Their Only Child Page 17

  Theresa watched him make his way to the house, holding her breath as he disappeared inside. She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

  A minute passed. Two minutes. What was happening? Where was Sully? Three minutes. Four minutes. Had he found Eric? Had he encountered Donny? What was taking so long? What was happening?

  She gasped in relief when he appeared once again in the front doorway. He came down the stairs, indicating to her that he’d found nothing. Bitter disappointment rose in the back of her throat.

  The snow had stopped for the moment, and she watched as Sully walked around Donny’s car, then toward the woods. She could stand it no longer. She needed to be a part of this, to help him look for their son. Two could look faster than one.

  She got out of the car, the cold wind stealing her breath away. Pulling her coat more firmly around her, she decided to go around to the back of the house in the opposite direction from the one Sully had taken.

  The snow crunched beneath her feet, piercing the strange, almost otherworldly silence that snow always seemed to bring. She tried not to think of Eric being out in this weather, without boots, without gloves.

  It was runny—she wanted to pray that Eric didn’t feel the cold, but was afraid God would take her plea too seriously and her little boy would be beyond pain and cold. Funny and horrifying.

  Her heart quickened when she saw the slanting door of a storm cellar. Although no footprints marred the snow surrounding the door, Theresa knew that with the way the wind was blowing, footprints would disappear quickly.

  Knowing she should probably wait for Sully, yet too impatient to do so, she leaned down and pulled the door open. It creaked in protest, but opened to display a set of stairs that led down to a concrete floor.

  Theresa listened for a moment, trying to hear any indication of life. Nothing. No sound at all drifted up the stairs. She went down one step, closing her eyes for a moment and sending a prayer upward. Please…please don’t let me find his body. Surely the Fates wouldn’t be so cruel.

  She took another step down. It’s Christmas. Please give me back my baby, let him be alive and well Don’t let him be in this dank, dreary cellar. Don’t let this horrid place be the last thing he saw.

  She nearly ran down the last several steps, stopped at the bottom and gasped when she saw the bare mattress, the portable toilet…the comic books and food wrappers that were evidence that somebody had spent time down here.

  Eric. She knew he’d been here. She smelled him in the air, like an animal identifying her young. She knew his scent, and it was his boyish odor that surrounded her. She drew in deeply, wanting to capture the air that breathed of him, hold it in her lungs until she could hold him in her arms.

  As she picked up one of the comic books, her stomach ached with a visceral pain. She could almost feel the warmth of his fingers on the pages.

  She dropped the book and looked around, her heart aching as she thought of him trapped down here, without heat, without hope. Without his mom and dad to help him through the dark nights. Tears fell, one after another, choking her, strangling her.

  He’d been here. But he wasn’t here now. Where was he? Were they too late? Oh, God, were they too late? She sank to her knees, once again grabbing one of the comic books and clutching it to her chest.

  Through her tears, she looked at the window, trying to imagine Eric looking out, waiting for her and Sully to find him, praying they got to him in time. She frowned, noticing the boards on the floor. Boards that appeared to have been across the window.

  She stood and walked over to the window, where small shards of glass glittered on the snow outside. Outside. The window had been broken from the inside out. Her heart leaped when she saw a red thread stuck to part of the window frame.

  Red. Eric’s jacket. He’d crawled out. A sob escaped her and broke the inertia grief had spun within her. Eric had gotten out. He’d escaped from this hellhole. She stared out the window, toward the dense woods in the distance. “Eric?” she whispered, then raced up the stairs to find Sully.

  SULLY had never been so cold in his life, and he knew the chill that gripped him had nothing to do with the snow or the temperature.

  As he crept toward the woods, seeking Donny and answers, he knew he was about to step into the very fabric of his doubts, his nightmares. And with a misstep, with a single hesitation, it would no longer be Louie Albright’s life on his conscience, but his own son’s.

  He felt like a hunter, seeking the deadliest of prey. Man. He tightened his grip around the butt of the gun, wondering, if and when the time came, whether he could pull the trigger, or whether he’d freeze, just as in his dreams.

