Dancing with a Stranger

Chapter Thirty

May 25, 2000

Charlotte Stevenson rushes into the house, barely aware of how she managed to make her way to her sister's home after the devasting phone call she received. A crowd of police officers, detectives and crime scene investigators surround two masses covered with white sheets.

"Oh my God!" A terrifying shriek escapes Charlotte's lips, as she tries to push her way past the officers to get closer to her sister and brother-in-law. They hold her back, not letting her pass through the human barrier their bodies create. "No, no, no, no, no!" Seeing the outline of their bodies brings home the realization that what the voice on the other side of the phone said was, in fact, true.

She falls to her knees, losing any and all strength left in her body, and sobs. Loud, sorrowful wails pierce through the investigative chatter, causing all activity to grind to a halt.

As quickly as the sobs start, they stop. Charlotte whips her head up and looks around frantically. "Where is my niece?!"

She can see the wheels turning in a young, clearly rookie, officer's head. "Niece? What do you mean, Ms. Stevenson?"

Overcome with grief and losing her last bit of patience, she rises to her feet, points her finger in the officer's face and screams, "My sister's daughter! Where is she?" Oh, Lacey. Please be okay. Please don't let them have gotten to you too.

"Up here, Char," a familiar voice called.

The officer gives a visible sigh of relief as Charlotte takes off up the stairs to find the location of that voice.

Upon seeing his face, Charlotte immediately feels a sense of calm. Even though they haven't known each other long, he's been a great friend to her and her family. She walks into his waiting arms, crying softly as the weight of the moment descends on her like a dark cloud.

"Where is she?" she asks, releasing herself from his embrace.

"She's in her room hiding under her bed. We've been trying to coax her out for about an hour now, but she's a stubborn little thing. The girl won't budge."

"Sounds just like Ellie," Charlotte responds. They both chuckle half-heartedly, their laughter tinged with overwhelming sadness. "I'll see what I can do."

He nods and rubs her back a few times before she walks down the hall into the child's room. Entering, she sees a few officers in the corner talking in hushed tones. They look up at her and one points to the bed. Charlotte nods, breathes deeply, then takes a few steps towards the bed and crouches down. "Lacey?"

"Aunt Charlotte?" Lacey's quaking little voice rings out, full of fear and trepidation.

"Sweetie, you need to come out from under the bed."

"I can't!" she cries out.

"Why not, sweetie?"

"Mommy said to wait here until she comes back."

Damn it, Ellie. "Oh Lacey," her aunt says, her voice wrought with grief. She looks around at the officers whose eyes hold sadness and concern as they give pitiful smiles. "How long have you been under the bed?"

"I-I don't know," she answers, before she starts crying. "I-I fell asleep. I didn't mean to!"

"It's okay, Lacey. No one is mad at you for falling asleep. It's time to come out now, though."

"Where's Mommy? I can't come out yet."

"Sweetie, do you trust me?"

Lacey scrunches up her little face, deep in thought at her aunt's question. "Yes," is her weak reply.