15

 

A week later, Maven woke up but didn’t move from her bed. Her head was pounding, her stomach ached, and her heart was broken. Seven days filled with anxiety and worry. Seven days filled with searching. Seven days, and still no Moses. Seven days filled with answering questions.

From the police, the FBI, and then finally, the media.

No one had a clue.

No fingerprints, no witnesses, nothing.

If Moses had been abducted, the man was good. He hadn’t left one shred of evidence behind.

With no evidence, everyone had a theory. One group believed he’d been taken back home and the other group felt he’d been kidnapped for other reasons.

She’d known the arrangement with Moses was only temporary, but she’d never expected it to end this way. Her heart had taken in the little boy, engaged before she even knew it. Everyone talked about not giving up hope. But without one good lead, Maven knew Moses would probably not be found. All she could do was pray for him.

Depression was sneaking its way back into her soul. She recognized it from that dark time when in a six month period her husband died, she developed Bell’s palsy, and then lost her job. In the midst of her despair, she’d turned away from God, angry and bitter. She refused to do that this time. This time she would stick close to Him. Without God, she couldn’t make it.

But it was still hard.

A single tear trickled down her cheek. I don’t understand why I keep losing things—my husband, a great career, Moses. Oh, Moses. I’m so afraid for him. She had no power to stop the tears as they fell. As the storm subsided, her pain still raw, but bearable, a glimmer of hope glowed. With God, she could—no, she would manage.

Her life wasn’t over. She was still breathing and that meant there were things God wanted her to do. On the edge of the bed, she lost track of how long she sat there. Her mind focused on one word—Jesus. Finally, she found the energy to face the day. First coffee, then a shower.

She stood at the doorway staring at her little boy’s room. It was a mess thanks to the police and the FBI. Neither group had found evidence to aid in the search.

She let out a deep sigh filled with sadness. Time to face reality. Whatever had happened, Moses was gone. He wouldn’t be needing the room again. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room. When she looked at the circle of toys he’d left and placed them in the bright yellow and red toy box, she almost changed her mind.

She never had figured out why the circle represented safety and security for him. At the bed, she stripped off the blanket, the sheets, and then the mattress pad. Her heart thumped as she stared. The mattress wasn’t bare.

There were pages and pages of drawings. Moses had hidden them for some reason. Picture after picture depicted his favorite comic book heroes.

There was one of the same woman he’d drawn just a few short weeks before. And there were two other women. They didn’t resemble each other in the least, but something seemed familiar. The next was a picture of a man. Black hair with angry black eyes. In fact everything about the picture screamed anger.

Was this the man from the park?

Maven peered, hoping for some glimmer of recognition. But she hadn’t been close enough to see any details of the man. She prayed this man had nothing to do with Moses in his previous life. Just staring at the picture gave her a sick feeling. This was not a man she wanted her dear, sweet Moses to be around.

Another picture showed a house. It was an old Victorian-style house all done in shades of gray. It was pretty, but there had to be tons of houses like that in a thousand towns on thousands of streets. Nothing that could help the investigators.

She picked up another picture. Her heart skipped a beat.

It couldn’t be real. Moses must have seen a horror movie or maybe a comic book depicting the scene. Three women surrounded him and they were in chains. They formed a circle around the boy. The boy looked a lot like Moses.

A circle? Could that be why Moses always arranged his toys in circles?

 

~*~

 

Paul sat at Maven’s dining room table looking at the drawings. He held one. “This could be the break we need.”

It was a simple drawing with the word CEDAR written on it.

“I hope you’re right, Paul. But there’s probably a lot of streets named Cedar in the country. It doesn’t really narrow it down that much.”

“True, but it’s better than nothing.” He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Let me give Trent Snoddy a call. This is just the type of thing the FBI guys are good at.” After hitting the numbers, he waited. “Hey, Trent. This is Paul Jordon. Maven found some drawings the boy made. I think there could be some clues in them.”