CAME A SHADOW (The Shadow Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  Samantha gave him a withering look. "Geez, ya think?"

  On the drive home they came up behind a snowplow methodically working its way in the direction of the farm. Brad slowed to a crawl and tooted the horn as he passed by, pleased to see that the county was keeping even back country roads like theirs well serviced.

  CHAPTER 4

  At the farm Bert and Sophie were hunched around the kitchen table, laboring intently over a game of Snakes and Ladders.

  “Who’s winning?“ Brad called out from the mudroom as he and Samantha shook off their winter gear.

  The only sound was the prolonged rattle of dice in Sophie’s two-handed grip. Finally she rolled the dice onto the table and meticulously counted the dots. This was followed by a brief giggle and then the loud pounding of her game piece on each square of the board as she proceeded to the finish. “Me!” she hollered.

  “That makes three games in a row she’s whomped me,” Bert moaned. He gave Sophie a pitifully sad look. “How come you’re so mean to your poor old grampa, anyway?”

  Sophie shrugged, then cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “I dunno.”

  Bert tugged lightly on one of her pigtails and stood up, looking at his watch. “Guess I’d better get a move on,” he said to Brad and Samantha. “I’ll probably be gone for most of the afternoon.”

  “And where are you off to?” Samantha asked.

  “Oh, me and Sarah had a long-standing custom of visiting a half dozen or so of our neighbors around here before Christmas every year. Somehow I think she'd be disappointed in me if I didn’t keep up the tradition."

  Samantha walked to the mudroom with Bert and helped him on with his coat. “You enjoy yourself. We’ll see you later.”

  Bert kissed her forehead. “Have fun while I’m gone. Bye, you guys,” he called out.

  “Bye, Grampa,” Sophie called back. The moment Bert was out the door she hollered, "Time to find our tree!"

  Samantha looked at Brad questioningly. They hadn’t accomplished much on their trip to town but somehow it had worn them out anyway. “Are you up for it?”

  Brad glanced at Sophie. There was a pleading look in her eyes. “Sure I am,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Yeah!” Sophie hollered.

  “Come on,” Samantha said to her. “Let’s get you bundled up. It’s cold outside.”

  Ten minutes later, dressed in a heavy sweater, snowsuit, scarf, boots, mittens, and toque, Sophie looked too bundled up to move.

  “You look like the Michelin tire man,” Brad commented. He was sure if she fell over she'd never get back up without help. And with Winston around, she tended to get knocked over quite a bit.

  Bert kept the driveway and parking area well plowed with his tractor throughout the winter but, once away from the house, the snow was so deep it was pretty much impossible for Sophie to navigate.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Samantha said.

  Brad thought for a moment. "I've got the answer. Wait here."

  He backtracked to the barn and dug around inside until he found an ancient sled, a relic from his childhood. It was an old-fashioned contraption his father had made from scrap wood. It was four feet long and had a double railing across the back that extended half the distance of the sled toward the front on both sides.

  “Neato,” Sophie called out, seeing it emerge from the barn.

  Brad propped her up in the device and they continued on their way.

  Before they'd gone very far Brad became aware that he was pulling an improbable amount of weight. He and Samantha turned to find Winston happily parked on Sophie's lap, tail in her face, grinning at them. The sight was so comical they nearly peed themselves laughing.

  ****

  Snow-blanketed, gently rolling hills, dotted with occasional farm buildings in the distance, stretched in every direction for as far as they could see.

  Samantha was in heaven. "It's like a scene on a postcard," she said, eyes bright with excitement.

  Brad reacted to Samantha’s gushy enthusiasm by throwing a snowball at her.

  The ensuing retaliation by Samantha and Sophie was roughly comparable to Attila the Hun's attack on the Byzantine emperor Theodosius. When the battle ended they had barely enough combined strength left to cut down a suitable tree.

  By the time they got back to the house Sophie could barely keep her eyes open. She didn't even bother to put up token resistance when Samantha steered her to her bed. Within minutes she was tucked in and fast asleep.

  Samantha took the stairs back down to the living room feeling like a woman much older than her years.

  Brad greeted her with a hot rum toddy. "This oughta relax those aching muscles."

  "God, that looks good," she murmured.

  They settled on the sofa in front of a crackling fire. Brad put his arm around her and drew her close. For several minutes they sat quietly, cuddled together, letting the rum work its magic.

  "It must have been great growing up here." Samantha said dreamily. "I'd have loved being raised on a farm."

  "Yeah, well, it wasn't all fun and games, you know," Brad said. "It seemed to me I spent most of my time looking at the underside of a cow in those days."

  "You poor boy," Samantha teased, pouting her lips. "So hard done by."

  "Think you'd have made a good farm girl, huh?"

  "The best."

  "Yeah, right. You wouldn't know a cow patty from a rice crispie."

  "You better watch what you get for breakfast tomorrow then, hadn't you?"

  Brad feigned concern while Samantha finished off the last of her drink. "Maybe I'd better ensure your goodwill by getting you another hot toddy and plying you with alcohol."

  "That might work."

  Brad kissed the tip of her nose before heading off to the kitchen, whistling to himself.

