everywhere, oblivious of the storm. Within a few minutes the lights from the cars on the highway were swallowed up once more. For the people who'd just arrived, the sudden darkness was a shock, and they wondered how long a young boy could survive out here.
Some of the others, however, were beginning to wonder if they'd even be able to find the body.
Denise was still awake because sleep was simply an impossibility. There was a clock on the wall alongside her bed, and she was staring at it, watching the minutes pass with frightening regularity.
Kyle had been missing for nearly four hours now.
Four hours!
She wanted to do something-anything but lie there so helplessly, useless to Kyle and the searchers. She wanted to be out looking for him, and the fact that she wasn't was more painful than her injuries. She had to know what was going on. She wanted to take charge. But here, she couldn't do anything.
Her body had betrayed her. In the past hour the dizziness had abated only slightly. She still couldn't keep her balance long enough to walk down the hall, let alone participate in the search. Bright lights hurt her eyes, and when the doctor had asked her a few simple questions, she'd seen three images of his face. Now, alone in the room, she hated herself for her weakness. What kind of mother was she?
She couldn't even look for her own child!
She'd broken down completely at midnight-Kyle had been gone for three hours-when she realized she wouldn't be able to leave the hospital. She'd begun to scream Kyle's name over and over, as soon as the X-ray had been completed. It was a strange relief to just let go, to scream his name at the top of her lungs. In her mind, Kyle could hear her, and she was willing him to listen to her voice. Come back, Kyle. Come back to where Mommy was. You can hear me, can't you? It didn't matter that two nurses were telling her to be quiet, to calm down, while she struggled violently against their grip. Just relax, they said, everything's going to be okay.
But she couldn't stop. She just kept screaming his name and fighting them until they'd finally brought her here. By then she'd screamed herself out and the screaming had turned into sobs. A nurse had stayed with her for a few minutes to make sure she'd be okay, then had to respond to an emergency call in another room. Since then Denise had been alone.
She stared at the second hand of the bedside clock.
Tick.
No one knew what was going on. Before she'd been called away, Denise had asked the nurse to call the police to find out what was happening. She'd begged her, but the nurse had gently refused. Instead she'd said that as soon as they heard anything, they would let her know. Until then the best thing she could do was to calm down, to relax.
Relax.
Were they crazy?
He was still out there, and Denise knew he was still alive. He had to be. If Kyle was dead, she would know it. She would feel it deep down, and the feeling would be tangible, like getting hit in the stomach. Maybe they had a special connection, maybe all mothers shared it with their children. Maybe it was because Kyle couldn't talk and she had to rely on instinct when dealing with him. She wasn't exactly sure. But in her heart she believed she would know, and so far her heart had been silent.
Kyle was still alive.
He had to be. . . .
Oh please, God, let him be.
Tick.
Judy McAden didn't knock. Instead she opened the door slightly, noticing the overhead light was off. A small lamp glowed dimly in the corner of the room as Judy quietly made her way inside. She couldn't tell whether Denise was asleep or not but didn't want to wake her if she was. As Judy was closing the door, Denise turned her head groggily and peered at her.
Even in the semidarkness, when Judy turned and saw Denise lying in the bed, she froze. It was one of the few times in her life that she didn't know what to say.
She knew Denise Holton.
Immediately-despite the bandage around her head, despite the bruises on
Some of the others, however, were beginning to wonder if they'd even be able to find the body.
Denise was still awake because sleep was simply an impossibility. There was a clock on the wall alongside her bed, and she was staring at it, watching the minutes pass with frightening regularity.
Kyle had been missing for nearly four hours now.
Four hours!
She wanted to do something-anything but lie there so helplessly, useless to Kyle and the searchers. She wanted to be out looking for him, and the fact that she wasn't was more painful than her injuries. She had to know what was going on. She wanted to take charge. But here, she couldn't do anything.
Her body had betrayed her. In the past hour the dizziness had abated only slightly. She still couldn't keep her balance long enough to walk down the hall, let alone participate in the search. Bright lights hurt her eyes, and when the doctor had asked her a few simple questions, she'd seen three images of his face. Now, alone in the room, she hated herself for her weakness. What kind of mother was she?
She couldn't even look for her own child!
She'd broken down completely at midnight-Kyle had been gone for three hours-when she realized she wouldn't be able to leave the hospital. She'd begun to scream Kyle's name over and over, as soon as the X-ray had been completed. It was a strange relief to just let go, to scream his name at the top of her lungs. In her mind, Kyle could hear her, and she was willing him to listen to her voice. Come back, Kyle. Come back to where Mommy was. You can hear me, can't you? It didn't matter that two nurses were telling her to be quiet, to calm down, while she struggled violently against their grip. Just relax, they said, everything's going to be okay.
But she couldn't stop. She just kept screaming his name and fighting them until they'd finally brought her here. By then she'd screamed herself out and the screaming had turned into sobs. A nurse had stayed with her for a few minutes to make sure she'd be okay, then had to respond to an emergency call in another room. Since then Denise had been alone.
She stared at the second hand of the bedside clock.
Tick.
No one knew what was going on. Before she'd been called away, Denise had asked the nurse to call the police to find out what was happening. She'd begged her, but the nurse had gently refused. Instead she'd said that as soon as they heard anything, they would let her know. Until then the best thing she could do was to calm down, to relax.
Relax.
Were they crazy?
He was still out there, and Denise knew he was still alive. He had to be. If Kyle was dead, she would know it. She would feel it deep down, and the feeling would be tangible, like getting hit in the stomach. Maybe they had a special connection, maybe all mothers shared it with their children. Maybe it was because Kyle couldn't talk and she had to rely on instinct when dealing with him. She wasn't exactly sure. But in her heart she believed she would know, and so far her heart had been silent.
Kyle was still alive.
He had to be. . . .
Oh please, God, let him be.
Tick.
Judy McAden didn't knock. Instead she opened the door slightly, noticing the overhead light was off. A small lamp glowed dimly in the corner of the room as Judy quietly made her way inside. She couldn't tell whether Denise was asleep or not but didn't want to wake her if she was. As Judy was closing the door, Denise turned her head groggily and peered at her.
Even in the semidarkness, when Judy turned and saw Denise lying in the bed, she froze. It was one of the few times in her life that she didn't know what to say.
She knew Denise Holton.
Immediately-despite the bandage around her head, despite the bruises on
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