Prologue1

by Geri Fitzsimmons and Andy Stephenson2

In the autumn of nineteen hundred and eighty four; a movie actor was finishing up his first term as President of The United States and headed for a second victory. If she‘d been of age, the once slender, now slightly plump teenager might have voted for him simply because he was once a Movie Star; but at seventeen, Nancy didn’t recognize him—he was an old timer. Nancy worried about losing the excess weight she’d gained.3

“President Reagan….” Not interested in what the announcer was spieling, she switched off the TV. The news didn‘t concern her. She replaced it with a louder noise from the radio.4

"Roses are red my love; violets are blue. Sugar is sweet my love, but not so sweet as you." She hummed along with the singer’s voice. She always did, now and then the weak crackle of her own words would join his taped tones. “Rose are red my love….” Nancy Rhoades was a mother singing to her infant twin daughters.5

She dunked first Nadine into the soapy, hot bathwater and held her screaming until her tiny pink hide turned a bright red, then she plopped her into the cool rinse water and back into her crib. 6

Natalie, persuaded by her sister’s howls, was already screeching to the point the tears were cascading down her plump cheeks to mix with mucus coming from her button nose. Nancy dumped her belly-side down into the wash water. It accomplished two things; it cleaned the baby and shut her up for a few seconds.7

Messy little creatures. Nancy was soon sobbing right along with her babies. Nancy couldn’t stand the Baby stinks. Where was the soft sweet smell the books told her about and people raved about; her daughters just stunk of spit-up, urine, and poop.8

At seventeen and a half, Nancy didn’t really enjoy being a mother. Oh, it was fun at times, like when her girlfriends took her shopping and she’d pick out the cute little clothes, taking care that each item was identical. Or when she would dress the babies up; finishing by making a little curl with a bow on top of their tiny blonde heads. Natalie’s bow was always red. Nadine’s was some shade of pink because Nancy couldn’t tell her daughters apart. 9

When she removed the hospital bands, they were no longer any different. She’d tried using colored rubber bands on their wrists, but if they were loose they fell off and if they were tight, her mother yelled at her. If she hid them on their ankles, she had to take a shoe and sock off…every time. Since she figured no one cared who was who, certainly not her, she didn’t waste much time on her efforts to make them individuals.10

In early July, when the twins made their entrance into her life and everyone paid them and their mom so much attention, it had been a blast. Nancy’s friends couldn’t spend enough time at the house, and Howie brought his buddies over daily for cokes, chips, and hanging out. Clayton High’s inner circle spent the last weeks of summer before the onset of their senior year thrilled with Nancy and Howie’s daughters.11

Then came September. The glitter and glamour of the new mom quickly wore thin as Nancy spent her days catering to her burdens alone, while her friends were off at classes. Soon the afternoons dragged because the boys had to stay late for football practice and Howie could only make it over for a half hour or so before dark. When the boys stopped hanging around, the girls stopped coming. The weekends were still fun for a while, but she knew soon the competition would start and she’d be left to care for the brats while Howie preformed on the field for all the adoring fans.12

Now, as she diapered first one, then the other infant, only to discover the first had wet again, she cried harder. In her mind she could picture the ruckus she’d cause if she tried to take the twins to a game. Principal Hendricks would have her physically escorted from the bleachers. 13

When she tried to bring the twins to school at lunchtime to visit their daddy, the principal called her mother and informed her it wasn’t an acceptable practice. First it was disruptive and second it wasn’t school policy to condone youngsters having premarital sex. She’d been allowed to finish her junior year pregnant and that was far generous enough—many of the other parents had been highly upset.14

Convinced that some diabolical threat had been given in warning to her mother, Nancy obeyed her order that she stay away from the school buildings when they were in session.15

Her mom worked all day because she had no choice and she constantly reminded Nancy, “I have to keep your belly full and a roof over your head.” So babysitting wasn’t a top priority of hers. “How many times did I warn you that boy wasn’t going to be here for you. Now, you made your bed…suffer.” Even the measly allowance she’d once had, now went for formula and baby food.16

Nancy didn’t think they could keep her off school grounds after classes so she went to watch Howie practice. She figured this would please him. But after the first incident, when Howie took some of the team over to see his daughters, the coach squashed that. Howie barely waved now. He didn’t even dare come off the field at the end of practice; only went directly to the locker room with the rest of the team. If she was lucky she got to see him for a few minutes before his Mom picked him up.17

Howie’s Mother had never really looked at the twins. She had sent a bunch of presents to the house when they were born--but never came herself. His dad only signed a monthly check and mailed it. 18

Taking care of the twins became more and more of a chore as the urchins grew stronger and squirmier—struggling against her efforts to turn them into dolls that her friends could admire. 19

They didn’t just lay in the carriage while her friends gushed over how adorable they were; or pleaded to hold them. No! Rapidly they had become these howling demons, demanding attention, causing her friends to run off.20

She had spent an hour this afternoon fixing herself up and another dolling up her daughters, so they all looked spiffy as she strolled back and forth on the sidewalk outside the sport complex. Of course Billie Ann Sully had hurried over when she spotted her. 21

“They’re just adorable.” Billie couldn’t resist picking up one of the babies. 22

Then Cindy Mitchell came running up. “Yikes, Billie Ann put the kid down, we’ll be late for practice,” Cindy yelped.23

And Billie shoved the twin she’d just picked up at Nancy. 24

Cindy, usually sporting some new outfit, never held a baby, since the first time one of them christened a lavender blouse with yellow spit-up.25

“You remember how it is Nan,” Cindy pulled on Billie Ann’s arm, in a rush to be off. “They frigging make us try out every season.” 26

Nancy knew how it was. She dropped her daughter into the carriage beside her no longer sleeping sister and they both howled. Attractive golden blonde, blue-eyed, and popular Nancy Rhoades made the cheering squad every year since fourth grade. That was every year but her senior year—this year. This year she was a damn mother.27

28

Chapter One29


Marie Sanders loved history, ancient history, with knights, kings, and warriors like she could bring forth on her game system's screen. Of course, not the stuff her teacher called Modern History; like the crap about some old actor running their government a quarter of a century ago. Twenty-five years ago seemed more distant to the eleven-year-old girl than the planet Mars. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the childhood of her teacher, anymore than she could imagine a time without cell phones or laptops.30

So her final class this Friday afternoon had left her bored. She’d been in far too much of a hurry to get outside. Now she hugged herself, as she watched fallen leaves skipping along the dying grass propelled by a brisk Fall breeze and shivered. Behind her the yard of the school was alive with the noise and ruckus of youngsters released from its confines. The tousled haired blonde, on the threshold of puberty, stood at the curb like she did every afternoon waiting for her ride. The youngster showed no sign of nervousness, which she might have if she was aware someone had her under surveillance—had in fact been watching her for nearly a week. 31

Slowly she shuffled from one sneaker clad foot to the other as she swung her red and white backpack that clashed with her orange sweater. Her faded jeans clung too tightly to her slim hips, advertising it was past time for the next size and the white Tee fell loosely down her flat chest.32

