The Collective (16 page)

Jane waited for them to move along and then she pushed the cart outside, strapped Leyla into her car seat, and then loaded the groceries into the trunk. The change in temperature rippled across her skin. She hadn’t realized how chilly it had been inside the Super Stop & Shop with the air conditioner going full blast, but the August sun quickly warmed her. She thought that anyone who complained about the heat on such a splendid day ought to shut up come January, when the snow was hip-deep and the wind chill below zero.

At the moment, though, winter was very far away. She wore a blue cotton spaghetti-strap top, blue jeans, and sandals. In the supermarket, she had bought Popsicles and ice-cream sandwiches—George loved those, and had since childhood—but now she’d started thinking perhaps they ought to leave the snacks in the freezer and go out and get a decent ice-cream cone this afternoon.

Better yet, we should go visit Karen
.

As she fired up her Accord and pulled out of the parking lot, turning toward home, she wondered how Caitlin would feel about a trip down to the Cape tomorrow. They could visit George’s sister, Karen, spend the day at the beach in Chatham, and if they stayed late enough they might well miss most of the traffic. Even if George didn’t want to make the drive, they could still go.
Girls’ day out
.

She mulled it over while driving, but as she turned from Winthrop Street onto Badger Road, a chill went through her. While she and Leyla had been shopping, she hadn’t thought about the strangeness last night and this morning with those cars across the street. Now she tensed, wondering if they might have returned. But as she drove up Badger Road, she saw no sign of the mysterious observers and she exhaled with relief, her smile returning.

“What do you think, Leyla?” Jane said, as she pulled into her driveway. “Do you want to go to the beach tomorrow?”

The car seat was rear-facing, but Jane could hear Leyla burbling to herself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said as she killed the engine. “Just give me a second, babycakes,” Jane added as she got out of the car.

She opened the back door to keep the heat from accumulating in the car. Leyla shook a ring of plastic keys at her. Jane grinned, then popped the trunk and surveyed her groceries. There were several plastic sacks, but most of the groceries were in reusable fabric bags with the Super Stop & Shop logo on the side. Some of Jane’s friends teased her about being a twenty-first-century hippie; she tried to tell them that doing her part for the environment didn’t make anyone a hippie these days, just practical.

She’d gather up a few bags, then take Leyla into the house with the first load, she decided. That way, the baby would be cool in the house while she collected the rest of the groceries.

Without the car’s motion and the noise of the engine to lull her, Leyla had started to fuss. In another minute, the baby would start to cry.

“I’m coming, sweetie,” Jane called as she juggled the bags into a more stable position in her arms. But when she went around to the backseat to collect Leyla, she let out a little yelp as she discovered a man standing just three feet away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just … you’ve got your baby there, and I thought I’d see if you needed help.”

Jane laughed, embarrassed that she’d been so startled. But then she hesitated. Where the hell had he come from? Thirtyish and blue-eyed, he was handsome in a scruffy sort of way, but she didn’t recognize him; he didn’t live on Badger Road.

“Oh, she’s not mine. I’m a little too old for babies,” she said, studying him warily. “And I’ve got it. But thanks for—”

An engine roared, a gleaming black sedan skidded to a halt at the curb, and Jane turned, panicking as realization struck her.

Her blue-eyed helper punched her so hard that she staggered backward and banged her head on the open trunk lid, the bags dropping from her hands. Dazed, her mind whirling with questions amidst the pain and anger, still Jane reacted. She caught the bumper and forced herself up, even as her attacker gripped her throat with one hand and shoved with the other, trying to force her back toward the trunk.

“No, you won’t, you son of a bitch,” she grunted, fighting back.

As she tried to break the grip on her throat, she kicked out with one foot and felt sick satisfaction at the solid connection. The heel of her sandal struck his knee and the bastard swore, loosening his grip.

Jane reached up and slammed the trunk. No way was he getting her in there. He grabbed both her arms and drove her against the rear of the car. Pain shot through her back. She
tore her right hand free, curled her fingers into a fist, and punched him with all her strength. Blood spurted from his nose, but he hit her back so hard she thought something cracked in her jaw.

She screamed as loud as she could, in both fury and alarm. As he grabbed her hands again, she pushed off from the car and started kicking him. He shielded his balls but she got him in the shin several times—all the while wishing she’d worn anything but sandals.

Leyla had started to cry, then wail, and then scream, face turning red. As she did, a man got out of the driver’s side of the black sedan. Dark-skinned, hair clipped down to stubble, with a scar on his left cheek, he looked like a killer or a lawyer; it was hard to tell which.

“Stop fucking around and get the goddamn baby!” he snapped.

Jane turned to ice inside. She’d thought rape, murder—thought that the scruffy, blue-eyed man wanted to do terrible things to her—but they wanted Leyla.

“Not a chance,” she hissed, reaching toward the open car door, and the baby.

That was her mistake. The guy twisted her hair in his hand and yanked back hard, hauled her around and drove her face into the back of the car. He lifted her by the hair, ready to do it again, but she stomped her heel down on his foot and drove her elbow back into his gut, and then she started to scream again.

“Help me! They’re trying to steal the baby! Please, someone—”

Jane heard the other guy shouting in alarm, heard the roar of another engine approaching, and she had a flicker of hope that her cries would be answered. But then the son of a bitch renewed his grip and drove her face-first into the back of the Accord, and she collapsed to the driveway.

She tried to rise, but the world tilted around her. She saw her attackers jump into the sedan, got a last glimpse of the African-American guy behind the wheel, and heard the tires squeal as it tore away. For an instant she wondered if she had blacked out long enough for them to take Leyla. But then a
police car skidded to the curb and an officer jumped out, barking something into his radio as he came toward her, even as the bastards got away.

