Furious (5 page)

S
IX

Faith picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Faith McMann?”

“This is she.”

“My name is Corrie Perelman.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Faith couldn’t place it. She said nothing, merely waited for the woman to continue.

“My daughter, Samantha Perelman, went missing one year ago today.”

Faith remembered the news story. Samantha Perelman—taken when her mother asked her to run to the dairy section and grab some milk. Surveillance tapes from the grocery store had shown a man whose face was mostly covered by a baseball cap as he led the teenager right out the front entrance of the store. The outside camera had been smashed, leaving the authorities without further leads. Despite the video footage, the abductor had yet to be identified. For months, it seemed, the entire state had been on high alert, everyone keeping one eye on their kids and the other on neighbors and friends, paranoid and afraid. But like most life events, the passing of time had a way of making even the most newsworthy of stories slip away like a forgotten dream upon waking.

“Are you still there?” Corrie asked.

“Yes,” Faith said as a wave of hope washed over her, wondering if the woman had news about her kids or information that might lead to finding them. “I’m here.”

“I don’t mean to intrude. I’ve left a message with Detective Yuhasz, letting him know I want to help in any way I can and offer you my full support.”

Deflated, Faith managed a weak, “Thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, please let me know.”

Her muscles constricted. If anyone should know how she felt, it was this woman. And to get one more call that would lead nowhere was almost too much to bear. “That’s very kind of you,” Faith said, “but unless you have information that could possibly lead to the whereabouts of my children, I don’t know what you could possibly do for me.”

Faith instantly regretted the hostility in her tone, but the woman either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“If you have time,” Corrie Perelman said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stopped by.”

So they could share their stories and grieve together? Faith wondered. “As you can imagine,” Faith said, working hard to keep her voice steady, “I’m incredibly busy at this time, Mrs. Perelman. I’m sorry. Again, unless you have any idea of where I might find my children, I can’t meet with you.”

“I understand. If you change your mind and you want someone to talk with or perhaps attend a support group meeting with me, please know that you can call me at any time.” She gave Faith her number.

Awkward silence ensued.

“My husband and I will be thinking of you, praying for your children’s swift return.”

The call ended, leaving Faith in a panic at the thought of someday being that person in charge of a support group, spending her days calling the grieving parents of missing children to offer support.

Determined to keep Lara and Hudson at the forefront of the detective’s mind, Faith made the daily trek to the police station. Once again she followed her mom through the double doors and up the short flight of stairs. The officers at the front desk waved them both in without bothering to make them sign in.

The pinpricks of light inside Faith’s head had grown brighter, sharper. At times she wondered if she might be losing her mind. She hardly slept. Instead her nights were filled with memories of time spent with Craig and the children. Last night she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the time they’d gone to the water park.

The sun warmed her back as she watched Craig and Hudson return from a trip down the biggest water slide. Hudson’s smile was a mile wide, but then he frowned and asked, “Where’s Lara?”

Faith spun around.

Lara was gone—disappeared in the time it takes to snap your fingers.

Without a word, Craig set off in search of their daughter while Faith stayed with Hudson. Time held still, and Faith forgot how to breathe. Minutes felt like hours until she saw Craig in the distance holding Lara in his arms.

“Look who I found?” Craig blew air bubbles into the soft flesh of her neck.

Lara giggled.

They never talked about the incident again, but Faith remembered the emotions as if it had happened yesterday. Mostly because every second of every day since her kids had been taken felt exactly as if she were replaying those few terrifying seconds over and over again.

Faith and her mom passed by O’Sullivan’s empty desk. A few days ago, Yuhasz had been out, so she’d talked with O’Sullivan instead. She’d left him photocopies of the pictures she’d painted on her living room wall, hoping they might be able to find a match within one of their criminal databases.

Yuhasz signaled for them to come inside.

Faith had barely sat down before she bombarded him with questions. “What did you think of the pictures I left with Detective O’Sullivan? And that tattoo . . . any ideas about what it could mean?”

He pursed his lips as if he were about to whistle but instead blew out a stream of air. “What pictures are you talking about?”

“The pictures I painted of the men I had seen. The pictures I left with O’Sullivan. The same images that have been all over the news.”

“I’ve been out. Let me get the file.”

“Have you been working my case or not?”

“I’m working several cases. Yours is certainly one of the priorities around here.”

He left and returned with the file.

“You haven’t talked with O’Sullivan?”

