Deadly Decision (25 page)

As Trina nibbled contentedly on her muffin, Sandra set a plate with two warm muffins in front of me.

“I can get the last of the furniture polished, and sweep the front porch this morning,” Sandra said, as Trina and I filled our mouths with warm pleasure. “I thought maybe this afternoon I'd plant some flowers around the front of the house, if that's acceptable to y'all?”

“What would we do without you right now?” Trina asked, spewing crumbs from her mouth as she spoke. Both women laughed.

“You're meeting a need for me, too.” Sandra spotted the tell-tale dirt. “You have a visitor last night?”

I explained about hearing Mitch's truck as he was leaving. “Half the trunks are missing, so now he knows we found the cave, if he didn't hear about it before.”

Trina snorted. “As big as the crowd was outside when they took out the bones, everyone has to know. Did you ever think, Dad, it might not be Mitch, but someone from out of town?”

“Why do you insist on protecting him? Trina, think with your brain for once.”

“Bill!” Sandra's stern expression told me mama cat was already on guard.

“I'm going to nail that cupboard shut. I should have done it as soon as the police left.”

“But there's more stuff down there.” Pink spots colored Trina's cheeks. I wasn't sure if they were caused from finally having food in her stomach or her temper.

“It doesn't matter.”

I headed toward the door. “I'll keep working on the brick around the walkway out back. I'll nail the cupboard shut after lunch.

When I was half way across the yard, Sandra called to me.

“You sound like a man with something on his mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

Morning sun highlighted the softness of her face; her modest shorts and shirt hugged her curves. Emotions churned.

“I'm just trying to decide what I need to do at the end of the summer.”
Where did that come from?
I had not given any thought to the end of the summer, but it was true. With Trina's cancer, I needed to make a decision. Should I go back to Ohio or stay in Darlington?

And now there was Sandra. She definitely complicated the decision. But whatever I did, it had to be the best for Trina.

Sandra squeezed my hand and my fingers instinctively curled around hers. “Decisions like that are hard to make. I know Trina would love to keep you here.”

Is she blushing?
I tried to stare without being obvious.

“You know about Trina's condition,” I said, my fingers still wrapped around hers. “I could see it in your face when you came in today.”

“You're a perceptive man.”

“It's a relief that you know. If I stay or not, Trina will still need a mother-figure. I'm glad she has you. Don't worry, I'll pull my weight, and I know Ted will too, but it seems sometimes women need other women.”

“I'm glad you're comfortable with our friendship. Trina is quickly becoming the daughter I never had.”

I stroked her hand with my thumb, enjoying its softness. Trina
would
find a mother just in time to die.

“Did Trina ever tell you how she got her name?” I asked.

“No, she never did.”

“Her name is a combination of everything that was important to Nancy, Trina's mother. Trina stands for the trinity and the nativity. Tri-na. Nancy loved naming things. She even named our cars.”

“Trina's a beautiful name, and it's even more beautiful now.”

Conscious of her hand in mine, I let go. “If you're going to be a stand-in mother, you should know those things.” Hesitating, I continued. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure.”

“Don't mention to her that I know. She'll tell me in her own time.”

“I'll keep your secret.”

She continued to stand beside me. Had I forgotten to say something?

“I don't think I have ever really thanked you for sharing what you saw in the attic,” she finally said. “You know-- seeing Jimmy. It must have been a shock. I'm not sure what I would have done if I'd been in your place.”

“You've thanked me enough by being here for Trina.”

“Trina's a joy. Your family is meeting a need for me, too, Bill. It's like you belonged here all the time. I'm still surprised at how much you resemble Uncle Carl, and you're an identical match to whoever's picture we found in the attic. I'm just sorry all the family's gone and there's no one to tell us who he is.”

“Old photos can be deceiving.” But my likeness to the portrait was disconcerting.

“I'm glad you're here.”

I could smell her perfume, and hated how my heart was thumping. Something about her made me act strangely, like I was having an allergic reaction or something. My tongue was swollen, and my hands were clumsy.

“I'm glad I'm here too,” I mumbled. Then I kissed her cheek.

“I need to go plant those flowers.” She turned away.

This time I was sure about the blush. And I had no regrets for the kiss.

 



 

An hour later, Sandra once again crossed the yard toward me. Even from a distance, her expression told me she was not bringing good news.

“The lab report came back on the blanket.” Tears glazed eyes. “The fibers match the ones from the attic.”

I pulled her close to me. “We knew they might.” I rested my face gently against the top of her head. “Why plant a blanket if it's not the right one?”

“But there's more.” She lifted her face to mine. “There were traces of marijuana on the blanket, and they've taken Pastor Steve back to jail.”

She collapsed onto my chest sobbing.

What is happening?

 

 

 

 

29

 

Clouded with sleep, I clung to the layer of existence between wakefulness and slumber. At first barely aware of the black arms that stretched across the room, the icy cold that followed removed all vestiges of sleep. I pulled the sheet over me, but the thin protection did nothing to provide warmth.

I was thrashing, I had fallen through the frozen lake, freezing water surrounded me, and the opening that should have been above my head was gone. I could not find the opening. My heart glazed over in terror. Did Satan have this much power?

God! Help me!
The cold numbed my body, froze my mind.

The next thing I knew, Ted was shaking my shoulder and calling my name.

“What's wrong?”

“I can't find Trina!”

“What time is it?” I struggled to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Five in the morning.”

The room was dark. The light spilling in from the hall made Ted look ghost-like. I grasped my arms; my skin felt warm. Nighttime shadows filled the room, but the black icy fingers were gone.

I noticed Ted was talking. What had he said about Trina?

“I always wake up about this time. When Trina wasn't in bed, I figured she was in the bathroom, but she wasn't.”