  He froze as Donny stepped out of the woods. Donny, instantly seeing him, halted for just a split second. “Hey, Sully.” A smile curved his lips upward. “What are you doing out here? Gosh, am I glad to see you. I came out to do a little work around the place and got caught with the weather.”

  “Cut the crap, Donny.” The words exploded from Sully with the velocity of bullets as he aimed his gun at the man who’d been his partner, his brother.

  “Sully, what’s the matter with you, man? What’s going on here?”

  Oh, he’s good, Sully thought. He’s so damned good. It appeared to be genuine bewilderment on his features. Donny held his hands out beseechingly. “Hey, man, put the gun down. Tell me what’s going on here.”

  “Where’s my kid? Where’s Eric?”

  Donny’s eyes widened. “Sully, what in the hell are you talking about?”

  For just a moment, doubts filtered through Sully. Was it possible Kip was right, that Donny was a dirty cop, but not responsible for Eric’s kidnapping?

  “Hey, come on. Talk to me.” Donny took a step forward.

  “Don’t move, Donny. I’m feeling very upset, and I’d hate to do something you’ll regret” The butt of the gun felt slippery from Sully’s perspiration. He wondered if he could shoot Donny. Wondered if he still had what it took to pull the trigger. “I remember, Donny. You were there…the night I was shot”

  “My God, Sully, what are you talking about? You’ve lost it, man. Remember, I was home sick with the flu.”

  “They kept the bullet Donny. I wonder if a match could be made with your gun. The lab never found a gun to match it with. We never thought about checking your gun.”

  The confidence in Donny’s eyes receded, and cold hatred took its place. “You know how sick I was of being your partner? The great Sullivan Mathews and his partner, what’s-his-name.” Sully felt the force of Donny’s malevolence, as if it were a living, breathing force from him. “Yeah…I was there that night. I set it up with Louie, told him I was going to play a joke on you. But the joke was on Louie…and on me, because you didn’t die.”

  A soul-sickness swept through Sully. “You tried to kill me because I got more press than you?” Sully asked incredulously.

  “You got all of it!” Donny screamed, his features now twisted with the madness that had been hidden beneath the surface. “I was never going to get anywhere as long as you were around. Your shadow was too big, Sully…too deep. You had to go.”

  “You bastard.” Theresa appeared from around the side of the house and ran toward them, tears streaming down her face. “You bastard. He trusted you. You were his partner.”

  Sully’s heart skipped a beat as he realized that Theresa’s tears, her emotion, were for him. After all he’d done to her, even though he had walked out on her, her hurt was for him. At the same time Theresa yelled, Donny pulled his gun and fired.

  “Get down!” Sully screamed to Theresa as he hit the ground and rolled. Donny disappeared behind a tree. Seeing that Theresa had taken refuge at the back of Donny’s car, Sully continued to roll until he had the cover of a thick tree trunk.

  “Go home, Sully.” Donny’s voice eddied in the air, echoing in the natural acoustics the woods created. “Nobody is going to believe anything you say about me. Everyone knows you�
��re nothing but a drunk, a has-been.”

  The wail of sirens sounded somewhere in the distance. Kip, Sully thought. Kip, coming with backup.

  “Where’s my son?” Theresa screamed.

  “I don’t know, Theresa,” Donny answered. “Your husband is crazy. He needs help.”

  Hatred blinded Sully. He heard the sound of Theresa crying, and he hated Donny for hurting her, hated him for causing Sully a moment of self-doubt. “Hear the sirens, Donny? Your brothers are coming for you. Make it easier on yourself, tell me where Eric is.”

  “Go to hell, Sully.” Donny punctuated his sentence by firing a shot. The bullet dug into the tree, sending wood chips across Sully’s face.

  Sully knew then that he would not hesitate to kill Donny Holbrook. His nightmare of freezing no longer held any power over him. If he had a clear shot, there would be no hesitation. Except…except a dead Donny couldn’t tell them where Eric was. A dead Donny would take Eric’s location with him to hell.