“We’re scheduled to meet this afternoon.” He opened the file and looked through the pictures and notes she’d made, but she sensed he was merely placating her. “I’ll make sure this all gets scanned and logged in.”

She could hardly believe how lackadaisical they all seemed when it came to her case. She tried to rein in her frustration. “Have you learned anything new about the three men who attacked my family?”

“According to your neighbor, there were two men.”

Every muscle in her body tensed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Her mom stiffened beside her.

“I just told you there were three men,” Faith went on. “I saw them with my own eyes when they were slitting my husband’s throat.”

“Watch your language, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“Faith,” Mom said, but Faith ignored her.

Somebody called Yuhasz away from his desk. He looked at Mom with apologetic eyes before he stepped away. The detective liked Mom. No wonder he’d gone out of his way to give her regular updates while Faith was in the hospital.

“I don’t like him,” Faith said.

“He’s a good man. He’s doing everything he can to find Lara and Hudson.”

“Like what? Tell me one thing he’s done that has produced results. Just one damn thing.”

“They’re working with the FBI and the National Crime Information Center,” Mom said. “Routine patrols have been set up throughout the county with no plans to stop.”

She sounded like the rest of them, robotic and brainwashed. “They didn’t talk to Craig’s coworkers at his office,” Faith said. “I called Joe yesterday, and he said he never got a call from the police. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“If that’s true,” Mom said, “I’m sure it’s some sort of crazy oversight. Detective Yuhasz has been on the force for thirty years. He knows what he’s doing.”

Frustration consumed her. “You like the man, don’t you? That’s why you keep coming here with me, isn’t it?”

Mom pushed herself out of her chair so fast it wobbled. She pointed a shaky finger at Faith. “Listen here. I don’t like what you’re insinuating. Your family has been putting up with your mood swings because we can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through, but you’ve gone too far.”

“My husband was murdered and my kids are gone!”

“You don’t think I know that?” Mom grabbed her purse. “Don’t let them win, Faith.”

“Who?”

“The men you painted on your living room wall for God’s sake!”

“If you think I’m going to sit at home and do nothing while these jokesters look for my kids, you’re crazy.”

“Nobody is telling you not to do everything possible to find your kids.” Her voice quavered. “Those are my grandkids. You don’t think I care about what happens to them? My God, Faith. Look at yourself. When was the last time you slept? You’re not well. You need help.”

S
EVEN

Tears, blood, and snot ran down the side of Hudson’s face.

It was hot and stuffy. He could hardly breathe. He and ten other boys were stuck at the bottom of a metal shipping container. No doors. No window. No fresh air.

Hudson had never been so scared in his life. He kept hoping Mom and Dad would show up and take him home, but he didn’t think that would happen since he’d seen them tied up on the floor when the men took him and his sister. He couldn’t think about his parents without crying.

In the beginning he’d tried to keep count of how many days had passed since he’d been taken, but he’d quickly lost track.

A stream of light sliced through the top of the container. That’s how he knew it was daytime.

Memories of that awful day kept coming back to him, and when they did, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make them go away. He and Lara had been stuck in the back of Dad’s car for a long time before they were moved to another car. His dad’s car was then pushed over a hill into a lake. It had been dark when they took Lara away. She’d screamed and kicked, but she was small and they were big. When Hudson tried to help her, one of the men smacked him and made his nose bleed.

After that, they drove forever before Hudson was finally let out of the car, handed a small paper bag, and thrown into the metal box. He landed hard and the kids inside rushed him and grabbed his food and water. It didn’t take long to realize he needed to fight back if he wanted to survive.

Every kid in the container had been beaten pretty badly. One of the boys had become so sick, Hudson still didn’t know whether or not he’d survived after a group of men came and took him away.

Some of the boys talked about how they had escaped before, only to be caught again. The containers, they said, were merely holding bins used to keep the boys out of sight until they decided what to do with them. One kid had been beaten so badly, his arm didn’t look right—sort of twisted the wrong way. When one of the younger boys cried, the older boys were easily annoyed and they would kick the kid or threaten to shut him up for good. Sometimes the older kids seemed to be as bad as the men who had taken them to begin with.

