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Stepping out of the shower, Kelly heard the phone ringing. She quickly toweled herself dry and went to answer it. Her hair was still wet, sending small beads of water coursing down her body to be absorbed by the terry towel she wrapped around herself.
"Hello," she answered, thankful that she had remembered to close the curtain at the small kitchen window, preventing her neighbors from seeing the lack of clothing she had on.
"I have your mother and if you want to see her alive again, you had better do as you are told," a raspy voice stated.
Confused, she didn't answer back, instead, she thought of what the person was saying. Being the daughter and sister of cops had led her to think quickly in any situation. Not able to come up with anything, and believing she would have been told if her mother was missing, she said, "I think you have the wrong number."
"This is Kelly Blaisdell, is it not?"
"Y-Yes, who is this?" she answered back, fear rising as quickly as her breathing.
"At the trial, you are to tell the court that you didn't see anything. You understand me?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "one more thing, Ms. Blaisdell, you tell your daddy or any cop and the next time you see your mother, it'll be at her funeral."
Kelly listened to the monotone buzz after the caller had hung up. She looked at the phone in her hand, not believing what she had just heard. A knock at her door caused her to jump and give a small scream, which grew in intensity as the door opened with a rush.
Strenlich had decided to tell Kelly about Peter and her mother. Paul had tried to contact her earlier but the young woman was still at work. Frank volunteered to stop in and see Kelly. Frank had his hand on the doorknob when he heard the scream. Instinct and pure muscle mass helped him to body slam the door open.
Gun in hand, Frank stopped only to see that Kelly was standing in the living room of her tiny apartment, the phone dangling by its cord, rebounding off the wall. Looking quickly through the rooms, Frank took her shaking body into his arms after putting his gun back into his waist holster.
"It's all right, Kel. Shhh," he stroked her long brunette hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.
Initially self-conscious of her attire, Kelly relaxed when she realized Frank was there to help her. Minutes later, she pulled back, tugging the now loose towel closer to her as she made an excuse to leave the room.
When she returned, Frank noticed her faded jeans and loose shirt. Clothes she often said she slummed in. Her eyes were still red and puffy from crying, her nose almost the same red as her eyes.
"You want to tell me what happened?" Frank asked, going to the kitchen and pouring her some juice from the fridge.
"I-I can't, they'll kill her," she answered, her fear for her mother preventing Kelly from saying anything. She took the offered cup and went to sit on the couch, her eyes glancing around the room, to the door that stood open with part of the frame still attached to it.
Not wanting to push her, Frank leaned against the wall. "Let me take you to your parent's place until we can get the door fixed tomorrow. Besides, your dad is at the hospital with Peter."
Momentarily forgetting the call, Kelly asked, "What happened to him? He and mom were supposed to go out for lunch. Is she there with him?"
Having been around Peter Caine for almost fifteen years, and having children himself, Frank had learned to hear and understand the rapid fire of questions. "He was beaten up. Yes, they met for lunch."
"You didn't answer my last question, Uncle Frank. Where's my mom?"
Frank saw Kelly's eyes dart to the phone, her hands trembling, sloshing the drink in the glass she held. "No, she's not there. Truth is, Kelly, we don't know where she is. Peter does, but he's not able to tell us. Now, do you want to tell me what has you so upset? Who was on the phone, Kelly?"
Mumbling to herself, she said, "Then it's true. They really do have her."
"Who has her, Kelly? Come on, tell me."
She shook her head, the threat coming back to her mind. "No, they said they'd kill her if I told the police." Kelly closed her mouth, causing her teeth to smash together as she realized she had said too much.
"Come on, I'll drive you to Paul's and we can talk about it in the car." Frank took her hand and helped her up. Putting a protective arm around her shoulders, the two left the apartment, closing the door as best it could be.
**
The house was too quiet, too dark. Paul stood in the foyer, straining to hear Annie's voice, though he knew in his heart that it wouldn't happen. A shadow on the staircase to his left was the only movement. Paul reached down and picked up the black feline that had descended the steps and curled around his legs.
