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SEPTEMBER’S RED VOLVO slid into April’s driveway and skidded to a stop behind the yellow PT Cruiser parked in front of the blond brick ranch. Before she could climb out, April threw herself down the front steps and body slammed into the Volvo.
“He’s gone, I don’t know what to do, I looked around the house, the back gate’s open, and–”
“Calm down, slow down, I can’t understand you.” September hugged her hard to shut off the typical drama-queen babbling. April was three years older, but you’d never know it by her behavior. “Let’s get back into the house so we can talk.” September nervously scanned the landscape. She’d feel less vulnerable inside with the door locked.
Dark stains on both of April’s knees accented her soggy yellow sweats, and her frizzed hair and smeary makeup made it clear she’d been out in the weather without a coat. April, the “pretty one” of the sisters, had inherited Mom’s wavy blond hair, blue eyes and perky figure that made September feel like an awkward giraffe in comparison. September and her brother both took after their dad’s side of the family.
September urged her sister through the open door, locked it once safe inside, and immediately breathed easier. “When did you notice Steven was gone? Have you called the police?”
April twisted the ruby ring on her finger. “I left Steven with Wilma and drove to work just like always.” Her expression scorched the dainty red-haired woman who stood nearby.
“My son drove me here.” Wilma offered a half smile, before dabbing tears with a hanky.
“Really.” September turned to April, and couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You went to work in this weather? Did you expect folks to show up for jazzercise in the blizzard?”
“It’s not jazzercise.” April bulldozed on. “I had loyal clients scheduled; they’d show up on bobsleds to get there. I just left a sign on the door and a message on the machine that we closed due to weather, and I came home right away to find Wilma asleep and Steven gone.” Her voice hiccupped to silence.
Wilma hunched at the whip-hard words. Tears streaked down powdered cheeks.
“Wilma, what happened?” September stepped further into the living room. April’s house always looked ready for a photo shoot, but today a slurry of grime tracked over the bare hardwood gritted beneath her shoes. September wondered what had happened to the Persian carpet knockoff that usually covered the floor. September tried to draw the woman out. “I know it was an accident. But what happened before you fell asleep? Anything different, some clue why he’d leave or where he’d go?”
“Nothing happened. Same routine as always.” April fell into a matching chair, and then immediately bounced back to her feet. “Why are we jabbering when we could be searching? You’re the dog track expert, that’s why I called you. Find him. Please.” She whimpered the last word.
September tugged off her gloves and flexed her fingers to jump-start circulation. Wind rattled the picture window and peppered ice against its surface, and she shivered at the image of the tiny boy lost in the storm. At least the dog was with him. “We’ll run circles without some starting point.” If April hadn’t found Steven hunkered down near the house, there were infinite places to look. In this weather, a twenty minute detour in the wrong direction could be the difference between life and death.
“I’d change things if I could.” Wilma clutched the cover like a fuzzy shield. “Anyway, when I heard the door open and close I figured Steven let the pup in. I had no idea the child would go out in this icy weather.”
“He’ll freeze, he’s going to freeze.” April hugged herself. “I should have been here, should have protected him.”
“His coat’s gone.” Wilma sounded hopeful. “It has a hood. He had on a sweater underneath and jeans with thick socks.”
“But only thin tennis shoes. They’ll soak through in no time.” April’s fierce accusation made the older woman flinch. “You know Steven hates having his hands covered; he won’t wear gloves.” She stopped at the front window. “Why are we talking about this? We have to find him!” She whirled to face September. “You have to find him.”
“You gave the police his description for the Amber Alert. There can’t be that many blond, green eyed seven year olds in yellow coats out alone in this weather, especially not with a big, black dog.” September pulled back the heavy sleeve of her coat to check her watch, grateful for the down-filled parka more appropriate to Indiana weather. “So he left sometime after eleven.” Steven’s jacket was little more than a windbreaker, but he’d stand out bumblebee bright against the snow. The little boy preferred anything yellow. “He’s been missing at least two hours, maybe longer. We can hope he’s holed up somewhere out of the wind.” Stuffing gloves into her giant pockets, she turned to April. “Where did you look? No need to waste time repeating the same search.”
“We turned the house upside down. He wasn’t in his bedroom or under the bed or in the closet where he likes to hide. Used to hide.” A fleeting look of pride lit her face. “He stopped hiding. Hasn’t for a couple of weeks now. He stopped stimming, too. Until, uhm, until this morning, and he started rocking again.”
“So what happened today?” The question was rhetorical. Nearly anything could turn a seven-year-old autistic child into a runaway, or more likely, a wander-away.