When the night came and the little sliver of light disappeared, he’d shut his eyes and dream about the times he’d gone camping with Dad, Uncle Colton, and Grandpa. Those were some of the best times ever. They would sit around a fire while Grandpa told them war stories. Hudson’s favorite story was the one about the time Grandpa and seven of his men fled enemy camp after being captured. While the guards were eating, he’d grabbed their rifles and escaped. With only the clothes they were wearing, Grandpa led the men through dangerous terrain—up steep cliffs and down a treacherous gorge. One of the men in his unit had a busted leg, and they took turns carrying him over streams and through the woods. It was hot, and they covered their bodies and faces in mud to keep from getting burned. For weeks they ate bugs, pink berries, snakes, lizards, and squirrel. Grandpa liked to talk about how they used the palms of their hands to scoop water from the river and how good it had tasted.

Stuck in that metal bin for too long, Hudson fantasized about drinking cold water from a river. He could almost taste the water trickling down his dry throat.

“They’re here!” someone cried.

The boys all jumped to their feet.

The top of the bin opened, and when Hudson looked up, he squinted into the daylight.

One by one they were pulled out, then blindfolded and separated into groups. Their hands were duct-taped behind their backs before they were shoved inside a bus or a van; he wasn’t sure. The engine rumbled and the vehicle sped off, bouncing over uneven ground and making them bang against one another every time the driver turned a corner.

His mom used to tell him that if anyone ever tried to pull him into a car, he was supposed to run. Run as fast as you can, she would say.

The next time they opened the door, that’s exactly what he planned to do.

E
IGHT

Faith finished placing the cloth napkins and silverware just so, then stepped back to examine the dining room table. Usually they spent Thanksgiving with Faith’s family at her parents’ house, but this year Craig’s parents had decided to fly all the way from New Jersey to visit during the holidays.

Not being the best cook, Faith had awoken at four o’clock in the morning to get the stuffing made and the turkey in the oven. The homemade biscuits weren’t nearly as fluffy as the ones her sister made, but they would have to do. Looking fabulous in slacks and a nice sweater, Craig walked down the hall toward her and kissed her on the cheek. “The table looks great, honey.”

Faith leaned into him. “I put too much salt in the stuffing, and the biscuits are hard.”

“You’re worrying too much. It’ll be great. Once Mom and Dad taste your mashed potatoes and gravy, they’ll want to visit every Thanksgiving and we’ll—” He took a sniff. “What’s that smell?”

Faith smelled it, too. She headed quickly for the kitchen, where she saw black plumes of smoke pouring from the oven.

Craig ran to the kitchen, slipped on a pair of oven mitts, and tried to save the turkey while Faith ran to open the sliding door to let the smoke out.

The doorbell rang at the same time the fire alarm went off, filling the house with a deafening screech. Faith’s shoulders sagged when she saw that her in-laws had arrived early
.

Hudson ran to open the door and let them in. When he saw Grandma standing there holding two pies, his eyes lit up. “It’s OK, Mom. We can all be thankful again because Grandma brought pie for dinner!”

There was a knock on the front door. Sighing, Faith pushed herself to her feet. Jana and her husband, Steve, had insisted on picking her up on the way to Mom and Dad’s for Thanksgiving dinner. Steve was at the door. Before she knew what he was up to, he stepped inside, wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. She could feel the beat of his heart against the side of her face. He’d been her best friend throughout college and like a brother to Craig. The thought of never being held in Craig’s arms again caused her to swallow and pull away.

He stepped back. “It’s so good to see you up and about.”

“Thanks,” she said. They stepped outside. She locked the door and followed him to the car, where Jana was waiting. Faith climbed into the back of their Ford Escape. Steve drove. Before he made a left onto Auburn-Folsom Road, heading toward Loomis, Faith said, “You guys didn’t have to pick me up.”

Jana snorted. “You never would have come if we hadn’t.”

She couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t. “How’s Dad?”

“The doctors are saying he suffered a ministroke due to high blood pressure. Dad doesn’t like anyone making a big deal about it. He’s having a bit of trouble with dizziness, but he refuses to use a walker.”

The thought of losing her dad was too much. A few days after she was brought home from the hospital, Dad had begun having leg pain and difficulty speaking. For the next few hours, he’d lost the ability to move his arms. Mom had rushed him to the emergency room. They’d kept him overnight, but he was allowed to return home the very next day.

“Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton played in the background on the radio. Jana quickly reached for the knob and turned it off. “Have the police made any progress?”

“None so far . . . at least that I know of.”

“I’m sorry,” Jana offered.

