Whirlwind

52

Fate, Texas

Hazel Hill held her cordless phone to her ear and peeked through her curtains at her neighbor’s yard.

That missing baby the President talked about is next door.

Someone has to do something about this.

Hazel had already called the police. As usual, they didn’t come, so this time she’d tried calling the press. If they looked into it, maybe something would get done. The newspeople seemed interested before they’d put her on hold. Patience is a virtue, Hazel told herself as she listened to the music. It was Rhinestone Cowboy. She liked Glen Campbell.

Looking down from her bedroom window and through the trees, Hazel had a good view of the house, the yard, everything.

Holding the phone and watching, she glanced at the water glass by her nightstand and tried to remember. Did she take her green-and-white pills today? Or was it a blue-and-yellow pill day? She’d have to look at her pill organizer and the daily newspaper to be sure what day it was. Hazel read the newspapers every day and watched the TV news-the music stopped and the line clicked.

“This is Kate Page with Newslead. Can I help you?”

“Hello, yes, are you the reporter who’s been writing stories about the missing baby the FBI is looking for? I told the nice young man I wanted to talk to that reporter.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m the one. Can I get your name and address, please?”

“Hazel Hill, 164 Briscoe Street, Fate, Texas.”

“You’re calling because you think you know where Caleb Cooper is?”

“Yes. He’s in my neighbor’s house.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I watched them arrive.”

“Who is ‘them’? And how do you know they’ve got Caleb?”

“I’ll tell you. I’ve lived next door to the Faulks’ house for forty-five years. Langston Faulk and his wife, Lillian, were our best friends. They took such loving care of it. Lillian’s roses were just beautiful. Then she died and a year later Langston died-”

“Yes. Excuse me, ma’am, but-”

“Then their nephew, a no good lowlife, took over and started renting it to riffraff, always coming and going and turning it into the monstrosity it is today. If my Royce were alive to see this, he’d tell you that it’s just a shame, a pitiful shame and a grave dishonor to Langston and Lillian.”

“I see, Hazel, but how can you be so sure the baby’s there?”

“Because I’ve seen him.”

“How are you certain it’s Caleb Cooper?”

“I’ll tell you. I know Lillian’s place like it was my own. I know when the gravel driveway crunches if someone is coming or going at any time of day or night. For about a month there’ve been two boys living there. They drink a lot of beer and eat a lot of pizza and chicken. I see their empty cans and boxes in the trash. But generally they keep to themselves. Then this pickup truck comes and a young man and woman with a little baby arrive.”

“Really?”

“They carried in bags and groceries like they were moving in.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“No.”

“Can you describe them?”

“Well, the woman had long blond hair.”

“Long and blond?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

A long, wordless pause followed.

“Ma’am, did you call the police?”

“Yes, but they never came, and I’m not surprised. It’s like the last time.”

“The last time.”

“I called them yesterday when I saw people in the trees outside my window.”

“People in the trees?”

“Yes, they had big heads and they were looking at me, and the day before that I saw a little man running in my yard and I called police. They said it was the same lawn ornament that I called them about before. But this time I saw it move. They don’t believe me. They never do.”

A few seconds passed.

“Ma’am,” Kate said. “This is a personal question, but do you take medication?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I see.”

“So when’re you coming to knock on their door?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t just yet. I’m helping with our coverage of the President’s visit today.”

“Oh my, yes, that’s important. I was watching him on TV. Oh, it was so beautiful. When he talked about the missing baby, it made me cry and I asked the Lord, what should I do to help?” Hazel looked at the framed poster of Jesus Christ in her bedroom. “He’s here with me and the Lord said, ‘Hazel, I spared you from the storm for a reason. You have to help get that little child back to its mother.’”

“We’re all praying for that, ma’am,” the reporter said. “Why don’t you leave this with me for now and I’ll see what I can do?”

“What’s your name again, dear? I’ll write it down with your phone number?”

“It’s Kate Page,” she said then recited her numbers, slowly, twice, and thanked her for calling.

After hanging up and reviewing the information she’d written down with such attention, Hazel saw that blonde lady in the backyard with Caleb Cooper. She whispered a prayer that someone would come soon.