April crossed her arms. “When I couldn’t find him, I looked in the back yard. The gate was open. I went a little crazy then and ran around the outside of the house and yelled for him. The snow was only about three inches then but starting to drift, and I couldn’t see any tracks. I made a big mess around the back of the house, in and around the fence.” She paused. “I was afraid I’d mess up any way to trail him, you know, the way you do with dogs. So I stopped. That’s when I called you. Tried to, anyway. You wouldn’t pick up.” She didn’t hide the fear-fueled accusation.
“I thought Mom had put you up to bugging me about Thanksgiving.” Outside the picture window, the manicured lawn, pebbled walkways, clipped hedges and decorative stone-lined flowerbed had disappeared beneath drifts. No blemish of kid tracks marred the white. Pole lights at the end of the drive stood like glittery chess pieces.
“I called you because Steven already knows you. He’s scared of strangers. He hates change.”
September flexed achy hands. Raynaud’s was a damn nuisance and would only get worse, the numbness in hands and feet making her clumsy as hell. She couldn’t imagine how little Steven and the pup must feel. “Did the police say how long before they’d send someone?”
April shook her head. “You know all about that tracking stuff. We’re wasting time. Find my son!”
“I can’t track without a dog.” September struggled to keep her temper. “Dakota died with Chris.”
“Find my son.” Her chin jutted. “I helped you. You owe me. Do something.”
September bit back a retort. She did owe her. And April must be going crazy with worry. “I know someone who has tracking dogs. Guess we could see if they’re available.”
Wilma mopped her eyes with the afghan. “I do make allowances, I really do. I know he’s your son and all, but he’s not all that lovable.” Wilma’s double chins quivered. “If I don’t get out his puzzles at ten-thirty, feed him exactly at eleven o’clock, or—”
“Wilma, we’re wasting time. He’s a child. Lost. In a blizzard. We can debate shoulda-coulda-woulda later.” September could see that April was near the boiling point.
But Wilma didn’t stop. “He’s a fanatic about routine. Always wears his coat, hooks the leash on the dog before they go out.”
“That’s right, Shadow’s with him. Haven’t you trained that dog?” April aimed the next words like darts. “You trained Dakota, why couldn’t you do the same with Shadow? What good is he anyway if he can’t keep Steven safe?”
To April, the dog was a magic wand without value unless she saw instant results.
“I’m his mother. And you owe me.”
September ducked her head, again acknowledging the debt. “Shadow’s a nine-month-old German shepherd. He’s like a bright teenager distracted by shiny objects. You want to trust Steven’s safety to that?”
Her sister spoke with quiet command. “I’m his mother. I know what’s best. Either help me find my son, or get the hell out of here.”
“Great. I’ll call about the dog.” She pulled out her phone. “September to the rescue. Again.”
April crossed her arms. “You don’t want to compare messes.”
That hurt. “And you won’t let me forget.” Leave it to a big sister to always know what buttons to push. “Wait, is it Doug? Do you think he took Steven?” April and her ex-husband Doug Childress had an explosive history over their autistic son’s treatment. “Have you called him?”
“No. And don’t you call him, either. I don’t know if he’s involved.” For the first time, April’s momma-bear attitude faltered. “If he has Steven, then at least he’s safe. If he isn’t involved, Doug will use it against me. I can’t deal with him on top of everything else.”
Wilma levered herself off the sofa. “Will you listen to me? Praise God, I know where he’d go.” She beamed like she’d won the lottery.
April sucked in a breath. “Why didn’t you say so before now? Where?”
“Ten-thirty puzzles, eleven o’clock lunch, and . . .” She paused dramatically as if the words redeemed her soul. “Twelve o’clock the park. We go every day. That’s the only time we leave the gate open, when we go for our playtime in the park.”
April hurried to the closet and slammed open the door. She yanked a coat out so quickly that metal hangers jangled to the floor.
September grabbed April’s arm to stop her. “You’re wet and exhausted. It’s way past time Steven comes home from the park, right?”
April shrugged on the coat. “I always pick him up. He expected the Cruiser.”
“But what if he’s on his way home?” September pulled on her gloves. “Or somebody finds him, and gives him a ride, and you’re not here?”
Wilma shuffled an eager step toward them. “He knows the address if somebody asks. I’m happy to wait while y’all go look. My son won’t pick me up until two-thirty.”
April’s frown cut unhappy valleys in her brow. “I’ll wait here. But you hurry. Call me as soon as you find him. You will find him for me, September?” Her shoulders drooped until the heavy coat slid off onto the floor.
“I promise I’ll find him.” September swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted was to dive into the hateful cold, all alone. Unprotected. But April was right. She’d never be able to repay her sister.
“I can’t lose him.” April dashed tears away. “I waited so long to have my own baby. You know better than anyone. Find my son, and we’ll call the debt even.”
