Deadly Holidays Page 3

  "Do you have anything to eat? I'm hungry."

  After a lunch of peanut butter sandwiches, a glass of milk, and a chocolate pudding cup, the boys went to Billy's room to play Army.

  "I can't go home," said Shawn after a while, blinking back tears.

  "Why not?" ask Billy.

  "My mommy will hit me, and my bruises haven't gone away from last time." The little boy lifted his shirt to reveal a thick band of purple and blue bruises on his back. "I'm really scared, Billy, and I wish I had a place to hide."

  "Come with me," said Billy as he pulled at Shawn's arm. In the hallway, Billy opened a door to reveal a staircase that led to an attic on the third floor. Shawn had been in the house many times, but had never noticed that door. "See, Shawn. You can hide in the secret room upstairs. No one will find you."

  "But what about your mom and dad?"

  "If you're very quiet, they won't know you're up there. I can bring you food, and when Mommy is cleaning, you can come down to go to the bathroom. It will be fun." Billy said as a grin spread from ear-to-ear.

  To a frightened five-year-old boy, it seemed the perfect solution, and an adventure, at that.

  <><><>

  It was 2:00 p.m. by the time Blake reached the sheriff's office conference room, where Tim and Lane sat at an oval oak conference table, planning the search for Shawn Isaac.

  "Listen, the kid has only been missing for two and a half hours," said Tim.

  "True," responded Lane, "But there are two strange elements to this situation that have me worried."

  "What's that?" asked Blake as he removed his coat, draping it across the back of a chair as he sat down.

  "First of all, we can't find his mother. There are a limited number of bars she could have gone to in this county, and she's not at any of them. Her friends said she called them on her cell phone right after the hearing. She was on her way to meet them. Why isn't she there?"

  Tim chimed in, "Have our deputies checked the house she's renting, or the farm house where she used to live?"

  "Yes," answered Lane. "She's not there, either. It's like she disappeared into thin air. I've got Sam Brown doing a cell phone history and tower search now. I'll follow up with a warrant."

  "I was thinking," Blake began. "Could John Isaac have abducted his son either to get back at Eve, or to punish Shawn for testifying?"

  “That's my second concern,” said Lane. “John Isaac is missing, too.".

  Blake's eyebrows raised in amazement. "What?"

  "John Issac was on probation for an unrelated assault charge last year. He had an appointment with his probation officer, Lana Baldwin, right after the hearing. He was a no-show, so she called it in. We sent deputies to his apartment, and he's not there. No one's seen him. I've got Sam tracking his cell phone, too."

  Tim scratched his chin and asked, "Could the three of them be together?"

  "Not likely," said Blake. "Shawn left the courthouse after Eve, and he was walking in the opposite direction from the lot where she would have parked her car."

  "I'll feel like we have a better handle on this when the parents are located," said Tim, walking toward the door. "Keep me updated," he said, closing the door behind him.

  Lane got up, walked over to the coffee pot, and filled two mugs to the top with the dark, steamy brew.

  He sat back down and handed one of the mugs to Blake. "Let's talk about what's been done so far to find Shawn, then you can think about your plan of action."

  "Sounds good. He's been missing two and a half hours. You know as well as I do how critical the first twenty-four hours are when a child is missing."

  "Right," said Lane. "That's why I went ahead and did an Amber Alert notification. Television and radio stations are now broadcasting that Shawn is missing. They have a good description of him, as well as a photo I got from the grade school he attends. In addition, I had our computer techs put the notification on the sheriff's website. That's a whole lot of viewers, listeners and Internet surfers who will see the alert, and maybe have information on his whereabouts."

  "Good. What about the deputies? Are they helping?" asked Blake. His concern grew with every minute that passed.

  "I put a BOLO on Shawn, and deputies will keep their eye out for him as they do their regular jobs."

  Sam Brown rushed in the room, nearly knocking the conference room door off its hinges. "I've got it! I've got cell tower history on both Eve and John Isaac's cell phones. Get this. We lost signal for both phones at the same time. But I have the latitude and longitude of where they were when we lost signal. They were near the cell tower over on Covered Bridge Road, by the bridge that goes over the Wabash River.

  Lane's cell phone vibrated in his jacket. When he pulled it out, he noticed it was Frankie calling. "I need to take this," he said as he moved into the hallway.

  "Hey, babe, what's going on?"

  "Lane, I'm at the Wabash River Bridge on Covered Bridge Road. A big section of the bridge's guardrail is missing, and there's red paint on the metal guardrail that's left. It looks like there may have been a car accident here recently."

