At the base of the bluff I hand Ben off to Deputy Roper, the same deputy who is Griff’s good friend. Logan knows that we are on the lookout for Griff, but he doesn’t know that Ben has told me Griff is in those woods, was the one who had beat him senseless, who most likely hurt Petra Gregory.
“Logan, can you transport Ben here to the hospital in Willow Creek? We need to get him checked out. His mother is there waiting for him.”
Logan looks at me suspiciously. “You got a suspect back in there?”
“Maybe. Tucci, Dunn and I are going back in to check a few things out. How ’bout it? Can you take Ben to town?”
“Sure,” Logan answers. I can tell he doesn’t want to, but he can hardly refuse to help the son of one of his good friends. “Ben, boy, you really got messed up. Who did this to you?” Logan asks.
Ben knows enough not to tell Logan that Griff, in fact, had been the one to mess him up. He just shrugs his shoulders and then winces at the pain the movement causes.
I see Ben settle into the back of the cruiser and I poke my head into the open door. “Your mom is waiting for you at the hospital. So is Calli. You don’t worry about things out here. We’ll take care of everything. You just look after your mom and sister. They’re really going to need you now, Ben.”
“Okay,” Ben says softly and I pat his shoulder before I close the car door. Poor kid, I think, then stop myself. I had hated it when people whispered that about me. It got to be so that I could tell when people were just thinking
“Ready?” I ask Tucci and Dunn as Logan pulls away with Ben. They are, and we head back into the forest, this time on foot and with flashlights in hand.
MARTIN
Too quickly, the sound of the helicopter has disappeared. My Petra is gone. I had found her, and then had to let her go again. I am at a loss as to how I had ended up on the back of a four-wheeler, crashing through the forest with my arms wrapped around a perfect stranger.
And now I am in a police car, traveling at a maddeningly slow speed to my mother-in-law’s home. The kind officer has offered to go and tell Fielda on my behalf so that I could arrive more quickly at the hospital in Iowa City, but I say no and thank him. I want to tell Fielda that Petra is alive, hurt, but on her way to a place where the medical personnel can help her. My daughter is being carted off to a hospital that I have never visited, in a town that I have never entered before. The number of people I am entrusting my daughter to is staggering: pilot, nurses, doctors, and I know eventually the police officers will want to question her about what happened today. I wonder if she has awoken. She was not conscious when I first found her, her beautiful face so bruised and distorted that if I had not seen her curly, black hair, matted with what I now know to be blood, I might have mistaken her for another unfortunate child. Her breathing was regular, and that was all that really mattered to me, that she was living. The cuts, the contusions…the damage that was done to her, I can cope with, even though I push the very thought of what may have happened, what I will to not have happened out of my mind. She was breathing, sweet, warm breaths and I will send her mother to her. Fielda will make it all better; she will be a comfort to Petra. I, on the other hand, will return to the forest. I will return and find the monster that has done this to my family. It will not matter that the man is Calli and Ben’s father, or Antonia’s husband. That will be of little consequence to me. I will find him and I will kill him.
ANTONIA
Dr. Kelsing remained by my side as Calli finished with her X-rays and says she will return after Calli is all cleaned up and settled for the evening. I thank her and ask if I should try to get Calli to talk.
“No, just be with her for now, just be her mother. Talk to her as you always have. Ask her questions, but don’t expect verbal answers. She needs to feel safe. Knowing that you are with her will go a long way to making her feel safe. I’ll check back with you shortly.”
Molly begins gently to clean Calli’s cut feet. Her feet are coated with dirt, dust and dried blood and it is difficult at first to tell the extent of the damage to them, but as Molly lightly begins to wash away the filth it is quite apparent that Calli will need stitches, and that it will be a very long time until her feet are fully healed. I try not to gasp at the sight of the deep punctures and gouges in the bottom of Calli’s feet and at the livid red welts that crisscross the tops of her feet. The nail of her big toe is torn clean away. Calli goes rigid and begins to shake in either cold or in pain, I suspect both. She begins to cry silently.
“It’s going to be okay, Calli,” I tell her, finding my voice, stepping in front of her line of vision so she will not have to see what Molly is doing down there. I rub her arms to try and warm her.
“Calli, I’m just getting your feet cleaned up so you don’t get a nasty infection in them. I know it’s no fun. Just hang tight, okay?” Molly explains.
Calli nods bravely, wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes.
“That’s right, Calli,” I whisper in her ear. “Hold tight. I’m right here.”
Calli’s back arches and she begins kicking and struggling to pull away from Molly.
“Whoa, Calli, I need you to try and stay still. I know it hurts,” Molly says soothingly, despite the fact that Calli’s foot strikes her in the chin. As much as I like Molly, I feel relief that Calli still has some fight left in her.
Dr. Higby enters the room, comes over to Calli and smiles at her and moves to ruffle her hair. Calli cowers and buries her head in my chest and Dr. Higby pulls his hand back.
“That’s okay, Calli. I guess I wouldn’t want anyone rubbing my head if I felt the way you do right now, either,” Dr. Higby says jovially. He washes his hands in the small sink in the corner of the room and pulls on a pair of latex gloves. “Calli, I’m going to give you a little medicine right now. It will help your feet take a nap.”
Calli peeks up at Dr. Higby doubtfully.
“Well, they’re not going to start snoring or anything.” Calli’s mouth twitches at this. “But they will feel numb,” Dr. Higby continues. “You won’t feel any pain in them at all in a few minutes.” I feel Calli relax slightly in my arms.
As Dr. Higby and Molly mend Calli’s feet, I speak to my daughter. I whisper to her all the favorite stories she loves to hear and I love to tell her. I tell her about the night she was born and the incredible thunderstorm that blew into town the minute I went into labor.
“It was the strangest storm for October. The day began gray, but warm. You weren’t due to arrive for three more weeks, but I felt the familiar twinges, the slight pulling across the top of my abdomen, the ache in my back. It was just like it was with Ben, but this time I knew more of what to expect. Daddy was home from Alaska and he was so excited for you to arrive. He kept fidgeting around the house, trying to find things to do. I swear he oiled every squeaky door in the house, caulked the bathroom floor and cleaned the leaves out of the gutters. He kept asking me if I was all right, if the baby was coming now and I would say no. Not for a long time, I told him.
“Finally, I had to shoo him away because he was making me so nervous. He took Ben over to the park to play catch with the football and I went in the bedroom to lie down. It wasn’t ten minutes later when I saw the flash of lightning and heard the enormous boom of thunder, and at the exact, the very same moment that it began to rain, not just rain but pour, torrential rain, my water broke and I knew you were on your way.”
Calli smiles slightly at this story I have told her so many times. Her limbs have relaxed completely in my arms, but her eyes are still alert, as if she’s ready to leap from the table if need be.
“I didn’t know what to do. Your daddy had left with Ben in the car. I had told him it would be hours before we would need to go to the hospital. The rain began pouring down in buckets; I could hear it pounding on the roof and
