Mildred & The Federal Holiday Abductor

By C.R.Barber

A Federal Holiday on the calendar means nothing but dread in the city of Annapolis. Fear has been king ever since a black man in dreadlocks began throwing young girls inside his van in on the holiday. Any man with dreadlocks is a suspect, but only one in particular is targeted, Barry Duval. He is black, he has dreadlocks and once in a while he drives a van.
Over the course of Barry’s life, he had been brutalized by white policemen due to the color of his skin, but whatever had happened before, could not compare to the injustice he is facing today. The media has tarnished his good name to the point that he loses his job and is kicked out of his apartment while lying in the ICU, in a coma! Even after the FBI clear his name, a nurse injects something into his IV, attempting to kill him. It is now obvious that no one believes that he is innocent...except Mildred and her teenage kids.

Born and raised in Bay Ridge, Mildred Saunders, a USA Olympics Gold Medal winner has acquired a variety of psychic abilities after a near-fatal accident and today she is learning how to use them. In a dream-like world she connects to the victims and will do everything in her power to find them...and the abductor.

While Mildred helps Barry through hard times, he teaches her about something that she thought was a thing of the past: racism.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.R.Barber
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370470785

C.R.Barber

My name is Catherine. I was born and raised in Annapolis, Maryland. At the age of 20 I married a Chilean. During my life in Chile I raised 6 children. I have been a Reiki practitioner since the year 2001 and went on to becoming a Reiki Master in 2013. I am a qualified therapist in the areas of Biomagnetism and Bio-energy Therapy. I enjoy reading and writing fiction novels, epic adventures and thrillers. After the loss of my 10 year old twin son in 1995, I discovered the Law of Attraction and continued to study how it actually works. I discovered the secret of 'The Secret' and wrote Creating Your New Reality to share my discovery.

Book preview

Chapter Content

Chapter 1 A Twist of Fate

Chapter 2 Olympic Gold

Chapter 3 Homecoming

Chapter 4A Haunting Christmas

Chapter 5 The Federal Holiday Abductor

Chapter 6 The Public Defender

Chapter 7 Investigative Task Force Organization

Chapter 8 Do Reflections Lie?

Chapter 9 The Man From Islamorada

Chapter 10 Clancy Jeffers

Chapter 11 El Niño

Chapter 12 A Delicate Family Saga

Chapter 13 Cat Hole Creek

Chapter 14 The Dove House

Chapter 15 Thanksgiving

Chapter 16 Moonlight Nostalgia

Chapter 17 Followers and Likes

Chapter 18 Tweets

Chapter 19 The World Continues Spinning

Chapter 20 A Tragedy Just Waiting To Happen…and no one seems to care.

Chapter 21 A Dark Memorial Day

Chapter 22 The Woman Behind The Glass Door

Chapter 23 Graduation Day

Chapter 24 Find Me

Chapter 25 The County Hospital

Chapter 26 Home

Chapter 27 The Clue

Chapter 28 A Peculiar Scent

Chapter 29 Buddies?

Chapter 30 Racism

Chapter 31 The Dark Side of Positivity

Chapter 32 Lynn Waterloo

Chapter 33 Masculine Perfection

Chapter 34 Chrystmasse Farm and Stables

Chapter 35A Cruel Trick of Fate

Chapter 36A Pathetic Puddle

Chapter 37 For the Love of Megan

Chapter 38 Extra Storage

Chapter 39 Birdsville

Chapter 40 A Mix of Charm, Intimidation, Manipulation & Violence

Chapter 41 Kiss my Black Ass

Chapter 42 Judgment Day

Chapter 43 Treasures of the Heart

Chapter 1– A Twist of Fate

As usual, it was hard to fall asleep and when Mildred finally did she found herself in the same nightmare that she had had since the accident. In that gloomy place was terrified girl pleading for help. Although Mildred could never see her face very clearly, Mildred thought that it was not always the same girl; sometimes she was white, sometimes she was black, and even once she appeared to be Asian. Mildred could always hear the voice of the girl very clearly...but even that seemed to change with the passing of the months.

Please find me before it’s too late. He’s going to kill me like the others. Please, please, help me. I’m so scared! Fear pounding within, Mildred tossed and sweat profusely as she tried to communicate with the frighten teenager. My face! Oh God, what he’ll do with my face! As Mildred lie petrified deep in slumber, she relentlessly tried to see the girls face and find out who and where she was. The nightmare was always sluggish with a profound feeling of helplessness and heightened fear.

Where are you? Tell me your name! How can I find you? As usual the alarm clock suddenly went off and the girl was gone, again.

Today was the day after Labor Day; the sixth national holiday on the calendar that came and went without a teenage girl being violently abducted. It seemed that the Federal Holiday Abductor had outsmarted those perusing him, and from the looks of things, he had gone under, into hiding. Could it be possible that he’d never surface again? To everyone’s outrage and to the Mayor’s embarrassment, the dragnet failed to find the criminal. The whereabouts of the missing teenagers was one of the greatest crime mysteries that Annapolis, Maryland had ever faced.

