She had unloaded Henry’s chair from their handicap-accessible van, and he sat in the sun, his eyes closed, a small smile on his face. He seemed utterly at ease, a condition that infuriated her. How he could be calm baffled her. If only she had been home, had spoken to Annie, heard the words that could have been her last. Henry had had that moment, and she felt cheated—an unfair sentiment, but present all the same.
“It’s late, Henry,” she said tightly, looking at her watch. “She said eight, right? You told me she said eight.”
“Relax Carolyn. It’s only a minute past. Give them a minute.”
And then there was a sound, an engine, and Carolyn almost cried, her heart breaking as she turned, afraid to give credence to her hope. A flash of blond reflected from the passenger side of a truck, and her throat constricted tightly. The truck came to a stop in front of them, the sun’s glare obscuring the windshield and she ran, oblivious to anything but the thought of Annie. She flew to the passenger side, scrambling for the handle, ripping it open and catching Annie when she tumbled out, gripping her tightly and sobbing into her curls, her hands gripping her small body, which squirmed in her grasp. “Oh Annie!” she gasped. There was a squeal of metal on metal and she turned, seeing Henry struggling in his chair, trying to roll over the root-filled dirt, his eyes catching her, and his hands releasing the wheels, straining outward, reaching toward her.
Cursing her inconsideration, she ran, with Annie in her arms, to Henry, falling into his arms, Annie tumbling into his lap, her giggles reaching their ears. Henry’s eyes met hers, tears spilling from them, his mouth shaking as he reached down, cradling Annie’s face, choking on his sobs. His arms grabbed her tight, and the three of them embraced for a very long time.
CHAPTER 56
I watch them, my throat tight, the love that they share evident. They are an older couple, Annie obviously a miracle in their life. I am surprised to see her father in a wheelchair, a scenario I had never considered. I never thought of them at all, my own greed consuming me, my need to kill giddy at the justifiable opportunity that it had been presented. Annie’s giggle reaches me, and I cover my mouth, her childish innocence breaking my heart in two. I feel like an intruder in their private reunion, and I clear my throat, stepping forward.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but this belongs to Annie.” I hold out the grey kitten, its body flattening against me as if reluctant to leave. The mother turns, her blue eyes meeting mine for the first moment. She pats Annie as if reassuring herself of her existence, and then steps away, taking steps forward until she stands in front of me.
When she speaks, her words are clear, her head held high. “I don’t know your part in all of this, but my husband says you helped Annie, and for that I am forever in your debt.”
I smile, meeting Annie’s eyes. She flashes me a winning smile. “I was happy to do what I could to help. But I do have a favor to ask, if I may.”
Her eyes sharpen, suspicion present in their depths. “I figured as much. What is it?”
“My anonymity. I couldn’t think of an easy way to return Annie, without leaving her somewhere with people who I’d be unfamiliar with. Your husband was kind enough to meet me here without involving the police, but if you could keep details about me private, I would greatly appreciate it.”
She waits, her eyes locked on mine, but then finally speaks. “That’s it? Anonymity is all that you’re asking for?”
I grimace, torn. “Certain actions I took in the rescue of Annie you might not appreciate later. You will understand more in a few hours. I apologize in advance for any pain that I have caused your family. Please know that I, for the most part, acted with Annie’s welfare in mind.” I pause. “I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation or ask you to lie. But if there is a way to avoid sharing details of my involvement, I would certainly appreciate it.”
The mother looks back at her daughter, cradled in her husband’s arms. “I appreciate your actions in a way that can never be repaid. If that is all you ask, I can certainly honor those requests.”
I smile at her, the action catching her off-guard, and she is hesitant in returning the gesture. Annie interrupts our exchange, jumping off her father’s lap and running to me, holding her hands up and reaching for the kitten. I lean down, her arms wrap around my neck. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. Then she carefully takes the kitten, cradling it in her arms and pets it softly. Her mother looks at me questioningly.
“Sorry. I couldn’t say no.” I smile sheepishly at her and she grins in response.
“I wouldn’t have been able to either,” she murmurs, watching Annie carry the kitten back to her father, placing it on his lap.
“I need to go. She is a wonderful child. You have done a wonderful job of raising her.” I nod at both of them, the father holding out his hands to me, and I walk over to him. Bending over, I accept the hug he offers, surprised at the strength in which he grips me.
“Thank you,” he whispers in my ear. “We will forever be in your debt.” I straighten, running a gentle hand over Annie’s hair, then turn and head back to the truck, open the door and climb in. I watch them for a moment, the mother crouched next to the wheelchair, the three of them talking excitedly. Then I put the truck in reverse and back up. I am pulling forward when I hear a shout. I look up to see the woman running to the truck. I roll down my window and look at her, worried that something is wrong.
“Were you the girl? The one who called the hotline?”
I pause, my indecision answering her question. Her mouth tightens and her eyes close tightly. “So, it was Michael? My Michael?”
“Yes. But I don’t think he did anything to her. She was tied up when I found her. Unharmed.”
“But you told the police … you think he was planning …” her voice falters, and she grips the truck window tightly.
“If he planned on doing what he discussed with me … that is why I came for her. Why I did what I did.” I close my eyes, squeezing the steering wheel tightly. “I’m sorry.” I open my eyes, hating to look into hers, hating the disbelief and judgment I will see there.
There was only strength in her eyes, and she meets mine squarely. “Honey, I don’t know what you did to him, and I don’t care. Blood doesn’t excuse evil. You stopped what needed to be stopped.” She nods at me once, and then steps back, walking back to her family and swinging Annie up onto her hip. They turn toward me and wave together, and I wave back and pull out, hitting the highway and heading toward home, if my one room prison can be called that.