  Sully wanted to laugh at the perversity of it all. For eighteen months he’d been afraid that he’d freeze, be unable to shoot when it became necessary. Now that he knew he could…he couldn’t.

  The sirens grew louder, closer, and in the distance Sully could see a parade of flashing lights coming up the drive.

  Apparently, Donny saw them, too, knew his time was running out. Firing a succession of shots, he turned and raced deeper into the woods.

  Without hesitation, Sully ran after him, knowing that if Donny managed to evade them, they might never know what happened to Eric.

  “SULLY!” Theresa screamed as the two men disappeared into the thick woods. She leaned weakly against the fender of the sports car, fear making it impossible for her to stand on her own.

  She’d heard the hatred spewing from Donny, and she knew now that the man was truly mad. Where was Eric? Dear God, what had he done to Eric?

  It had begun to snow again…small, wet flakes like frozen teardrops. Theresa stared toward the woods, the snow making it difficult to see.

  As the police cars pulled up behind Donny’s car, a gunshot splintered the air. “Sully!” Theresa screamed again and took off running in the direction of the woods.

  Kip grabbed her by the arm. “Stay here,” he commanded, and then he and half a dozen other officers ran toward the woods.

  Theresa walked back to Donny’s car, knowing there was nothing she could do but wait…and hope…and pray. She closed her eyes and heard the sounds of the officers shouting orders.

  She tried to hear Sully’s voice in the din, prayed that Donny hadn’t managed to do what he’d tried to do in that alley. Keeping her gaze focused on the woods, she prayed for Sully’s safety, for Eric’s return.

  After what seemed an eternity, men started coming out of the woods. First two policemen, their navy coats dark against the whitened landscape. Behind them, two more cops flanked Donny, who was in handcuffs. Where was Sully?

  Her breath came fast, so fast she felt dizzy, as if not enough oxygen were getting to her brain. Where was Sully?

  She gasped in relief when she finally saw him, walking tall and unharmed from the woods. Kip and two other officers were with him, but there was no sign of Eric.

  “Donny, where’s Eric?” Sully asked as he approached the handcuffed man.

  “For God’s sakes, Donny, tell them where their boy is,” Kip added, his disgust for his fellow officer apparent.

  Donny’s eyes burned with a feverish light, his madness no longer hidden, but there for all to see. He laughed and shook his head, as if their pain were a joy, their torment a delight.

  “I saw the cellar, Donny,” Theresa said. “I saw where you kept him. It’s over now. Tell us where he is.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to get out. I was just going to keep him here for a couple of days, then bring him back to you and be a hero.”

  Theresa gasped at his admission, appalled by the fact that her son had been a pawn in a twisted plot to make Donny a hero.

  ‘They would have made me chief for sure,” Donny continued. “I was going to bring him back to you, and nobody would know the difference. But he saw me. The brat climbed out of the window and saw my face. So I had to kill him.”

  “No.” The single word escaped from Theresa like the moan of the wind. She was vaguely aware of Sully, being held by Kip and another man, as he struggled to get to Donny.

  “You want to know where your son is?” Donny’s eyes glittered with hatred. “He’s there.” He pointed to the woods. “Buried under the snow.”

  “No!” Theresa screamed and fell to her knees in the snow, her world shattering into a million pieces as the snow continued to fall.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sully watched, heart dead, as the two officers placed Donny in the back of one of the patrol cars, then slowly drove down the long drive. The red and blue lights on top of the patrol car receeded in the distance, until they could no longer be seen amid the white, thick spill of snow from the skies.

  “I’ll put in a call for the dogs and a search team,” Kip said as he laid a hand on Sully’s shoulder. “God, Sully. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His face was twisted with sympathy.

  Sully nodded—empty, hollow, inside. He knew eventually he’d cry for Eric, but at the moment he was numb.

  It was too much to bear. It was all just too much to bear. That Eric had died because of a man’s ambition. That they’d all been too late to save him.

