell them you’re praying, just so they know.”
Most of the time when she told someone mean she was praying, he stopped being mean and walked away. Mrs. Brownell had said being nice and praying for someone made it hard for them to be mean anymore. Something about putting coals on their heads.
Amanda had never noticed coals on the heads of the mean kids at school. And they hadn’t shown up on the boys’ heads in the barn, either, or on Mrs. Graystone’s head. She glanced again at the man beside her. There were no coals on his head, either. Maybe the coals thing meant something else. Like about how hearing something nice can make you hurt all over. Especially if all you’ve been is mean.
Praying was the right thing to do, though, because it was the only thing that absolutely worked every time. God wouldn’t let her down. He would see that she stayed safe and found a way back to Kathy Garrett and that nice Mr. Stovall. Maybe he would be her forever dad and take her to live in an always, ever-after family.