Don’t they know? Can’t they sense it? Katie is gone!
She’s all right, he told himself over and over in a prayerful litany. She has to be all right.
Behind him, as C-SPAN broadcast the current doings in Congress, John stayed at the window, trying to numb his feelings, trying to think, trying to keep from screaming.
24
“You hear that?” Poppy said.
She sat across the kitchen table from Paulie, the remains of a turkey sub between them. She was still furious at him, but also wishing he’d shave off his beard and dye his hair back to black, so he’d start looking like his old self again.
“Hear what?” Paulie said.
“Shhh!” She got up and turned off the TV. “Listen.” She heard it, softly, coming through the front room from the master bedroom. The sound she’d known would come, the sound she’d dreaded hearing.
Muffled crying.
“The kid’s awake.”
“Better go check on her,” Paulie said.
“Why me? This was your idea.”
“C’mon, Poppy,” he said. “You’re not gonna be like this the whole gig, are you?”
“I’m not taking care of no kid,” she told him. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll let her cry.” He took a bite of his sub and started flipping through the copy of Blue Blood he’d brought along.
If that was the way he wanted to be, she’d do the same. She picked up The Star and opened it. She tried to concentrate on the page-three continuation of the cover story on Sharon Stone but gave up after reading the same paragraph half a dozen times.
The muffled sobs filled her brain.
“Damn it!” she said. She stood and threw the paper across the table at Paulie. “And damn you.” Paulie looked up at her and smiled but said nothing.
Poppy stomped out of the kitchen and went straight to the master bedroom. She retrieved the Roseanne mask from the couch and slipped it over her face.
But she hesitated at the door. A crying kid. What was she like going to do with a frightened, crying kid? More than Paulie, that was for sure, but that wasn’t saying much.
Oh, hell. Let’s get this over with. She pushed the door open and poked her head inside.
The kid was lying on her back on the bed, both hands tied to the bed frame above her head. The blindfold and gag were in place, but her beret had fallen off and she’d kicked off the blanket.
What skinny little legs she had.
And she was crying. This totally sucked, frightening a little kid like this.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The crying stopped as the kid stiffened, listening. Better not scare her anymore than she already is. Better say something.
“Don’t be afraid…” Hell, she didn’t even know her name. “It’s okay. You’re all right. No one’s gonna hurt you.” Poppy moved closer until she was standing over her.
Even in the dim light of the darkened room, Poppy could see tears glistening on the cheeks below the black sleep mask they used as a blindfold.
“Listen, if you promise not to yell, I’ll like take that gag out of your mouth. Is that a deal?” The kid nodded.
“Promise not to yell, now.” Another nod.
Poppy removed the gag.
“Where am I?” the kid said, her voice wavering through a sob. “Who are you? Why am I tied up? Where’s my daddy?”
“You’re going to be staying here awhile.”
“I want my daddy. Why isn’t he here?” Might as well lay it out for her: “He doesn’t know where you are.”
She started crying again, the sobs becoming progressively louder. More tears flooded from under the blindfold.
“I want to go home!”
“Remember our deal about not yelling. I’ll have to put that gag back in if you yell.” The kid bit her lower lip in an attempt to muffle her sobs. The sound was so pitiful, it damn near tore Poppy’s heart out. She knelt beside the bed.
“Hey, look,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re just going to be visiting with us for a few days.”
“I wuh-want my daddy!”
Poppy had to get her off that subject. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Kuh-katie.”
“Kuh-katie, huh? I never heard a name like Kuh-katie before.”
“No. Kay-tie.”
“Oh. Katie. I’ve heard of that. That’s a cute name. Look, Katie… are you hungry?”
She shook her head.
“Have to go to the bathroom?”
A nod. “Your voice sounds funny.”
“That’s because I’m wearing a mask.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to see my face.”
“I can’t see anything.”
“I know. But just in case the blindfold slips. We’re like very careful about that here.” The kid shrugged—either she didn’t understand or didn’t care. She’d better care. It was important.
“Okay. Here’s how we’re gonna work this. I’ll untie your hands and take you to the bathroom. You go in there and like do your business; then knock when you want to come out. Got it?” Another nod.
“Okay, then.” Poppy began untying the cords around her wrists.
Bathroom detail was usually Paulie’s job, mainly because up till now all their packages had been totally guys. She’d never like actually done this, but she knew the procedure. Paulie had a handcuff routine he used with the guys—in case they got any wise ideas. Poppy didn’t think that would be necessary now.
“Here’s how this works, Katie. Your blindfold comes off only in the bathroom. Once you’re finished up in there, you put it back on and like knock on the door. I’ll let you out then. You understand? You never take the blindfold off unless we tell you to.”
“Why not?” Poppy was taken aback by the question. No one had ever asked that before. Of course, all the other packages knew the answer.
“Because I don’t want you to see my face.”
“I thought you were wearing a mask.” What is she? Poppy thought. A lawyer?
“I am. But I don’t want you to see that, either.”
“Why not?”
“Because… because I don’t, that’s why,” Poppy said as she undid the last knot. “There. Now you can sit up.” She grabbed the kid’s shoulders and pulled her up. Through the fabric of her blazer and her uniform. Poppy could feel her bony little body trembling.
And she remembered feeling just like that at times when some guy she’d been with suddenly turned mean and began beating on her. She remembered that trapped, terrified feeling, with nobody to turn to for help. Probably the worst feeling in the world… and probably just what this kid was feeling.
She had a sudden urge to wrap her arms around Katie, to hug her close and absorb those tremors. No way. Keep her totally at arm’s length. No telling what a scared kid might try.
But a little reassurance couldn’t hurt.
“Don’t be scared, Katie. You’ll be fine. Think of this as a little vacation with some like really weird relatives.” Yeah, Poppy thought: an Appleton vacation. She shuddered. “And after it’s over, you’ll be going home.”
“I wanna go home now.”
“Not now. But soon, okay?” An unhappy nod, then, “What’s your name?” Another question that caught her by surprise. No package she’d baby-sat before had asked that. But she had an answer.
“Jane,” Poppy said. “Jane Doe. And I’m here with my husband John Doe.” She and Paulie always called each other Jane and John when they were baby-sitting a package. “You can call me Jane, okay?”