At Annapolis High School, students were arriving for the first day of school after summer vacation. The sunny September dawn quickly collapsed into a sullen day, overcast and with heavy raindrops forming instant puddles and offering no inducement to going outdoors. Nonetheless, Mildred’s schedule was filled to the brim. There was never a shortage of things to do, and her self-esteem demanded it remain that way…especially after the life-altering accident.

On this wet Tuesday morning she was dropping her teenage kids, Tommy and Megan, off at their high school for their first day back after summer vacation. The clock edged its way to eight as the car pulled up to the old, brick façade.

Megan was fifteen months younger than Tommy. She’d be turning seventeen in November. She was a junior who was satisfied with the idea of starting back to school, while Tommy, a senior, was not in the least. There was a girl on his mind...one in particular: Gloria.

Bye kids, Mildred called out as they hopped out of the car into the downpour. Got your phones? I’ll call you in a little while, make sure everything’s okay, she said as flashes of the abducted girls invaded her brain, all of the time. Oh the horror of having her own daughter disappear, she thought with the images of a dreadful dark place that haunted her slumber. Every single night since the accident, cries from someone came into her head. Night after night, fear invaded her and would last throughout the day. With nausea making its way to her throat she forced the horrible thoughts and images aside and watched her kids leave her protective sight.

I’ll call around lunch time, Meg! Mildred shouted out of the window, her face immediately getting wet.

Megan, in a pair of hip-hugger jeans and turquoise tank top, shot the sky a beseechful growl, shouted a quick good-bye, showing her phone. Chill Mom. It’ll be okay. Please don’t call! She covered her head with her notebook and dashed with catlike grace toward the Annapolis High School in a useless attempt to avoid getting soaked. Tommy moseyed along behind her, getting drenched.

Tommy, you’ll catch pneumonia. Hurry! Mildred shouted.

Still walking in first gear, Tommy spun around on his heels, put a little smile on his glistening, wet face, gave a subtle wave and yelled, Chill Mom. His voice was handsomely low and was trailing off as he shuffled along in the rain. It’s cool, he said with a little jerk of his head and amusement in his eyes. Later.

Tom, she shouted over the drumming, yet warm rain. You’ll keep your eye on Megan, won’t you?

Mom, chill, he calmly said, glancing back at her. Even though nine months had passed since the last abduction, the entire city of Annapolis was still worried every time a federal holiday came up on the calendar. Yesterday was Labor Day and thank God no one was abducted. Even so, he stopped and turned toward his mother’s car once again. I’ve got my sister’s back, Mom. You know I do. Okay?

Okay Tom, she replied in a sigh. Hey, got your cell phone? Text me…no better just call me if–

Mom, it’s cool, relax– he said showing her the phone. He dashed off when he heard someone call his name.

Mildred frowned at Warren, her husband when he got out of the backseat where he had been sitting with Megan to join her up front. I am so sick of hearing ‘Chill Mom’, ‘Relax Mom’. I really am! How am I supposed to ‘chill’ with everything that’s gone on; so many missing girls? How? Mildred glanced at her husband who was looking at her. Ok, I get it…the abductions stopped…and today’s not a federal holiday. There’s nothing for me to worry about! I get it! But don’t expect me to stop worrying, hun. That’s just not going to happen. Warren reached over and took her hand and she let out a long sigh.

Though Mildred was feeling enormous anxiety, she forced a grin onto her face. Her head bounced nervously up and down. It’s all right, she said to him gripping the steering wheel tightly as she eased into traffic attempting to make herself ‘chill’ instead of stewing about something she had not control of. Megan is all right and Tommy’s there to watch over her…in that huge, old school with literally thousands of students. See how tight her fingers were around the wheel, Warren placed his hand over hers and she loved how it felt. Only just last night another girl could have been abducted. I try to put myself in those parents’ place and…how they are today…the nightmare of not knowing. And…it just…, she let out a long breath. Oh my God, I just can’t imagine."

Her thoughts went from one thing to another until at one point she found herself grinning. Though both her children were moving smoothly through their adolescence, they did ‘over indulge’ now and again, like a few weeks earlier when Tom came stumbling drunk from at a friend’s birthday party who lived on the other side of the lake.

YOLO, Tommy kept slurring as though giving his Mom an excuse.

The morning after, he was so pitiful and sick with a hangover that not even Mildred had it in her heart to punish him but she did want a couple of explanations. What’s turnt? No idea, Mom, he lied and she knew it.

And YOLO. You said that several times, quite persistently.

Tommy looked at her squinting as though trying to remember.

What’s it mean? Mildred knew that it would be easy to find it online so she didn’t insist anymore.

"Nothing Mom…we use it for texting. You know like LOL, Laugh Out Loud.

And YOLO?

Means: You Only Live Once, his mouth almost smiled.

