For the next hour, all Meeker could picture was that face peering through the dirty piece of glass. She had been too far from the child and the window was too dirty for Helen to make out any details, so maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, creating an impression of a sad, mournful expression. But in her mind the pain was there. And it was that pain that was now eating at her and making time feel as if it were standing still.
As the minutes slowly passed, as the light gave way to dusk, and then darkness, Meeker felt more apprehension than elation. Even if they did get the child back, would they be returning the same little girl the Halls had known and loved? In Rose’s time away from her family, what kind of damage had been done? Would her wounds heal?
As those questions shook her soul with questions she couldn’t comprehend much less answer, she forced her thoughts in a new direction. The Halls had no idea what was going on. They didn’t know that Rose has been found. They couldn’t guess as they sat down for supper on this evening that what happened in the next few minutes would impact their rest of their lives. But what if the raid went south and Rose didn’t make it out?
No, Meeker wouldn’t allow herself to think that. She knew all too well what it meant to not have a child come home. So this case couldn’t end that way. There had to be a happy ending that saw the parents wrapping their arms once more around their little girl.
“I’d trade my life for hers.”
Looking over from his seat behind the Ford’s big steering wheel, Reese said, “Hope it doesn’t come to that. I have spent hours planning this out. I don’t want any shots fired. I want Burgess or Burton or whatever his name is to be taken alive. I need to know if he did this on his own or if he had help. After all, this case is more than just a kidnapping; it is a possible murder of an elderly woman and stolen money in the amount of a hundred grand. That makes this case the trifecta.”
He was right. If they could get proof that Abbi Watling was murdered, then someone was going to go to the chair.
“Did you ever consider if there was anyone you’d die for?” Meeker asked Reese.
“That’s a loaded question,” he replied. Glancing her way and smiling, he asked, “Are you wanting to know if I’d die for you?”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t until tonight that I’d ever thought about the question.”
“And you’ve decided you’d die for the kid.”
“Yes, I think I would.”
His expression serious, Reese softly said, “Well there are a lot of preachers and at least one agent I know out there who’d say that you just suddenly understood a bit about what it is like to think like Christ.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” she answered. “This isn’t biblical. At least not in my mind.”
“I disagree,” he replied. “I think everything is.”
“You’d better explain that,” she said.
“I don’t understand my own faith,” he admitted. “So there is no way I can begin to understand or explain yours. It is pretty personal anyway.”
Personal was a good word. From the beginning, this case had been personal. For Helen it was about healing old wounds and defining the price of life. And contrary to what a world at war seemed to be saying, life was not cheap. Each life mattered. Maybe that was biblical.
Reese glanced down to his watch. “It’s time.”