Cries of the Children(38)

“She told me what happened,” Eric said. “I think we need to talk.”

“Steven,” Rachel said, “take these up to your room and unpack them. I’ll come up in a few minutes to help you put them away.”

“Okay,” Steven said. “But I can just leave them in the bags. I don’t want to take any of Tatiana’s drawers away.”

He turned to the little girl, but Tatiana only stuck her tongue out at him. “Did you see that?” Rachel cried. “That child is becoming a brat! She needs to be punished, Eric! She’s selfish and spoiled and—”

“That’s enough, Rachel!” Eric snapped. He put an arm around Tatiana.

“You go on outside and play, honey,” he said. “Forget about what happened. You let me handle everything.”

Tatiana opened her mouth to say something, but decided she’d better not press her luck. Instead, she opened the front door and ran from the house. At that moment she wanted to be as far away from stupid-old-Steven, and her mother too, as possible.

Not to be outdone, Rachel looked at Steven.

“Go on up,” she said. “And don’t worry about the drawers.”

Steven hurried up the stairs, grateful to be away from a family altercation.





17


SAMANTHA SETTLED Julie in front of a cartoon show with a cup of hot chocolate. Then she took the paper John had given her upstairs to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the phone for a long time. She wondered if the horrible feeling of dread would overcome her again, freezing up her insides and making her want to scream.

She didn’t give herself much more time to dwell on the possibility. Her hand shot out and grabbed the receiver, punching in the numbers as if afraid that, any second now, something would make her fingers stop moving.

Nothing happened. It was going to be all right.

She had let the line ring about fifteen times and was about to hang up when a voice answered with words she couldn’t decipher.

“Pardon me?” she asked. “Is this the Sherer Detective Agency?”

There was a moan, and a moment later a voice said, “This is Wil Sherer. Sorry. I was sleeping.”

Sleeping, in the middle of the day? Samantha wondered how good a detective he could be if he had so little to do.

“Uh, what can I do for you?” Sherer asked.

“My name is Samantha Winstead. We have a mutual friend, John Brightman?” Samantha introduced herself. She heard an acknowledging sort of noise from the other end of the line. “I have a problem, and he told me you might be of help. You see, I—”

“Wait,” the detective said. “I don’t discuss business over the phone. Can you meet me this afternoon?”

Samantha looked toward her door, as if she could see downstairs to where Julie sat watching television.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I have a child here. Well, I could try to get a baby-sitter.”

“I like kids,” Sherer said. “You can bring him along.”

“It’s a girl,” Samantha said. “She’s the object of all this. And I’d prefer not to bring her.”

She felt that Julie had been upset enough that day.

“Well, you make arrangements,” Sherer said. “I’m just off a case, so I’m pretty free for the next few days. Just give me a call.”

He hung up before Samantha could say another word. She looked at her alarm clock. According to the time, Barbara Huston was off-duty. If she hadn’t gone out after work, she’d be home by now.

“Wishful thinking,” Samantha said. “Barbara’s probably got a date. Even if it is a week night.”

But Barbara was her only choice. She prayed her friend would be home, and willing to baby-sit. Samantha was certain that if she didn’t meet Wil Sherer this afternoon, she’d never meet him. Her fear of anything to do with the police promised that.

She dialed Barbara’s number and was delighted when her friend answered the phone.

“Hi, Barbara,” she said. “Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Not until eight,” Barbara said. “Hang on, I have to switch ears.”

A moment later: “I’m cooking here. Fred Matlin is coming for dinner.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of the guys from the lab,” Barbara said. “Why do you want to know if I’m busy?”

Samantha felt like an intruder. “Forget it. I was going to ask you to watch Julie, but . . .”

“Where are you going?”

Samantha told her about Wil Sherer.

“Samantha, are you sure?” Barbara asked. “I mean, think of the way you reacted each time you tried to call the police!”