Deadly Intent (6 page)

But it was still hard
.

A single tear trickled down her cheek.
I don’t understand why I keep losing things—my husband, a great career, Moses. Oh, Moses. I’m so afraid for him.
She had no power to stop the tears as they fell. As the storm subsided, her pain still raw, but bearable, a glimmer of hope glowed. With God, she could—no, she
would
manage.

Her life wasn’t over. She was still breathing and that meant there were things God wanted her to do. On the edge of the bed, she lost track of how long she sat there. Her mind focused on one word—Jesus. Finally, she found the energy to face the day. First coffee, then a shower.

She stood at the doorway staring at her little boy’s room. It was a mess thanks to the police and the FBI. Neither group had found evidence to aid in the search.

She let out a deep sigh filled with sadness.
Time to face reality.
Whatever had happened, Moses was gone. He wouldn’t be needing the room again. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room. When she looked at the circle of toys he’d left and placed them in the bright yellow and red toy box, she almost changed her mind.

She never had figured out why the circle represented safety and security for him. At the bed, she stripped off the blanket, the sheets, and then the mattress pad. Her heart thumped as she stared. The mattress wasn’t bare.

There were pages and pages of drawings. Moses had hidden them for some reason. Picture after picture depicted his favorite comic book heroes.

There was one of the same woman he’d drawn just a few short weeks before. And there were two other women. They didn’t resemble each other in the least, but something seemed familiar. The next was a picture of a man. Black hair with angry black eyes. In fact everything about the picture screamed anger.

Was this the man from the park?

Maven peered, hoping for some glimmer of recognition. But she hadn’t been close enough to see any details of the man. She prayed this man had nothing to do with Moses in his previous life. Just staring at the picture gave her a sick feeling. This was not a man she wanted her dear, sweet Moses to be around.

Another picture showed a house. It was an old Victorian-style house all done in shades of gray. It was pretty, but there had to be tons of houses like that in a thousand towns on thousands of streets. Nothing that could help the investigators.

She picked up another picture. Her heart skipped a beat.

It couldn’t be real. Moses must have seen a horror movie or maybe a comic book depicting the scene. Three women surrounded him and they were in chains. They formed a circle around the boy. The boy looked a lot like Moses.

A circle? Could that be why Moses always arranged his toys in circles?

~*~

Paul sat at Maven’s dining room table looking at the drawings. He held one. “This could be the break we need.”

It was a simple drawing with the word CEDAR written on it.

“I hope you’re right, Paul. But there’s probably a lot of streets named Cedar in the country. It doesn’t really narrow it down that much.”

“True, but it’s better than nothing.” He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Let me give Trent Snoddy a call. This is just the type of thing the FBI guys are good at.” After hitting the numbers, he waited. “Hey, Trent. This is Paul Jordon. Maven found some drawings the boy made. I think there could be some clues in them.”

16

Maven opened the door.

Trent Snoddy stood there, not looking terribly happy. “Good morning, Mrs. Morris.”

“Come in, Agent Snoddy.” She opened the door wider.

“Just call me Trent.” His smile seemed genuine. Maybe he didn’t have bad news.

Paul shook hands with him. “So, what’s the news, Trent?”

“Nothing like getting right to the point.”

“Well, I don’t want to prolong the agony for Maven. Do you think there’s anything in the drawings that could give us a clue as to where Moses came from?”

“Moses? I thought we didn’t know his name.”

“We didn’t,” Maven said, “but I couldn’t keep calling him ‘the boy.’ So I called him Moses.”

Trent looked confused. “That’s an unusual choice for a name. Why not Bob or Tom?”

“It’s from the Bible,” Paul explained.

“Oh, OK.” From his tone and his expression, it was obvious he didn’t get the Biblical reference.

Maven explained. “I picked the name Moses because just like the biblical Moses, my Moses was abandoned by his parents.”

“And just like the biblical Moses, this Moses was rescued by the beautiful princess.” Paul winked at Maven as he spoke.

