Phoenix’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t do anything! It’s not what you think, Pops.”
“Tell me why a child’s fuckin’ boot was hidden in the goddamn shed?” Uncharacteristically, I hurled profanities and bellowed in a voice so loud, Phoenix nearly jumped out of his skin.
His lips began to tremble, but I didn’t feel a shred of compassion. He had lied repeatedly and used my unconditional love for him to play me. No more! I was through being Mr. Nice Guy.
I balled my fist up and shook it in his face. “I’m two seconds from busting you in your mouth, so start talking, you little bastard.”
Having never seen the side of me that was coarse and street-hardened from my junkie years, Phoenix recoiled in shock and fear.
“I…I…found the boot in the woods, underneath a log. I was going to turn it over to the police, but I figured, why get involved and possibly become a suspect when it might not even belong to the missing girl? I hid it because I didn’t know what else to do—I was scared.”
“Stop it!” I shouted. “It’s crystal-clear that you’re lying. If you can’t convince me that you’re telling the truth, how the hell are you going to convince the police?”
“I’m not lying. What reason would I have to hurt a little girl?”
I had no idea why he’d hurt a small child, and a part of me believed that he’d happened upon the boot like he’d said and decided to keep it. But for what reason would he bring it home and hide it? An innocent person wouldn’t want any part of a victim’s belongings. But then again, teenagers sometimes harbored morbid thoughts. Maybe he thought it would be fun to show it off to his friends—a way to freak them out, just for laughs.
Phoenix sat next to me, nervously zipping and unzipping the front of his hoodie. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“I’m confused and angry that you’d do something so stupid as bringing home evidence in something as serious as a missing child case. But I’m still your parent, and I love you no matter what.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I got rid of the boot.”
There was a flicker of something in Phoenix’s eyes. It could have been relief. It also could have been disappointment. The flicker happened too quickly for me to identify the emotion he was feeling.
“If you have any other articles of the child’s clothing, you need to tell me now. I won’t be able to help you if you continue to lie to me.”
“I only had the boot. That’s it. That’s all I found.”
Feeling calmer, I drove to the store and left Phoenix in the car while I went inside and picked up dish detergent. We rode back home in silence, but after I pulled into the driveway, I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. It was my way of letting him know that I intended to stand by him no matter what.
If he was indeed, the monster that I was afraid he might be, then I had to protect him. He was my flesh and blood, and he was my responsibility.
• • •
In our effort to supervise the children more closely, Sasha and I decided to take turns driving them to and from the bus stop every day. We also coordinated our work schedules, so that we could donate a few hours a day to the search party.
On our way to the bus stop, Phoenix carried Zoe’s science project to the car. After Zoe was strapped in the backseat, he carefully handed her the Cyclone in a Bottle experiment. From the rearview mirror, I watched how Phoenix and Zoe interacted. He was a patient and protective big brother, and his gentle treatment of her assured me that he couldn’t have possibly done anything to endanger an innocent seven-year-old.
“Wow, look at Myron’s eye,” Zoe said enthusiastically as she pointed to one of the boys who taunted her regularly. “It looks like the bully got a taste of his own medicine.”
“Yep, I’m sure he got what he deserved,” Phoenix replied stoically.
I gazed out my window and saw that Myron was sporting a black eye. I shot an accusing look at Phoenix, and he shrugged like he had no idea what had happened to the boy.
But I knew better. I knew instinctively that Phoenix was responsible. Hell, I would have gladly beaten the crap out of those two kids if there wasn’t the risk of facing criminal charges.
Phoenix reached for the door handle and I clutched his arm. I wanted to congratulate him for sticking up for Zoe, but that would have sent the wrong message and given him the impression that I approved of physical violence.
“You made your point, so make sure you don’t touch the other boy,” I said in a lowered tone.
He scowled. “I didn’t hit that boy. I wouldn’t lay a hand on either of those stupid little kids.”
I released his arm and sighed.
If he would lie about something that I wasn’t concerned about, then he’d certainly lie about any involvement in the disappearance of a child.
Not knowing the truth had placed me on an emotional roller coaster. My heart ached for the little girl and her family, and I desperately wanted the child to be okay. But at the same token, I was terrified for Phoenix’s well-being.
If my son turned out to be responsible in any way, the residents of the town would be out for bloodshed and who could blame them? Over and over, I asked myself if Phoenix was a sicko and a killer or was it truly a lapse in judgment that prompted him to hang on to evidence as if it were a trophy?
If I wanted to get to the truth badly enough, I could have beaten a confession out of him, but knowing the truth came with consequences. If my conscience compelled me to turn him in, Phoenix’s life would essentially be over, and our family’s reputation would be tarnished forever.
Sitting behind the steering wheel, I kept a watchful eye on Zoe as she climbed aboard the elementary school bus. I continued sitting with the motor idling when the middle school bus arrived, and I didn’t drive away until I saw Phoenix take a seat on the bus that was headed to the city’s high school.