"Hello, fella." Paul picked up the cat, feeling the purring feline, and then the sandpaper tongue licked his fingers. "You hungry? Well, come on, I'll get you something. Let's see if I can remember where she puts your food."
Paul walked into the kitchen, his furry bundle content in his arm as Paul started searching the cabinets. Each set of cabinets had been crafted for Annie's ease in getting things. Her blindness had not limited her cooking and housekeeping abilities, but she did like the extra details that helped her in the kitchen.
Floor to ceiling cabinets lined one wall. One of the cabinets had bifold doors, and an empty area from waist high down. A stool occupied the empty space so when it was time to do bills, all Annie had to do was open the doors, pull out her stool and print the checks out on the Braille typewriter she had.
Each of the creditors and utilities had updated their systems to help with those people who had lost their sight. They printed bills out in both ink and Braille when the customer requested it.
Searching this cabinet, Paul's eyes fell on a notebook that had "Personal to Annie Blaisdell" on the front. Flowers of pink and orange graced the cover, her name in gold. Memories of Mother's Day past had him think of when Peter had given her the loose leaf notebook, after he had found Annie's journal pages crammed into a manila envelope, by accident, of course.
Isis mewed, bringing Paul back to the present to continue his search for cat food. Finding it in the next cabinet, he fed the pesky feline then went back to the stool and fingered the notebook, feeling her close to him. Opening the book, he turned to the first page. He ran his fingers lightly over the small dots that for a blind person, were the letters of the sighted alphabet.
**
March 19, 1967
Dear Diary,
I have been on another date with Paul Blaisdell. This time without my uncle. When Stedman first suggested I meet Paul, I hesitated. All my life I've lived with people avoiding me, especially males. It was like they couldn't handle a woman that wasn't whole. So, when Sted called me and suggested this date, I remembered all the other blind dates friends had set me up with and what a disaster each one ended in.
But Paul is so different. The first night we met, Paul treated me as though I had no handicap. We talked about where we lived, the classes I was taking at the college. His dreams of moving to some midwest city and raising his family. He's a widower with a small child, a girl.
Tonight, I met Caroline, but only briefly. I could understand her being hesitant with someone new. Maybe we are moving too fast, this was only our second date in a week and we have another scheduled for when he gets back from a mission he and Sted have to go on. But, honestly, I feel something for him that I have felt for no one else. It's as though we were made for each other.
I guess I should describe him. He's about a foot taller than me and is well built. His shoulders are broad and I don't believe there is an inch of fat to him. He has a long face with bushy eyebrows and says his eyes are blue. Having never seen the color, I have to take his word for it.
OK, enough for now.
Anne Stedman
**
Paul read the words his wife had written so many years ago and remembered the first time he'd seen her face. He could swear that when he saw her, there was an aura around her and he thought of her night and day after that. The second date was strange. He hadn't meant to let Annie meet Caroline. None of the women he'd dated since his wife's death had ever seen the little girl or even knew of her existence. The fear that someone from his business dealings would find out made him keep her a secret.
Setting the notebook down against the family typewriter stored there, he thought he could still hear Caroline asking why it typed so funny. It was then that Annie started teaching the young girl to type and read in Braille as well as sighted words.
Smiling at the happy memory, he turned the page.
**
April 12, 1967
It's Caroline's birthday. She turned seven today. We took her to the beach, but the water was still cold and the wind too gusty so Paul drove us to a miniature golf course. She helped me with putting my ball where it belonged. By the time we were at the third hole, Paul was putting on about how the women were against him. Next, we went to an ice cream parlor and then to a movie. That was fun, Caroline would whisper to me what was happening and then we'd all sing the songs that came on. It was a Disney movie. For a blind chick, I kept up with it fairly well.