Her thoughts were apparently out of the present realm of reality; lost in the magical dreams of youth. So the black sedan, looked like any black car as it pulled-up beside her and its electric window slid down. 33

“Hi, Marie Sanders?” The voice was as steady as the hand that held the leather ID folder with the badge. “Don’t get scared. Your mother has been in a slight accident and she requested we pick you up and take you to meet her at the hospital."34

Marie’s blue eyes grew wider as they brightened with surprise; a look of concern crossed her face and she stammered, "Is my mom all right?"35

"I was told she just has a broken arm and you shouldn’t worry.” The police officer smiled. “Come on, get in. She'll be worried about you."36

The youngster tossed her backpack in the rear seat and slid in beside the officer who warned, "Fasten your safety belt."37

Since Marie’s suburban area had no hospital and her mom worked in The City it didn’t bother her when the car started along the entrance ramp of the main highway into New York City. 38

The car with Marie inside had pulled away from in front of her school around ten minutes before her mother’s black BMW pulled up. “Damn!” Ms. Caitlin Sanders swore out loud when her daughter wasn’t waiting at the curb. Since Caitlin Sanders was rarely on time, the girl was accustomed to waiting, so her not being there was unusual. The woman’s eyes quickly roamed the school yard on a hunt for her child, then flashed in blue anger as she realized, she’d have to get out and go inside. 39

Only once before, had she been forced to do this—and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Signing in like she was in the act of entering a prison, stating her reason for being there, not once but three times before she made it to her daughter’s classroom only to confront a teacher who informed her Marie was in detention because she forgot her homework.40

“And I couldn’t be informed?”41

“We can’t call every parent whose child is detained.”42

“Marie has a cell phone.”43

“That can’t be activated on school property.” 44

GOD DAMN RULES! she thought but only said like an errant child herself, “Can I take my daughter now?”45

So, already anticipating what was to come, Ms. Sanders stormed up the walkway, knowing she was going to be held up and even later for her rare evening out. Damn it! it was her ex’s weekend with their daughter—he should make arrangements to pick her up at school on Friday.46


****47


“Fridays, in fact most weekends aren’t much different for me right now,” the animation in the young officer’s voice matched the tone of child’s. “Just another workday. Criminals don’t take weekends off.”48

There were two exits from the bridge and the hospital was about an equal distance from each. One exit would have brought them through the business district and the other past an outlying area of mainly forestland…the officer chose the second. 49

"How long have you been a police officer?" Marie jabbered away, not really noticing their environment. 50

"Not long. I'm a couple of weeks out of the Academy.”51

"What's it like?"52

"I really don't know. I'm still just in training." The officer grinned. Apparently the youngster had lost interest in her injured mother and was engrossed in their conversation.53

"What made you want to be a police officer?" Marie wiggled her denim clad butt back and forth over the plush fabric of the seat. Her curiosity peaked, she wanted to hear details.54

The officer gave a soft laugh but seemed to remain serious, "I'm interested in the way the criminal mind works. I also like the idea of tracking down lawbreakers."55

"I bet you'll be good at it," said Marie returning the smile then frowning as the car made a quick, sharp turn onto a side road and stopped.56

"Why are we stopping here?" 57

"There is something I have to do…It won't take long."58

The officer reached past Marie and opened the glove box, removed a small package and set it on the girl’s lap. “Look inside?” 59

The serious tone belying the friendly grin on the officer’s mouth made Marie giggle as she opened the case—her eyes went wide and she began to scream… but no sound came from her gapping mouth as a nylon cord wrapped around her slender neck and yanked tight.60

61

Chapter Two62


The large orangey-tan ball circled the silver rim above the white net and then fell in. The fans in the bleachers went wild. Above the racket of screams and pounding flesh he heard his child’s name repeated over and over and grinned. Years ago, when his name had vibrated in the air over courts much the same as this, he decided now, it hadn’t been nearly as rewarding.63

“Becca! Becca! Way ta go Farley!”64

Rebecca Ann Farley had made her first three point score of the season from half court, and put her team on the scoreboard. A disappointing opening three minutes had left Saint Catherine’s Catholic High six points behind their rival.65

“Back to earth, Joe,” Neil Harris yelled over the noise; carrying two steaming cups of coffee prevented his own reaction to Rebecca’s basket. Cautiously he moved past the jostling youngsters to the park on the hard metal beside Joe. “You’d better lose that proud papa snicker, or you’ll never scare another perp.” He didn’t tone down his own wide grin as he handed Joe a still, just under sizzle, Styrofoam cup.66

“You get to see it?” Joe was quite certain that if Neil hadn’t been holding the coffee, he would have been jumping around more than any other fan. Unlike the parents, who came first out of a sense of duty, Neil Harris never missed his goddaughter’s games, or her competitions, because he simply enjoyed being part of her life.67

“Sounds like a lot of kids are glad to see our girl back,” Neil said as the bleachers continued to ring with the Farley name. Rebecca came bounding down the court to take a throw under the basket and leap up to plunk it in the net.68

“Yah…she’ll be on high for a month.” Joe Farley sipped at his too hot coffee, but felt a chill inside as he recalled when he suddenly became a ‘Telephone Dad’ with a part time commitment to fatherhood. The ink on their divorce wasn’t dry when his ex up and took off with his child. Rose had told the judge that their leaving New York shouldn’t bother Joe, since he was married to his job and never around anyway. 69

“Defense! Defense!” he joined in the howls as the visiting team recovered the ball and headed down court. “Damn!” The cell phone vibrated in his pocket. 70

Joe withdrew the annoyance glaring at the text message, call the station, and Neil shook his head and said, “I’ll take her home.”71

“It’s only the first quarter.” A frown grew dark on Joe’s face. “I might not have to leave—or maybe I can make it back before the finale.” 72

Detective Sergeant Joseph Farley hurried out of the Saint Catherine’s High school gym to return the call from the privacy of his own car.73

“Don’t come into the station,” Farley was ordered. “You’re needed immediately at the crime scene.”74

“God Damn!” He punched the steering wheel. He was missing his kid’s first game of the season. Couldn’t these damn people kill each other at more convenient times? He grinned at his stupid thoughts. When he’d been inducted into the Major Case Squad, he knew the crazy schedule it might entail; but the pay scale was up there and would make raising a child as a single parent much easier.75

Joe refused to take a dime in support for his daughter from his ex-wife. He told her he could manage alone and he would. Because he worried constantly that when Rose got around to realizing what she’d given up, she’d be back to reclaim Becca. Rose was having a wonderful time; she had a guy with money. He was providing her with all the things she longed for, all the things they couldn’t have on a cop’s salary; but was she a fling for the guy? Joe had to admit his ex was attractive and usually fun to be with—when she got her way.
Joe put the car in gear and drove out of the school parking lot. His mind floated back to their early days together and he smiled with the memories. 76

