Mother's Angel, and other short stories

Lola

Returning to the sun room, she retrieved her phone from her purse, and asked it a question.

"What was the name of the popular child's doll that was recalled several years ago?"

"The doll's name was Lola," came a slightly robotic, female vocal response.

"Tell me more."

"Lola was the Bluetooth-enabled doll directly implicated when four children went missing in the city of its initial distribution." The city and manufacturer's name were then mentioned. "The doll was believed to have been hacked and used for espionage by an unknown child abductor," the robotic voice continued. "Neither the children nor the abductor were ever found. The doll was permanently recalled and its production halted indefinitely."

Maggie walked back to the living room and stared at the TV.

She gave her address to the phone. "Is there a news story regarding a child who lived in this house a decade ago?"

"Yes. A six year old girl named Penelope Murphy was reported missing by her mother. The parents were ruled out as suspects and the child was later determined to be the first of the kidnapping victims. She is believed to be dead."

Snatching up the remote from the coffee table, Maggie switched the screensaver back to the mountainscape, turned off the TV, and finished unpacking the groceries with a feverish pitch. More than once she glanced out the rain-spattered kitchen window where only the corner of the locked shed was visible in the backyard. She shuddered. No, the police would have scoured the entire property—a locked shed no deterrant.

By late afternoon the rain had let up, though it remained cloudy and cool. When Evan came home at suppertime, she told him what had happened to the previous tenants, and about the screensaver resetting itself.

"You're reading way too much into it, hun—it's just a coincidence, a default setting."

"Can you find your bolt cutter tonight though, please? I know I know, it's silly, but that shed is really creeping me out."

Agreeing to help, if only to set her mind at ease, Evan finished eating and spent a half hour in the garage rummaging through unpacked boxes until he finally found the tool. She followed him out into the dank backyard, smacking or waving away each mosquito that honed in on her, and stood with arms crossed watching.

The windowless shed was somewhat secluded, backdropped by leafy trees and thorny undergrowth. Weeds and uncut grass grew up the wooden sides, and the shingled roof was curling in places.