Cries of the Children(16)

“Did I do it right?”

“Huh?”

Julie pointed at the coloring book.

“Did I get the colors right?”

Samantha tried to concentrate on the child’s picture, forcing away the coldness she felt inside. For a moment she merely stared at the page without really seeing it. But when at last her eyes focused, her mouth dropped open in amazement. Not only had the child colored an extremely detailed picture without flaw, she had also chosen the proper shades. She’d chosen red for the arteries and blue for the veins, and hadn’t mixed them up!

“How . . . ?”

Julie took the book away from her.

“I’d like to color another picture,” she said. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Samantha said. “Sure, you go right ahead.”

Julie skipped out of the room. Samantha watched her go, wondering what to make of her. She couldn’t begin to figure the child out, let alone the situation in which they had both found themselves. She couldn’t bear living inside a mystery a moment longer. She had to talk to someone!

And if she couldn’t call the police, there was someone she could call: Barbara Huston.

For a moment Samantha hesitated to pick up the fallen receiver. Then she grabbed it, and as soon as she realized it hadn’t burned her, she began to dial Barbara’s number. After a few rings Barbara’s answering machine picked up the line. Samantha left a message.

“Barbara, it’s Samantha and I’m in trouble. I think I was kidnapped last night, and—”

Another voice cut in, more animated than the first. “Hold on! Hold on!”

There was a click, and then the real Barbara came on the line.

“It’s me!” Barbara said. “I was just screening my calls. I’ve been getting a barrage of calls from people trying to sell me things. Now, explain this to me. You think you were kidnapped?”

Samantha related what she could remember, beginning with her ride home and ending with finding Julie in the motel room. Barbara made some thinking noises, then said:

“The last thing you remember before waking up is being in your garage?”

“Sort of,” Samantha said. “I get a feeling something happened to me when I got out of the truck, but it’s not clear.”

“Have you tried calling the police?”

“Of course I have,” Samantha said. “Sheriff Sirtos is a friend, you know. But every time I attempt to dial that number, something terrible happens to me. This overwhelming sense of panic takes hold of me, and for a few moments I’m too frightened to even move.”

“Of what?”

“Of calling the police, I guess,” Samantha said. “I don’t know! I’ve never been afraid of anyone in my life.”

For a moment, thoughts of her mother threatened to make a liar of her. She had been afraid of that woman. But that was beside the point now.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I’m stuck here with a little girl who can’t remember her past. The only thing she can figure is that a man named Mr. Henley brought her to that motel room. Apparently I signed some papers making me Julie’s legal guardian.”

Barbara was silent for a moment.

“Do you still have those papers?” she asked.

“Sure I do,” Samantha said. “I’m holding on to them for dear life, because if this kid’s family ever does show up, it may be the only thing that saves me from a kidnapping charge. Barbara, what am I going to do? Julie can’t remember where she came from, and every time I try to call the police, something stops me.”

“Samantha, can I say something to you?” Barbara inquired. “As a caring friend?”

“Sure . . .” Samantha was doubtful.

“Well, you know you’ve had problems in your life,” Barbara said. “Considering the kind of childhood you had, couldn’t it be possible that something has . . . well ‘snapped’? Could it be possible you did kidnap this child?”

“Barbara, I would never . . . !”

She could almost see Barbara holding up a hand. “Wait. I’m not making accusations. It’s just something to consider. For lack of a better phrase, maybe there was a moment of ‘temporary insanity’ that made you snatch this kid.”

“From a hundred miles away?”

“I can’t explain that,” Barbara said. “All I can suggest is that you keep her to yourself until you do some research. Look, the kid herself doesn’t seem to remember where she came from. So she may be as much of a victim of a hoax as you. But you have to be certain.”

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Samantha said, almost to herself.