Silent Night by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

her, his smile was replaced by a look of concern. “Good evening, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Merry Christmas. Any further word on Dr. Dornan?”
    Afraid to speak, Barbara shook her head.
    â€œThose grandkids of yours are real cute. The little one, Brian, told me you gave his mom something that would make his dad get well. I sure hope that’s true.”
    Barbara tried to say, “So do I,” but found that her lips could not form the words.
    *   *   *
    â€œMommy, why are you sad?” Gigi asked as she settled onto Cally’s lap.
    â€œI’m not sad, Gigi,” Cally said. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”
    Gigi shook her head. She was wearing a red-and-white Christmas nightgown with figures of angels carrying candles. Her wide brown eyes and wavy golden-brown hair were legacies from Frank. The older she gets, the more she looks like him, Cally thought, instinctively holding the child tighter.
    They were curled up together on the couch across from the Christmas tree. “I’m glad you’re home with me,Mommy,” Gigi said, and her voice became fearful. “You won’t leave me again, will you?”
    â€œNo. I didn’t want to leave you last time, sweetheart.”
    â€œI didn’t like visiting you at that place.”
    That place. The Bedford correctional facility for women .
    â€œI didn’t like being there.” Cally tried to sound matter-of-fact.
    â€œKids should stay with their mothers.”
    â€œYes. I think so too.”
    â€œMommy, is that big present for me?” Gigi pointed to the box that held the uniform and coat Jimmy had discarded.
    Cally’s lips went dry. “No, sweetheart, that’s a present for Santa Claus. He likes to get something for Christmas, too. Now come on, it’s past your bedtime.”
    Gigi automatically began to say, “I don’t want to . . . ,” then she stopped. “Will Christmas come faster if I go to bed now?”
    â€œUh-huh. Come on, I’ll carry you in.”
    When she had tucked the blankets around Gigi and given her her “bee,” the tattered blanket that was her daughter’s indispensable sleeping companion, Cally went back to the living room and once again sank down onto the couch.
    Kids should stay with their mothers . . . Gigi’s words haunted her. Dear God, where had Jimmy taken that little boy? What would he do to him? What should she do?
    Cally stared at the box with the candy-cane paper. That’s for Santa Claus . A vivid memory of its contents flashed through her mind. The uniform of the guard Jimmy had shot, the side and sleeve still sticky with blood. The filthy overcoat—God knew where he’d found or stolen that .
    Jimmy was evil . He had no conscience, no pity. Face it, Cally told herself fiercely—he won’t hesitate to kill that little boy if it helps his chances to escape.
    She turned on the radio to the local news. It was seven-thirty. The breaking news was that the condition of the prison guard who had been shot at Riker’s Island was still critical, but was now stable. The doctors were cautiously optimistic that he would live.
    If he lives, Jimmy isn’t facing the death penalty. Cally told herself. They can’t execute him now for the cop’s death three years ago. He’s smart. He won’t take a chance on murdering the little boy once he knows that the guard isn’t going to die. He’ll let him go.
    The announcer was saying, “In other news, early this evening, seven-year-old Brian Dornan became separated from his mother on Fifth Avenue. The family is in New York because Brian’s father . . .”
    Frozen in front of the radio, Cally listened as the announcer gave a description of the boy, then said, “Here is a plea from his mother, asking for your help.”
    As Cally listened to the low, urgent voice of Brian’s mother, she visualized the young woman who