Before rejoining the search party, I stopped at home and watched as concrete was poured inside the gaping hole in our backyard. Feeling immensely relieved that Phoenix’s secret was safe, I left the house.
There was an undercurrent of tension when I reached Birchwood Circle and I wondered if there’d been any new developments since yesterday. I scanned the crowd and spotted Tessa Jordan and made my way in her direction. From Tessa I found out that Heather Flanagan was scheduled to give a statement in ten minutes.
“See that fellow with the suit on?” Tessa asked, pointing to a balding man with a bushy mustache. “That’s Heather’s lawyer, and he set up this little press event, allegedly to keep Taylor’s name and face in the news, but I think he’s trying to soften Heather’s image. People are noticing that she doesn’t seem to be grieving like a normal mother. If it were my child, I’d have to be put on medication and hospitalized until somebody brought her back home. Heather, on the other hand, has been acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.”
“What makes you say that?”
“One of the photographers that’s been roaming around here used a long-lens camera and was able to get a video of Heather and the boyfriend relaxing on the patio, laughing and drinking Tequila. Some grieving mother.” Tessa rolled her eyes, conveying her disgust.
I found a bit of comfort in Tessa’s comments. It was becoming more and more clear that Heather Flanagan was not the least bit distraught over the disappearance of her daughter.
And she had a motive—money.
Phoenix, however, had absolutely no reason to want Taylor dead.
Tessa elbowed me, bringing me out of my reverie. “Here she comes,” she hissed.
A microphone and stand had been set up on the pavement in front of the Flanagan home. As Heather approached it, I instantly noticed that she’d lightened her hair and changed it to a more glamorous style. She was being depicted as an uncaring mother, and her ripped jeans and off-the-shoulder top didn’t help her image.
“Can you believe that tramp? She obviously loves being in the limelight,” Tessa said, pursing her lips in disapproval.
“I want to thank everyone for pitching in and helping in the effort to bring my baby home safely,” Heather began. “I am heartbroken over this tragedy. And I want to appeal to whoever is responsible for snatching my child. Let her go. I can only imagine how terrified she is. If you’re watching, Taylor, I want you to know that Mommy loves you, and I’ll never find peace until I’m holding you in my arms again.”
She covered her face and made sobbing sounds, and when she removed her hands, it was apparent that her eye makeup was not tear-streaked or smudged.
“Taylor was my best friend,” she continued. “We did everything together…played with her dolls, baked cookies; we even dressed in mother and daughter outfits on many occasions.” Heather smiled wistfully, as if recalling fond memories that she’d shared with her daughter.
“If you did everything together, why didn’t you personally take her out for Halloween?” someone yelled from the crowd.
“I bet you can’t wait to collect Taylor’s money,” someone else jeered.
Heather swiveled her head from one side to the other, trying to determine who had hurled insults at her.
“For those of you who are spreading vicious rumors and insinuating that my boyfriend, Cory, and I are responsible for Taylor’s disappearance, I can only say that there’s a special place in hell for you,” she barked, her face twisted in anger.
From the crowd, more people spoke up, demanding to know what Heather had done with Taylor’s body.
“I don’t have to take this shit!” Heather spat, practically snarling at the crowd. Her long-haired and tattooed boyfriend escorted her back to the house, and her lawyer took over the press conference.
From my perspective, Heather Flanagan did not appear to be a grieving parent, and I found myself wholeheartedly agreeing with the consensus that she was guilty as sin.
I helped with the search for two hours and then went to work. When I returned home at nightfall, I learned that there were no new developments.
Sitting up in bed, Sasha and I watched the local news channel, and we both peered at the TV intently when images of Heather’s press conference from earlier in the day flashed across the screen.
Sasha’s mouth was gaped open as she listened to Heather speak. “I can’t believe she mimicked crying sounds, trying to get the public’s sympathy. It’s painfully obvious that she doesn’t care.”
“I got the same impression while I was out there today. I’m starting to feel foolish for participating in a search for a child we’ll probably never find. Cory, her boyfriend, has a sinister look. He seems to be the type that wouldn’t hesitate to choke the life out of a child and then toss her body in the river.”
Sasha visibly shivered. “That poor little girl didn’t stand a chance with that mother of hers.” She turned toward me and touched my hand. “But we can’t allow our suspicions to stop us from searching for her, Malik.”
“I know.”
I clicked off the TV and snuggled close to my wife, comforted by her sweet smell and her warm, soft body. While waiting for sleep to overtake me, I wrestled with the idea of pulling Phoenix from the search party. God forbid if he ran across another item of clothing and once again did something stupid.
Then again, his absence from the search might cause people to look at him suspiciously, and I doubted if I’d be able to conduct myself in a calm manner if the police came snooping around here and asking questions.
Even though the red boot would never be found, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain that the mate wasn’t hidden somewhere on our property.
The thought of it turning up at a most inappropriate time gave me the shivers.