~ Her Name Is Mommy ~

by

J. D. Webb

Prologue

Jan Lutovsky had no interest in the throng of shoppers. Exhausted from her own Christmas shopping, she checked her makeup once again in the compact mirror. Her long, blonde curls had been meticulously brushed minutes before, and Jan allowed herself a satisfied smile. Occasionally she glanced down at the large bags at her feet to make sure no one tried to grab one. Only three days left till Christmas and she finally had the perfect gift for everyone. With any luck, a nice snow would make it an ideal Christmas.

At 24, Jan had one of those model bodies, only not rail thin. In another life she could have been a movie star. At least that’s what her husband, Rick, always said. She was accustomed to being described as drop-dead gorgeous and learned to ignore the admiring looks from the many male passersby.

~ * ~

Jan’s four-year-old daughter, Madison, sat quietly on an uncomfortable, slatted bench and wondered how long she would have to sit there. She hoped mommy would remember the promise of ice cream as a reward for good behavior.

~ * ~

 The Lutovsky driver, George, was not due for another fifteen minutes. Jan didn’t see anything that looked more comfortable, so she had just decided to seat herself next to Madison when a man approached. A worn Cubs baseball cap was pulled down to his eyebrows, and seemed to match the dirty jeans and scruffy, black leather jacket. Jan tried to snub the tall, gangly cretin who sported a three-day growth of beard, but he got right in her face.

“Come with me, and you won’t be hurt.” Despite the man’s appearance, his voice was soft and strained.

“I beg your pardon?” Jan looked him in the eye and shot him her most vicious stare.

“You’re coming with me. Let’s go.” The man grabbed her arm and pulled. The expensive compact flew out of her hand as she tried to wrestle her arm away, only to discover the unwanted grip had tightened.

“Ma’am, I have a gun. You don’t want me to use it.” He tugged his coat away, and she gasped at the sight of the shiny, brown handle of a pistol tucked in his belt.

“What do you want?” A cold shiver ran up her spine. She really didn’t want that question answered.

“I won’t say it again, lady. Let’s go.” They started toward the door. Jan took one last look at the bench where her daughter sat alone next to the pile of presents. She desperately hoped someone would help Madison, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to. Would she ever be able to help her daughter again? Dear God, this couldn’t be happening to her.

One

The rust-colored curls stood out against the bright green color of the bench the little girl occupied. Cowering in the corner, she almost disappeared in the vastness of the wooden seat. The cornflower blue eyes cast anxious glances at the passing mall crowd of holiday shoppers. Tears tumbled down the naturally rosy cheeks, but the child didn’t utter a sound. She smoothed her yellow dress, decorated with multi-colored butterflies, and continued searching the mass of people, no doubt seeking a familiar face.

For several minutes Mike Shepherd watched the little girl look worriedly around. He hated malls and hated shopping, but had agreed to help his girlfriend, Diana Barton, complete her Christmas list. Helping might be exaggerating a bit. Mike believed his role amounted to hauling parcels. He hoped those last-minute purchases would liberate him from the despised task for another year.

Mike wondered if he should approach the girl and ask if she was okay, all the while thinking that a forty-one-year-old man striking up a conversation with a toddler wouldn’t be an instant hit if her mother or father showed up any time soon. Still, he couldn’t stand to see the child in such obvious distress. The packages piled beside her must have been placed in her care. He frowned, thinking she was too young for such responsibility. Mike was a private investigator. People in trouble were his business.

Mike was about to abandon caution and go over to the tot when Diana appeared, carrying four large boxes and a shopping bag, each parcel announcing the name of the store selected to complete her reign of spending.

“Whew, finished!” Diana took a couple of deep breaths. “I never saw so many people. Sorry I took so long.” Chestnut-colored eyes shot him a look, suggesting he should take some of her packages.

“That’s okay. Do you see the little girl sitting on that bench?” Mike took the boxes and gave a nod to indicate the direction in which Diana should look.

“The one in the yellow dress? She’s a doll all right.” Diana smiled, tucked flyaway auburn strands behind one ear, and handed Mike the shopping bag.

Mike fidgeted, waiting for Diana to react. “She’s crying.”

“I wonder what’s wrong.” Diana’s eyebrows pulled together.

“I’ve been watching her for more than fifteen minutes, and she’s alone. No one’s come up to her, and she’s been looking around as if she’s lost. I think we should go check her out.” Not waiting for a comment Mike walked over to the child. Diana followed.

Mike’s big smile softened his rugged face. He pointed to Diana. “Do you mind if we sit on this bench with you?”

“I guess it’s okay.” The tot studied the fading nail polish on her fingers and didn’t look at Mike or Diana. Those fingers seemed too small to be able to pick up much of anything.

“My name is Mike, and this is Diana.” They sat down. Mike piled Diana’s packages next to the bench.

“Hello.” The child toyed with the thin, pink belt that wrapped twice around the tiny waist.

“What’s your name?” Diana placed herself between Mike and the little girl and took over the conversation.

“Madison.” One hand swept across the slats of the bench next to a tiny brown parka with matching mittens attached to each sleeve.

“Are you okay, Madison? I think you’ve been crying.” Diana’s voice was soft and tender.

“I’m all right.” Two quick sniffles said otherwise.

“If you need somebody to help you, we’d be happy to.” Mike and Diana both smiled.

“I’m supposed to wait here.” Another tear dove to the bottom of her chin.

“Would it be okay if we waited here with you for a while?” Diana asked.

“Sure.” Madison tugged at the Shirley Temple curls on the back of her head.

“How old are you?” In response, the child’s right hand struggled with four fingers, and the left helped display the correct number.

“Do you know your last name?” The little girl shook her head. “Are you waiting for your mother?” This time the head went up and down.

“What’s her name?”

“Her name is Mommy.” A smile lit up Madison’s face like a Tiffany lamp.

Mike noticed a compact lying on the floor next to the bench and picked it up.

“What do you make of this, Di?”

Diana raised her eyebrows. “Very expensive. A Jay Strongwater. Those are about $300 apiece at Nieman-Marcus. Someone’s going to be upset when she discovers it’s gone.”

“I don’t like the looks of this. I’m going to contact mall security and get Madison’s description paged on their intercom.” Mike took the compact and went to consult the mall directory.