All That Remains (A Missing and Exploited Suspense Novel Book 1) Page 4

  As he pushes toward the girl through the blizzard, her hands drop to her side in defeat. “Warm enough for you?” Harvey says.

  The girl breaks into hysterical sobs. Her boots and coat are as impractical as the VW with its slick summer tires and Harvey can see she’s soaked through and shivering violently. He takes the flimsy shovel from her slack hand, as he guides her to the squad car where he’s left the heat turned on high.

  “I thought I was going to freeze to death,” the girl hiccups through her sobs.

  “Not the best way to spend an evening.”

  “I had a fight with my boyfriend. I couldn’t stay at his place, you know. Not after the horrible things he said.”

  Harvey doesn’t know and doesn’t care, but he smiles to reassure the girl. “I’ll shovel you out and get your car off the road, but I’ll have to drop you home afterward. You can’t drive that death trap until the roads are cleared.”

  Nodding assent, the girl picks up the useless bouquet, an expensive mistake that won’t placate Pam. She hugs it to her chest as though the bright orange and green hues radiate heat.

  The gesture triggers a memory that makes Harvey blush. The reason he associated bird-of-paradise with Romy was because he recently saw a similar bouquet on her kitchen table when he dropped Effie off for a sleepover. The irony is almost comical; the flashy flowers Ben gave his wife are all wrong. Romy is Carol King’s natural woman: all beauty with no show, like the phlox that grows wild on Harvey’s property. He doubts she liked Ben’s gift.

  “These are so gorgeous,” the girl says through chattering teeth. “Who are they for?”

  “You,” Harvey says.

  “Me?” The girl looks down at her lap. “I couldn’t, you know? My boyfriend’s the jealous type.”

  “No problem,” Harvey says. He takes the flowers and then hurtles them into the whiteout.

  “Oh, my god,” the girl says.

  Instead of meeting her shocked eyes, Harvey sets in with the shovel to dig out the car. If he’s sacrificing his last good moment with Effie for a stupid stranger, he doesn’t owe a fucking explanation for his actions.

  «11»

  Gabriel stands close to the classroom’s radiator warming his feet, which are in his dry indoor shoes, as the last bite of the candy cane the man gave him melts on his tongue. He planned to save half for tomorrow, but couldn’t resist the sweetness. Beside him, the Virgin Mary, whose real name is also Mary, hums “The First Noel” between hiccups as she rocks the Baby Jesus in her arms. When Miss Granger gives the signal, the class will proceed single file down the hall to the auditorium.

  “We get goody bags afterwards,” Gabriel informs the Virgin Mary. He hasn’t eaten anything all day, except the man’s candy cane, and thinking about food is exciting. Sometimes there are Mandarin oranges and popcorn balls in the bags as well as candy. These bags and party food make Christmas Gabriel’s favorite season after Halloween.

  “You can have mine,” Mary says.

  “Don’t you want it?”

  Mary shrugs, dipping the head of Baby Jesus toward the floor. “I’m not allowed to accept food from strangers. It might be poisoned.”

  Miss Granger marches to the front of the line where two shepherds wrestle on the floor. She’s wearing a white blouse, blue skirt and high-heeled shoes instead of her usual pants and sweater. The fancy clothes make it hard for her to pull the boys apart.

  The door opens and Principal Johnston steps in to sort out the shepherds. He asks Miss Granger if she’s going to survive. Beyond the open door, the grade three class files by in costumes that don’t have a lot to do with Christmas or winter. One of the kids, dressed up like a girl camel, prances along on all fours in a way that makes Gabriel laugh. Her teacher snaps at her to walk.

  “Survive this lot?” Miss Granger says with a raspy laugh. “It’s doubtful.”

  Gabriel worries because his teacher’s been away sick. She still looks like she might barf and he’d hate it if she died.

  “But I wouldn’t miss my students’ play for the world,” she says.

  The Virgin Mary pretends to burp Baby Jesus. She whispers to Gabriel, “Miss Granger doesn’t really have the flu. She’s actually pregnant. Principal Johnston is the father. They did it in his office.”