  This is exactly what we need, Samantha thought. I'm so glad we took the time off.

  Brad was soon back with refills.

  By the time another half hour had elapsed, they were both feeling pretty mellow. "You know, it just occurred to me,” Brad whispered, “we're all alone in this big old house except for Sophie … and she should be safely out of the way for awhile yet."

  He leaned over and nuzzled Samantha’s neck as his hand stole beneath her sweater, fondling her breast through a lacy black brassiere.

  A soft moan of pleasure escaped Samantha’s lips. It had been a while since they'd made love and the liquor was fuelling a burning desire in her body. She swung around to straddle Brad, then undid the buttons on his shirt, tracing a line of butterfly kisses from his chin, down his chest to his stomach. With agonizing slowness she undid the button on his pants and lowered the zipper. Her cool fingers teased him mercilessly for a few agonizing minutes. Finally, when she figured he could take no more, she whispered, "Let's go upstairs."

  A little less than two hours later, they awoke suddenly.

  “God, we overslept,” Samantha groaned, throwing back the covers and rolling out of bed. “Sophie’s been on her own all afternoon.”

  No bloody wonder we overslept, Brad thought. The sex had been damn good. More of a workout than they’d had in months. He felt a little guilty for having allowed their sex life to take precedence over being a responsible parent, but only a little.

  They dressed quickly and went to Sophie’s room where they were not terribly surprised to find that she had already gotten up and gone downstairs.

  As they descended to the main floor they called out her name.

  The house was completely quiet.

  They smiled knowingly at one another. Sophie was hiding on them - one of her favorite games.

  They checked out all the obvious hiding places: behind the couch, under the end tables, the closets - all the spots she usually chose to conceal herself.

  There was no sign of her. After a more thorough search and no telltale giggle had been detected, they checked the mudroom. Her winter coat and boots were not where they had left them earlier.


  “We should have thought of that right away,” Samantha said. “After all, Winston’s not inside.”

  “Right,” Brad said. “I’ll go out and get her.”

  The moment he stepped outside, Winston was all over him.

  “Hey, boy,” he said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Come on, let’s find Sophie.”

  Winston whined nervously and ran off ahead of him.

  Brad called Sophie’s name, taking the walkway from the side door around to the front yard where Sophie usually played. Again, there was no sign of her. If she was in fact playing a game of hide and seek she was taking it very seriously.

  He called loudly now as he circled the house, turning towards the equipment sheds and barn. It seemed unlikely that Sophie would go this far from the house on her own. She was not an overly adventurous child and the barn and sheds would be intimidating to her, especially in the waning light of late afternoon.

  Brad scoured the interior of the barn. There really weren’t all that many places to hide here, even if she had been inclined to do so. The sheds were even quicker to rule out.

  He was shouting Sophie’s name in earnest now. How could she possibly continue on with the game when her father was so obviously displaying signs of real concern?

  It was, without question, out of character for her to act this way.

  So much out of character it was impossible to accept.

  He knew, in a sudden, gut-wrenching moment of understanding, why Sophie was not responding.

  There was no game. She wasn’t hiding.

  She was gone.

  CHAPTER 5

  Bert brought the pickup to a stop on the snow-packed parking area in front of the house. He removed his key from the ignition and was about to climb out of the vehicle when he saw Brad running toward him from the direction of the barn. There was a terrified look on his face. “What is it?” Bert called out. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sophie!” Brad gasped, his breath coming in short ragged spurts, clouds of condensation forming in the cold air around him. “We can’t find her anywhere!”

  “What? But how---”

  “We all went for a nap after we got back from cutting the tree. When Sam and I woke up, she was gone.”

  “Have you looked in ---?”

  “We’ve looked everywhere. She’s … somebody must have taken her.”

  As crazy as that sounded, Bert didn’t waste time arguing. “Have you called Callie?”

  “I was just going to when I saw you. I was---”

  “Come on. Let’s get to the phone.”

  They ran into the house. Samantha was pacing back and forth, muttering, “Oh God, oh God … ”

  Bert went to the phone in the hallway, dialed the number to the police station, and got Callie on the line. As calmly as he could he told her what had happened.

  "I'll be there as quick as I can," Callie said. "In the meantime, check things like feed containers, the well, any discarded appliances, anything that could conceivably trap a small child." A year earlier she and Miles had responded to a similar call. That one had resulted in the discovery of a seven-year-old boy at the bottom of an eighty-foot-deep dry well. The boy’s neck had been broken in the fall; he had died immediately. The memory of that experience remained fresh in her mind. She still woke up some nights from nightmarish dreams as a consequence. As she grabbed her car keys and rushed from the office she prayed this call would end on a better note.

  Bert and Samantha searched the house and outbuildings again, keeping in mind Callie’s suggestions. But there wasn’t all that much to check. There were no footprints leading to the well and aside from the barn itself, which contained cattle stalls, a hayloft, and odds and sods of equipment that Bert needed to tend to the farm’s meager requirements now that he was retired, the search went quickly.

