cabinet in front of you.” Her hand shaking, she immediately set the pitcher on the ceramic tiles.
Taylor leaned close to her. “You have enough to do. The least I can do is take care of this. Go sit down.”
“Thanks.”
He quickly filled the glasses, set them on the table and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. When he took his seat between Ben and John, he looked up into Sierra’s brown eyes across the table, glimpsing a sadness he was all too familiar with.
After John finished chewing a bite of his hamburger, he said, “Ben, this is fantastic. Now I see why this is your favorite place to get a burger.”
The boy kept his head down while eating his food.
Taylor fixed his attention on Ben. “Dr. Yates, I agree with you. This is great.”
The child slid his glance to Taylor for a fleeting few seconds.
John nodded at Taylor, a signal they had talked about earlier. If Ben wasn’t responding to John, his friend wanted Taylor to ask a few questions and see what response he could get from the traumatized boy.
Over the years Taylor had interviewed a lot of victims and witnesses, but in this case, he felt the weight of what he was doing. He wasn’t a child psychologist, but at least John was here to guide him.
“Ben, sometimes when I’m upset, I can’t explain things well. That’s normal. I noticed some pictures on the refrigerator. Are those yours? Do you like to draw?”
The young boy turned his head slightly toward Taylor, then went back to eating.
“Ben draws a lot, as you can see.” Sierra pointed toward the fridge. “He has an area in his room where he has paper, pencils, markers and other items for a budding artist.”
“That’s great, Ben. Maybe after lunch, you can show me your room.”
He nodded but didn’t look at Taylor.
Ten minutes later Ben and Sierra headed upstairs with Taylor behind them. John was waiting a moment before following. When Taylor entered the bedroom, the sight of a large corkboard with a ton of drawings pinned to it sent relief through him. According to John, some kids expressed their emotions through their artwork. He remembered in the baby kidnapping case how Michelle Sanders, the daughter of Dallas Sanders, a fellow Texas Ranger and friend, and the thirteen-year-old babysitter of the first child abducted, had helped their case and had been pivotal in solving the crime.
“You’re quite an artist, Ben. I’d love for you to draw a picture for me,” Taylor said.
Ben sat down at his table but didn’t do anything except stare at a blank sheet. Taylor and Sierra hovered over the child, not sure what else to do. When John appeared in the doorway, Ben finally picked up a black marker and scribbled all over the paper. Then he snapped up the picture and wadded it into a tight ball. Tears ran down his face as he threw it at the wall. Hanging his head, he hunched his shoulders.
Sierra squatted next to her nephew, putting her arm around him. “Sweetie, I’m here for you.” She gave him a hug, tears glistening in her eyes. “Can you tell us anything about this morning?”
Silence.
Taylor knelt on the other side of the boy. “You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Remember, I promised.”
After five long minutes, when Ben didn’t say anything or make any kind of movement to indicate he’d even heard him, Taylor glanced over his shoulder at John, who motioned for Taylor to come into the hallway. He rose and took a step away. Suddenly Ben shot up, his chair tumbling backward, and threw his arms around Taylor as though to stop him from leaving.
Still he spoke not a word.
Taylor clasped the boy, not sure what he should do.
Sierra came to Ben’s side. “Hon, it’s okay if you don’t want to draw. Texas Ranger Blackburn was only going out into the hallway to talk with Dr. Yates. You need to let him do that.”
“Ben, I’ll be right back.”
The child let go and immediately clung to his aunt.
As Taylor left the bedroom, he heard Sierra say, “You won’t be alone. You’re safe now.”
He hoped so for the child’s sake.
Taylor joined John in the hall, and they moved away from the doorway. “What do we do?”
“Ben needs to feel safe. After the kind of trauma he went through, he’s frightened, possibly wondering when the person will come back and get him. He took his anger and fear out on the paper.”
Taylor frowned, remembering the young boy crammed into a cabinet, probably told not to say a word. “I can’t imagine the horror he went through when he witnessed his mother being murdered. He could have seen the whole thing through the slats in the cupboard door. At the very least, he heard it. I was hoping he would tell us what he saw and heard. We don’t have a lot to go on right now. What should we do?”
“We?”
“How can I turn my back on the boy?” And Sierra.
“I see the resemblance of Ben to TJ. Is that why you feel you need to go above and beyond your job?”
John had helped TJ deal with his leukemia and then even helped Taylor deal with TJ’s death. “Don’t bring my son into this. Ben isn’t TJ. I know that. But he’s a scared child and the only witness to the shooting.”
“Are you being honest with yourself?”
“I’m going to make sure he’s safe. What if the man comes after Ben because he thinks the child saw him?”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure out something. If anything happens to Ben, I’d never forgive myself.”
“Like TJ?”
Taylor balled his hands. “I did everything I could to save my son. And I’ll do the same for Ben.” The memory of the boy clinging to him when he rescued Ben from the cabinet wasn’t something he would forget anytime soon.
John stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know. But don’t mix the two up. Ben needs to feel safe. His view of the world has been shattered today. And there’s a chance he’ll never remember the details of what happened or even talk again. Our mind sometimes will suppress a tragic incident in order to cope with what happened.” He looked over at the door to Ben’s room. “That doesn’t mean it won’t affect the boy on a subconscious level.”
A sound to Taylor’s left brought him around to face Sierra as she came into the hallway. Grief had carved lines into her features, darkened her eyes. “How’s Ben?”
“He’s asleep right now.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Intense emotions are exhausting.” All Taylor had wanted to do when TJ had died was retreat from life and sleep.