  “Don’t tell fibs,” Gabriel says. “She’s too old for babies.”

  The Virgin Mary pinches her nose and holds her breath to stop the hiccups. When she lets go, her nose is white for a moment before it turns pink again. “Don’t stink,” she says.

  ¤

  It’s almost time to head backstage. Miss Granger works her way up the line of children, checking their costumes. When she stops beside Gabriel, her eyes are red and shiny and her breath smells like licorice. She adjusts his crooked wings by tugging on the sheet.

  Because Gabriel lost his halo, Miss Granger helps him make a new one out of poster paper and tinsel from the class’s Christmas tree. She reaches up to take out a black bobby pin from her white hair that’s up in a bun. As she uses the pin to make the halo stay put in his curls, Gabriel holds still. He likes the way her fingers scratch his itchy scalp.

  “Perfect,” she says. She gives his head a pat and then goes to the next lucky angel with crooked wings.

  When she’s finished fixing costumes, Miss Granger gives the signal and the grade fours head out of the classroom and down the hallway. Gabriel feels a bubble of nervous excitement as he marches along behind the Virgin Mary. Even though he said his line perfectly when the class practiced, he’s afraid he’ll forget when he sees all the people in the audience.

  The class enters the auditorium through a backstage door that Gabriel has never used before. It’s nearly dark behind the velvet curtain, with light leaking around the edges of the curtains and shining down from an exit sign above the door that goes outside. As Gabriel’s eyes adjust, he watches parent-helpers fuss over the grade threes who are up next and behaving badly. The grade three teacher looks mad as she holds tight to the girl camel who tries to buck free.

  Some of the grade four boys start a play-fight and the girls talk too loudly. Miss Granger tells them to hush. When no one obeys, a strange look comes over her face. Gabriel thinks Miss Granger is mad like the grade three teacher until she cups one hand under her mouth and waves at a busy parent-helper with the other. Her eyes dart from busy adult to busy adult before she hobbles off of the stage in a rush, slowed down a bit by her skirt. She makes a retching noise as she disappears through the door the class came in by.

  As soon as Miss Granger is gone, Mitch uses a squeaky voice to say, “Please, children, lower your” then makes loud barfing sounds while he runs around with his hands cupped under his mouth. Gabriel doesn’t laugh, but all of the other kids except Mary think Mitch is funny.

  A parent-volunteer catches Mitch by the arm and tries to send him back to stand with the rest of the class. Instead Mitch opens the back door. The boys laugh at the girls who shriek when the wind messes up their hair and tugs at their costumes.

  A parent-volunteer pulls Mitch away from the door. “Try that one more time…” Gabriel hears the parent warn, but Mitch breaks free again before the parent can figure out what it is they will do.

  «12»

  While nervously watching Fenny Elementary School from the parking lot, Willard polishes off an entire jumbo bag of corn chips without noticing until his fingers find only crumbs. The car heater’s on low, yet he’s boiling in his layers of new winter clothing. He turns off the ignition, needing to take a walk in the schoolyard to cool down while he figures out his next step.

  Light from the windows casts strange shadows onto the snow as Willard does a circle route around the school, hoping for the courage to step through the front doors when he reaches them a second time. Hearing a noise, he looks back. But he sees nothing; not even his boot prints, which the wind has erased. He pauses for a breather on the lee of the building beneath the shelter of the school’s back stoop. His grandfather’s old leather
gloves barely protect his fingers from the biting cold and he makes a plan to replace the hateful things first thing in the morning.

  Although he didn’t follow the boy after they spoke, the boy is why Willard is here. The truth came to Willard as he drove away. Terrance isn’t a tiny angel, taken from us too soon after all. He’s inside a school, fully alive, and acting in a grade four Christmas play. Willard didn’t have Terrance for company in the car for the past week, because Terrance was already here, in Fenny, waiting for the arrival of his big brother. It’s a miracle Willard almost missed.