You call that living? Mildred said, shaking her head and leaving the room. Later, when she looked up ‘turnt’ she laughed when she found that it meant ‘under the influence of alcohol or drugs’. At least he was being honest about it, she said out loud to her computer screen.

Ever since that pickled night, and especially when he was getting ready to go to parties, she’d practice her college psychology on him. In an attempt to help him behave, she’d descriptively remind him of the two-day runs to the toilet, the puke, the odor, not to mention the throbbing headaches. He could vaguely remember stumbling home that night, but oh, how he wished they could eradicate the tormenting memory of the spewing nausea, the spinning room and blistering headache! He’d turn green at the mere thought.

Tommy had just turned eighteen in August. Girls considered him a hunk at school. He was on the tall side, of medium build, with semi-short brown hair, almond-shaped, pale-blue eyes, a dashing smile and tanned skin. He wore his clothes as loosely as possible; baggy jeans that hung on his hips, a t-shirt two sizes too large and black Nikes covering his feet. If he had heard it once, he had heard it a million times: Oh, Tommy is the spitting image of his father. And he was, with one exception: he got his mother’s pale-blue eyes.

On the other hand, it seemed that Megan didn’t look like anyone. Her stormy, black eyes were large pools of coffee, fringed by luxurious, long, black eyelashes. The enchanting tone of her olive skin and silky, black hair to her waist added exotically to her natural beauty. Who this girl looked like was a mystery to everyone…until…eighty-six-year-old, Grandma Elvira, Mildred’s husband’s grandmother, showed up one afternoon when Megan was a little girl. Under one arm she was carrying an old, black and white family album that looked more ancient and decrepit than her.

You see, Grandma Elvira had said, pointing to a tiny, sepia tinted photograph with her swollen, arthritic finger, it’s as though my mother has come back to life. She was from Southern Spain, you know. Jerez de la Frontera, that’s where Mamá was from. To this very day it’s famous for its fine horses and sweet, sweet wine…sherry…or Jerez, as they say in Spanish. Grandma Elvira’s eyes sparkled with pride as memories of her mother found their way off a dust collector shelf of her old mind. Warren and Mildred didn’t stop her.

Before coming to America, she went on, Mamá was a Flamenco dancer.

I didn’t know that, Grandma.

Oh yes, Warren, and famous, too!

Tell us about her, Mildred urged with interest.

There, in her hometown of Jerez, she was performing at the annual festival when a British sherry merchant, my Daddy, saw her dancing and fell in love with her on the spot. Growing up, I used to love to hear their ‘love at first sight’ story. After the wedding, Daddy took her to England where she gave birth to my oldest brother, Kendall Jr. They lived there for a few years, until the market became saturated. Daddy, being the smart business man he was, saw how much American’s loved sherry. Since the British paid high dollars for Jerez in England, he saw an opportunity in the States and moved the family to Baltimore. There he opened an import company, importing sherry, of course. Made his fortune on Andalusia’s sweet wine. For years, people couldn’t say Sherry without thinking of Saunders, she said, still remembering the good ole days.

When Grandma Elvira came back from her journey to the past, Warren and Mildred lowered their heads to the album and squinted at the tiny photograph.

Megan’s an Alonso. Just look at the resemblance. They lowered their heads all the more and still couldn’t see the miniscule picture.

Oh, give me the book, she said, yanking it abruptly away from them. Here, she crackled, her fingers flipping harshly at the few pages with no regards to the fact that they were disintegrating before their very eyes. See?

Now, that’s more like it, Grandma Elvira, Warren declared, looking at a wonderful eight by twelve of a fifteen-year-old, dancer of flamenco, posing with sensual personality and wearing a typical Flamenco dress; a drop waist velvet leotard top with floral embossed stretch mesh sleeves, an attached matte skirt that was long and flowy. Even though the portrait was in black and white, the young girl’s vibrant black eyes brilliantly reflected the fire of her gypsy ancestors.

After seeing the photos, no one could argue; Megan was identical to her great-grandmother, Vela Garcia Alonso, a gypsy girl of Andalusian culture from the small, yet important village of Jerez de la Frontera.

***

Next, on Mildred’s agenda was her bright and early Pilate’s class in West Annapolis, making Tuesdays and Fridays her favorite days of the week. Discovering this popular exercise regime at the rehab facility was the best thing that had ever happened to her. The elephant, the swan, pull naval to spine and …breathe! How had she lived without it before the accident? As she weaved her way through traffic, without her consent her mind weaved its way back into time and she quickly forced herself not to look at it…the accident.

Who would have known that only a little over a year ago, a shadow had fallen on the Saunders’ world when Mildred had suffered a severe concussion, a shattered spinal cord, her left leg was broken in two places and her right leg broken in three? She vaguely remembered fading in and out of consciousness while being laid up in ICU during five weeks. Initially, the emergency room doctors at Anne Arundel County Hospital were ninety percent positive that she would never walk again. Tommy and Megan were completely distraught about their mother’s condition. It had happened on the Fourth of July, and before their very eyes.

