Collins awoke disoriented. He was in his bed, had a terrific headache, and was still in his clothes. He was lying on top of the bedspread, not under it. And he was cold, so cold. The amount of light coming in the window suggested midmorning, at least. What was going on? He sat up slowly as the events of the night before began to come together in his mind.
Patrick, where was Patrick?
Then he remembered. He was gone.
He remembered working in the attic until 1:00 a.m. carving the wooden soldier, when the police captain called up to him from the second floor. The captain said they were calling off the search until daylight. His men had covered ten square blocks around the house, but no sign of Patrick. The only thing that made any sense is that someone took Patrick in for the night. Come morning, he’d have the men start going house to house. They were sure he’d turn up. Collins wanted to believe him, but he didn’t sound very convincing.
The captain also informed him two officers had escorted Mrs. Fortini and Miss Townsend next door for the night, and that he’d leave an officer downstairs, in case something unexpected turned up.
After the captain left, Collins had gone back upstairs to finish the wooden soldier. He didn’t know how long he’d been at it, but he worked until it was done. Then he came down and collapsed on his bed.
All he needed now was to go back up and paint it. If they did find Patrick today, Collins wanted the soldier completely finished and waiting by the front door. He put on a fresh shirt and noticed out the window that the storm had stopped. The trees were still, the winds had ceased. The snow had blanketed his entire street, smoothing away all the hard edges.
Directly below he saw deep footprints leading away from the house, but he didn’t see any officers standing or moving around outside. He looked up and down the street; not a soul was in sight. Where the heck are they? he thought. Should be guys all up and down the street, knocking on doors and searching backyards.
As he buttoned his shirt, he made his way downstairs. Someone had better explain why no one was out looking for his grandson.
Katherine Townsend had slept but not well. She never slept well when not in her own bed, but all the more with so much on her mind. Last night, Mrs. Fortini had made her something she called a “hot toddy” to help quiet her nerves. It didn’t work. She saw her make it with brandy and lemon, and wanted to tell her to just give her the brandy, keep the lemon.
She got up from the bed and began changing from a borrowed nightgown to the clothes she’d worn yesterday. A look out the window revealed the storm had ended, but she was shocked at the amount of snow on the ground. It was halfway up her car door. The next shock was that her car was the only car out front, at either house.
Where were the policemen and firemen from last night? The officer who’d helped them over to Mrs. Fortini’s said they’d all be back at first light. She looked at a clock on the nightstand. It was 9:30 already.
All right, don’t get mad, she told herself. Maybe they had already come and were out searching on a different block. But then she looked again. The snow in front of the house and out by the street was undisturbed.
Now she was getting mad.
She took a quick look in the dresser mirror, brushed her hair a few strokes, then heard someone humming softly in the kitchen. “Mrs. Fortini?”
“Oh, there you are, Katherine. Care for some coffee?”
“Huh? Yes, that would be nice. Do you know what’s going on? It’s after 9:30, and I don’t see anything going on out front.”
“Now, you just sit down over there, and I’ll make you a couple of eggs and toast.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can eat. I don’t understand why isn’t anyone out looking for Patrick.”
“In a way, they are,” she said, almost smiling. “I’ve already talked with the police captain almost two hours ago. I decided not to wake you. There really isn’t anything more either of us can do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The captain explained a plan they came up with for this morning, and I had to admit, it sounded like a good plan to me.” She set the cup of coffee down in front of her.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“He said the storm brought way more snow than anyone predicted, and it would take his men the better part of a day just to see the houses within a few blocks of here. The cars are all snowed in. You like your eggs fried or scrambled?”
“What?”
“Fried or scrambled?”
“Scrambled is fine.”
“Anyway, someone had the idea to call everyone. Almost all the homes around here have telephones now. The phone company gave them the numbers of each house, street by street. So he’s put his men on phone duty. The same men who were out searching last night are now calling each house in the neighborhood to see if anyone took Patrick in.”
Katherine smiled. It actually was a good idea. “Did he say how long it would take?”
“He didn’t know; they’ve never done anything like this before. But he sounded very optimistic.”
“Maybe I could help. I’m good on the phone.”
“Katherine, have you looked outside? We’re snowed in. Your car is almost buried, and the streets are completely covered.”
Katherine sighed. “It’s just so hard to sit here doing nothing.”
“We’re not doing nothing. We’re having a nice breakfast together.”
“You seem so . . .” She didn’t want to accuse her of not caring. “Relaxed.”
“In a way, I guess I am. I don’t know what you think about these things, but when I woke up this morning and said my prayers, I got a very strong feeling that everything was going to be okay. I don’t think God is going to take Patrick away from us. He knows how much we can handle, and none of us could handle losing him right now. Least of all Mr. Collins next door.”
Katherine had a hard time imagining God would do anything out of the ordinary to help that old man. “I wish I felt as secure about this as you.”
Mrs. Fortini just smiled. “Here you go.”
She set a nice plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. That and the coffee did seem to quiet her nerves. “Maybe I better call the office, let them know what’s happened.”
“You could,” said Mrs. Fortini, “but the radio said the whole town is pretty much shut down from the storm. Tell you what you could do, if you have the energy, that is.”
“Anything.”
“I’ve got a snow shovel in the basement. Maybe after you eat, could you make a small path between here and next door? Just wide enough for our feet. I’d like to check in on Mr. Collins if we could.”
What a sweet woman, Katherine thought. When she thought of Collins, the best she could manage was a momentary suppression of rage. “I’d be happy to do that, Mrs. Fortini. The eggs are wonderful, by the way.”
“Glad you like them.”
“I hope we hear something soon. I don’t know if I can make it through a whole day without knowing where Patrick is, if he’s doing all right.”
“Well, let me turn on the radio and see if that helps. They’re supposed to be playing Christmas music all day. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, you know.”