area. Iâll tell Doc Flint. Iâll bet heâll be putting in some calls himself. Iâll check in again after I make sure the boyâs all right.â
She looked one last time toward the woods. No sign of either man. She pressed harder on the gas. She couldnât go any faster, it was just too dangerous. âSam, you keep bundled up. Donât worry about talking right now. Just get yourself warm, thatâs right. You can tell me everything in a little while. Right now, you just think about how you saved yourself. My goodness, youâre a hero.â
Sam nodded. It made him feel woozy. A hero? He didnât feel like much of a hero. His teeth were chattering and that made him feel like a baby. He hadnât been a baby for longer than he could remember. And there was that little girl Keely pressed against him, two fat braids the color of wheat toast hanging over her shoulders, touching his face she was so close. He closed his eyes. He wasnât about to cry in front of the little girl. He wanted his father.
It took them nearly twenty minutes to get to Doc Flintâs office in the rain. Katie kept talking to both children,keeping her voice calm and low, telling Sam about how the weather was going to be really bad until some time tomorrow, telling him how Keely was five, not as old as he was, and about how Keely could play âWhen You Wish Upon a Starâ on the piano. Keely chimed in and told Sam sheâd teach him how to play it, too, and the C scale.
Sam looked bad, Katie thought, worrying now as she pulled in front of the small Victorian house that stood at the corner of Pine and Maple, two blocks off Main Street. It was tall, skinny, and painted cream with dark blue trim. Jonah Flint lived upstairs and had his examination rooms and office downstairs. She said, âKeely, I want you to stay put until I get Sam into the office. Donât move, donât even think about moving. Iâll come back for you with the umbrella.â
She and Sam were already soaked, steam rising off their clothes because of the hot air gushing out of the truck heater. The little boyâs face was sheet-white and his dark pupils were dilated. There was blood oozing down his cheek from a cut on his head.
She eased him across the front seat, raised the umbrella, and whispered against his small ear, âGrab me around the neck, Sam, itâll make it easier.â When she straightened, he wrapped his legs around her waist. âThatâs good, Sam. Now, itâs going to be all right, I promise you. Youâre with me now and Iâm as tough as an old boot and meaner than my father, who was meaner than anybody before he died. You know something else, Sam? Since youâre a hero, Iâm not the only one whoâs really proud of you. Your folks will be proud, too. Donât worry now, everythingâs going to be all right.â
She kept talking, hoping she was distracting the boy as she carried him into the empty waiting room. Katie wasnât surprised there wasnât anybody there, not even Heidi Johns, Dr. Flintâs receptionist and nurse. Who would want to be out in weather like this except for Monroe Cuddy,who might have shot himself in the foot again, or Marilee Baskim, who was close to having a baby?
She called out, âJonah!â
No answer. What if he wasnât here? She didnât want to take Sam to the emergency room.
âJonah!â
5
J onah Flint, just turned forty and very proud of his full head of blacker-than-sin hair, came running out of the back room, the stethoscope nearly falling out of the pocket of his white coat.
âJesus, Katie, whatâs going on? Whoâs this?â
âThis,â Katie said, carrying Sam into the first examination room, âis Sam and he just escaped kidnappers, believe it or not. Thereâs a cut on his head and I think heâs going into shock. I was afraid you werenât here.â
âI was