  <><><>

  It took an hour for Blake to get his diving team organized and down to the Wabash River Bridge with its boat. Lance Brody was the only member of the team to own a dry scuba suit that would keep him warm in the icy waters, so he was elected to go into the water, while Blake and the remaining three divers stayed on the boat. Blake propelled the boat from the shore to the section of the bridge where the guardrail was missing. Once the anchor was in place, Lance entered the water. In the murky water of the Wabash, he found it difficult to see. Using the anchor as his fixed central point, Lance swam the radius of a circle, expanding the circular pattern each time around. Finding nothing, he surfaced and asked Blake to move the boat so he could try again. This time when he entered the water, he found the submerged red Pontiac Firebird almost immediately. The dark, murky water prevented him from determining if there were any occupants still in the vehicle. He swam up to the boat to alert the others.

  "There's a red Firebird about thirty feet down. Couldn't see if there was anyone in the car," Lance reported.

  Blake retrieved his cell phone from his pants pocket and called Chris Hannon, who was waiting in his tow truck on shore. "Got a submerged car. Let's get it out of the water."

  Blake's stomach clenched. Eve Isaac drove a red Firebird. Her cell, as well as her husband's, had pinged the cell tower near this river . He prayed for a miracle that Shawn Isaac had not lost both his parents in the submerged car.

  Blake couldn't spare the two or three hours it would take to pull the car to shore, so he left his diving team in charge, along with a deputy. They would notify him if there had been any occupants in the car.

  He headed back to town. Once he reached Michael Brandt's office, he parked his SUV and retraced the walk he and Shawn had taken that morning to the courthouse. Blake entered each shop or cafe to show the owners and patrons Shawn's photo. He struck out each time. No one had seen the boy. He entered the toy shop where Shawn had spent time peering in the large front window. The owner recognized Shawn immediately. "Sure I noticed him looking in the window this morning. You two reminded me of my son and me when he was that age."

  "Shawn's not my son. I'm a detective who is looking for him."

  "Could have fooled me this morning. That kid sure looked at you like a son looks at his father."

  Blake's heart sank, and an overpowering sense of dread knotted his insides as he walked away. Once he found Shawn, he might have the unenviable job of telling the five-year-old that his mom and dad were no longer alive. He hadn't been notified yet, so there was still a chance neither Eve nor John was in the car when it went over the bridge into the water. He pulled his coat collar up as he walked against the biting wind toward his car. Shawn's grandmother was about to have a visitor. It was 6:00 p.m., and Shawn Isaac had been missing for six and a half hours. The temperature was dropping, and the snow continued to fall as evening appro
ached.

  Eve's mother lived on Murphy Street, just past the elementary school, in a gray house with white shutters that looked like it had been built in the thirties. The home was overdue for a fresh coat of paint and a new roof. He knocked on the front door several times before Mrs. Bennett answered.

  "I'm Blake Stone with the sheriff's office. We met this morning before the hearing. I'd like to ask you some questions about Shawn." For a second, Blake thought the older woman was going to back her wheelchair up and slam the door in his face.

  Instead, she glared at him and said, "I've already given all the information I have to the cops at the courthouse."

  "Mrs. Bennett, I hope you will talk with me. Sometimes, it's the tiniest detail that helps us find a missing child," Blake responded. Hell, if he had to plead with her to talk to him he would, if it meant he could find Shawn.

  "Come in," she said begrudgingly, as she backed her wheelchair to make room for him to pass. She closed the door against the cold behind him. "In there." She used her index finger to point to a small room filled to the brink with overstuffed furniture.

  Blake sat on the sofa and the older woman wheeled her chair to sit across from him. The first thing he noticed about the room was that there were Beanie Babies on every table surface, and they lined a tall bookcase near the window. There must have been a hundred of them in this room alone. Something he didn't see were any toys that would appeal to a small boy. According to his information, Shawn was her only grandchild.

  "What do you want to know?" Mrs. Bennett used a tone that indicated the faster she got him out of the house, the better she'd like it.

  "I have the notes from the deputies who talked to you in the courthouse, so I'll ask some questions that came to me." Blake pulled a small notepad out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. "Does Shawn spend much time with you?"

  "Not until Eve lost her job. Now every time she goes out drinking, she leaves the kid with me."

  "I noticed how close your house is to the elementary school Shawn attends. Were you Shawn's sitter when Eve worked?"

  "No! I told Eve long ago I didn't want to be a sitter for anybody's kids. Do I look like I'm in any kind of condition to chase after a small boy? My health's not good. Lost my leg, thanks to diabetes. Eve usually does her drinking after dark, so when she leaves him here, I just put Shawn in the guest bedroom and tell him to go to sleep."

  Blake clenched his teeth and looked down at his notepad, pretending to focus on writing a note so she wouldn't see the contempt he was feeling right now toward her. How could a grandmother talk like that about her own grandchild?

  "Who are Shawn's friends? It would be helpful if I could talk to them."

  "Don't know. Never asked him," she replied.

  Deciding the discussion was a dead-end, Blake prepared to leave. But before he did, he said, "Sometimes children will return and hide in familiar places. Do you mind if I look around your home before I leave?"

  "Knock yourself out."

