Chapter Eleven

Sam tossed his keys on the table and his coat over a chair. It had been a long day in court...his first since the snow storm had subsided. After rummaging through his mail, he grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and turned on the tv to catch the evening news.

"...and so, folks," the weatherman was saying, "this winter storm seems to be abating. The department of transportation is working hard to clear the main roads, but it will be some time before the secondary roads are passable. Although the Level 3 emergency has been lifted, please use caution if you must be out and about. Now...back to you, Bob."

"Thank you, Tim. Yes, rescue workers have had a full day. Helicopters have been instrumental in rescuing several people who have been stranded by the storm. One person recovered today was missing Llanview attorney, Nora Buchanan. Ms. Buchanan and her husband, Commissioner Bo Buchanan, were reported missing two days ago. Ms. Buchanan was found along the banks of the Tucquan Creek and taken to Mercy Hospital in Harrisburg where she is said to be in stable condition. Commissioner Buchanan has not yet been located…

Sam was on his feet and back into his coat at the words Mercy Hospital. He grabbed his keys and slammed the door closed behind him. He was on his way to Harrisburg.

Henry Benson had been using his tractor to help clear snow from people's drives. The first thing he noticed when he got home was a half empty baby bottle on the kitchen table. Curiously, he picked it up and rotated it in his hand.

Jenny…

He carried the bottle into the living room to question her, but she wasn't there.

"Jenny?" he called from the foot of the stairs, "you alright?"

No answer.

Apprehension went through Henry's mind and worry gripped him. She was doing so much better… or so he thought.

It was hard being a single father. Henry's wife had died when Jenny was twelve-years-old...right when a girl needed her mother. He'd done the best he could, but he had to work; and he had to admit, Jenny spent way too much time alone and had nearly raised herself.

When she got pregnant at eighteen, he was not at all surprised. Actually, he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner since he was always coming home to find different boys in the house. Jenny wasn't sure who the daddy was but wanted to keep the baby, so Henry had tried to be supportive.

When little Dylan died in his crib at only a month old, Jenny was devastated. She tried to hurt herself as well, but Henry had her committed to a facility where she could get some emotional help. He thought the worst was behind them. Why would she have the baby bottles out again?

Henry climbed the stairs and stood outside Jenny's door. He heard her talking.

"Grandpa is going to be surprised and happy to see you, Dylan. He should be home any time now…"

Puzzled, Henry opened the door to find Jenny with a babe in her arms and, on her face, the brightest smile that he'd seen in months.

"Jenny?" Henry began quietly.

"Dad...look who's home," Jenny interrupted. "It's Dylan. Come see him."

Henry slowly approached Jenny and the child. Pulling aside the blanket, he gazed upon an obviously newborn infant.

"Jenny...where…?"

Jenny's smile faded. "It's Dylan, Dad. Don't you even recognize your own grandson?" She pulled the baby possessively closer.

Henry's heart sank as he stared at his daughter.

"Jenny…" he began cautiously, "...where did you find this baby?"

"You mean, Dylan? Where did I find him?" she replied. "God gave him back to me….that's all you need to know."

Henry looked at her in wonder, but before he could respond, she continued, "But, he's going to need some milk...we're almost out," she told him knowingly. "If you can't get to the store, can you at least get some milk from Maisy? I need to prepare some bottles ahead…"

"Jenny…"

"Are you going to help me or not?" Jenny remarked, getting agitated. Feeling her tension, the baby began to fuss. She put him over her shoulder and tried to console him.

Henry spoke soothingly, "Jenny...this baby...he isn't Dylan, honey. He…"

"He is Dylan!" she shouted angrily. "He's mine! Now, are you going to help me? If you don't help me, I'll...I'll...I'll just take Dylan and we'll leave! We don't need you! We can make it on our own…"

"No!" Henry answered quickly. "No. I don't want you and...Dylan...out in the cold...I'll go get some milk...just stay here. We'll figure all this out…"

Sunlight beamed through a crack in the barn siding leaving a streak of light across Bo's grizzled face. He squinted against the light as he regained consciousness once again. He had no idea where he was or how long he had been here.

The barn door slid open, and Henry Benson, milk pail in hand, entered nearly tripping over Bo's still form lying on the floor.

"What the…" Henry proclaimed as he looked down at Bo. "Hey, mister! You alright?" he asked, putting down the milk pail and dropping to a knee beside Bo. "Have mercy...what's going to happen next?" he wondered.

"Don't tell me to calm down! She took my baby!" Nora shouted, pacing the floor of her hospital room.

"And we're here to help you find your baby, Mrs. Buchanan, but these things take some time. We'll get a lot more done if we remain calm and..."

Nora pointed her finger at the officer. "If anything happens to my baby…"

Suddenly the magnitude of the problem became very real, and she slumped on the side of her bed trying to fight back tears. "Please...please help me find my baby...please…" she cried softly. "And my husband...he's out there somewhere…"

"Search teams are all over the area. I'm sure it's only a matter of time until your husband is found. Right now we need to concentrate on the baby. Now...this woman who took your baby...do you think you could describe her to one of our sketch artists?"

Nora wiped the tears from under her eyes. "Yes. Definitely. I can do that."

"Well then, that's where we'll start. Try not to worry, Mrs. Buchanan. We'll do our very best to find your baby. I'll call the department. We'll have a sketch artist here in no time."

To be continued...