“So she went downstairs.”

“I looked! I've looked everywhere. I even went outside. I can't find her anywhere.”

His panic started to seep into me. For all his flaws, I had never seen Ted this upset. “She has to be close by. A woman in her condition can't wander too far.”

“Exactly, but where is she? The car's still here. So is her cellphone.”

“Maybe she went to Sandra's.” The lame suggestion sounded stupid even to my ears. Why Trina would walk to Sandra's in the dark was beyond me.

“I'll call her!” As Ted bounded out the door, I pulled on my clothes.

Ted was unlocking the kitchen door when I got downstairs. “I woke Sandra up. Trina isn't there, but Sandra's coming right over. I'm calling the police.”

I thought of little Jimmy. Someone had killed him, and that someone was still out there. My heart lurched.
What if that someone has Trina?

In less time than I thought possible, Sandra rushed through the back door. “Have you found her yet?” She held my gaze, and I knew we were thinking the same thing
. It has happened again.
She stood still a second then grabbed the large mixing bowl off the shelf.

“What are you doing?”

“When we find her she'll be hungry.” She turned and looked at me, fear filling her face. “I don't know what else to do.”

I held her as she cried the tears I would not permit myself to shed.

Ted ran into the room. “The police are on their way.”

When the knock came, Sandra and I headed to the parlor while Ted answered the door. Seeing who had been sent, I inwardly groaned: young Officer Studler. This time he seemed concerned.

“Where have you looked?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” Ted answered. “I've searched all over the house, and in the yard and outbuildings.”

“We'll put out an alert,” the policeman said, writing in his little notebook.

Ted's head fell into his hands. “I feel so helpless.”

“We all do, honey.” Sandra moved beside him and rubbed his back.

I escorted Officer Studler to the door.

“We will find her, Mr. Iver.”

It was all I could do to choke back my tears.

In the parlor, Sandra was still sitting beside Ted. She had her arm around the tall man's shoulders. “Have you prayed?” she asked.

I looked at her blankly.

“Have you prayed for God to keep Trina safe, and to help us find her?”

“That's the first thing I should have done,” Ted said, his voice thick. “I've been so worried…”

“God knows that,” murmured Sandra. “May I pray for her?”

We bowed our heads.

“Father, you know where Trina is, and you know how much she is loved. We want her home again. Please protect her, keep her calm and keep her safe. Help those who are looking for her to find her quickly. Pastor Steve spoke of spiritual warfare, Lord. If that is what is going on, please send angels to protect Trina and to fight the invisible warriors for her. Thank you, Father, for your love—in ways we can see and ways we can't. In Jesus name, Amen”

 



 

Ted said he had searched the whole house, but would he be able to see what I could see? I didn't know. My mouth felt like it was full of sand. Terrified of what I might find, I still had to know.

I thought again about my conversation with Pastor Steve. My ghost boys were either demons posing as the children, or they were sent by God. I still didn't know which, but if I saw Trina, I would be able to tell the difference. No demon could reflect the goodness of my daughter. Steve had warned me that evil can make itself lovely; its job is to deceive. But I was her father; I would know.

Reaching the middle of the attic stairs, I slowed. The few remaining steps were agonizing: my feet became leaden and my body numbed. I forced myself to raise my eyes, to focus on the far right-hand side of the attic where little Jimmy and the second ghost boy had been waiting for me.

From God or from Satan, if Trina was there, I would know the difference. But it would also mean she was dead.

 



 

I staggered to my room and collapsed on my bed.

“Dear God, dear God, dear God.”

Shaking so hard my teeth were rattling, I pulled the spread over me and curled into a ball.

The tears came. Floods of tears. Shaking was replaced by body-wrenching sobs.

I hadn't cried since Nancy died.

The tears lasted forever; they brought relief. I had not found my daughter—not her body or her image—in the attic.

She was still alive, and tears came again, this time in anguish for what might be happening to her.

God, Trina is young and innocent. She's pure and decent and good. You allowed her to have cancer, and if that isn't bad enough, now You allowed her to be kidnapped. Why?

My fist hit the pillow. Then I couldn't stop. I pounded the pillow over and over, shouting at God, working out my anguish.

Anger spent, I lay looking at the ceiling. Fear settled over me, the kind of fear that comes right before you're attacked. The danger felt close and personal.
The demon!

I had seen a glimpse of evil in the attic with Barbara, and it had been more horrific than I ever imagined. What if Trina was in the grasp of someone controlled by an entity like the one that had controlled Barbara?

I fled downstairs.

“Where's Ted?” I asked, entering the kitchen. Sandra was sweeping the kitchen floor.

“Back at the police station.” Red rings circled her eyes. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

I poured myself a cup, but didn't sit. I couldn't. I needed to be doing something to find my daughter.

Realizing that someone controlled by evil could have Trina, my desperation to find her took on a new meaning. Leaning against the kitchen sink, adrenalin surging in my blood and screaming for action, but I had no idea what to do.

Sandra finished sweeping the floor. The dirt always appeared in the far corner. Same spot. Always the dirt.

Slumbering connections began to awaken in my brain. Bits and pieces, unimportant by themselves, pulled together, like a magnet attracting iron. The dirt. The floor. Same place. Last night, the sound…

“I know who has Trina!”

 

 

 

 

30

 

I left Sandra staring at the back door as I ran toward the alley. I envisioned putting my hands, forcefully, around the throat of the man who had my daughter. I imagined his hot skin under my fingers, the life-giving blood flowing through his arteries dwindling while I squeezed tighter and tighter…

I pounded on the door, tempted to shove my fist right through it. “Mitch! I know you're in there!”

I beat again, leaving a dent in the old wood. “Get out here or I'm coming in. I know you have Trina!”