Just out of the academy, her parents paid for the wedding. His family got together and footed the down payment on a small Brooklyn apartment. They furnished it with hand me downs and trips to used furniture stores. They worked an eight-hour shift, him a rookie cop and her a bank secretary and together they learned to refurnish and remodel for another four or five hours. Of course that usually landed them in bed doing more than sleeping.77

So eventually the mistake happened…before they were ready, Rebecca Ann Farley put in an appearance. Rose had a miserable pregnancy…she was forced to quit working by her third month and the bills began piling up....78

“Shit! Forget it!” he swore under his breath and pulled the car into the designated address and was quickly out of the vehicle.79

“Brad,” Farley’s offered greeting was accepted with a quick impersonal nod. 80

Lieutenant Bradley Benson never showed underlings much attention in front of others; even when that underling had friend tagged on his name. Gloved and masked before Farley approached, Benson finished shoving the protection in a plastic bag before he accepted Farley’s offer of a handshake.81

“Sorry to call you out Joe on your time off,” he said. “This drop site is definitely Major Case.” In disgust, he shrugged his wide shoulders beneath the Giants labeled team jacket. “It belongs to one sick bastard. We’ve uncovered two bodies already—could be more.”82

The two officers stood and glanced around the used car lot. Well lit by flood lamps, the front lot accommodated nighttime customers; but now the perimeter officers patrolling the tapped-off area discouraged any. The back lot, where Benson brought Farley up to speed, was hardly lit.83

Two salesmen could be overheard arguing with their employer outside the garage building that served as an office as well as a body repair shop.84

“Aint no sense in hanging around. Cops won’t let anybody in the lot.”85

“Only thing that tapes gonna draw is news people.” Apparently the men wanted to take the remainder of the night off.86

Benson motioned to another out of uniform officer. “Hamlin, you and Hayes separate the employees, take their statements and check their IDs—then let them go.” 87

He gestured for Farley to follow him around the rear of the five-year-old Dodge Caravan. “No one seems to know where this auto came from or how long it‘s been here. Earlier a customer spotted it and wanted to test-drive it. The salesman went to get the keys, only there weren’t any. The boss forced the rear door…then called us.”88

“Figures. Now there’s a few dozen more prints on the outside than need be and extra shoe marks in the dirt.” Farley stated. 89

The forensic crew was already engaged, gathering evidence inside and outside the SUV. Two open body bags provided temporary shelter for the pitiful remains. “Kids.” Farley’s anger surfaced in his face. Killing kids always had the same negative reaction for most lawmen. 90

“Figure the girl’s been dead about a week at least.” Benson said. “ The little fellow maybe a day or two. We’ll know better after the autopsies. We have a bus on the way.”91

“Cause of death?”92

“Lack of oxygen.” The medical technician glanced up. Her fingers lightly touched the tiny male’s forehead. “Asphyxiation not official,” she warned. “But the girl vomited and choked under the tape. This boy appears to have been strangled.”93

“An signs of sexual abuse?”94

“Not obvious right now. But you never can be completely sure.” Like Farley, the med tech knew pedophiles and child annihilators didn’t always leave obvious signs on their victims. “Medical Examiner has put a rush on this, so you should know more in a few hours.”95

Farley was stooped over, examining the license plate closely with his flashlight. The dirty rim was smudged. “This is a switch job,” he decided as he stood up and gestured towards a uniformed officer. Then pointed down at the plate. “Start up front on the newer cars. We need to find a car without dealer plates. We’ll send you some help in a minute.”96

“They switched the plates?” Benson asked. “For what reason? If they simply changed them with another car on the lot, they could have been noticed right away.”97

“They weren’t though, were they?” Farley said. “Hell the damn car wasn’t spotted until a potential buyer wanted to check it out.” He was flashing his beam on nearby vehicles that had become dented, rusted, and stripped of parts. “Doubtful anyone ever comes out here or even looks this way unless they need a part to camouflage some damage on a saleable car.”98

“Smart.” Benson was already planning on his report to Captain Hector Taylor, The head of the Major Case Squad. Aware of Farley’s usefulness and lack of ambition, his first request would be for Joe to partner him on this case. He’d use Joe Farley’s uncanny ability to find the smallest detail that could lead to a break in a case to further himself. Benson had been moving through the wrecks when he saw a New Jersey plate. “Joe, over here he called.”99

The blue Ford Focus was fairly new for the graveyard. Farley, coming from the front immediately saw the hood turned into an accordion that merged with the windshield and roof.100

“Jersey tag,” Benson said.101

“Common enough, since they weren’t driving this back home,” Farley answered. “I’d concentrate on local tags for now. If he took time out to switch them while on this lot, he wouldn’t have left an out of state link that could bring in the Feds.”102


****103


October can be a cold month in the Eastern part of the United States particularly when night has fallen. Fifty degrees can feel especially cold for a terrified child, immobilized and silenced by the application of duct tape, and held in the trunk of a car. 104

That car was traveling along Highway Twenty, a once popular thoroughfare from New York City to the Upstate regions. Replaced years ago by the New York Thruway, along its many miles were abandoned motels, gas stations, and restaurants fallen victims of progress, but not yet obliterated by time.105

The driver of the car ignored the GPO screen while they listened to a squawking Police scanner. Always alert to their surroundings the brittle lavender eyes shifted constantly from the empty road ahead, to rearview and side mirrors to scan along the land and stagnate buildings that passed by. While a good majority of citizens welcomed company when traveling the highways, this one preferred to travel alone. Alone, that is, except for the bundle stashed in the trunk of the car. Had they perhaps not been so fastidious, the victim would have been dead already. Though it was never their intention for a child to suffer unnecessarily, they really didn’t care to have the upholstery ruined nor the inside of the vehicle, even the trunk, stunk up with the odor of body fluids. 106

Experience had honed this creature’s hunting and killing skills to the point of perfection. When the authorities were finally allowed to view the computerized journals, how they would marvel at its intelligence and ingenuity. Of course, a deep sigh drifted between pale lips followed by the tip of a rosy-red tongue that licked away at the dryness, that was all in the future when it had grown too old to hunt.107

108

Chapter Three109


“No problem.” Neil Harris finished replying to Joe Farley’s call. Then he tossed the still engaged cell phone into Rebecca Farley’s lap. The thirteen year old grabbed it up and pressed it against her ear while she squealed, “We whipped their asses, Dad.” 110

She only listened for a half a second then interrupted with, “Sorry. Watching my language here.” Her voice rose a bit with each word and a discernible giggle danced in her tone. “You believing this. Ha! Your one and only, so be it, favorite child, scored sixteen points, Daddy dearest--how’s that?”111

Neil rolled his head slowly back and forth. Of late he noticed a new ability to decipher the teen jargon and worried that soon it would begin corrupting his own verbal communication. He grinned as Rebecca said, “Sure, no prob. Unc will feed the starving horde.” 112

Neil turned his attention to the three youngsters squeezed into the rear seat of his sports car. The Porsche wasn’t back seat friendly. Even three skinny teenagers plugged it window to window.113