***

Happy Fourth of July, folks! For those inside with the luxury of an air-conditioner, you might be interested in knowing that we’ve got another scorcher. It’s liquid air outside. Ninety-four degrees, the radio announcer had affirmed, and rising.

Not a whisper of air moved the tree tops at 6 East Lake Drive. Cat Hole Creek’s glimmering waters were invitingly calm. Warren, who had been flipping hamburgers and hotdogs at the grill was dripping in sweat.

Man, it’s hot, he had complained, pulling off his sweaty t-shirt. Come on, Hun, I’m done with the burgers. Let’s go try out your new ski and show the kids how it’s really done. With his t-shirt, he wiped the beads of perspiration from his flushed face and neck.

Alright, baby, Mildred had answered with enthusiasm while taking a tiny sip of tangy ice-tea. Coming kids?

If it’s all the same to you, Mom, I’d rather watch from here. Gloria’s on her way over, Megan had begged off. Her slender legs were perfect in her ‘catch of the season’, coral-orange, Hawaiian print, camisole bikini that also emphasized the svelte of her long waist and shapely hips. On her narrow feet was a pair of fisher-blue sandals. She kept her long, black hair pulled off her shoulders in a loose braid that hung halfway down her back. Maybe, Tom, Gloria and I will go skiing later, she said, looking at Tommy for affirmation, and Tommy nodded yes.

Okay. And how ‘bout you, big boy, wanna go skiing with us now? Mildred had asked, peeking her pale-blue eyes over her dark sunglasses. You can go later with the girls, too, she offered.

Nah, those burgers are calling my name, Mom. I’ll watch you pros from here, Tom had answered as he pulled his low hanging swim trunks up from falling completely off his lean hips. Over the summer his brown hair had grown considerably and highlights were shining golden in today’s bright sun.

Alright then. But hey, do me a favor, Tom.

Sure Mom. What?

Run, get the camcorder. I’d like to document this, Mildred had said while squeezing a large amount of double protection sun block on her pinking skin.

Camcorder, no Mom. That thing is ancient. I’ll get it on my phone. Mildred didn’t stay to listen to the usual argument about the camcorder. Instead she headed toward the pier.

Tom, said Warren, just get the camcorder…respect us ole folks that like our ancient technology. Ok?

Seriously Dad? Does it even work? Is it even charged? The camera on my phone is so much better. I’ve got a 12-megapixel camera, optical and 10x digital zoom…and wide color capture. It’s way better than that ole recorder thing.

Tom, I get it. I do. Please, just go get your Mom’s old camcorder. It’s on her side of the bed. I’m pretty sure she left it charging overnight.

Dad, seriously…it’s so big and bulky…and…no one uses those old camcorders today. No one!

Your mom does.

Yeah…I don’t get that. She’s got a great camera on her phone. And she knows how to use it….so why…

Beats me, Tom…I hear ya. She just likes to film special occasions on the camcorder. Please, just …

Oookaaaay, goooinggg! Thinking it was a grave mistake, Tommy dashed to get the camcorder from his parents’ bedroom. The screen door slammed loudly when he ran in and when he ran back out. Warren turned glaring at him with a face that said: How many times have we told you not to slam the screen door?

Sorry, Tom shouted with a crooked grin toward his dad.

He watched his parents climb into their twenty-one foot ski runabout, My Girl, which was tied at the end of the pier just waiting for someone to take her out for a holiday spin. Mildred had used the very same boat in competitions before her childbearing years. Now, twenty-nine year old, My Girl looked as good as she did when Mildred’s father, Herbert Dove, had first bought her at the boat dealers shop off Rowe Boulevard. Also tied at the pier the Doves had a twelve-foot aluminum boat with a thirty horsepower outboard motor, a crab boat and a big, old, red rowboat. All of the boats where the same boats that she grew up with. Herbert and Ester Dove really knew how to take care of their belongings. Even the old camcorder; they had bought it when it first came out in the 80’s to film Mildred’s competitions.

Good-luck, Mom! Megan shouted over the noise of the engine. Mildred was not sure what her daughter had said but waved with a smile and put her competition life vest over her one-piece bathing suit.

Mildred had just turned forty on Monday. Her hair was deep auburn, streaked full of tiny natural highlights that were almost the color of brick. On her oval face were liquid, almond shape, pale-blue eyes, a warm smile, peaches and cream skin that had a tendency to burn in the sun and sensual hips that tapered into slim legs. She had figure women her age would die for. In her younger days she had been the best slalom skier there was. She had entered every competition in the area, and always, always won First Place. In the early nineties, her father, Herbert, after a load of municipal paperwork, had been the one to finance the jump ramp that was still in the middle of the lake, smack in front of the Dove house.

With hamburgers and ice-cold water, Tommy and Megan, along with their paternal grandmother, Darla (who was famous for her flamboyant hats and fancy footwear), some friends and close relatives, sat on 100 year-old, green patio furniture and new plastic lounge chairs that were under the shade of a grand oak that unselfishly cast its shadow upon them. The family’s friendly Golden Retriever, Hank, sat slapping his dripping tongue in front of Darla because he knew that she’d give in and treat him with a yummy tidbit of her burger.