  From the living room, he entered a dining room that housed a round table and chairs. In the lighted china hutch, there were more Beanie Babies of every color filling the shelves. In the kitchen, dirty dishes filled the sink and more were stacked on the old electric stove. There was a pantry in the room, but it was not large enough for a small boy to hide.

  Moving into the guest room, Blake noted a full-sized bed and a mirrored chest. There were heavy draperies covering the only window, which made the room quite dark. What he didn't see was any sign that a small boy stayed overnight there. There were no toys for a little boy anywhere in the room, nor was there an extra set of clothing. Only more Beanie Babies, which lined the surface of the chest. He headed for the living room. He'd seen enough and felt a little sick. With a mother who was a drunk, an abusive father, and a grandmother who didn't care about him, he could see why Shawn may have run away.

  Mrs. Bennett was watching television when he returned to the living room.

  "I have one last question. If you weren't Shawn's babysitter when Eve worked, who took care of him?"

  "I believe he stayed with Cheryl Collins over on Elm Street. She's got a kid the same age as Shawn."

  <><><>

  Jennifer reclined on her living room sofa with her laptop precariously balanced on her baby bump. It was seven o'clock, and Blake hadn't come home for dinner yet. The local news website featured the Amber Alert about Shawn. She looked at his grade school photo and blinked away a tear. He was so young and innocent. One glance out her window told her the snow was falling heavily. The crystalline flakes glittered in the moonlight, frosting windows and collecting on the tree branches. How was Shawn faring wherever he was? Was he exposed to the weather? She bit her lip and closed her eyes.

  She'd kept Eve's promise and told no one, not even Blake, about her visit weeks ago. The pounding on the front door had awakened Jennifer from an afternoon nap. She opened the door to find Eve Isaac on her front porch. Jennifer ushered Eve in from the cold, took her coat, and asked her to sit down.

  "I'm so sorry to disturb you, Jennifer. But I remembered you saying that I could talk to you anytime," Eve began. "And right now, you're the only one I can talk to."

  "What's wrong? Is it John? Is he bothering you?"

  "Nothing more than the usual. I need to talk to you about something very important."

  "Eve, you can talk to me about anything," said Jennifer in a soothing voice. The young woman looked like she hadn't slept in days.

  "It's the hearing that's coming up in a few weeks."

  "What about the hearing? You're going through with it, right? You can't let the abuse continue, Eve. You let the legal process protect you and Shawn."

  "Yeah, I guess I know that."

  "So you're still planning on testifying against John?" Jennifer asked.

  "Yes, I'll testify," Eve said as she nervously clenched and unclenched her hands.

  "Then what is it?"

  "Call it intuition, but I know as well as I know anything, that I will not live through this hearing."

  "What are you talking about?" Jennifer interrupted.

  "Please, Jennifer. Just let me get this out," Eve pleaded. "I've never been much of a planner for the future. Never saw the need for it until now." Eve withdrew an envelope and laid it on the end table next to Jennifer.

  "What's that?" asked Jennifer.

  Instead of answering her directly, Eve said, "I had no business having a kid. Ever. I knew early on in my marriage what kind of a monster I'd hooked up with. But I got knocked up and couldn't find the money to get an abortion. Thus Shawn was born. Poor kid. Motherhood just isn't in my genes. If it was, I wouldn't think of my little boy as an anchor tied around my neck. What kind of a mother feels like that?" She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, then continued. "And no one in his right mind would nominate John for father of the year. My poor, poor little boy has seen things that would turn a grown man's stomach. He's watched his daddy beat his mommy until her face was unrecognizable to him or anyone else."

  Jennifer stretched out her hand and touched Eve's arm.

  "Shawn deserves better. And after I'm gone, I'm asking you to save him." As Eve ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes bore a silent plea.

  "Eve, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

  "I had my attorney draw up the papers so everything is taken care of. If anything should happen to me, I want you to save my son and give him a life he deserves." Eve paused, tears streaming down her face. "Jennifer, you'll be the kind of mother to Shawn that I could never be. I know that. There is nothing I am more certain of. This is a lot to ask, considering you're pregnant with your first child, but I'm begging you to do this."

  "Oh, Eve, I don't know what to say."

  "Just say 'Yes.' Please tell me that you and your husband will surround Shawn with all the love you have. Please pull him into your wonderful family. He loves you and Blake already. I'm begging you, Jennifer."

  Jennifer pulled Eve i
nto her arms to comfort her. "Yes, I will care for Shawn. But I don't believe it will come to that. I know you don't believe it, but the law will protect you. Nothing is going to happen to you."

  "Thank you. Promise you will tell no one until the time comes. Then, with these legal papers, you will take custody of Shawn."

  "Promise."

  <><><>

  Dispatch gave him Cheryl Collins' address. Blake was punching it into his GPS when his cell phone sounded. It was Lance Brody.

  "Hey, Blake. I'm afraid I've got some bad news. There was a man and a woman in the car in the river. They both had identification on them. John and Eve Isaac."