April 30, 1967
Paul's been gone for over a week now and I've heard nothing from him. He had to go on a special mission in regards to this damn war…no, military action. He warned me that he might not be able to call, but I need him. Caroline needs him. She's called me several times and I've gone over and stayed with her. The housekeeper doesn't mind, matter of fact I think she's grateful.
If our relationship were to continue, I believe I'd have to yell at the man for doing this to such a sweet child. And to me. He'd better come back in one piece or I'll find him and kill him.
**
Paul nodded. He hadn't gotten home from that mission until way into May. Both Annie and Caroline had met him at the airport. After taking Caroline to a friend's house to spend the night, Annie said her piece. "It was then I decided to marry you," he said, seeing the red cheeks and hearing the words of love under those words of anger she threw at him that day.
**
June 1, 1967
Paul has asked me to marry him. I would be lying if I said I wasn't hesitant in answering him. Matter of fact, I told him I needed time to think about it.
My mother always told me to list the pros and cons of any problems I can't figure our quickly. Today, as I walked around the park, I thought of the cons.
Paul is gone on missions for days and weeks at a time. I do understand his need to help others who aren't able to help themselves. And he doesn't let the agency send him in when there are alternative routes.
He's stubborn and opinionated, but does give in when he is proven wrong and he even admits to being wrong. He has a child from a previous marriage. He is a good provider and I don't doubt, would be a wonderful lover.
**
The page ended there, leaving Paul to wonder back to the day he'd proposed to her and the night he had spent telling himself he was stupid for even thinking someone as wonderful as her would marry someone as bad as him. Her hesitation at answering him had almost been the end of his world. All he could think was the excuses she would greet him with on their date the next evening.
July 11, 1967
Today, I became Mrs. Paul Blaisdell. Mother and wife all in one day. Sted gave me away since my own parents had died so long ago. Stedman raised me the best he could and has been like a father and best friend to me. Without him, I never would have had the courage to go out into a sighted world and never would have found the love of my life.
Paul has put in an application at the police academy in Illinois. I don't know. Kinda silly of me to have doubts now, isn't it. He's taken Carolyn to her mother's, though the child screamed to let her go with us. I'd love to have a child of my own, but for now, Carolyn is my daughter.
Oh, he's pulling into the drive now.
Bye.
**
The door opening brought Paul back to the present. He closed the book and replaced it back where he had found it, then wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes.
"Daddy?" Kelly called out. "We saw your car, are you home?"
The words grew closer to Paul, giving him time to clear his throat and give his shaking hands something to do as he closed the door to the cabinet.
"Hi, baby." He took his youngest daughter into his arms. "Why are you shaking?" He pulled away to look at her face. When her only answer was a tear, he looked at Frank. "You tell her?"
"No. Seems someone else did. She got a threatening phone call before I got there. Kidnappers told her that they have Annie and that if she wanted to see her alive again, Kelly was supposed to lie on the witness stand."
Paul's mouth fell open at the information, but he quickly recovered, his mind whirling with possible scenarios. Did the kidnappers find Annie? Had Peter not really protected her? "Did you have your caller ID on?"
Kelly nodded, tears silently rolling down her face. "Un-uncle Frank wr-wrote it down."
As she said this, Frank handed Paul a piece of paper. "I didn't want to dial it, they may have the same thing on their end."
"Good thinking," Paul answered back as he went to his phone and dialed. After waiting a few minutes, he spoke into the phone. "Need you to do me a favor…Find out who this number belongs to and where they are, 555-9087…No, no change…I'll be at the hospital, call me there."
"That wasn't the precinct you called," Frank surmised after watching and listening to his commanding officer.
Not willing to give more information than he needed to, Paul put his arm around Kelly and led her to the carport door. "You're right, it wasn't. I'm taking Kelly back to the hospital with me. Why don't you check with Blake, see if he found anything." Passing the cabinet, Paul stopped and opened the door. He needed memories. Taking out the notebook, he put it under one arm and wrapped his other around his and Annie's daughter, leading her to the car.