In anxious expectation, everyone waited for Mildred to begin her show that would be nothing less than spectacular…as usual.

For her recent birthday in June, Warren had given her a new slalom ski: the all new, Syndicate PRO waterski. And it was florescent pink with swirls of black. Mildred’s favorite colors!

Tommy was adjusting the camcorder to film against the sun. He glanced up to see if his mom was ready.

Hey, everybody, Dad’s throwing her the towline, he called out with enthusiasm. Everyone squinted against the bright, afternoon sun.

She’s up! shouted Megan, filming on her phone. Go, Mom!

Cool, said Gloria who was just arriving. I love watching your Mom ski. Is she gonna jump?

Oh yea, answered Tommy, giving Gloria a sideways look because he secretly liked her. His eyes glowed like they do when excitement surges inside him, like when Gloria was near him. She doesn’t know how to ski without jumping. Tommy loved the way Gloria looked in cut-off jean shorts and that red tank top, but of course he wasn’t going to tell her that…at least not today.

Why don’t you use your phone, Tom? Gloria asked, smirking at the old camcorder. Tommy opened his mouth to say something but it was going to be sarcastic so he snapped it shut and shook his head. Then he smiled and nonchalantly took a tiny step closer to Gloria. She liked that, and moved a tiny bit closer, too.

Gloria Paca was a gifted classical pianist who lived a few streets away on the bay side of the community. Standing at five foot four, she was two inches shorter than Meg. She was slightly plump in the butt, Brazilian style. Many women had procedures to make their behinds look perkier and peachier; in her case it was natural. Gloria had inherited her mother’s tendency to gain weight but refused to accept her genetic fate. During most of her teenage years she had gone from one diet to another, searching for the one that was right for her. And in Gloria’s case, it wasn’t just about weight gain or loss; it was about feeling better; feeling good. She was lactose intolerant which made her feel tired, dizzy and even vomit at times. Just recently the doctor added glucose intolerance which was the reason that she would get blurred vision, was thirsty and sleepy all the time. On top of the two intolerances, Gloria was also allergic to a number of things: food, hay, dust and spider mites, bee stings, seafood, antibiotics, other meds and quite a few more things.

Over the course of her life, Gloria had mild to moderate allergic symptoms, such as watery eyes, a runny nose or a rash. But a few times, Gloria’s exposure to an allergen had caused a life-threatening allergic reaction known as anaphylaxis. At the ER doctors explained: This severe reaction happens when an over-release of chemicals puts the person into shock. Allergies to food, insect stings, medications and latex are most frequently associated with anaphylaxis. Since the first time that this had happened to Gloria, she never went anywhere without her epinephrine injections. In consultation with her specialist doctors, Gloria’s new dietician just recently studied her case and changed her Keto Diet to full out Vegan. Gloria was praying that it was the solution for her to feel and be healthy.

On Gloria’s tanned face were deep-set, brown eyes, and the perfect nose for her heart-shaped face. Today her cheeks seemed to be more flushed than usual. On her full lips, she wore her usual shy smile whenever Tommy was near. Her natural, blonde hair had just been styled into lavishly long layers. But it was too hot for long, flowing hair so today her hair was scrunched up in a high ponytail. Thinking that she looked great with her hair that way, Tommy lowered the camera and grabbed a hamburger on an open bun. Burger? he offered, handing it to her. Got ketchup and stuff, too, he gestured at the nearby picnic table.

Thanks Tom, but no thanks. I’m allergic to starch and…well, I’m vegan now, Gloria announced.

Vegan. Alright then. How’s that working out for you? Tom said, laying the burger back down.

Can I have it, Tom? interrupted one of Tom’s little cousins.

Sure buddy. It’s all yours.

Gloria took another step closer to Tom. Megan watched them and laughed a little. She knew that Gloria liked her brother but it was at this moment that she realized that he was also interested in her.

Good so far, I guess. I’m hoping it’ll help me feel better, since you know–I’m allergic to so many things.

I hear ya. I’ll make sure we have vegan burgers next time. Check out the salads, he said, lifting his chin toward the table again, and lifted the camera to his face to check out his Mom and saw that she was lining up to take the ramp. Gotta get this on film. Mom’ll kill me if I don’t. I’ll join you as soon as my mom finishes her show. Tommy walked toward the pier but didn’t want to move too far away from Gloria. And since the old camera had an extra good zoom lens, he was going to get a good shot of his mom anyway.

I love watching her. She’s amazing, Gloria said, stepping away from Tom to choose a fruit from the table. Munching on her apple, she moved closer to Megan. Tom felt slightly let down and wished that she had come back to his side. It’s just that lately, since the school year had ended, he had been seeing her with different eyes, way different eyes…feelings.

