His burning back.
* * *
I lay like that for a long time, waiting for the sun to rise, and when it did, I was out to the world.
Some hours later, I was awakened by my ringing cell phone. Generally, my ringing cell phone doesn't awaken me. But in the darkness of my deep sleep, a sleep where I seriously suspected I lay in a state of suspended animation somewhere between life and death - I had heard a shouting. Someone, somewhere had shouted my name.
It had been shocking enough to awaken me from my coma-like sleep.
Half-dead, I snatched the ringing phone off the nightstand and flipped it open, barely aware that it had said "Caller Unknown" on the faceplate. My son, I saw, was lying next to me...in a pool of sweat.
"Hello?" I said, instinctively reaching for my son and feeling his forehead. Burning up. My heart skipped-hopped in my chest. Panic raced through me.
"Hi," said a tiny and familiar voice.
But I was too distracted with my son for the voice to fully register. Two seconds later, the voice sank in, and I snapped my head around as if someone had spoken next to me, rather than through my phone line.
"Maddie!" I gasped, practically squealing.
"Hi," she said again. Her voice, if anything, sounded even smaller and fainter. I had an image of her covering her mouth as she spoke. This image came to me with crystal clarity and I suspected it was a psychic hit. Takes awhile to believe such hits are accurate...until you see enough evidence. I've seen the evidence now.
At that moment, a text message appeared on my phone. The call tracing had worked. A phone number was waiting for me. Maddie's number.
"Maddie," I gasped, trying to control myself. "Please, honey, can you tell me the name of the person you're with?"
"He's the bad man."
"Do you know his name, angel?"
I saw her shaking her head in my mind's eye. She didn't answer me, but I knew her answer: No, she didn't know.
"Honey, what does he look like?"
"He shot my mommy. He kilt her dead."
"I know, baby. Please can you tell me what he looks like?"
"Old."
Old to a five year old could be anything from nineteen to ninety. "Does he have gray hair?"
"None."
"No hair?"
"No hair," she said. "He eats too much."
"Good, honey. Good. Is he fat? Does he have a big belly?"
I sensed her nodding but she didn't answer. I also sensed that she didn't completely understand that I couldn't see her nod, that she thought she had answered my question. I had a fabulous connection with this little girl. Almost an immediate one, perhaps born of desperation. I had an idea.
"Honey," I said, "close your eyes."
"But why?"
"Please, just close your eyes."
There was a sound from somewhere and in my mind's eye I saw the little girl's head jerk up. Someone was coming.
"Please, honey, just close your eyes."
"The bad man is coming."
"Close them for one second."
"He's going to hurted me again."
"Please honey. Please. Do it for me. One time."
And she did. I knew she did, because I was instantly given a deeper access to her mind and memories and I saw an image of a room. A nice room. No, a beautiful room. A house? Condo? Apartment? I was having a hard time placing the interior. Whatever it was, it was epic. Where the hell was she? I didn't know. Through her window I saw something glittering brightly on the hillside. A desert hillside.
I saw something else. A black man. A bald black with an enormous stomach. He was standing over her and doing things that would be the death of him.
"He's coming!" she whispered over the phone, snapping me out of her my reverie and out of her own memories.
"Okay, angel. Okay. Thank you, baby." I was crying now, but she would never know it. "Be strong, Maddie, for me, okay?"
"I scared."
"Be strong, angel. I'm coming for you soon. I swear."
"Okay," she said, "I strong."
I sensed a great presence near her, coming from somewhere behind her, and now her fear knew no end. As if my own, I felt her heart race faster than I had ever felt a heart race before.
"Go!" I said. "Go!"
Next I heard a scraping sound, perhaps her hand moving over the mouthpiece, and what she said next broke me into a million little pieces. She whispered: "I love you."
And then she hung up.
Chapter Twenty-two
I was at the Urgent Care again.
It was late afternoon and I was determined to get my son some help. No, I'd be damned if I wasn't going to get him some help. The gut-wrenching call from Maddie had sent me into a panicked frenzy with my own son.
As soon as I had hung up with her, as soon as I stopped hearing her precocious little voice telling me she loved me, I traced the call. Nothing was coming up. I called my ex-partner, Chad, and he ran the number through the Agency's database. The news was grim: The phone number belonged to an unregistered, throw-away cell phone.
Shit.
Next, I threw on my clothes and sunscreen, picked up my boy, and hit the road. He barely stirred in my arms or in the van.
It was still hours before I had to pick up Tammy. In the waiting room, with Anthony in my arms, I texted Danny and caught him up to date on the situation, asking him to pick Tammy up for me. His reply was immediate and curt: "Meetings all day; update me on Anthony ASAP."
Yes, he actually used a semi-colon. The piece of shit had enough time to find the semi-colon button but not enough time to help me.
My reply was equally curt: "Thanks for the help, asshole;;;;;"
Yes, complete with five semi-colons in a row.
Childish, certainly, but I didn't care. I needed help. I didn't need semi-colons.
The asshole.
I replayed Maddie's words again and again. As I did so, I rocked my son in my arms. It was mid-day and I felt weak and agitated and vulnerable. But even at my weakest, I was still stronger than I had any right to be.
The black man was bald. He was in his fifties. I saw him from Maddie's perspective, from her eyes. He was a big man. Often sweating. Odor wafted from his body.
I blocked some of the other images I had seen. I didn't need to dwell on those. Those images would tear my heart out.
I locked them away as best as I could.
But not his face. No. I would never forget his face.
I'm coming for you, asshole, I thought.
I had a strong connection to Maddie. Perhaps it was a connection out of necessity. Amazingly, her phone call had roused me from the deepest of sleeps. Trust me, no easy feat. That connection, I was certain, would lead me to her. Eventually.