“Agent Burnett with the FBI was at our meeting. She asked about motive, and it got me thinking . . . wondering . . . if Craig knew those men. Were they there because of a deal gone sour?”

“And?” Jana asked.

“And . . . I just don’t know. I’ve spent hours looking through Craig’s things, reading e-mails and phone messages, searching through records and files. It’s a never-ending task.” Faith sighed. “I also talked to someone at the missing children’s organization. They said Lara and Hudson fall under the critically missing due to the circumstances surrounding their abduction. They assured me they’re working closely with law enforcement.”

“Yes,” Jana said. “They were part of the search and rescue that set out to scour the area while you were in recovery.”

“They offer group support, too,” Faith said, “but I’m not ready for that.” There was a pause before she added, “They’ll contact me if they receive any tips about my case.”

“What about tips coming into the police department after you were on the local news? Have you heard anything?”

Faith shook her head. “Detective Yuhasz said the phones were ringing like crazy after that, but if they have anything substantial, they’re not letting on. Agent Burnett mentioned policy and protecting the rights of people not yet charged.”

It wasn’t long before they pulled up the long, S-shaped driveway, past the weeping willows and mossy rocks. They drove around the pond half-lined with dense foliage and cattails before coming to a stop behind three other cars.

“Looks like everyone else is here.”

Faith nodded. Her heart raced. She never should have come. She wasn’t ready to deal with the entire family in one house.
Breathe,
Faith reminded herself.
Just breathe.
She hadn’t been with the family all at once since the incident.

After collecting a covered dish from the trunk, Jana told Steve to go on ahead, then stopped at the half-open window and said, “Come in when you’re ready. No hurry.”

“Thanks.”

After her sister disappeared inside the old house with its gabled windows and wraparound porch, Faith climbed out of the car and made her way to the pond. She took a seat at the severely scarred picnic table that had been there for as long as she could remember.

A bullfrog croaked from behind a batch of tulles. On the other side of the pond, two ducks waddled out of the water and onto the grassy slope. A light drizzle began at the same time a noise prompted her to look over her shoulder toward the house.

It was Dad.

Using a cane for support, he made his way across the driveway that separated the pond from the house. Seeing him with a cane didn’t change a thing. He was bigger than life. Always had been. His eyes were a turquoise blue, his hair thick and silver. He was six foot three, and she used to tease him about what it must be like to have his feet on the ground and his head in the sky with the birds and the planes.

She got to her feet, met him halfway, and then walked with him back to the bench, where they both took a seat.

“You’re a sight for this old man’s sore eyes.”

“How are you feeling, Dad?”

“Like a twenty-year-old man trapped inside a seventy-year-old body.”

Smiling no longer came easily, but she managed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you were in the hospital.”

He patted her hand. “You were in no shape to worry about me. Besides, you know how they all like to make a big stink about everything around here.”

She knew he was downplaying his stroke, but she admired his stubborn pride.

“The worst of it is having to avoid salty foods and alcohol.”

“You never liked drinking much anyhow.”

“You always want what you can’t have,” he said with a twinkle in his voice.

Dad always had a way of cheering her up. Although he was the strong, silent type, he was also the jokester and the wise man all rolled into one. After thirty years as a sergeant in the army, Russell Gray was also the definition of calm under fire. Despite his keen ability to lead men into war, it was Mom who had been left to dish out the discipline when it came to Faith, Jana, and Colton. Never Dad.

“I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re a lot like your old man,” Dad said, cutting into the silence, “and you’re losing patience.” He waited until the bullfrog finished croaking before he added, “We can all sympathize with what you’re going through, Faith, but not one of us can put ourselves in your shoes. God knows it can’t be easy. Craig was an amazing man. Losing him was like losing a son.”

Dad’s eyes welled with tears.

She leaned close and rested her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, and for a few quiet moments they just stared out at the water.

Faith swallowed the lump clogging her throat. “Dad,” she choked out. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve given the authorities time. I am well aware of the fact that I’m not the only one with a case to solve. But you know as well as I do that every day that passes is one day too many.”

“Well, you know what George S. Patton Jr. once said.”

She shook her head.

“Lead me, follow me, or get the hell out of my way.”

“What are you saying, Dad? That I should do my own investigation?” She exhaled. That was it exactly. She needed to stop relying on the police and find the kids herself. “I think you’re right. I’ve been looking through Craig’s things, hoping to find a clue, anything that might tell me why those men were there, but mostly I’ve been depending on the police.”