Go Mildred! shouted Warren’s older brother, Burt. Look at your mom go! It’s like stepping into the past. Maybe it was stepping back in time watching Mildred ski, but by the looks of Burt, he’d moved further into the future than he’d like to admit. He’d gone from a semi-attractive, tallish and slim man with a full head of dark brown hair, to a semi-homely man with a huge beer belly, more than a shadow of a double chin and half a head of salt-and-peppered hair that was more salt than pepper. But he still had that certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ that could charm the shoes off of most women.

Most of the spectators were filming Mildred. Around the lake onlookers were so involved in her amazing show that no one heard the new Amber Alert announced over the radio. Had they been paying attention they would have heard that a witness saw seventeen-year-old, Jules Witherspoon, an Annapolis local, was yanked violently from the side of her car while she was pumping gas at 5 am at the gas station on West Street. Her parents declared that she had left the house early that morning because she had been informed that her horse, boarded on a nearby farm, had colic. Unfortunately, the only witness was the guy working the register inside the gas station who affirms he didn’t see much…just a van, kind of a reddish color, he said, drive away. He called the police when he saw that the driver of the car was gone but the car was still at the pump with the gas-pump nozzle stuck in the tank. Police were sure that this time they’d get the abduction on the security cameras. Jules Witherspoon was the third teenager girl to be abducted in the area of Annapolis and its surroundings since February.

***

Everyone watched as Mildred slalom skied around the lake; the way she laid down, stylishly grazing her shoulder on the water’s surface and lifting a curtain of spray. Passing in front of her own house, she jumped into some of the most difficult tricks including wake flips, then multiple turns performed with the tow rope attached to her foot.

Wow, your mom’s awesome, avouched Gloria to Megan, holding her hand to her eyes to block the sun for a better view.

Totally.

I can’t imagine my mom skiing with two skis much less slalom.

Hey, from what my mom and dad say your mom was quite a skier herself, Gloria. Gloria’s brows rose with question. She could not imagine her heavyset, fifty-year-old mother doing any kind of sport.

Well, that’s news for me, Gloria said, watching Mildred prepare to take the ramp again.

I’ll bet she’s gonna try to break her own record, announced Tom.

The ski ramp was five and a half feet high, and she would have to take it at about fifty-eight miles an hour to jump over one hundred and sixty feet.

Hopefully Dad takes it a little easy while Mom breaks in the new ski, blurted Megan, chewing her nails with concern. She should go around; practice a few more times.

I don’t think so, said Tommy with his eye on the tiny video screen, she just gave the signal to ‘crack the whip’. In simultaneous motion, everyone at the cookout jumped from their seats to watch Mildred take the ramp.

Oh, my God, cried Gloria. She’s lit! Just look at her!

That’s my girl, cheered Mildred’s mother-in-law, Darla as she took a picture with her new cell phone. Today extravagant Darla was wearing a white, cotton-weave hat with an extra wide brim. American flags on four-inch plastic poles were poking out all over the crown. A red, white and blue ribbon was wrapped snuggly around the intersection of the crown and the brim, and its excess lace was long and flowed down her back. Her white, leather sandals had red, white and blue, velvet bows. Darla always took great care of her skin and now in her mid-sixties she looked amazing. Her large, tanned breasts were overflowing out of her one piece, leopard skin, bathing suit and her wonderful tan had been assiduously cultivated with the finest of oils, enhanced with vanguard toners, preserved with expensive lotions the stars in Hollywood use.

People from houses all around the lake were standing on their piers to watch and film their neighbor International Champion and Olympic Gold Medal winner, Mildred Dove-Saunders, glide through the air with expertise and the grace of a ballerina.

Chapter 2: Olympic Gold

In her days of competition, year after year, Mildred had won the Jones Beach Tournament held on Long Island. Competing against eight hundred contestants in a five-day tournament was the ultimate goal for every serious slalom skier around the country. With ease, a skillful and talented, Mildred Dove beat her competitors time and time again. It didn’t seem like there was anyone in the world better than she…until the Australand Moomba Masters – an annual event held on the famed and unpredictable Yarra River. That was where Mildred ran into an equal competitor: Joy Pierson. More than fifty of the world’s top water ski racers had previously qualified and would compete in four rounds of marathon races in pursuit of individual and team medals. The top two winners would go to the Summer Olympics in Atlanta Georgia to represent the United States. Surprising all, Joy Pierson won First Place, and a millimeter of a second behind was Mildred Dove. For the first time in Mildred’s years of competing had anyone ever beat her. However, it had been Mildred, not Joy, who brought the gold home for the USA Olympics Slalom team that year. The media loved her. She conjured images of the all American girl: purity and goodness. Time and time again, young Mildred had been invited for television commercials and magazines covers and articles. Boats, skis, shoes and sportswear sponsored her, and she was even invited to the White House to meet the President with the rest of the athletes that represented the United States in Olympics that year. Through it all, she remained utterly unpretentious; a real down-to-earth kind of person.