  Willard’s caught up in the wonder of his discovery when the door opens with force and pins him to the wall. There’s a moment of silence, followed by an unseen flurry of activity. A child’s voice says, “Shit, man, we’re gonna catch it.” The closing door springs Willard from his prison. It’s about to click shut when he hooks the metal edge with a gloved hand.

  Terrance is inside. Now all Willard has to do is go in and get him.

  «13»

  The spotlight adores Helena. She’s the center of the McFarland Elementary School universe as she does her camel dance across the stage. She’s a beautiful camel—the happiest, luckiest Camel Miranda in the world. She’s an actress just like her mom.

  Except now it’s her best friend’s turn to twirl out onto the stage. Effie’s a real ballerina, one who has a tutu and satin slippers, not like Helena who has to wear running shoes while she pretends. Two popular grade four girls, who are Cinderella and Tinkerbell tonight, wait at the edge of the stage for their turn to do a tap dance routine. They wave at Helena, proof of Camel Miranda’s huge popularity.

  Helena’s supposed to do one more dance step while Effie twirls around her. Then she should prance over to the manger scene where she’s supposed to remain quiet and unnoticed for the rest of the play. The applause excites her, as does the music from Disney’s Fantasia. When it comes to the best part of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, Effie’s supposed to pirouette on one foot. Instead of leaving center stage, however, Helena swings her head in a few wide arcs. Then she gets down on all fours. There’s plenty of room for one ballerina and a camel on such a big stage, especially if Helena dances behind Effie.

  “Bug off, Helena,” Effie whispers as she twirls. Her voice is mad, but her face is smiling.

  Helena can’t leave the spotlight because she’s a wild camel escaping her genie master. The audience laughs. A man with a voice exactly like Principal Johnston’s shouts, “Give up the stage.” Helena faces the empty manger so the angry face of Effie’s mother won’t distract her. Helena’s glad Effie’s dad isn’t there to arrest her as she whinnies loudly. Next, she kicks a hind leg to show she’s spirited and wild.

  Instead of air, her foot connects with something hard. A scream and a crash follow Effie’s “Umph.” Helena, who once broke her arm when she fell out of a second floor window, recognizes a sharp sound for what it is: Effie’s bone cracking when she fell off the stage, and landed on the hard gym floor.

  Someone in the audience shrieks, probably Effie’s mom. Helena’s glad the camel head muffles everyone’s screams, especially Effie’s because hers are way too loud.

  Parent-helpers come out from behind the velvet curtain to watch the play from right on the stage. An evil genie pretending to be Helena’s dad climbs up on the stage with fire in his eyes. Helena gallops back and forth along the length of the black curtain, looking for a way to escape. Helena kicks at the evil genie’s grasping hands.

  “Enough,” her dad says. Helena can tell from the way he talks between his teeth that he means it. He grabs her foot, pulling her to the floor in a twist, then tosses her over his shoulder to haul her off the stage. A few of the dads laugh as Helena’s dangling face goes by. The mothers all look angry. The evil genie dumps Helena onto the chair where her mom should be waiting with a jumbo candy cane. Instead she’s far away, fussing over Effie instead.

  «14»

  Willard likes the pretty angel Terrance makes as he stands quietly near the black curtain. On the other side, where the stage is, people are screaming and crying. On this side, children are running amok. Willard is used to silence and the horrible shrieking, laughter, and pounding of running feet makes his head hurt. Willard longs to kick the ugly little bodies into silence, but holds himself back. If he draws attention to himself, he won’t be able to rescue Terrance.

  Among the boys, Terrance is the only one behaving properly, and Willard is pleased by his brother’s obedience. The boy watches the antics of the other unruly children. Just like Willard when he was a small boy, Terrance merely smiles as the others push and shove each other in their play fighting; he doesn’t join in.

  The only other quiet child, a little Virgin Mary, stands beside Terrance making a face as she checks the diaper of her Baby Jesus. She glares at Willard as though she expects the only adult present to make the children hush. When a voice beyond the curtain shouts for someone to call an ambulance, the girl picks up a toy phone and holds it out for Willard to use. He earns another frown when he shakes his head. She drops the toy then goes back to fussing over her doll.