“What do you say girls, pizza or burgers to celebrate our victory?” he asked.114

Beside him, half turned in the passenger’s seat Rebecca flipped the cell phone closed and yelped, “Pizza.” And the girls in the rear seat, heads bopping up and down, quickly seconded her announcement. 115

“Everybody’s headed for The Hut,” she said and emphasized with a lift of her hands imitating quotation marks. Apparently the fact her dad wouldn’t be joining them didn’t overly upset The Hero of the game. “God, could you believe the size of that number three B....” A warning frown by Neil kept her from finishing the next four letters. Her seat belt was stretched so tight by the way she sat, she had to pull it loose and hold it free from her throat. 116

The rosy-cheeked blonde, Casey Malone, declared, “She kept trying to bowl you over. We couldn’t keep her off you.” Malone had come up through the ranks of Saint Patrick’s parochial grade school shoulder to shoulder with Rebecca Farley. They’d planned out their High School years together long before they reached adolescence. Then--just like that, it was over. Rebecca was gone; sprinted off by her mother to some odd city in a strange state Casey never heard of.117

Casey lost it. Her eyes had spilled over with hot tears as she stood alone at her middle school graduation and expected in the Fall to enter Saint Catherine’s Catholic High School without her best friend. When it didn’t happen, when Rebecca returned unexpectedly to New York, Casey thanked Her God every morning for answering her prayer.118

“Blind refs—Towering Tillie should have been fouled out in the first half,” was followed by a disgusted groan from the throat of the equally tall, taffy-skinned, Hailey Woods, sandwiched in the center with her long legs bent so her chin could reach her knees. 119

Hailey was one of the charity cases Saint Catherine’s accepted every year to maintain their government aid. Hailey’s sports ability was an added bonus the school board swore was never considered. A five eleven thirteen year old with talent was bound to find a place on the basketball squad and instant acceptance from her peers. 120

Beside Hailey, bright eyed, bubbly, and red-haired, Trisha Brody, whose dad was on The Force like Rebecca’s father, was used to unexpected desertion. She only added her own views of the game as she complained, “Three’s height was bad enough, but that fifteen and nine kept double teaming.”121

Oh yes. Neil grinned, he was no longer concerned about dealing with an unhappy juvenile. Her newly acquired posse, the game, the victory, and of course, her personal chauffer, all contributed to maintaining Rebecca’s good humor, so her errant father could stay missing. 122

“The Hut it is,” Neil said. His announcement was nearly drowned out by a chorus of some fool song as the girls tried to imitate the yowling that came from the radio. Aware he hadn’t the foggiest notion of what their words meant, he laughed softly and thought, But he was learning.123


****124


A few hours earlier, when Rebecca Farley and her friends were still trouncing their opponents on the basketball court, in another school the time dragged.125

The large clock on the off-white wall was black-faced with stark-white numbering; it sported a silver rim advertising military time. They were all aware of the passage of time but no one noticed the hands on the clock move. 126

The authorities arrived in the guise of a single deputy sheriff, but that hadn’t improved the situation. “Deputy Rankin,” he announced and offered his handshake around. 127

Deputy Dog, Caitlin Sanders decided, the guy whose wheeze announced he still hadn’t given up cigarettes, was twenty years too old, and thirty pounds too heavy for his profession.128

Middle school principal, Grace Vincent, removed her gun-metal framed spectacles and slowly cleaned the lenses. The short, rather portly female, though not encased in judicial robes, still possessed the ability to intimidate her charges and cause their parents to feel like children themselves. “Marie is usually a very obedient child, here at school.” She seemed to emphasize the final three words. She replaced her glasses on her sharply pointed nose and stared hard at Caitlin and her next sentence slapped like an antagonist. “Why she would leave when her mother was late escapes me.”129

Caitlin Sanders wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to sleep. She was instantly ashamed. What mother of a missing child could think about sleep! She let her eyes drift from the face of the deputy to the meet the hard stare of the principal. The bitch isn’t going to help ease the weight of guilt from my shoulders, was apparent; so she turned back to face the deputy, and shrugged. “This isn’t like my daughter,” she said in what seemed to have become an endless declaration. “I pick her up the same time every day from school.” 130

“Yeah, right, Marie told me you’re always late.” Big strong AJ Sanders appeared to be crumbling like a rag-puppet that lost its handler. Inability to completely control a situation, Caitlin knew, always had this effect on her ex-lover. His arms held at his sides ended in clenched fists, while his words struck at her with the impact of a punch as he said, “She probably just got tried of waiting and started walking home.”131

“I wasn’t late…well-maybe a couple of minutes.” Caitlin lied. She’d been a good fifteen minutes late. Why did I lie? I don’t owe the bastard an explanation. “Besides, it is Friday and your weekend with Marie.” Her voice had a razor edge, honed by her fear for her child and a desire to shift the blame to someone else for the missing girl. She forced herself to confront her ex-husband’s sweet love turned to sour hate expression he’d cultivated since the divorce. “You could go out of your way now and then.”132

Informed the man had been called here after an all night stakeout; followed by only a couple hours sleep, still, Caitlin refused to feel any compassion for him. 133

His sleep-deprived eyes were red-rimmed and dark-circled. He needed a shave. A quick brush had done little to improve the look of his thick and tousled umber-brown mane. Just days before his scheduled cut, a few curls were bent among the sharp straight hairs. His ex-wife’s accusation wasn’t fair, he hadn’t expected to pick up his daughter until supper time.134

Principal Grace Vincent chose that moment to reclaim her authority. “I’ve instigated a phone survey by the teachers.” She interrupted and ignoring the parents, addressed her attention and statement to the deputy. “We have a list of names for you, of children who witnessed Marie’s departure. Of course, most claimed she got in her mom’s car. A large black car is only a large black car to most of them. A few older boys did say it was an Acura.”135

Special Agent AJ Sanders’ demand echoed his ex-wife’s as Caitlin yelped in disgust, “Why weren’t these kids questioned before this?” 136

"Because,” Principal Vincent didn’t hesitate, “The majority of the children were already on their buses, some buses had even departed when the problem was brought to my attention. The teachers have remained here several hours to aid in the search. I already informed the sheriff’s office so their search can be widened.” 137

The Deputy, communicating on his cell phone, shook his head to confirm that. “The be on the look out has now gone state-wide,” he said as he shut his phone.138


****139


Sergeant Joe Farley didn’t hear the BOLO when it came over the air. At the first opportunity, he had left the immediate area of the police radios at the crime scene. A safe distance from being overheard, he stopped; he leaned back against a lone naked tree that had long ago been murdered by its environment. He then called Neil Harris.140

His excuses given, temporarily relieved of his responsibility for his daughter, Farley concentrated again on The Job. Surveying the used car lot, he noticed how it was set up. The well-lighted front lot with an entrance to the office and garage, catered to the customers. The automobiles parked there displayed large painted signs in their windshields advertising year and price. 141