Warren and Mildred were the same age. Actually, she was two months and three days older than Warren. For years they thought for sure that they were cousins. Little Mildred had such a time trying to say ‘Warren’ that she just called him, Worry. And for the longest time, Worry called Mildred: Mil-dead. They had no notion what life was like without the other. They had run around naked as toddlers, fought like cats and dogs, bit and scratched and hugged each other. They had sleepovers, were classmates at school, and of course, learned to ski together. What they had never done was date each other. Warren had been deeply in love with a cute cheerleader at school called, Elizabeth, and Mildred had her eyes set on a muscular college dude everyone referred to as, Thor.

The day after placing second at the Australand Moomba Masters, Mildred’s driver, her dad Herbert Dove, suffered a minor heart attack. Warren took over the driver’s seat on My Girl, and helped her prepare for the Summer Olympics. They became a tight team; training together, eating together and making many social sacrifices together. It was there, in Atlanta that Mildred’s feelings for Warren shifted and she realized that she was falling for him. Of course it didn’t happen right off the bat. It wasn’t until Warren mentioned that Joy Pierson was a hotty that a surge of jealousy ripped through her body. Funny, it never bothered her when Warren lusted over cutesy Elizabeth during their entire high school years, but now, lusting over Joy…Joy of all people…irked the hell out of her. Mildred surprised herself when she started acting snippy and spoiled. At first, it surprised Warren, but then it amused him. It was around that same time Warren realized that he had feelings for her as well. Oh, but Mildred was fun to watch being jealous. Warren smirked inwardly every time he purposely mentioned Joy’s name and watched her turn beet-red then say something irrelevant and in a snap.

It was on that big day, that win or lose day, a gold medal or not day, that Warren pulled Mildred into his arms, crushed her with his embrace, and kissed her passionately. Mildred couldn’t figure out what had hit her. Her first instinct was to say something full of sarcasm. But, oh my God, what a great kisser Warren was. By the time they got back home to Bay Ridge, they were in love and have been ever since.

***

One hundred and sixty-eight feet, shouted Tommy with excitement. Y’all see the buoy, the yellow one? She landed past the one-sixty marker.

She’s going around again. Gonna try to beat her own record. Go Mom! clamored Megan.

Look everybody, blustered Megan who had eaten more of her fingernails than her burger, here she comes again!

Expectations were high and nerves were at their peak of all those present; at their house and all around the lake. Will she break her own record? Yes! Yes! Look at her fly! All eyes were on Mildred. Yes, she’s gonna break her own record. Yes!

Warren turned to watch, too. There was no way he was going to miss his wife break the one sixty-eight record. Off the ramp she flew at sixty miles an hour, high into the air.

Look, Mom’s waving at us! Megan cried, jumping up and down and waving her arm expansively.

Go, Mom! Tommy and Megan whooped with excitement. Darla took a few more pictures.

Come on, Mom! Just a little more. A little more, prompted Tommy, still filming. She’s about to break the record!

Shocking the living daylights out of all was a sudden thunderous and sharp explosive sound, like a detonated bomb. My Girl had hit head on with another speeding boat, and with the violent force of the crash, both boats had flown many feet into the air.

Dad! Megan shrieked, watching their Dad’s boat fly upward in a burst of cumulative flames. A vehement cascade of fire filled the sky in spangling deluge.

Oh, my God! Tommy burst out. Mom! he shrieked. Not aware that he was doing it, Tommy continued to film as he stood stupefied. Mildred had flown off the ramp and in mid-air collided into her husband’s flaming boat.

An impossible hush fell across the lake. One shrill scream ripped the silence, then all around screams of panic filled the smoky air. Many Cat Hole Creek residents had already jumped into their boats and were speeding toward the burning wrecks.

It took a minute or so before Tommy and Megan reacted. In stunned awe, they cried from the impact of what their eyes were witnessing. In a jolt, Tommy broke out of the trance, threw the camcorder down, and with all his might ran to the pier. Megan dashed close behind. They both jumped into the aluminum speedboat with everyone at the cookout shouting at them: Don’t go! Get back here! The motor drowned out any and all voices. Tommy steered toward the south side of the wreck; one hand steering and with the other wiping the steady flow of tears. Megan’s tan face had drained so dramatically of color and she had turned a sickly shade of grey. Hollow fear grew as they got closer. Their faces and bodies could feel the heat from the high temperature of the burning petroleum that had spattered. Bits and pieces of the boats were scattered hundreds of yards away. Awestruck by the disaster, the siblings blotted their eyes that searched for their parents. Their breath was caught in their throats as terror pounded at their hearts.

Megan exhaled explosively, Mom!

Toward the left they saw bodies from the west side of the lake being fished out; all teenage boys, all dead.

Mom! they both screamed desperately in the overheated atmosphere. Dad!

Spotting his mother’s ski, Tommy quickly turned off the motor and without forethought dove into the flaming water. Megan’s eyes desperately scanned the surface where her brother had gone under.

Please, God. Please, God. Please, God, she kept crying in the midst of the uproar.