“Are you all right?” the cop called.

Jane tried to answer, but she had held on to consciousness as long as she could, and now darkness crowded at the edges of her vision.

Even unconscious, she could hear the baby scream.

Cait’s cell phone had beeped twice while she was on the phone with Sergeant Bryce, but when she checked it before leaving the office, she found that it had died. In the car, she searched around for her car charger before realizing it was in the trunk, zipped inside her gym bag. She debated retrieving it, but decided that by the time she found a convenient spot to pull over, she’d be nearly back at her aunt and uncle’s house. It gave her an odd feeling to be disconnected from the world, but Leyla was in good hands and, after all, people had managed to survive thousands of years before the invention of the cell phone.

Still, she hurried back to Medford, driving just a little faster than she had on the way in. Despite her rationalizations, she did not like being cut off, and a certain amount of trepidation had settled into her heart.

When she turned onto Badger Road and saw the police cars parked in front of her aunt and uncle’s house, she felt all the blood drain from her face. Dread seized her, and yet somehow she found herself slowing down, letting the car coast, staring at the pair of police cars—one in the driveway and one at the curb. Despite the heat of the day, gooseflesh rose on her arms and the small hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she pulled to the curb behind a police car.

Trying not to panic, she thought back to her conversation with Sergeant Bryce. He’d get the Medford Police to send a patrol car by to see if the Audi had returned to Badger Road. Maybe they had stopped in to confirm her story with Auntie Jane and Uncle George. That made sense. Sergeant Bryce had been so nice—
Nice Bryce
, she thought crazily—that she could see them doing that, going the extra mile.

Or something awful had happened.

Cait slammed the door and bolted across the lawn and then the driveway, racing up the front steps. She yanked open the screen door and stepped inside.

An enormous bear of a man in a police uniform stood by the fireplace, holding Leyla in his arms. He had lifted her up so that she could see herself in the mirror, and both of them were smiling, the pudgy cop waggling his eyebrows at his own reflection, trying to make Leyla laugh.

Relief flooded Cait when she saw her daughter safe and smiling. But then she took in the rest of the tableau on display in the living room, and a knot formed in her gut. Jane sat on the sofa, her face swollen and bruised and her lip split. A bloody bandage covered most of her left cheek and a small butterfly bandage tugged closed a cut on her forehead. Her left eye had gone bloodshot red.

George sat next to her, holding her hand, even as he chatted with an auburn-haired woman in a dark suit who perched on the edge of the coffee table. A handsome, gray-haired man—also in a suit—sat in a chair opposite the sofa, and behind him stood a second uniformed officer. But Cait was so stunned by Jane’s appearance that these other details made only vague impressions.

As she entered, all conversation ceased and everyone looked at her.

“Auntie?” Cait said.

“It’s all right, Caitlin,” Jane replied, her voice a mumble thanks to her swollen lips. “She’s okay. I wouldn’t let them—”

She began to stand, but George stopped her.

“Settle down, Jane. You need to stay calm,” he said.

Cait glanced around at the officers and detectives—for the man and woman in suits were obviously police as well—and
found that all eyes were upon her. Leyla had heard her voice and now reached toward her, starting to cry in frustration that the huge bear of a cop was not carrying her to her mother.

“What happened?” Cait demanded. “Oh, my God, what’s going on?”

She crossed to the big cop, afraid for a moment that he would refuse to give Leyla to her, but then the man handed the baby over and Cait cradled her daughter against her chest. As she did, the auburn-haired woman stood up from the coffee table, picked imaginary lint off of her jacket, and fixed Cait with a grim look.

“Your aunt was assaulted, Ms. McCandless—” the woman began.

“They wanted Leyla,” Jane said. “But I fought, honey. I wouldn’t let them have her.”

Cait clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling like she might vomit. Her breath came in short, stuttery gasps against her palm.

George rubbed Jane’s hands, as though he was trying to warm them. It made no sense; the temperature in the house must be eighty-five, even with the cross-breeze from the open windows and screen door.

“A man attacked her while she was unloading the groceries,” George said, looking at Cait. “Right there in the driveway. Another guy drove up in a car.”

“I thought they wanted me at first,” Jane said, staring wide-eyed at Cait. “But then one of them said something about the baby, and I knew, and then I …”

Jane started to cry, and that was when, finally, Cait felt her own tears begin to burn at the corners of her eyes. She kissed Leyla’s head and cheeks and then rushed over to the sofa, where she sat next to Jane.

“Thank you, Auntie. Oh, God, thank you so much. But what about you?”

“The EMTs wanted to take your aunt to the hospital,” the female detective said. “It’s likely she has a concussion. But she refused to leave until you came back for your daughter.”

A torrent of emotion flooded Cait. Fear for Leyla, gratitude, and worry for her aunt.

“Go!” Cait said. “I’ve got her now, Auntie. Please, go. I’ll follow in my car. Or I can drive us all.”

“Actually, Ms. McCandless, Detective Monteforte and I would like to ask you a few questions,” said the male detective, speaking up for the first time.

“We’ll be fine, Caitlin,” George said. “You don’t want to be sitting around the emergency room with Leyla. You should go home. Or wait here, if you like, until we come back.”

“But—”

“I’m going to be all right,” Jane insisted.

Cait blinked, trying to process it all. Auntie Jane would be okay. She could accept that. And, yes, she’d wait here for them to come home. But … the cops wanted to talk to her?

Of course they did. Someone had tried to snatch Leyla, and they wanted to find out if it was random or if they’d specifically targeted her baby. Thoughts tumbled through her mind in quick succession. With the mysterious surveillance on Badger Road and after her conversation with Sergeant Bryce, she couldn’t help thinking that, for whatever reason, this hadn’t been a random abduction attempt.