Free Twisted Justice by Patricia Gussin

wouldn’t give up him. That he knew, especially little Patrick. The kid was only eight years old and already he was complaining about Laura’s treatment.
    â€œAnd another thing,” Steve said to move the conversation to territory he could manipulate. “You gotta stop being so strict withPatrick. He said you wouldn’t let him watch
Starsky and Hutch
last week.”
    Laura sighed. “Let’s not start using the kids as pawns, okay? It’ll only make things worse.”
    â€œFine for you to say. You’re the one making things worse.” Steve slammed down the phone.
    Rolling over to turn off Tammy Wynette’s “Stand by Your Man” piping through the clock radio at seven the next morning, Laura was surprised to find herself alone in bed. Since Steve had left, she had usually awakened to find that Natalie or Patrick or both had crept in beside her. Pleased that the kids must be doing better, she lingered under the covers until seven forty-five before heading to Mike and Kevin’s room. The kids would need a decent breakfast before Steve picked them up. Once she woke them all, she’d make waffles, a favorite weekend treat. The door to the boys’ bedroom was open, the two twin beds empty and unmade. She sighed, knowing as usual that she’d have to send them back up to make their beds. Why even try to make them make their room look neat? She wondered what had gotten them up so early; on weekends those two never got up before nine.
    Laura crossed the hall to the girls’ frilly pink room. Pushing aside the pile of stuffed animals they so loved, she found both canopied beds empty. A few pieces of clothing were scattered about and she stopped to pick them up. It was odd; the girls usually made their beds first thing. Patrick’s small cubbyhole room, decorated with Miami Dolphins paraphernalia, was also empty. That was strange. Funny, she couldn’t hear the television on downstairs.
    â€œWhere is everyone?” she called. But there was not a trace of sound. She called out again, louder. No response.
    Had Steve said he was picking them up before eight? She remembered last night’s conversation, decidedly unpleasant, but Steve had specified eight o’clock. And what would they do so early anyway? Laura was already anticipating a tough day at the hospital. She’d called a colleague last night for a last minute switch ofschedules and learned she’d be covering for four staff surgeons today on top of other duties. As she wandered downstairs, Laura reviewed her day: rounds on at least thirty post-op patients, admitting any surgical cases that came in through the ER, supervising all emergency operations. And, she recalled, she’d agreed to meet with that attorney, Sam somebody, at Roxanne’s insistence, but against her own better judgment.
    Laura walked through every room downstairs. No sign of breakfast in the kitchen, no blaring television, no scattered toys. She headed out the front door, scanning up and down the street for any sign of her children or for anything unusual. She did note that the front door was unlocked. Certainly she’d locked it last night, but, of course, Steve had a key.
    â€œCall a locksmith,” she mumbled to herself.
    She went back in and checked the back door, which was still locked. Dressed only in her faded blue dressing gown, still wearing her glasses, she walked across the yard and headed toward Marcy’s apartment over the garage.
    â€œGood morning,” Marcy called out over the flower boxes she kept under each window. She was an early riser and had already returned from 7:00 a.m. Mass. “Thought you’d be out of here already you’ve got such a full day.”
    â€œWell, I …” Laura faltered. “I was looking for the kids.”
    â€œYou’re a few hours late. Guess you didn’t wake up when Steve came?”
    â€œWhat time did he pick them up?”
    â€œAround