Then set off to the left, was the poorly lit junk lot, with its rust-buckets and cannibalized carcasses of cars not worth repairing. Since this was the area the bodies were found, there was some light provided by the owners and of course, was brightly lit in the immediate area of the investigation by spotlights from police vehicles.142

Farther back, with some of the light spilling over to provide a view, Farley noticed an even more neglected lot. Instead of returning the way he came, he skirted the edge of the crime scene and made his way through the wild greenery. His flashlight sent a trail of brightness before him and unexpectedly picked up the shine of two bright eyes.143

“Scat! Scat!” was followed with a quickly kicked object at the hissing menace. Whatever the rodent discovered, it wasn’t inclined to immediatly relinquish ownership.144

145

Chapter Four146


“One damn stubborn rat,” Sergeant Joseph Farley swore under his breath, though he was aware what he’d confronted was a raccoon. Fucking twenty-four-seven job! he thought and contemplated how back when he joined the force as a wild young buck, no damn rodent would have blocked his way. The thirty-eight he carried then would have expertly removed it. But in the year 2010 one didn’t discharge his weapon without just cause even at a four-legged beast. This raccoon had rights! Again he made a shooing gesture. 147

The masked animal continued to stand its ground. The hard bead-like eyes challenged the human, while its whiskers twitched at the end of a gaping snout that left sharply pointed teeth exposed. Scavenging human garbage had made for a successful life style and the gray nemesis was nearly the size of a beagle.148

Shifting the flashlight beam to the left of the animal let the light pick-up a rusty-red object in the tall grass. “Sorry pal,” Joe said. “But I got better things to do.” He sent the toe of his sneaker, slamming into an abandoned car fender. “Son of a bitch!” followed a yelp almost as loud as the metal when it hit the earth behind the fleeing raccoon. The soft canvas toe didn’t allow the protection of the leather shoe Joe normally wore to work.149

He regretted his sore toes even more as he made a discovery; the animal’s treasure was a pizza box he’d been gnawing at to get to two pieces of moldy crust. Joe became suddenly aware of a multitude of scurrying and groaning sounds in close proximity of his feet and decided further investigation of the ‘auto’ burial site could wait until daylight.150

If there were additional victims, it was unlikely they were exposed if Mr. Raccoon was forced to settle for moldy pizza. He’d have this lot taped off to be safe and add it to his list as a secondary site to investigate. From force of habit, enhanced by a desire not to step in something disagreeable, Joe swung the flashlight beam across the ground in front of his feet as he retraced his earlier trail into the greenery. 151

The grass crinkled like fresh lettuce taken from the refrigerator, sharply advertising the chilly autumn nights before the freeze of winter arrived. Detective Sergeant Joseph Farley saw an unexpected vision. His daughter with her jacket tied around her waist. He hoped Neil made her put it on right. Then he realized the green and white team jacket was not very warm. Since her summer jeans were clearing the tops of her sneakers, it was unlikely her last year’s winter outfits were going to do. He contemplated the balance on his Visa, decided if nothing else major came up it should be enough to allow a shopping spree. How much could a couple pairs of jeans and sweaters and a new winter jacket cost for a kid?152

He could see Lieutenant Bradley Benson, lit up by the police car beams, waving towards him. There was irritation noticeable in the jerk of Benson’s head. Farley didn’t move any faster--it was difficult for him to accept the younger man as his immediate superior. When the younger guys bypassed him, and ended up in the officers ranks, he could hide his disappointment, because he knew it was his own fault. He wasn’t politically inclined. But in the field? Not fair…Benson’s job should have been his. 153

His fingers were going numb and the plastic gloves weren’t helping so he pulled them off and thrust his cold hands into his jacket pockets. Suddenly there was only one thought in his mind, Find the son-of-a-bitch who murdered two little kids.154


****155


Marie Sanders shivered when she regained consciousness. It was so cold. Uncertain where she was at first, it took several seconds before the child began to remember. That’s when the chill was joined by fear and she trembled so hard she wet herself. At first the warmth that soaked her jeans felt good…almost comforting in that it advertised life. Then the urine turned the fabric wet and icy against her flesh, and the embarrassment at what she’d done made her predicament even more wretched. 156

Prevented from screaming by the horrid gag in her mouth and the tape that held it in place, Marie sensed crying would make her feel even worse. Wetting herself was awful and she sure wasn’t going to have snot running down from her nose. Marie hadn’t been awarded with two Law enforcement professionals for parents, who rarely left the violent content of their work at the front door of their home in the eleven years of her life, without becoming a bit knowledgeable herself. 157

I’ve been kidnapped! Why? They usually grab rich kids! Maybe they need my Mom or Dad to do something? What? The why or what really weren’t important, she realized; staying alive to escape should be her only concern. Feeling the motion as the rear wheels spun along the road, shifting her body from side to side, she was convinced by the darkness, the cold, and the stagnate air that she now resided in the trunk of some car. Likely the same car I got into. Stupid! Stupid me! Don’t trust strangers! Cops are there to help! Yeah right!158

Marie was blessed with better than average lung capacity. Swimming since she was a toddler and calisthenics since she could walk had prepared her for this unexpected torment. Though deprived of her mouth, sufficient oxygen was entering and carbon dioxide leaving through her nose to keep her body functioning. The cuffs on her wrists had been put on so her arms were facing front and then connect by a chain to the a pair of shackles on her ankles. Since the contraptions hadn’t been constructed for a child, they were loose and once Marie got the hang of moving in them instead of struggling against them, they proved not to be so bad.159

She should be with her dad. Was it still Friday? Still her weekend with her dad? She slowly rocked back and forth in time to the roll of the tires on the pavement. Mostly Marie liked to think about her mom and dad. Pretend that things were still the same like when she was little. It was happy and fun when they were a family. When the three of them were together…well not always....160

It’s not the dying that’s scary--it’s what you are forced to endure before getting to that point. He smelled of booze and there was moisture in his eyes the night he told her that. Of course he hadn’t actually said it to her. She’d been asleep and he’d come to her newly refinished Big girl room. He took her in his arms like an infant and held her tightly against his chest. “Baby, baby...,” he said over and over in hoarse whisper. 161

“Stop it! You idiot,” Her mom pulled her out of her dad’s arms. She lay her back on the bed and covered her with the new Big girl comforter. She spun back on her dad, slapping at his chest and screeching, “You’re scaring the hell out of her.”162

That was when he said, “It’s not always the dying that’s scary--it’s what you are forced to endure before getting to that point. I swear Cat, any son-of a bitch comes after my kid.”163

“Stop it!” Her mommy tugged on her daddy’s arm until she had him out of the room.164

It happened a long time ago, but eleven-year-old Marie Sanders remembered it now. She remembered how sad she’d felt at the time; how she’d suddenly missed her warm fuzzy blankets with Little Bear or Dora grinning out at her. And although she’d picked out pale yellow paint and the Hanna Montana motif herself, right then she didn’t want it. Like now she wanted to be a baby again. No one left a baby alone. If she’d still been little, she wouldn’t have been alone outside the school. No Crazy could have grabbed her. 165