“Alrighty then, let’s get to the business at hand.” Trent rolled his eyes.

Maven led the men to the dining room. “Let me get some coffee.”

Paul stood back up. “I’ll help.”

She turned her back so Paul couldn’t see the smile. He was acting like a jealous teenager. It was sort of cute. “Not necessary, Paul.”

Maven went to the kitchen, returned and served the coffee. She stared at the agent. “OK, give me the bad news.”

“What makes you think it’s bad?”

“Because if it was good, you would have told us the moment you got in the house. “

Trent looked at Paul. “Smart lady.”

“Yes, she is. So what’s the word?”

He opened the folder. “The profiler believes the boy…Moses is fixated on comic books and these are simply scenes from his favorite that he copied.”

Maven felt her cheeks heating up in anger. She took a deep breath. “Is that what you believe?”

“I believe in the profiler. She’s very good. If she says these aren’t based on reality, then I tend to think she’s right.” He pulled out two pictures and laid them side by side. One was of a comic book character and one was of the mystery lady. “Look, as you can see, they are in the same style. We know the comic book character so it makes sense that she is one, too. We just don’t know which comic book—oops, I mean graphic novel.” His finger tapped the mystery lady.

“But what about the picture with him in the middle of the chained women?” Paul asked, his voice skeptical.

“The profiler said it’s not unusual for kids to put themselves in the middle of their fantasy drawings.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m just as sorry about this as you are. I wanted there to be a clue for us to follow up on. Believe me, I’m not happy with the way this case is going, either. I want to find this little boy. He’s been through enough.”

Maven bit her lip to keep from crying. “How could the kidnapper not have left some evidence behind when he came in the window?”

“Obviously he knows what he’s doing. Maybe, he’s done it before. Maybe someone in law enforcement?” Paul asked.

Maven had no words. The thought hadn’t even entered her mind. She looked at Agent Snoddy for his reaction.

His expression was grim. “I hate to think of that, but it’s a possibility. At the very least, someone who knows how not to leave evidence.” The FBI agent riffled through the pictures, then pushed them towards Maven. “You can keep these if you want. We don’t need them any longer.”

“Even if the profiler doesn’t think they’re important, shouldn’t we at least check it out?” She pulled them towards her.

Trent shook his head. “Nothing to check out. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Maven couldn’t just let it go. Moses needed someone out there—looking for him. “So, what now?”

Trent didn’t meet her gaze. “The Amber Alert is still in force. His picture has been forwarded to FBI offices and police stations across the country.” He sighed. “The case is still active, but there are no real leads to follow up on at this time. But when one becomes available, we will check it out. Trust me on that.”

“In other words, you aren’t doing anything.” Maven tried to keep the anger from her voice but failed.

“Not true.” He was adamant. “We’re doing all we can. We’re still trying to figure out his identity. If we can do that, it will give us a place to start.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose.”

17

Maven stood in front of the bathroom mirror making faces. Grimaces, smiles, puckers, curling her lips. Her smile seemed almost normal, but very little lip movement. How could that be? It had to be the cheek muscles. She hadn’t realized how important they were to the smiling process. Even though she should have since she was a speech pathologist.

She frowned—nothing happened.

School would be starting soon and she wanted to be there. Her plan was to drive over to the board offices and see the superintendent. She could show him her speech was back to normal—except for the occasional slobber or spitting out of food.

That didn’t sound good. She grimaced. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen when she talked with him. But she missed working. And she most definitely missed her students.

~*~

“I’m sorry, Maven.” Her boss smiled at her across his desk. “It’s certainly improving, but we’ve already given Janet Smith a contract for the year. It’s provisional, she understands that it’s only for this year.”

“Oh.” Maven tried to hide her disappointment.

“Believe me, we want you back. We love you, you know that. My suggestion is to enjoy the year off, focus on your health, and then we will get back together in February or March. If you’re ready to resume your duties, then we’ll rescind the disability and you’ll be back at work in the fall.”