  Brad took the pickup and sped along the road for half a mile in one direction and then the other, searching for anything that might signal the route Sophie had been taken. Both windows in the pickup were down and, even though he was aware of the futility of his actions, he screamed her name out repeatedly as he covered the distance.

  “This can't be happening,” he mumbled to himself, his voice trembling with such profound fear he could barely catch his breath. “God, let me wake up from this nightmare!”

  Back at the farm Brad skidded the pickup to a stop and ran into the house. He searched his father's face. "Anything?"

  Bert shook his head. "Callie's on her way. She'll know what to do."

  “Where’s Sam?”

  Bert nodded in the direction of the living room.

  Brad found her poised on the edge of the sofa with her elbows on her knees, fisted hands nervously rubbing her chin. Her eyes were open wide but unfocused, staring in the direction of the dwindling fire they had been enjoying what seemed now like a lifetime ago.

  Brad knelt in front of her, cupping her face in his hands, wiping away her tears.

  But rather than take comfort from his gesture, she turned away, loath to focus her eyes on his. "How could we have let this happen?" she whispered.

  He wished for nothing more now than the capacity to put an end to the terror he saw in her eyes. “We’ll find her,” he muttered. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise, honey. We’ll find her. She’ll be fine.”

  But even to his own ears his words sounded pitifully futile. Sophie had vanished. Kidnapped by some lunatic. God only knew whose hands were on her, what horrors she might be experiencing, at this very moment.

  No words he could utter - certainly not the hollow assurances he had just spoken - were going to make it sound better than it was.

  ****

  Waiting at the kitchen window, Bert saw Callie's patrol car pulling into the driveway. He went to the front door, let her in, and led her to the living room.

  Without preamble Callie pulled a chair up to face the sofa where Brad and Samantha sat. "Okay, tell me everything from the beginning. Don't leave out anything, no matter how trivial it may seem."

  Brad shook his head in frustration. "Christ, I just wish there was something I could tell you that would help."

  "Take it slow," Callie directed. "Just try to be calm. Now … talk to me."

  Brad fought to get his emotions under control. He took a deep breath. "We put Sophie down for her nap about 2:15," he began, his voice weak and uncertain. "Then we had a few drinks and lost track of time, I guess. Around 3:00 or so we went upstairs … to rest." Brad glanced nervously at Samantha. "We fell asleep. When we woke up around quarter to five she was gone. Her snowsuit, boots, and toque are gone, too. It looks like she was building a snowman …” His voice drifted off as emotion threatened to overtake him.

  "Was Sophie in the habit of going outside by herself?" Callie asked calmly.

  "I … not really."

  "Would she willingly go with someone she didn’t know?"

  Brad leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and put his hands over his face. For a moment he couldn’t speak. It was all too much. "No,” he finally responded. “Definitely not. We live in New York. We warn her about talking to strangers all the time. But kids … who knows how much they retain? Christ, we didn't even consider there would be anything to worry about here."

  Hearing her worst fears put into words, a sob of despair escaped from Samantha.

  Callie put a hand on her arm. "Try to think positively, Samantha. We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise you. We will." She rose and went to the wall phone located in the hallway and dialed her deputy, Ralph Torrens, at home. "Ralph, we've got a missing child, possibly an abduction, on our hands," she said quietly. "I know you're sick but we're going to have to mobilize a search party and get the county boys up to speed on this right away. I need you to meet me at the office as quick as you can." She hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen.

  "Have any of you noticed anything unusual since you've been here? Any strange vehicles around - anything at all?" Callie asked.

 
Brad and Bert shook their heads. Samantha's response was a whispered, "No."

  “Do you have a recent photograph of Sophie that I can take with me?”

  Brad removed one from his wallet and handed it to Callie. The photo showed Sophie the previous summer, posing in their backyard with a doll she had just received for her birthday. She was smiling happily, a darling little girl without a care in the world.

  "There's always the possibility Sophie's been kidnapped for ransom," Callie told them, "so I'm going to have someone monitor your phone. I'll radio in a request for roadblocks to be set up immediately. In the meantime, try to hold together."

  She headed for the door, then stopped and turned back. "Samantha," she said slowly and with all the sincerity she could muster, "I promise you we're going to do everything humanly possible to get Sophie back to you safely." With that she left.

  Thirty minutes later a young black woman wearing an Oxford County Sheriff's Department uniform arrived at the farm. She introduced herself as Officer Joyce Harder. She was carrying a recording device she attached to the phone. She explained that she would remain at the farm to monitor all calls for the next twenty-four hours. Soon after that Callie phoned.

  “Brad,” she said when he picked up, “my deputy is organizing a civilian search party as we speak. You’re welcome to join in if you’re up to it. Actually, I think it’s a good idea. You’ll obviously be familiar with anything Sophie might have dropped or left behind. Meanwhile, I’ve got road blocks in place on every major highway and every secondary road leading out of the county. I’ve also been in touch with the FBI in Augusta. The Bureau has agreed to send out an expert on missing children cases if nothing concrete develops within twenty-four hours.”

  “Okay …”

  “The search party should be assembling very shortly. It would be good if you got involved.”