Silent Witness by Diane Burke

the open doorway.
    “Mommy. Jeremy wants Mommy.”
    Her feet felt as if they were encased in cement but she forced herself to follow the child into the house. She stood in the foyer, unable to take another step.
    Jeremy raced through the living room, dining room, study, kitchen, foyer and back again in a never-ending circle. Adam followed close behind. In each room, when he found it empty, Adam would get down on one knee, turn the boy’s face so he could look the child in the eyes, and say, “Mommy and Daddy are together in Heaven. They are not coming back. But Jeremy is safe. Jeremy is going to be okay.”
    Jeremy would pull out of Adam’s hold and race to the next room. “Mommy. Jeremy needs Mommy.”
    Adam followed close behind. In each room, he gave Jeremy a chance to search it. Then he’d kneel eye level with the child and repeat the same four sentences, always assuring Jeremy that he was safe and that he would be okay.
    The child cried and ran from room to room, calling for a mother that couldn’t answer, and Liz thought she was going to be sick to her stomach. Tears burned behind her eyes, and her throat constricted so tightly she was barely able to breathe. She almost hated Adam for the pain he was causing the child by bringing him here.
    The ritual went on for hours. The child would calm down, be distracted by other things, like his exercise room or his computer, and then he’d stand up and start calling and looking again.
    Adam never left the child’s side. He kept his voice low and comforting. He kept his sentences short. He repeated the same sentences over and over again.
    Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, Jeremy seemed to settle down. He’d stay for longer periods of time at his computer. He’d sit in his little rocker in the exercise room and hug his bear. He even ate a sandwich and piece of fruit that Charlie had prepared and brought upstairs.
    Liz felt like a fish out of water and of no help. She simply stood by and watched. She’d been right. They never should have brought the boy back to this house. Why hadn’t she listened to her own instincts instead of trusting a man who had proved himself untrustworthy? Unable to watch the scene any longer, she went downstairs and sat in a chair on the front porch.
    She’d called Sal and made sure the investigation was proceeding as requested. When he heard the break in her voice, he reminded her that she didn’t have to go through with this. They could—and should—put the child in protective custody far, far away. A small part inside her wanted to do just that.
    But another voice, a louder voice, wanted to believe that Adam could help Jeremy with both the loss of his parents and his memories of the trauma. She wanted to believe that more than anything else because this child was special. He made her feel things she didn’t understand. Feelings she’d never had before—and didn’t want to have. She was a career woman and had no room in her life or her heart for a child. Her brain knew it. Why didn’t her heart?
    Liz stared out into the darkness. The gentle summer night’s breeze ruffled her hair and kissed her cheeks. It was a welcome relief after the stifling heat and humidity. Ordinarily, sitting here would be peaceful, enjoyable.
    But not tonight.
    Change was in the air and it wasn’t just the weather.
    A heaviness weighed on her shoulders. A deep, unsettling feeling crept up her spine and twisted her stomach into knots. These weren’t rational feelings easily backed up with physical evidence. No one had warned her about a future problem. But something bad was coming. She felt it all the way down to her soul.
    It wasn’t what she saw or heard that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and her spine to stiffen. It was what she didn’t.
    It was the stillness.
    The absolute silence.
    The presence of evil.
    She wrapped her arms around herself as a chill skittered through her body. She didn’t know who…or when…or how…but