Page 85 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
She had dressed Genny in a T-shirt and white tights this morning, so all she had to do was drop a satin robe over her head and cinch her waist with a length of tinsel garland. The director was attaching the more delicate wings, thank God. The three kings were wearing fancy robes with even fancier long vests over; Hudson’s fit him perfectly, but the frankincense king had had a growth spurt over the summer, and there were at least five inches of khakis showing between his robe and his sneakers. “Wear black pants Christmas Eve and we’ll call it good,” the director’s assistant said. “Mrs. Knox, we still need some necklaces for the gold king.”
“I’ll have them.” Hadley added a trip to the dollar store onto her list.
The director clapped her hands. “Okay, everyone! Into the church! Let’s go!”
Hadley waited until the crowd of kids and volunteers had emptied out of the parish hall. The coffee was tempting… No, better get on the road. She could hit up a McDonald’s drive-through. As she walked back toward the church, Clare burst into the hall. “Hadley!Thank God!” Clare grabbed her by the sleeve and yanked her into the office.
“What—”
“Listen to this.” Clare held up her phone and tapped her voice mail.
“Clare?” The whisper was so soft Hadley could barely make it out. “It’s Tiny. I’m at Cal’s depot. Please help me. He took Rose, and we’re locked in the office.” There was a pause and she continued, “Two guards. With guns? And there’s another—” The recording ended.
“We have to go get her.”
Hadley had so many objections to that she didn’t know which one to start with. “No” was all that came out.
Clare shook the phone at her. “She called this morning, while I had my phone turned off. This message could be three hours old already. If he moves her, we might never find her again.”
“Why didn’t she call the police?”
“She doesn’ttrustthe police.”
“Well, we do, and we need to call the MKPD.”
“The depot’s near Lake George.”
“Then we need to call the Warren County Sheriff’s office! And what about the chief? Where is he?” He hadn’t been in church this morning.
“At home with Ethan, of course. But I don’t have time to argue with him. We can call him on the way. He’ll just say it’s a trap, anyway.”
“Of course it’s a trap, Clare!”
Hadley had frog-marched Clare back to the rectory via threats of first, not going with her and second, calling in a traffic stop on her car. The chief, having heard the voice mail, was reacting pretty much as expected.
“Getting in touch with you after five days? Calling the one time of the week anyone could expect you to be unavailable? What else could it be?”
“All right, maybe it is a trap. Let’s spring it. You think Cal March could be the key to finding out what the militia has planned? Okay, let’s go get him.”
“Clare.” The chief took her by her shoulders. “We just talked about this the other night. Racing off because of some highly suspect phone call isn’t putting Ethan first and foremost.”
She pressed her lips together. “I put him first and foremost when Cal March came for that baby girl, Russ. I helped him. I know about domestic violence. I knew he might kill Rose just to get back at her mother. And I still just…” She opened her hands, as if dropping something. “Let her go.”
The chief’s face changed when she said that, and he pulled her into his arms. He looked at Hadley over her head.What do we do?
“Clare.” She rubbed the priest’s back. “Have you been thinking Rose and Tiny were dead this whole time?”
Clare pushed away from her husband. “Yes! And the fact she’s alive and managed to call me feels like a deliverance.” She held up her phone. “So even if it’s a trap, we need to go, and we need to go now. Because if we don’t get her away from him…”
The swinging door to the living room opened and a college-aged girl peeked in. “Um… Sorry to butt in, Uncle Russ. Are you still going to need me to babysit this afternoon?”
The chief pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “We are, Emma.” He looked at Clare. “Just not so we can go shopping.”
2.
They went in Clare’s car, which already had a baby seat. Before leaving the rectory, the chief called Lyle MacAuley, who had promised to meet them after notifying the Warren County Sheriff’s Department. The chief also insisted they stop at Hadley’s house so she could get her gun, pancake holster, and restraints. Carrying never made her feel particularly safer, but at least she felt more like a cop and less like a harried mother.
“Could we please hurry a little more?” Clare looked out the window. “I swear I saw a one-legged man pushing a wheelbarrow pass us.”