Apparently she’d started out covered by a car throw that had worked its way off by the movement of either the auto or herself. Marie discovered the throw and was able to wiggle around, spreading it. Several times in the process, she got so frustrated she nearly cried. No! No! I’m not gonna cry. She tugged and pulled on the blanket and eventually managed to roll enough of her upper body into to it that she felt a sense of warmth. 166

While her hands were immobilized, her legs were not and she found she could raise and bang her shackled feet against the metal of the trunk. The noise proved a welcome companion and the physical effort made her feel better. The taps of her feet became long, short, hard and then soft as a tune began playing in her mind. Her daddy was singing in his deep voice, reminding her of what they shared and she joined him…, I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy …Yankee Doodle do or die…A real true child of my Uncle Sam born on the Fourth of July....167

168

Chapter Five169


Though the blinds were pitched in a half way open style, no light shone in.  It was still dark out and the distance from the road gave privacy and prevented the glow of the streetlight from spilling into the house. A flashing red irritant flickered on the digital alarm clock accompanying a sorry excuse for mood music. He curled against the warmth of the body next to his, burying his face in her back, and snuggling down into the flannel sheets. He pulled the woolen blanket up over his head…then groaned.170

Any other morning he might have ignored the squawk of the alarm. Hector Joshua Taylor was adept at ignoring unpleasant sounds. He could sleep through the howling of babies or shut off his wife’s complaints as she struggled up to tend to one, as easily as turning over with his head beneath a pillow. This was especially true in the colder months. God, how he hated the cold!171

It was only early October, but already there was a chill in the air, carried on high winds that cut into Hector’s hide. The cold brought back boyhood memories when he shivered in that poorly heated tenement apartment and never laid claim to a winter jacket long enough to cover his butt. In those days the only clothes he owned were his cousins’ hand me downs. 172

An early morning meeting at One Police Plaza required that he forced his shivering hide from the warmth. He slipped his bare feet into fur-lined slippers. He thrust his six-five frame to a standing position and pulled on a woolen robe. He shuffled along into the living room with a single destination in mind. The wall that held the thermostat. The bitch! He didn’t really mean his wife was a bitch and would never call her that out loud. But it never failed; she would turn the damn thing down to 64° when she retired. Not wanting to turn the light on, he flicked his cigarette lighter to see. “Damn,” he swore quietly and boosted the temperature to 78° in one sweep. He’d told her last night to leave it at 70°. Told her he had to shower and leave early. You’d think she was the one paying the bills.173

He’d have to allow at least fifteen minutes now for the place to warm up. He’d make coffee. He ought to wake Miss Prim up and let her fix him some breakfast. No…he’d listened to enough of her lectures last night. He needed peace and quiet this morning. He flicked on the stove light and the coffee switch. 174

He slumped his long body at the dinette booth; his legs more than reached the bench on the opposite side and he used it for a footrest. He listened to the drizzle of the Mr. Coffee Maker.
Captain Hector Taylor, who would have thought it? Not those fucking teachers in grade school. He found a rare honest smile, as he thought back to when he was a boy. A kid raised by his grandma because his ma was a druggie whore who abandoned him, wasn’t unusual in his rundown neighborhood. What made Hector different and an object of ridicule was his grandma. A sorry site, she had half gray, half bleached, blonde hair, matted and wild; it framed a pale face with flushed cheeks. Most mornings, she could be seen chasing some still drunk dude out the door in her filthy nightie, which hardly covered her white and wide bare ass. 175

The old broad was half drunk herself and would be clutching a nearly empty quarter bottle of beer, while shrieking, “Yah son of a bitch! Yah was gonna leave me dry.”176

As Hector looked around at his clean and stylish kitchen, he was grateful that he hadn’t met Donna until college. The old broad was dead by then and he claimed no other family ties. Actually his wife seemed relieved not to be bothered with in-laws. An only child, her family willingly provided any extended relationships his kids needed. In fact, they’d been very supportive of Hector himself. 177

Hector Taylor went to college on a full Basketball scholarship, courtesy of a high school coach who saw potential in the youth, and gave him lots of extra time both academically as well as in sports education. 178

The coffee maker went to warmer and Hector rose to get himself a cup. He poured the black liquid into a mug and then turned it tan with cream. He wasn’t looking forward to the meeting this morning. That fucking little Spic! Although Deputy Chief Carbonetti had an Italian name from the benefit of his daddy, to Hector he was a little Mexican Spic. Hector was certain that Carbonetti only got his position because the Mayor wanted to diversify the power in the Police Brass. Hector shook his head in disgust. Look at the chinks they were hiring lately. Some of their daddies probably tortured and killed his pa in Vietnam.179

That was one of the few things his grandmother told the boy, Hector, that the man clung to, his pa was a soldier who died in that war.180


****181


The two dead children in the abandon SUV hadn’t been officially declared homicides. Still, no person, let alone an experienced police officer, could have viewed the remains and not concluded that in life both children were badly abused. A normal Friday night with plenty of action to report as some of the population found ways to liven up the weekend, so far the news media had made light of the discovery. 182

A Major Case Squad had been created and set up in the 21st precinct in lower Manhattan. Because of the limitations of their assignments, the homicide detectives of the squad were involved in day to day police work until such time that a crime was designated a Major Case. The field commander was Lieutenant Bradley Benson. 183

Since the children had not died at the same time, nor did they appear to be related and no missing youngsters fitting their descriptions were reported in the area, it looked as if they were abducted elsewhere, killed, and then their remains were transported and dumped in New York City. 184

This of course would not thrill the political machinery that ran the City. 185

So the moon hadn’t completely faded in the cold dawn of the October morning, when Benson headed down the hallway to obey his captain’s summon. Although only a few months in his new position, Benson had already come to expect regular explosions of Taylor's ill temper. However, it was an annoyance to be ignored that came with his promotion. Benson understood that getting along with superiors created the best avenue of future advancement; so he could ‘Kiss Ass ’ when it was required. "You wanted to see me...?" Benson began as he stepped into the Captain’s office.186

"Why the fuck did you call Farley in last night? I told you to downplay his responsibility to the squad.“ Taylor’s tone verged on shouting, he was already rising from behind his desk. “The only reason he’s part of your team....” Taylor’s outburst tapered off as his subordinate stepped back into the still open doorway, and he didn’t finish. He clutched at the arms of his oversize leather chair and sat back down. 187

Benson discovered this move from Joe Farley. The open door assured something the Captain didn’t want…witnesses to his ranting. It also allowed Taylor a breathing space to calm down.188

Now Benson simply closed the door behind him and moved into the room. He didn’t grin openly, but was aware Taylor had nearly given up his own admission of ‘Ass Kissing‘. He’d nearly accused their illustrious deputy chief of forcing Sergeant Joseph Farley down his throat. While Farley was an irritant to Taylor, the same wasn’t true with Benson who offered, "Captain, Farley is simply the best two legged bloodhound on the Force. He'll see the value in things other investigators might over-look. At present, we don‘t even have a declared homicide case.”189

