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Authors: V. C. Andrews
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John said. “What does that have to do with any of this now?”
“No, I’m serious. It’s early in the holiday season. I don’t know of any stores that have already set up their Santas in the children’s departments or whatever. In another week or so, yes, but . . .”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, there was someone dressed as Santa in the mall today at the time your wife and daughter were there, but as far as we know, no store in the mall had a Santa.”
No one spoke.
John stared at him a moment. “Of course she believes in Santa Claus,” he said. “But we don’t threaten her with statements like ‘If you don’t behave, Santa will fly by the house’ or anything like that. I don’t call home and pretend to be Santa to ask if she’s been a very good girl. But we have presents around our tree, the stockings hanging on the fireplace mantel. Neither of us is like Maureen O’Hara in Miracle on Thirty-fourth Street . We both tell her Santa’s coming.” He smiled and looked at me. “Sometimes I don’t know if she is humoring us or we’re humoring her. Grace?”
“She believes in Santa,” I said. “And I haven’t done anything to dissuade her. I think there’s plenty of time to destroy childhood faith and illusions.”
Lieutenant Abraham smiled. “Well, as I said, I don’t know if it means anything yet. I have the mall security people on it.”
“But you should add that no one yet recalls seeing a little girl walk off through the mall with Santa Claus,” Agent Joseph added. He was obviously determined not to give us any false hope.
Lieutenant Abraham nodded but hung on to his theory. “That’s true, but I didn’t get to speak to many people about it. I‘m going to return to the mall tomorrow about the same time and reinterview some people, including the parking-lot staff.”
“Tomorrow?” I said. Hearing it said was like the sound of a bell marking someone’s passing.
Everyone paused to look at me. My face revealed my thoughts. This will still be going on tomorrow? It was as if the world had suddenly stopped turning. We were just playing a game of false hope. All the equipment, the trained agents, the Amber Alert, information at airports and entry points, none of it was moving us closer to an answer, bringing Mary back tonight.
When the doorbell sounded, I nearly jumped out of my skin, but it was a welcome interruption, John’s parents. They came bursting in, his mother embracing me, his father grim, shaking John’s hand and then hugging me. John’s father always hugged or kissed me quickly, as if he was afraid he would be caught doing something untoward. He had been in the banking business, an investment broker. John’s mother had been a bank teller, which was how they had met. She had stopped working when she became pregnant with John and had never gone back, whereas my mother had worked with my father in their business until he sold out and retired.
“Has anything new happened?” his mother immediately asked John. She was normally a perfectly put-together woman when she stepped out of her house, but I could see that she had barely taken time to brush her bluish-gray hair or put on much makeup. Both of John’s parents were about five feet ten inches tall and, from what I could tell, they took good care of their figures.
“No, Mom. We’re still waiting. Grace’s set up some coffee in the dining room. It’s better we stay out of everyone’s way.”
She nodded, reached for my hand, and walked with me to the dining room.
As if we were both teenagers sharing a secret, in a voice barely above a whisper, she leaned toward me and said, “Tell me how this all happened. You weren’t on any of your medication, were you?“
John heard her. “I told you. Mary was abducted in the mall. I didn’t say anything about Grace’s medication. She doesn’t take pills and drive with her daughter in her car,” he said sharply.
She turned back to him. “I didn’t
“No, I’m serious. It’s early in the holiday season. I don’t know of any stores that have already set up their Santas in the children’s departments or whatever. In another week or so, yes, but . . .”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, there was someone dressed as Santa in the mall today at the time your wife and daughter were there, but as far as we know, no store in the mall had a Santa.”
No one spoke.
John stared at him a moment. “Of course she believes in Santa Claus,” he said. “But we don’t threaten her with statements like ‘If you don’t behave, Santa will fly by the house’ or anything like that. I don’t call home and pretend to be Santa to ask if she’s been a very good girl. But we have presents around our tree, the stockings hanging on the fireplace mantel. Neither of us is like Maureen O’Hara in Miracle on Thirty-fourth Street . We both tell her Santa’s coming.” He smiled and looked at me. “Sometimes I don’t know if she is humoring us or we’re humoring her. Grace?”
“She believes in Santa,” I said. “And I haven’t done anything to dissuade her. I think there’s plenty of time to destroy childhood faith and illusions.”
Lieutenant Abraham smiled. “Well, as I said, I don’t know if it means anything yet. I have the mall security people on it.”
“But you should add that no one yet recalls seeing a little girl walk off through the mall with Santa Claus,” Agent Joseph added. He was obviously determined not to give us any false hope.
Lieutenant Abraham nodded but hung on to his theory. “That’s true, but I didn’t get to speak to many people about it. I‘m going to return to the mall tomorrow about the same time and reinterview some people, including the parking-lot staff.”
“Tomorrow?” I said. Hearing it said was like the sound of a bell marking someone’s passing.
Everyone paused to look at me. My face revealed my thoughts. This will still be going on tomorrow? It was as if the world had suddenly stopped turning. We were just playing a game of false hope. All the equipment, the trained agents, the Amber Alert, information at airports and entry points, none of it was moving us closer to an answer, bringing Mary back tonight.
When the doorbell sounded, I nearly jumped out of my skin, but it was a welcome interruption, John’s parents. They came bursting in, his mother embracing me, his father grim, shaking John’s hand and then hugging me. John’s father always hugged or kissed me quickly, as if he was afraid he would be caught doing something untoward. He had been in the banking business, an investment broker. John’s mother had been a bank teller, which was how they had met. She had stopped working when she became pregnant with John and had never gone back, whereas my mother had worked with my father in their business until he sold out and retired.
“Has anything new happened?” his mother immediately asked John. She was normally a perfectly put-together woman when she stepped out of her house, but I could see that she had barely taken time to brush her bluish-gray hair or put on much makeup. Both of John’s parents were about five feet ten inches tall and, from what I could tell, they took good care of their figures.
“No, Mom. We’re still waiting. Grace’s set up some coffee in the dining room. It’s better we stay out of everyone’s way.”
She nodded, reached for my hand, and walked with me to the dining room.
As if we were both teenagers sharing a secret, in a voice barely above a whisper, she leaned toward me and said, “Tell me how this all happened. You weren’t on any of your medication, were you?“
John heard her. “I told you. Mary was abducted in the mall. I didn’t say anything about Grace’s medication. She doesn’t take pills and drive with her daughter in her car,” he said sharply.
She turned back to him. “I didn’t
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