  He turned as Theresa picked herself up from the ground. Her eyes were as dull and dead as his. Slowly, as if sleepwalking, she moved to a pile of cut firewood and picked up a long, thick piece of wood. Before Sully could guess her intent, she swung the club and slammed it onto the hood of Donny’s car, the fiberglass instantly cracking beneath the blow.

  Kip turned, moved to go stop her, but Sully laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t,” he commanded.

  Sully watched as she swung the piece of wood again and again, sobbing as she shattered the front windshield, then the back one. Like a woman possessed, she beat the car again and again as her sobs became screams of despair.

  “Sully…may be you should stop her,” Kip said.

  Sully turned and looked at his friend. “No. Leave her alone. She needs to do this.” Kip nodded, and Sully turned back to watch Theresa vent her grief.

  It didn’t take long for her to run out of steam. She finally dropped the piece of wood as her tears stopped. She looked up at Sully, walked toward him, into his arms.

  He held her tight, tighter than he had in his life, wishing he could take away her hurt, but he couldn’t, because he was filled with the same hurt. There was no way to make this better, no way to minimize their loss. Nothing would ever make sense in their life again.

  It was a long time before she finally stirred from his arms. “What do we do now? How do we go on?” she asked, her voice as dead as Sully felt.

  He had no answer for her, knew she really didn’t expect any. There was a hole in their lives now, a hole that would never be filled, a wound that would never, ever heal. Forever, their lives would hold sorrow of the deepest kind.

  She moved away from him and started walking toward the woods. “Theresa…wait What are you doing?”

  She turned back to look at him, her blue eyes filled with anguish. “We have to find him, Sully. We can’t let him stay out there all alone. You know he’s scared of the dark.”

  Her words were a knife twisting in Sully’s gut. “Kip has a search team coming. They’ll find him, Theresa. We won’t leave here without him. I promise.

  She nodded, tears once again filling her eyes. “Oh, Sully.”

  Once again he wrapped her in his arms, knowing there was nothing left to comfort either of them, except the knowledge that they’d both loved him more than life itself.

  “Hey, Sully!” Kip yelled to him from his patrol car.

  Sully ignored him, focusing his full attention on the woman who shivered in his arms, the woman who’d carried Eric for nine mo
nths before Sully even knew the child. How would they go on without the little boy who’d brought such joy, such love, to their lives?

  “Hey, Sully.” Kip’s voice intruded once again, filled with a strange excitement. “Headquarters just got a call from a gas station about a mile down Highway 10. A little boy just walked in…says his name is Joe Montana.”

  Sully stiffened in shock as Theresa gasped. “It’s him,” she said. “I know it’s Eric.” She laughed, tears racing down her cheeks. “He lied. Dear God, Donny lied when he said he’d killed Eric.”

  As if on cue, acting on a single thought, Sully and Theresa ran for Sully’s car. Within minutes, Sully was driving down the snow-laden lane, heading for Highway 10 and Eric.

  Theresa sat forward, straining against her seat belt as if by sheer will alone she could force the car to go faster. Sully felt almost dizzy from the rollercoaster emotions he’d experienced in the past few minutes. From utter despair to wondrous joy.

  There was no way the boy could not be Eric. Anything else would be coincidental beyond belief. “I knew if there was a way to escape, he would.”

  Theresa flashed him a brilliant smile. “He’s like his father, brave and smart.”

  Sully tried to return her smile, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t brave, or smart. If he was brave, he would have faced that alley months ago, forced himself to discover the dark secret his mind retained. If he was smart, he would have figured out Donny’s part in this long before he did.

  “There!” Theresa cried, pointing ahead, to the gas station’s flickering neon sign.

  Sully stepped on the gas, skidding into the parking lot and just barely missing the pumps. Before he could come to a complete halt, Theresa had unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of the car. “Eric?” he heard her cry, and then Eric was there, standing in the doorway of the gas station.

  At the sight of his little boy, with his big smile, face dirty, coat torn, Sully threw the car into park and burst into tears. Gulping sobs of relief tore through his chest as he watched Theresa embrace the child of his heart.