I’ve got her, Megan, hollered a neighbor. She’s here! I’ve got your mom, the voice shouted again.

Tommy! They’ve got Mom, yelled Megan down at the water. Tommy! Where are you? she screamed on the verge of hysterics. Megan’s eyes widen in panic.

Tommy! her scream was now more frantic as she too threw herself into the petrol-filled water. Under the murky water, she could see many sinking objects. Nevertheless, she could not see her brother. In overwhelming fear, her eyes searched the watery gloom. She went deeper. As she was going down, Tommy was coming up for air. They both surfaced. In the midst of what looked like a war zone, they glared at each other with a sheen of water and tears. Full of relief to see her brother, Megan swam to him and threw her arms around him.

I couldn’t find her. His sad blue eyes wept pitifully and on his face a shock and horror. It’s too murky. I can’t see a damn thing!

Tommy, they’ve got Mom…over there, she said, pointing and in a trembling voice.

Is she…?

I don’t know, Tom. Help me back in the boat. Adrenaline pumping, Tommy pulled himself into the boat first then yanked his sister onboard.

Mom! Tommy shouted in the direction in which Megan had pointed. Mom!

A man’s voice hollered back. She’s here, son. With oars, Tommy pushed debris out of the way, swiftly making his way to the neighbor’s boat.

Is she..? Megan whimpered unable to finish the sentence.

She’s pretty beat up…but she’s alive, the voice replied.

Tommy and Megan fell into each other’s arms in tears. After a short moment, they pulled over to the boat that had their mother. When they got there the boat was empty.

Mom! whimpered Megan. Where…

She can’t hear you, Meg, said a voice from the other side of the boat…in the water. She’s unconscious…but breathing. It was Mr. Murray, the neighbor three piers down.

Has anyone called 911? Mr. Murray shouted out.

Yeah, my wife did. Help’s on the way, someone shouted back.

Mr. Murray? Tommy said in tears.

Come around slowly, son, without making waves. Do you hear me? Don’t make waves, he repeated firmly.

Using the oars, Megan and Tommy came around as slowly as possible. What they saw was a blood chilling sight that made their hair stand on end. Deep burns covered their mother’s entire body making her skin look raw. Her face had a few deep cuts and burns but it was her legs that made the kids melt with sadness. At a glance, they saw a bone had ripped through her skin in two places on her left leg. The right leg didn’t lay right. Though there were no bones in sight, it was evident that it was very, very broken.

You did that, Mr. Murray? Tom said, noticing the bed on which Mildred was floating.

I’m good at improvising. His voice was solemn.

Still in the water, yet out of harm’s way was an unconscious, Mildred. Taking precaution that she might have damaged her spinal cord, Mr. Murray hadn’t attempted to pull her into his boat. The first thing he had done was place a partially inflated children’s inner tube under her neck and around her head. Then he had cleverly rigged a floating gurney using a partially inflated rubber raft and on top of that he had placed a five-foot board that was used as a seat cover where the life vests were stored. Once she was secure he had slipped into the water to inflate the inner tube to a point where her head could not move, then he had inflated the raft to get her out of the water as much as possible. Mr. Murray had then tied the floating gurney to the side of his boat. He remained in the water at Mildred’s side.

And our dad? Have you seen him? Tommy managed to ask through his shaky voice.

When Mr. Murray didn’t answer right away, Tommy and Megan thought that the worst had happened. The neighbor looked deeply into Tommy’s eyes and with a small shake of his head said, I don’t know, son, but folks over there have fished several people out of the water. Immediately, Tommy’s eyes darted to the other side of the wreck of burning boats. Full of anxiety, he started rowing in that direction.

Tommy! Mr. Murray shouted loudly. You're making waves! Then with puppy dog sad eyes he added, I think you two oughta stay here…with your mom. Megan stared up at her brother, shrugged and apprehensively chewed on her fingernail. Joe Murray always had a peaceful demeanor, which he maintained even in the middle of this emergency. His calmness brought some kind of peace to the Saunders kids.

Let’s stay with Mom, Tom. Tommy plopped himself down and stared at his mother. He felt like he should be doing something to help–anything! Noticing Tommy’s obvious agitated state, Mr. Murray made a suggestion.If you wanna make yourself useful, Tom grab the rope from my boat and tow us away from all this smoke and choppy water. Meg stood up and reached for the line at the bow of the neighbor’s boat. Once she had secured it to their own boat, Tommy prepared to move.

Megan, grab that beach towel outa my boat. I wanna cover your mom up. Her skin’s burned bad enough as it is. Before putting the towel over Mildred, Mr. Murray wanted to soak it with lake water, so he dove deep to assure that it was wet and without petroleum.

Son, we don’t wanna make waves, he warned, wringing the towel out a little. It’s important to keep your mom as still as possible. The oars might cause more waves than the outboard turned on low.

K. Relieved to have something to do, he put the oar down and slipped past Megan to the stern.

"I’m not ready yet. Give me a second