((*Chapter Two*))

The two officers stood up and stretched. “We best be going now,” one said and they headed to the door. They left.

Monica turned to Justin with tearful eyes. “Do you think he’s still--” She was cut off as Jessica appeared.

“Now what happened, Daddy?” Jessica asked in her babyish voice.

“Come here, baby.” Justin held out his arms and lifted his daughter into his lap. She looked up at him with questioning eyes. “You know you always wanted a brother?”

“Yes.” Jessica nodded. “Is Mommy having one for me?” She got excited.

“No. Four years ago, before you were born, we had a two-year-old named Justin Jr. We left him with a babysitter one night while we went out to eat. When we got back, little Justin had been kidnapped, and the babysitter was found dead.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Where is he now?”

Justin looked at Monica for help, but she shook her head. “We don’t know.”

“I bet he’s in the playroom,” Jessica said certainly. “I’ll go look for him.” She toddled off downstairs.

“She doesn’t understand.” Monica looked up at Justin.

“Obviously.”

Monica started to cry again. “I lost my family! If we hadn’t gone out that night—if we had stayed at home, Justin Jr. would still be with us! I wanted to stay at home! You’re the one who wanted to go out! It’s your fault! My son is dead because of you! You killed him!”

Justin’s expression went from understanding and sympathetic to angry. “You didn’t lose your family, Monica. You got me. And Jessica. But you only look at the bad side of things.” He walked to the stairs heading to the remodeled basement. “When you cool off, I’ll be downstairs with Jessica.”

Monica sank to the floor and cried some more. Finally, she dried her eyes with a tissue and picked up the phone. She dialed the police station.

One of the officers that had visited her just a few minutes ago answered. “Hello, Orlando County Police Station. This is Officer McGill speaking.”

“Hello, this is Monica Timberlake. You just visited my house.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I wanted to know if I could go to that—that, shrine you talked about.”

Officer McGill took a deep breath. “I don’t know if that would be the--”

“Please.” Monica bit her lip, waiting for the reply. All she need was the address and she’d hang up.

“Ok,” the officer relented. “The address is 405 Drury Lane, Apartment complex C, Room 4A, first floor. I’ll pick you up in about ten minutes.”

“No, no, that’s ok. I’d rather go alone.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t do that.”

“And why not? There’s no law saying that I can’t. It’s not the scene of a crime. I’m going alone,” Monica insisted. She hung up before Officer McGill could say anything else.

Monica grabbed her car keys and went outside. She locked the door and climbed in the car, revving up the engine. No need telling Justin where I’m going, she decided. He’d only convince me not to go, and I feel I have to do this.

405 Drury Lane was part of the bad side of town. It was the kind of place where murderers, rapists, and burglars hung out. And kidnappers, Monica added bitterly.

She got out and found the apartment complex and knocked. “Why the hell am I knocking?” she said aloud to herself and pushed open the door, which only made a small creak.

The apartment was rundown and old. The narrow front hall had rotted wooden boards and a wobbly wooden table on the side of it.

Monica edged past it and made her way to the kitchen. All that was in there was a table with metal folding chairs, a leaking faucet with a round basin for the sink, and a humming refrigerator. She opened the refrigerator door. Inside were a half-eaten browned apple, a quart of milk, and a pack of baloney with mold growing on it. She made a face and closed it.

The living room was empty except for a threadbare rug and a sagging sofa with stuffing coming out on one side. She heard a clicking sound coming from a room in the back.

Monica stiffened. “Anybody there?” she called. When no one answered, she shrugged and walked to a room in the back.

It should have been a bedroom, but instead it had been converted into the shrine Officer McGill had mentioned. Pictures of her husband covered every inch of wall space. A TV sat in the corner, with tapes stacked on top of it. Examining them, Monica discovered that they were Mickey Mouse Club tapes. Pictures of her were scattered around the room, covered with blood, or what looked like blood, and red crosses.

Turning around, Monica saw a door on the side, which must have been a closet. She stepped over to it and flung it open.

Suddenly, a figure lunged out at her. The figure tackled her to the ground.

Chapter Three