Parker And The Gypsy by Susan Carroll Page A

horrible loud noise and it frightens him.”
    Although the last thing he wanted to do was encourage this charade, Mike couldn’t help asking, “Can you see anything? Are you getting a mental picture? Can you tell where he is?”
    â€œIt’s not clear. He’s outside the inn...I think.”
    â€œAnd what’s the noise?”
    â€œA—a siren. And flashing red lights. John senses something bad is going to happen.”
    â€œI get that same feeling every time I see red lights in my rearview mirror.” But Mike’s quip fell flat. Sara was making him uneasy. She’d gone ice white, the contraction of her brow looking almost painful. If Sara was faking, she was damned good at this—the best he’d ever seen. She hardly seemed to be aware of anything Mike said or did, lost in a trance of her own making.
    â€œHis mother,” she murmured. “John senses something is wrong with his mother. Mr. Kiefer is trying to comfort him, telling him everything is going to be all right.”
    Yeah, right, Mike mused bitterly. Where had he heard that one before? Although he’d promised Sara to remain still, he started pacing. He couldn’t help it.
    Sara suddenly began speaking in a different voice, the soft reassuring tone of an adult trying to comfort a small child.
    â€œIt’s going to be okay, Johnny. Your mommy has to go away...in—in the big shiny white car.”
    Big shiny white car, my butt, Mike thought, rolling his eyes. The kid had been six years old. What’d Kiefer think he was, stupid or something? He’d know an ambulance when he saw one.
    â€œBut you’re going to be taken care of, John,” Sara continued, her voice cracking a little. “There is a nice man coming who will help you find a new home.”
    â€œNo, no!” Sara dropped to a heart-breaking whimper. “Don’t want new home. Want my Mommy.”
    Clinging to the toy dog, Sara began to rock back and forth.
    â€œSara?” Mike asked sharply. “What the hell’s happening now?”
    â€œGone. Mommy gone. But the gray man is here.”
    â€œThe gray man?” Mike echoed. “Who’s that? You mean someone from the child welfare board?”
    â€œDon’t...don’t like the gray man. A-afraid. Want Mommy. Can’t breathe.” Sara drew in a great unsteady gulp of air. “Chest hurts. All squeezed tight.”
    He knew exactly what she was talking about because oddly enough, listening to her, he was finding it hard to breathe himself. His throat felt raw and dry, like it was closing shut.
    â€œSara, that’s enough,” he growled. She was really starting to scare him. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
    But Sara didn’t even seem to hear him.
    â€œTh-the gray man says I have to be a good boy. But he isn’t nice. Wants to—to take my doggie, throw him in the garbage. Says he’s too dirty.”
    â€œSara, just stop it!”
    â€œNo, no!” Sara clutched the dog to her chest in a death grip, scrambling to cower back against the headboard of the bed. “Can’t have him. Have to—to hide my doggie in Mommy’s secret place. In the closet.”
    â€œSara!”
    â€œH-have to....” She was trembling all over now, tears starting to stream down her cheeks.
    Mike had had all he could take. Striding over, he wrenched the dog from her hands and flung it violently across the room. A terrible cry breached Sara’s lips. Seizing her by the shoulders, Mike gave her a rough shake.
    â€œSara! Snap out of it.”
    Her eyes flew open wide to stare into his, frightened and disoriented. A ragged sob escaped her, but slowly the haze faded, leaving only blue eyes brimming with tears.
    â€œYou—you okay?” Mike asked, gentling his touch on her shoulders.
    Sara nodded, color seeping back into her cheeks. She squirmed away from him and rose shakily to her feet. Touching one