horrible loud noise and it frightens him.â
Although the last thing he wanted to do was encourage this charade, Mike couldnât help asking, âCan you see anything? Are you getting a mental picture? Can you tell where he is?â
âItâs not clear. Heâs outside the inn...I think.â
âAnd whatâs the noise?â
âAâa siren. And flashing red lights. John senses something bad is going to happen.â
âI get that same feeling every time I see red lights in my rearview mirror.â But Mikeâs quip fell flat. Sara was making him uneasy. Sheâd gone ice white, the contraction of her brow looking almost painful. If Sara was faking, she was damned good at thisâthe best heâd ever seen. She hardly seemed to be aware of anything Mike said or did, lost in a trance of her own making.
âHis mother,â she murmured. âJohn senses something is wrong with his mother. Mr. Kiefer is trying to comfort him, telling him everything is going to be all right.â
Yeah, right, Mike mused bitterly. Where had he heard that one before? Although heâd promised Sara to remain still, he started pacing. He couldnât help it.
Sara suddenly began speaking in a different voice, the soft reassuring tone of an adult trying to comfort a small child.
âItâs going to be okay, Johnny. Your mommy has to go away...inâin the big shiny white car.â
Big shiny white car, my butt, Mike thought, rolling his eyes. The kid had been six years old. Whatâd Kiefer think he was, stupid or something? Heâd know an ambulance when he saw one.
âBut youâre going to be taken care of, John,â Sara continued, her voice cracking a little. âThere is a nice man coming who will help you find a new home.â
âNo, no!â Sara dropped to a heart-breaking whimper. âDonât want new home. Want my Mommy.â
Clinging to the toy dog, Sara began to rock back and forth.
âSara?â Mike asked sharply. âWhat the hellâs happening now?â
âGone. Mommy gone. But the gray man is here.â
âThe gray man?â Mike echoed. âWhoâs that? You mean someone from the child welfare board?â
âDonât...donât like the gray man. A-afraid. Want Mommy. Canât breathe.â Sara drew in a great unsteady gulp of air. âChest hurts. All squeezed tight.â
He knew exactly what she was talking about because oddly enough, listening to her, he was finding it hard to breathe himself. His throat felt raw and dry, like it was closing shut.
âSara, thatâs enough,â he growled. She was really starting to scare him. âThis isnât getting us anywhere.â
But Sara didnât even seem to hear him.
âTh-the gray man says I have to be a good boy. But he isnât nice. Wants toâto take my doggie, throw him in the garbage. Says heâs too dirty.â
âSara, just stop it!â
âNo, no!â Sara clutched the dog to her chest in a death grip, scrambling to cower back against the headboard of the bed. âCanât have him. Have toâto hide my doggie in Mommyâs secret place. In the closet.â
âSara!â
âH-have to....â She was trembling all over now, tears starting to stream down her cheeks.
Mike had had all he could take. Striding over, he wrenched the dog from her hands and flung it violently across the room. A terrible cry breached Saraâs lips. Seizing her by the shoulders, Mike gave her a rough shake.
âSara! Snap out of it.â
Her eyes flew open wide to stare into his, frightened and disoriented. A ragged sob escaped her, but slowly the haze faded, leaving only blue eyes brimming with tears.
âYouâyou okay?â Mike asked, gentling his touch on her shoulders.
Sara nodded, color seeping back into her cheeks. She squirmed away from him and rose shakily to her feet. Touching one
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