Though he hadn’t been offered a seat, Benson dropped into one, as Taylor grunted, “The Irish Prick always manages to get under my skin. Like most of his Mayonnaise-face brethren, he lacks respect for authority.”190

“Granted,” Benson agreed and gave a slight snicker. “And that's part of what makes him so friggin’ good. Farley sets his goal on the task at hand and screw the politics. We never have to concern ourselves that he‘s a Headline Hogger.”191

"Some damn way....“ Taylor rolled the back of his head against lifted shoulders and groaned. “The possibility of a child killer has already reached the Brass. Carbonetti called me in the middle of the fuckin' night.” He pounded a meaty fist on his desk. “He not only wants results fast; he wants them now. The discovery is only six hours old. It should have gone through me first before One Police Plaza was informed. We need to give them something before the press gets wind."192

“Come on Cap,” Benson said. “The call came through 911. The press already has it, they just don’t know what as yet. This was the most unexpected find imaginable. A real fluke. If this is a dumping ground, the killer didn‘t plan on the circumstances that led to the quick discovery of the bodies. Either this is a single incident or the perp was in hurry for some reason so he could have been careless and left a trail to pick up. And that‘s why I called in Joe. If there‘s something to see, he‘ll see it. If there are more bodies he‘ll dig them out faster than a dozen mutts."193

"How many bodies so far?" asked Taylor, his tone accusatory as though the occurrence was somehow Benson's fault. Then he ignored the quickly answered, “Still only the two," and went on. “You go with me when I confront Carbonetti so he knows we’re right on top of things.”194

Yeah, right, The lieutenant thought, fully aware he would be covering his captain’s ass. No way would Taylor have bothered to acquaint himself with the full information on the case, he expected Benson to provide the necessary answers to the questions put to him by the deputy chief. Hell! bet he doesn’t even know the location of the car lot.195


****196


High on a pole, at the edge of another lot, a parking lot miles from Manhattan, the animated sign once called the weary tourist to a comfortable night’s rest. Now the sign was shattered, its message long faded away, while the pole holding it was discolored by layers of rust. After years of neglect, the untended buildings of the abandon motel were collapsing in places and greenery was fast reclaiming the land around. 197

All seventy-six pounds on the boney frame of eleven-year-old Marie Sanders was in a rapid growth mode that was quickly absorbing her baby fat. A large dose of Phenobarbital combined with exhaustion had finally rendered her unconscious. So, Marie wasn’t aware when the car stopped and the trunk was opened. Her restraints removed, she was carted into a dark room that opened on to the deserted parking area. 198

Depositing the girl on a musty old mattress, her captor smoothed the sweat darken hair from her forehead. "Hi, Nat, how are you?” was asked in a dry raspy tone. 199

Touching the tape still covering Marie’s mouth, the same fingers paused, and then withdrew leaving the gag in place. 200

A deep breathing whistled in the air, as the voice seemed to shed the years and take on a child’s half-giggle squeal. “Oh, I’m just the bestest Deeny, Mommy is taking me shopping.” 201

Then the giggle was replaced by a teenage slurred, “So? What’s new?” 202

Marie slept on…undisturbed by the conversation in the room.203

“You’re not mad? Do you want to come?”204

“Heck no, there’s better things to do then put up with you and the old lady.”205

“Don’t call Mom, old!”206

“Yeah! Whatever!”207

"I'm glad your not coming. You’d just ruin things and make Mom angry. But I promise I’ll get Mom to buy you something nice.”208

Marie slept on… 209

Her companion studied the restless twitching of the child. A film formed over the pale blue eyes of the watcher darkening them to purple. The corners of the friendly smiling lips turned downward in a stern frown. Marie Saunders continued to sleep unmindful of the hate filled stare resting on her body from the only other occupant of the room.210

211

Chapter Six212


Detective Farley didn’t leave the crime scene until after midnight, he tried for a few hours sack-time at his precinct house. After the first three hour of exhausted sleep wore off he woke up and lay in the silence, plagued by hazy nightmares. Each time he dozed the memory of the dead children’s faces invaded his mind abruptly bringing him to full wakefulness. Before long he returned to his office and was going over the information and photos already processed and entered into the system.213

The early morning sunlight, approaching through a gray smog, couldn’t compete with the blaze of electric bulbs, so Farley hardly noticed the change as the night shifted into day. The preliminary report from the medical examiner’s lab was just coming in and held the sergeant’s full attention. Wired by the half a dozen mugs of black coffee he’d consumed, that bolstered his years of experience, his mind accurately absorbed the information. 214

Male, Caucasian, four to five years of age, black hair and brown eyes. Height, weight, and distinguishing marks were recorded. Apparently the cause of death wasn’t lack of oxygen as first suspected. Ligature marks on the boy’s neck were caused prior to death as were several other large and small bruises that were discovered when his clothing was removed. Although painful, none were sufficiently serious enough to cause death. Joe continued to read the report. The sad little fellow had spent the few years of his short life suffering from abuse and neglect. His skeleton told of a history of fractures, some old, and others recently healed. Feeding him regularly hadn’t been high on anybody’s list, the boy was anemic, dehydrated, and suffered from vitamin deficiency--actually, an obviously disgusted technician ad-libbed, This child was being slowly starved to death. His immediate demise had been accomplished by a blow to the back of the head. Weapon shape is likely rounded, could be metal pipe.215

Farley’s stomach felt a sudden queasiness. Too damn much coffee. He didn’t like to admit, even to himself, that the viciousness humans perpetrated on one another, especially a child, could effect him when working a case.216

He pushed the half empty mug aside. Then changed his mind, reclaimed it, groaned and finished it off. An ulcer before fifty. One of the rewards in working homicides, if the perps didn’t get you the benefits would. He began tapping the fingers of his left hand on the metal desk; the sound began to take on the musical tones of The camp town race is nine miles long do da, do da, oh do da day.... His lips formed the words but he never noticed as he continued to read.217

By contrast, the female child’s death could have been accidental. Unlike the boy’s body, the girl’s showed no obvious signs of abuse. If she hadn’t choked on her own vomit, she wouldn’t be dead. So only the tape still covering her mouth and the slight abrasions showing that her wrists had been restrained at sometime advertised the girl was a victim of foul play. Healthy Female, Caucasian, under twelve, blonde with blue eyes, height and weight established at…distinguishing marks....218

Joe scratched lightly just under his right ear as he contemplated. Young girls on the verge of puberty took some work before their age could be definitely established. Some matured years ahead of their peers, others lagged far behind, even sports could retard physical development. The port wine stain high on her right buttock, accompanied by the two brown moles on her back, should help in a preliminary identification of a missing child.219

It had already been established that no youngsters matching either body’s general description had been reported missing from the local area. Farley decided that in the interest of time and department funds, he’d wait for Cody Vaughn’s seven a.m. arrival. Cody was the groups’ designated computer geek and if anyone could quickly discover where these youngsters came from, Vaughn would do it. 220