He used his cane to push himself to his feet. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Faith. You were in intensive care hanging on by a very thin rope. Now that you’re getting better and your memories of that day are coming back, I’m just saying that I think it might be time to let the police do their thing while you do yours.”

Faith inhaled.

“If you’re going to go around asking questions,” Dad said, “you need to be able to protect yourself. Tomorrow morning I’m taking you to the range.” He angled his head toward the house. “First things first, though. Let’s go inside and get some meat on your bones.”

Walking side by side, they made their way to the house, where close to a dozen family members were waiting for them inside. The moment Faith and Dad walked through the door, voices hushed.

“Aunt Faith?”

She looked down at her brother’s oldest daughter, Kimberly. She and Lara were only a few months apart in age. “Hi, Kimberly.”

Kimberly wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed. “All my friends are wondering when you’re coming back to school?”

The question caught her off guard. For the past ten years she’d worked at Ridgeview Elementary as a fourth grade teacher. The school and her students had been such a big part of her life. She and Craig used to joke that she had more than two kids to take care of. And yet, in that moment, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spared one thought to the school or her students. She knelt down, wrapped her arms around her niece, and held her close. She was so small, so fragile, so young.

Faith felt a hand on her shoulder. It was her brother, Colton. He headed off to the dining room table, where family was now gathering. Faith looked at Kimberly and said, “Tell your friends I miss them, but that I don’t know when I’m coming back.” She straightened, patted Kimberly on the head, and made her way to the dinner table.

Her sister-in-law, Bri, followed close behind. “I think Kimberly asked a valid question. Have you thought about returning to class? I think it might do you a world of good.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Everyone was well meaning, but she’d never felt so alone. She went to the kitchen. Mom stirred gravy over the stove. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean—” Mom stopped her from going on and gave her a knowing hug before handing her a bowl of stuffing. Faith carried the dish to the dining room and set it on the table, then took a seat between Dad and Colton. It was too soon to think about returning to school. In fact, it was too soon for her to be sitting at the table without Craig and the kids. She thought about asking Dad if she could borrow his truck so she could head home, but instead she sat quietly and tried to hold herself together.

Sitting across from her were Bri, Bri’s daughters, and Jana and Steve. The pitiful looks being sent her way were almost too much to bear.

Once everyone was seated, Dad looked around the table at each of them. “Faith has decided not to have a memorial service for Craig until Lara and Hudson are back home where they belong. I agree, but I want to say how thankful I am that he was a part of our lives. The first time I met Craig was at Thanksgiving dinner. He loved dark meat, and he would playfully fight some of you for the best pieces. He was a clever man, too. Always rushing to play with the kids while the rest of us put away the dishes. Craig McMann was a good husband and a loving father. There will always be an undertone of sadness now that he’s gone, but to honor his memory we must find a way to transform the grief and instead use it to strengthen our family unity and stand by Faith while she finds the strength needed to do everything in her power to find her kids, my grandchildren, your niece and nephew and cousins.”

They all said amen. Jana stepped away from the table to blow her nose. Mom disappeared inside the kitchen for a moment. Dad cut the turkey while everyone else passed the rolls and butter, the stuffing, green beans, and cranberry sauce. Wine and sparkling cider was poured while quiet unease hovered over them like a dark cloud.

Last Thanksgiving the kids—Colton’s two girls and Lara and Hudson—had all sat together at their own little table in the living room. Faith looked over her shoulder. Crayons and coloring books were scattered across the coffee table and living room floor. A doll hung upside down, its leg stuck between the cushions of a chair. Images of that horrible day came back to her in a flash. The first thing she’d seen when she entered the kitchen was disarray. For the past week she’d seen the killer’s face in living color and yet she’d forgotten about the mess—the upturned furniture, opened kitchen drawers, and scattered papers. Those men had been looking for something—but what? Her heart slammed against her ribs. She took a breath, looked down at her plate, and closed her eyes.

“Faith,” Jana said as she returned to her seat across from her, concern in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

There it was—a bloodcurdling sneer. “Where is it?” he’d asked.

When she opened her eyes and looked up, Colton was staring at her. They all were.

“They were looking for something,” she said. “They tore the house apart.” She looked at Mom and then Jana. “Did you see the mess they made? There were papers and kitchen utensils scattered about, splinters of wood, broken objects. How could I have forgotten that?”