  Despite his fear of capture, Willard steps further into the school to draw his brother’s attention. The boy seems confused, but obeys when Willard beckons him over. When Terrance is within reach, Willard clamps a hand on his shoulder. Because he was a baby when he last saw Willard, Terrance doesn’t recognize his big brother. Willard has to pretend he’s a stranger, one the boy can trust enough to follow without making a fuss. He remembers the day Terrance was born, when a stranger came to take Willard out of his kindergarten class and the teacher let him go. “You’ve got to come with me right now, young fellow,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “It’s your momma. She’s sick and she needs you.”

  Willard holds tight when Terrance tries to back away. The boy doesn’t struggle, but says, “I have to tell Miss Granger.”

  Willard subdues a flash of anger. He puts on a reassuring smile. “I already told her. She says go.”

  The boy glances down at the red running shoes on his feet, then back up at Willard. “My boots and coat are in the classroom.”

  The anger Willard feels leaks into his voice. “There’s no time. Not if you want to see your mama alive.”

  Terrance must believe Willard. The boy is compliant as he’s ushered out the auditorium door. When Willard glances back at the children, only the Virgin Mary is watching. She hangs Baby Jesus upside-down and makes him wave a plastic foot. “Bye-bye,” she says.

  Willard drags a hand across his throat. From the way the little girl’s eyes bulge, he knows he’s made the message clear: Tell and she dies.

  «15»

  Helena’s amazed she can cry her eyes out and still watch the interesting things happening in the school auditorium. Effie is strapped onto a bed with wheels and the ambulance people want to take her away, but Effie’s dad, who just arrived, is in the way. He’s crying and kissing Effie’s face as though breaking a bone is the worst possible thing in the world, even though it’s no big deal. Then he puts a bouquet of pretty pink roses on the gurney.

  Effie’s mom pulls Effie’s dad away by the back of his coat. She tosses the roses to another girl’s mom like they’re playing hot potato. If the flowers come to Helena, she’ll pretend they’re hers and hide them under her chair. Great actresses always get flowers.

  Even though they are four rows away, Helena hears Effie’s mom tell Effie’s dad he can’t come to the hospital with them because he’s “dead to them from now on.”

  “Don’t do this,” Effie’s dad says as the ambulance people make the bed roll away. Helena thinks he’s silly because the paramedics obviously can’t put on casts and take X-rays here at school.

  “Don’t you dare follow us,” says Effie’s mom and Effie’s dad doesn’t. Instead he sits on a chair like he’s got nothing else to do except wait for the show to go on, even though the best part is already over.

  ¤

&
nbsp; Helena slumps in the backseat of Maggie the Mazda. She cries because mean Principal Johnston said Helena’s parents had to take her home. She would have quit blubbering if he’d asked her nicely instead of using his angry voice.

  She lifts the eyelashes out of the way and pushes the camel’s eyeholes tight against her face so she can see. The snow hitting the front windshield whacks against the glass so hard Helena decides it’s trying to punch out the car’s lights.

  At least her dad can’t get lost or speed like he does when he’s mad; he’s following the taillights of a super slow green car. There’s a shift in the snow’s direction and Helena reads the license plate. If she wasn’t so upset she’d like the way the letters spell something that almost makes a real word: 175 ELP.

  She whispers the partial word inside her mask. She decides elp would be easier to scream than help. She wouldn’t care if people didn’t know what she was talking about.

  Mark’s asleep in his car-seat beside Helena. She pokes his side, hoping he’ll cry. Even though Helena’s dad hasn’t looked at her since he carried her off the stage, he somehow sees the poke. He takes a hand off the steering wheel and reaches back to clamp her camel knee. “Haven’t you caused enough problems for one night, young lady?”

  “I’m not a young lady. I’m Camel Miranda.” Helena leans back against the seat. She needs to cry again and inside a camel head is a good place for tears.