Joe turned off the screen but left the document up. He scribbled a short note to Cody and stuck it on the edge of the monitor. A glance at the wall clock told him it was already six a.m. He had to call Neil and make arrangements for his daughter’s care before he went to grab a quick shower and shave. 221


****222


The digital screen on the clock radio changed from six-o-four to six-o-five. Neil Harris rolled over on his king-size water bed and snuggled down deeper into its warmth. Unwilling to relinquish the comfort of that brain-numb period that sometimes pre-empts full awareness, the man lay there in blissful semi consciousness. It was Saturday morning his day of rest…yah right.... He gave off a deep groan as he flipped over on his back and shimmied to the edge of the mattress, then swung his legs over setting his feet on the thick, honey-colored shag that camouflaged the floor. Rescuing his robe from the bottom of his bed, he gave it a hard shake and pulled it on. 223

Pausing at the highboy, he grabbed a brush, ran it over his slightly balding ash-tinted black hair, and tossed it down while he ignored the mirror. A quick rub of his palm over his chin and cheeks convinced him he wouldn’t totally scare anyone yet. The shave could wait for shower time. His immediate need was coffee…but first he better do a quick headcount.224

He hadn’t checked on his unplanned guests since sometime after one am when he finally pushed the ‘off ‘ buttons on the entertainment center, permitting the house to re-settle on its foundation. Though he was quite certain their eardrums were still being blown out of proportion by the noise slash music coming from ipods by way of earphones, the teens pretended to obey his order of, “Bed! Sleep! Now!” 225

So he’d staggered back to his own room and collapsed. 226

Already well acquainted with their parents from previous school functions, it was a no-brainer that permission for the impromptu sleepover would be forth coming. So Unc, as they all referred to him, left the Pizza Hut with the same entourage he entered with. 227

Now, as Neil picked his way through the remnants of the party in his den, he contemplated Concepcion’s reaction when she arrived. He calculated how much of a bonus would be required to prevent his housekeeper from Giving her notice this time. It looked like a fair amount of the contents of his cold drink fridge had been relocated to the end tables if lucky, otherwise the dribbling cans lay on the floor. Half empty bags of chips, crusted jars of dips, and whatever decorated the place; and like the soda pop, were becoming a mainstay on his newly revised grocery list. 228

The youngsters in a nesting urge had forsaken the perfectly acceptable guests’ rooms to adorn the couches and rug of the den. They had squealed, yelped, whispered over the sound of their music as they confided in each other long into the night. Then they all went silent at once. It took all his self control not to check up. Not to chance one was awake and it would all commence again.229

Since his friend Joe Farley gained custody of his child, Neil had become a bit more than just a now and then guest in Rebecca Farley’s life. The fifty-five year- old bachelor’s thirteen -year-old Goddaughter had nearly moved in on him and surprisingly, he realized he didn’t mind it at all. 230

Now, Neil found a tired grin as his glance roamed over the four strange friends, aware their personalities were as opposite as their profiles. Casey Malone’s shoulder length blonde hair hung in limp strands over the arm of the couch nearest the entrance while she clutched a head pillow on her chest. Her long legs were flung up and across the back, and Neil was amazed she didn’t topple off. Casey was going to mature into a beauty and her loyalty enhanced by an outgoing personality would develop and maintain relationships easily.231

Trisha Brody and Hailey Woods were spread out on a queen-size air mattress and neither had bothered to crawl under the covers he‘d left them. Slightly built copper-haired Trish wasn’t likely to last past this freshman year on a basketball court. Only her grade school scoring abilities had gained her acceptance on the squad. Already her shyness was standing out against the tougher competition and not in a good way. The sad part, Neil knew, was she’d likely lose her closest friends along with her spot on the team.232

Hailey’s dark hair, chemically straightened, was cut short and fitted her head like a cap that seemed to always remain in place. Her long lean body possessed a natural talent that was advanced by an aggressive nature. This worked magic on the basketball court, but wasn’t going to encourage lasting friendships either. When the High school years were behind her, these friends would be replaced.233

Rebecca Farley, the leader of the pack of thirteen year-olds and his Special niece, was sprawled in the lounge chair. Her ear phones had come loose or she’d pulled them out and they now hung on the side of the headrest, awaiting their chance to drop. An open bottle of soda set carelessly on her stomach. Neil ignored the ipod, rescued the soda, and gently tossed some throws over all the sleeping figures.234

Backing out of the den, he quietly closed the door. With any luck they’d stay asleep until Joe Farley arrived to retrieve them.235

Dr Neil Harris PHD didn’t get his degrees in Psychiatry without being perfectly knowledgably of why he allowed his goddaughter and her friends to take advantage of him. He enjoyed it. He also realized that he’d adopted his friend’s family as a safe alternative to creating one of his own. Neil held no disillusions. He enjoyed female companionship, but he wasn’t husband material. This role of Older Brother that he played in Joe Farley’s life suited him. Being ‘The Favorite Uncle’ of Rebecca satisfied any urge he might have to procreate. 236

Born to a couple already in their middle forties, with few family ties, Neil’s dad provided very well for his only child. Still, access to the good life and his name was about all he gave the boy. His mom tried to overcompensate, she wrapped her little angel in care and comfort that might have smothered a weaker personality. From the cradle, Neil fought against her control. 237

Neil liked people; he drew friends easily. He grinned now as he turned off the automatic timer and manually engaged the coffee pot. It had been a long time since he thought about the way he met Joe Farley. 238

‘ “Farley! If you don’t move your ass, you’ll be riding the bench.” ‘239

Neil watched the young man’s face redden and felt instantly sorry for him.240

“Neil, keep the damn camera off Farley. Last thing we need is shots of him sashaying his ass down court.” The coach was out to harass the new players. He wanted the ‘pussies’ as he referred to some, to drop out before they became a problem.241

From the afternoon when Neil’s mom led him sobbing from the Little League field, while his own team mates bombarded him with verbal abuse because the ball hit him smack in the spine, so what should have been the last out sent the winning run across home plate, the boy could instantly empathize in these situations. He handed Farley a bottle of cold water and snickered, “He says that at least once a game--never to the same guy twice.“ 242

Neil Harris loved sports. Even as he brushed the dirt from his knees, screeched at his mom that he wasn’t hurt, sniffed in a full nose, so she wouldn’t try to wipe it, the boy swore the closest he’d ever get to a game was watching it. 243

Fully aware no amount of body building, short of major corrective surgery, could change his body structure nor provide the talent he needed, still, he found other ways to become involved. 244

When he was in High School, Neil invested, what could be a couple months' salary for some people, in video equipment and the coaches allowed him access to practice sessions as if he was a member of the team. His equipment expanded and in college, he provided copy not only for training films but also news releases.245

So half an hour later, when Joe Farley got a three point throw, that he followed up a few minutes later with a dunk, Neil captured both scores on film.'246