“I’m sure I can handle my job duties now.” She made her voice pleasant but firm.

“And you are probably right, but why not enjoy the year? It’s been a rough time for you. And there’s no reason to rush back. Your job will be waiting for you when you’ve fully recovered.”

What if she never fully recovered? What, then?
She wanted to argue about it. She wanted to tell him she would go to the union. She wanted to do a lot of things, including kicking the chair. But she didn’t. Instead, she stood and forced a smile. “I’ll see you in February. Be sure to have that contract ready.”

“Absolutely.”

~*~

Maven laid back against the chaise lounge on her deck, her eyes shut, hoping the brightness of the sunny day would dispel the encroaching darkness.
God, why do all these bad things happen to me?
She kept trying to rebuild her life, but every time she ran into another brick wall—another barrier. She wanted to honor God with her choices, with her thoughts and actions—tried to honor Him.

She opened her eyes and reached for her phone. A dose of Lizzie’s optimism would be good medicine. Maven sipped on lemonade while she talked with Lizzie. “I shouldn’t have gone. I should have known how it would turn out.”

“I think you should have insisted on your job back. It’s your job! Not hers.”

“I know, but the truth is, there are certain sounds I still can’t demonstrate for the kids.”

“How many?” Lizzie demanded. She wasn’t one for being passive.

“OK, probably only the R sound.”

“And you can still instruct them in that sound, right?”

“I suppose. It’s all right, Lizzie. Really. I’ll survive one more year without working.”

“I can keep you on the foster parent list if you want.”

The pain of losing Moses was too fresh. “That’s sweet, but I’m still recovering from the first one.”

“I know. It’s a horrible situation, but that doesn’t mean the next one will be.”

Maven paused, listening for God’s voice. She had no sense that fostering another child was the right thing to do—at least not now. “I don’t think so, Lizzie. I think you were right when you told me that Moses was the right child for me. God nudged me that time.”

“You’re probably right. God does have a way of letting us know if we take the time to listen.”

“That’s for sure.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.” But even as she said the words, she thought of Moses. She couldn’t pretend as if he didn’t exist. He was out there and needed help. But how?

After finishing her call, Maven went inside. She picked up the folder with the drawings Moses had made. Back outside, she inspected the drawings. The drawings of the women did look like comic book characters when she compared them to the drawings of the superheroes.

She found the drawing of the Victorian house.

Just the kind one would see in a horror movie or a comic book. The detail was amazing with the intricate pattern of woodwork decorating the eaves along with the shutters.

Moses had used shades of gray to almost black. Even with the boy’s amazing talent, he had to have had a model. A child so young wouldn’t have been able to draw this from memory. Would he?

“Howdy, neighbor.” Paul’s head popped above the privacy fence between their yards.

“Hey. Come on over if you want.” She pointed at the pitcher. “I’ve got extra lemonade.”

He jogged around the corner of her yard. “Howdy again, neighbor.”

“Howdy, yourself. How was your day?”

“Actually, quite boring. I hate paperwork. Let me get a glass.” After pouring some, he sat down at the table.

“Yeah, I used to complain about paperwork until I had none. So, after you and the FBI agent left, guess what I did?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “Mmm. Let me think a minute. I’m a detective. I can figure this out.”

“You’re on. You figure it out, and I’ll cook dinner.”

“If not, I’ll take you out to dinner.”

“Deal.”

“Mmm. I know you’re really bummed that there are no leads on Moses. Thinking about Moses made you realize that you have nothing to do again. Not having anything to do made you realize how bored you are which makes you miss your job even more.” He smiled. “How am I doing so far?”

No way would she tell him he was on the right track. She laughed. “Don’t look to me for any clues. You are on your own.”

“No problem.” He took a sip of his lemonade. “OK, so you started thinking about your job and you decided to go see the superintendent to tell him you wanted your job back for this school year. After all, you’ve had significant improvement.” He paused for dramatic effect. “So, am I right or am I right?”