A Son's Tale

“We’ve got him.” The words were staccato—more so than usual. George’s intense look was focused, not on his daughter, or his wife, but on the detective seated opposite Cal and Morgan at the table for six in her small dining room.

Warner stood. Without asking he grabbed the phone from George Lowen. George didn’t hesitate to turn it over.

“This is Detective Rick Warner from the Tyler Police Department,” he said. “I’m here with the Lowens. What have you got?”

As the man listened, an intent look on his face, Cal reached for Morgan’s hand under the table. She grabbed hold, clutching him so tightly her fingernails dug into his palm. He barely felt the pain. He was that glad to be there for her.

He prayed that the news would be good. Over and over he prayed. Forgetting that praying was something he hadn’t done since he was seven years old.

He’d stopped because praying didn’t work.

* * *

MORGAN COULD HARDLY stand the waiting. “I should have gone with them,” she said for the tenth or so time. Cal came up behind her as she stood at the living room window, staring out into the early-afternoon sunshine. He rubbed her shoulders, his hands warm and alive and keeping her blood flowing.

“They weren’t going to take you, Morgan, even if you’d insisted on going.”

He’d patiently repeated his response every single one of the times she’d voiced the thought that continued to race through her mind.

Detective Warner had explained it all to her. They didn’t know for sure if the guy her father’s men had found was the one making the phone

calls. They were reasonably sure, by some means that probably wasn’t legal, but they weren’t positive. Even if it was the guy, they had no proof that he really had Sammie. He’d never let her talk to the boy or given an indication that he had Sammie with him. He’d never asked for anything in exchange for the boy.

And if he had Sammie, and Sammie saw her and reacted, she could be putting his life in danger.

“Still, I should be there. He’s going to need me.”

“He needs to be brought safely out of the situation and then he’ll be brought straight to you.”

She nodded. He was right. They’d been over this two hours earlier when her father’s phone call had ended the most excruciating breakfast of her life. Her mom and dad had gone home to rest while the detectives went in for the man George’s team suspected had Sammie. Detective Martin was going to contact her father the minute they got the guy.

Cal had opted to stay with Morgan. Maybe it was weird, having her college professor be such a good friend all of a sudden. But with his past, his understanding, it felt right. Besides, right now she couldn’t take being around anyone else who was emotionally attached to Sammie. She needed an outsider—someone who could hold it together and be strong for all of them. Just in case…

No. No just in case.

“He’s going to want macaroni and cheese for dinner,” she said. “I’m not sure I have any.”

“You do.” Cal continued to rub. “You checked an hour ago.”

He was right. She had.

Detective Martin was in the dining room, having set up shop on the table her father had vacated. Giving Morgan some space while she waited. And manning the phone.

The suspect didn’t know they were on to him. He’d called twice more since breakfast. Both times exactly the same as before. Short. Cruel. And then gone.

“You really need to get some rest,” she said now. She’d changed yesterday’s jeans for a fresh pair. Changed her top for another short-sleeved pullover. And washed her face.

“I will. As soon as this is done. I can sleep all day tomorrow.”

Right. Hopefully she and Sammie would be able to sleep, as well. As long as her ten-year-old would consent to sleeping in the same room with her like he’d done when he was little. Before he’d gotten the idea that sleeping in the same bed as your mom was for sissies.

If he wouldn’t consent she’d stay away until he was asleep and then camp out on his floor beside his bed.

“Julie sounded like she hadn’t slept all night.” She’d called her friend before the press conference, just to let her know it was going to air, and then again after arrangements were made for a team of local area detectives to meet with her father’s men, to close in on the motel in southern Alabama where they were pretty sure the man who’d been making calls to her was staying. The Tyler police wanted someone with local jurisdiction on-site to make the arrest.

“She probably didn’t.”

“It’s hard talking to her.” She didn’t blame Julie for what had happened. But Julie seemed to blame herself.