Deadly Holidays (13 page)

"The doctor will be right with you," said Joanne as she motioned for Anne to sit down.

As Joanne closed the door, Anne fervently prayed that she did not have cancer.  She couldn't.  Her children and husband needed her.  And she loved and needed them like her lungs needed oxygen.  She was happy and fulfilled with a husband she adored, and two children that filled her with joy.  There was so much at stake.  How ironic that a tiny lump within her breast could carry such significant consequences.  The irony that she could escape the wrath of a vicious serial killer five years before, and possibly lose her life over a mass of tissue as small as the end of her little finger, was unreal and so unfair on many levels.

Dr. Sands entered the room with a file folder in hand, and Anne's stomach clenched with fear. She tried to read the expression on the doctor’s face, but she wasn’t giving up anything. The doctor pulled up a small stool with wheels and moved near Anne.  She opened up the folder and said, "Anne, I have the results of your ultrasound, and I didn't want to make you wait until after the holidays to find out what they are."

"Thank you," Anne replied, as her fingers formed a fist she clutched in her lap.

"The lump in your breast is a harmless, fluid-filled cyst," the physician began.  "There's nothing to fear, Anne."

Tears streamed down Anne’s face as she reacted to the news.  “Oh, thank the Lord!  I'm so relieved," she cried.

In a rare demonstration of affection, Dr. Sands put her arms around Anne's shoulders and said, "Have a wonderful holiday, Anne.  Enjoy your family."  Then she left the room.

Wiping her eyes with a tissue from her purse, Anne strode out of the waiting room, into the hall, toward the glass-walled elevator where she pushed the down button.  For the first time, she noticed the three-floor-high Christmas tree in the lobby adorned with colored lights and beautiful ornaments.  Feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, she couldn't wait to get home to her family.  As the elevator door opened in the lobby, she noticed a man, who looked like her husband, standing near the plate glass window.

"Michael?" she asked, as she approached him from behind.  He spun around to face her.  "Michael, what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question." he returned as a muscle flicked angrily at his jaw.  Grasping her arm, he led her out of the building. Seeing the crumpled tissue in her hand, he growled, “What did that bastard do to you to make you cry?”

" Honey, it’s not like that…"  Anne began.

Michael cut her off, leading her toward his vehicle in the parking lot, and said, "How can you “honey” me at a time like this? We have to talk." 

Reaching the Escalade, he opened the passenger-side door for her and helped her inside, then moved to the driver’s side, got in, and slammed his door.

"Michael, what's wrong?  Is it the twins?" she asked as apprehension swept through her. 

"Who's Dr. Sands?" He ground the name out between his teeth.

"My doctor."

"Really," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.  "Isn't it against professional ethics or something for a physician to be involved with his patient?"

Confused, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you and this Dr. Sands aren't having an affair?"

She stared at him with astonishment.  "Affair?  Michael, what's wrong with you?  Are you crazy? Dr.
Emily
Sands is my gynecologist.  Where in the world did you get the idea I was having an affair with her or anyone else?"

"Emily?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

"Yes, Emily."

"Well then who's the guy you were talking to on the phone the other night in the kitchen at our party?"

Perplexed, she wrinkled her brow as she thought for a moment.  "Oh, that was Frankie.  You heard our conversation?"

"Yes."

"I'm really sorry, Michael.  I would have told you, but I didn't want to ruin your holiday."

"Yeah, leaving me for your lover would tend to do that," he said, with not a little sarcasm.

"Honey, you silly man.  You're the only one I want."  Anne smiled as she squeezed his arm.  "I don't know what you thought you heard in my conversation with Frankie, but I have no intention of leaving you—ever."  She hesitated, taking a deep breath, and added, "But I have been keeping something from you."

"Yes you have, and I need to know what it is."

Still emotional, Anne felt her eyes tearing up again as she explained, "Michael, I have a lump in my breast the size of a pea."

“Oh, my God, honey.”  Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, kissing her thoroughly, making her heart hammer against her ribs. “This is what you’ve been keeping from me?” 

With his voice strong and steady, he said, "Let's talk about it.  Tell me what tests you've had and what the doctor says.  We'll fight this thing together. Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch."

"That's why I was seeing Dr. Sands today.  She had my ultrasound results.  Michael, the lump is harmless. Everything is going to be alright."

"And you could tell Frankie about this, but couldn't tell me?"  Michael asked with a pained expression. "I don't know what hurts most thinking you were having an affair and leaving me, or knowing that you trust Frankie, but not me, when something's wrong."

"It's not like that," she began.

