Malcolm found himself flanked on three sides by policemen, none of whom looked as if he knew exactly what to make of Malcolm’s part in this unorthodox chase down Main Street.
“Here, let me take her,” one of the policemen said to Malcolm.
He felt the slight nudge of reluctance as he surrendered the child to the younger man. “She looks none the worse for wear,” Malcolm observed.
“No, I guess she doesn’t,” the policeman agreed, his voice thick with emotion.
Only when he held his niece safe in his arms did relief flood Officer Tyler McGuire. News of the car-jacking had crackled over the radio, interrupting a conversation he’d been having with his partner. There’d been instant recognition when the dispatcher recited the van’s license-plate number. Instant recognition and instant fear that Tyler had had to hold in check as he sprang into action.
Satisfied that Robin was all right, Tyler raised his eyes to the stranger’s face. He didn’t know him. “That’s in part thanks to you,” he replied. “I have no idea who you are, but I’m sure glad you came along when you did. Where did you learn how to drive like that?”
A distant smile quirked Malcolm’s lips. “On a farm.”
Now that the baby was safe, the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. He was really going to have to do some catching up today, he thought. He’d promised Mahoney the car by two.
Tyler laughed as Robin gurgled at him. “Must have been one hell of a farm,” he commented. “If it weren’t for you,” Tyler told him, sobering, “she might have become just another statistic.”
Malcolm didn’t want praise or gratitude; he was just happy to set things right. He shrugged away the officer’s words as he began heading back to his car. “Just a matter of being in the right place at the right time, that’s all.”
“Mind following me back?” Tyler called out to him. It was more of an invitation than a question. “My sister is going to want to thank you for this in person.”
Malcolm stopped beside his car. “Sister?” What did the policeman’s sister have to do with anything?
He nodded. “Christa. The woman whose baby you just saved.” Tyler shifted Robin to his other side and thought how good it felt just to hold her. “This is my niece, Robin Winslow.”
Malcolm paused and looked into the face of the child he had rescued. He thought of Sally again and felt his heart squeeze a little. “Nice to meet you, Robin Winslow.”
Tyler thought he detected a hint of a smile on the man’s lips before it faded.
“C’mon back to the minimall,” Tyler urged again as he opened the van’s passenger door. “Christa’s still waiting there.” If he knew his sister, she would remain there indefinitely, praying for a miracle. It looked as if this time she’d gotten one.
They all had, he amended, looking at Robin. “By the way, my name’s Tyler McGuire.”
“Malcolm Evans,” Malcolm said after a moment.
Tyler shook his hand. “I am really glad to meet you. C’mon, Robin, let’s go see Mommy.”
“Mommy,” Robin affirmed.
Tyler laughed as he hugged her. “I’ll drive the van,” he told his partner. “Follow me back.”
His partner, Elliott, nodded and started up the squad car. The other two cars had gone directly to the police station with their prisoner in custody. The man would be spending the night in a holding cell courtesy of the city, and tomorrow, after charges were pressed, he would find himself with another mailing address.
Not waiting for the policeman to go first, Malcolm turned his LeMans around and headed straight toward the minimall.
It surprised him that the incident could have stirred so many memories within him. It was like someone poking a stick at the embers of a fire that hadn’t quite managed to go out.
It was all because he’d held the child, he thought. Holding her had made him remember. And yearn.
And regret.
He blew out a breath, wishing there was some effective way to permanently anesthetize himself so that he didn’t feel anything anymore. Feeling nothing was preferable to feeling pain.
He took the yellow light automatically and turned down the street that fed into the minimall. And saw her. Even some distance away, he knew it had to be her, the woman who had screamed. The woman whose child he’d saved. She couldn’t have been anyone else. The woman, her hair as blond as her daughter’s, was standing on the northernmost curb of the minimall, frantically searching the thoroughfare for some sight of her van.
The way she stood, alert, poised, hopeful, made him think of a portrait of a woman from the old seafaring days. Days when women stood watch upon the widow’s walk of a Cape Cod house, looking at the sea for some sign of their husbands’ ships on the horizon.
As soon as she caught sight of the van, Malcolm saw a smile break out over her face. Even at a distance, it was nothing short of radiant.
So radiant that he found himself caught up in its brilliance. It made him feel good for the first time in years. It felt like sunshine seeping through the pores after months in the gloomy mist.
Malcolm saw the woman hurrying past his car, reaching the door of the van before it had come to a full stop. As she ran by, he saw the tears streaming down her face, tears that were in direct contradiction to the smile on her face.
“You got her back!” Christa cried.
Disbelief, joy and relief all tangled together in her voice. Her hands trembled as she opened the door and quickly climbed inside. They shook even more as she snapped open the harness that held Robin in place. She was certain that her heart was going to crack through her ribs as it pounded hard in relief.
“Not me,” Tyler told her as he got out of the vehicle. “He did.” Tyler jerked his thumb at Malcolm’s car.
Daughter pressed against her, Christa sobbed her relief into Robin’s hair. Then, pulling herself together, she stepped out of the van. With Robin in her arms, Christa turned to look at the man her brother had pointed out, the man whom she had seen tearing out after the carjacker.
The man who had given her back the life she saw flowing away from her only fifteen minutes earlier.
“I have no idea how to thank you,” Christa cried. Emotion choked her words away, and she threw her free arm about his neck and hugged him.
Caught in an emotional embrace between the woman and the child in her arms, Malcolm was temporarily at a loss. The last time he’d been standing like this, it had been Gloria and Sally whose embrace he’d shared. Sally with her perpetually sticky fingers, and Gloria, who had smelled like roses. This woman smelled of wildflowers. Memories battered at him, threatening to overwhelm him completely.
They assaulted him even harder as the woman brushed a kiss on his cheek.
He swallowed, separating himself from both of them. “I think that’ll do just fine,” he told her.
Christa