"Yes, it's
exactly
like that," he said, as he glared at her.  "If things were reversed, and I were the one with the lump, would you want me to shut you out?”

"No. I didn’t think about it like that," she said quietly, guilt rushing through her like a river.  "I just didn't want to worry you and ruin the holidays.  I planned to tell you later, I swear."

Michael stared at her for a moment.  When he spoke again, his voice was tender.  "I hope you know you are more important to me than any holiday.  You and the kids are my life.  Don't ever shut me out like that again, Anne.  I mean it.  I take our marriage vows seriously. Together we can face anything. Remember the part, ‘through sickness and health’?"

"Yes, I remember.  I'm really sorry, honey." 

Exhaling with relief, Michael pulled her close to him, nearly dragging Anne over the console, and wrapped his arms around her.  "And I’m so sorry I doubted you. I know better than to think you would have an affair. I was insane by the thought you were cheating, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I love you, Anne. Will you forgive me?"

"I will, if you will forgive me for not telling you.  I love you more than anything—or anybody," she replied.

He dropped his head and kissed her senseless.  And right there in the parking lot of the medical center, a Christmas miracle was forged by love, hope and forgiveness.

<><><> 

Tim, Lane and Blake stood in the sheriff's office break room, watching an emergency weather report on the large, flat-screen television mounted on the wall.  A meteorologist stood in front of a map of the Midwest and announced blizzard warnings stretching from one side of Indiana to the other.  Predicting winds over 45 mph, he advised that more than an additional foot of snow could fall by the afternoon. Blizzard conditions with wind chill temperatures below zero were expected.

Tim wiped his hand over his face, his expression tight with strain.  He pulled Blake aside and said, "We have to call off the search for Shawn."

"With all due respect, sir, I can't do that," Blake replied tiredly.

Tim stared at Blake for a moment, then leaned in. "Listen, son, we've done everything humanly possible to find that little boy.  As sheriff, I can't risk the lives of our officers to continue the search in this weather.  They'll be needed for emergency runs for stranded."

"I understand.  But
I
can't stop looking for him.  He may still be alive and out there needing help," Blake paused for a moment, then said, "I promised your daughter that I'd bring home our son."

"And he's
my
grandson," Tim emphasized.  "But I think we both know it's going to take more than luck to find him now.

Tim pulled Lane into the conversation.  "Lane, there are ten all-terrain vehicles parked in the warehouse for the nine deputies on-call to use for emergency transportation.  You take one home.  You may be needed later." 

Tim turned to his son-in-law and handed him a set of keys. "Blake, I have a brand new four-seat ATV in my garage.  You take that."

"Jennifer shouldn't be alone in this storm," said Blake.  "Not with a baby on the way."

"I'll go get her now while the roads are passable.  Megan would worry herself sick if I didn't take her home." Tim paused for a moment, then said, "Blake, I know you've been trained for these conditions, but be careful out there.  This thing will gain strength as the day goes on.  You could find yourself in a situation where you have reduced or no visibility, because of the driving snow.  Jennifer couldn't handle losing you."

"I know.  I have maybe four hours at best to search for Shawn, but I'm not giving up.  I'll find him."  Blake's voice sounded far more confident than he felt at that moment.

A blast of wind hit the side of the building; the windows rattled in response.  Tim couldn't make himself say the words he was thinking, that if Shawn was exposed to this weather, there was little chance he was still alive.  Hell, he couldn't let go of the hope that drove them, any more than Jennifer or Blake.  Tim grasped Blake's arm and said, "Promise me you'll come home by dark.  Jennifer needs you now more than ever."

Blake looked at Tim, a dozen emotions swimming in his dark eyes. He was a realist and knew if he couldn't find Shawn within the next few hours, there was an excellent chance he'd never find him—at least not alive.  He found it hard to speak.  He nodded his head, his voice cracking with emotion.  "Yes, sir.  I promise." 

 
<><><>

By the time Lane made it home with the ATV, he was cold and exhausted from breaking a trail through the accumulating snow drifts from town to his house, which was five miles away.  Frankie, three-year-old Ashley, and Hunter met him at the door.  Frankie and Ashley began pulling off his snowsuit and other winter garments, throwing them into a heap on the floor.  Thinking it was a game, Ashley giggled with delight as she pulled at the fingers of his gloves, as he tried to tickle her.  Down to his street clothes, Lane was ushered upstairs by his wife into a hot shower.

Later, he walked down to the kitchen then leaned against the doorframe, watching Frankie stir something in the crock-pot that smelled amazing. He moved behind her, his arms locking around her waist as he kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Is that chili you're cooking?"  he asked, as he nibbled on her neck.