The Door to December

1
    As soon as she finished dressing, Laura went to the front door and was just in time to see the Los Angeles Police Department squad car pull to the curb in front of the house. She stepped outside, slammed the door behind her, and hurried down the walk.
     Hard spikes of cold rain nailed the night to the city.
     She hadn't bothered with an umbrella. She couldn't remember which closet she'd stuck it in, and she didn't want to waste time searching for it.
     Thunder rolled across the dark sky, but she hardly noticed those ominous peals. To her, the pounding of her own heart was the loudest noise in the night.
     The driver's door of the black-and-white opened, and a uniformed officer got out. He saw her coming, got back in, reached across the seat, and opened the front door on the passenger side.
     She sat next to him, pulled the door shut. With one cold and tremulous hand, she pushed a damp strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.
     The patrol car smelled strongly of pine-scented disinfectant and vaguely of vomit.
     The young patrolman said, 'Mrs. McCaffrey?'
     'Yes.'
     'I'm Carl Quade. I'll take you to Lieutenant Haldane.'
     'And to my husband,' she said anxiously.
     'I don't know about that.'
     'I was told they found Dylan, my husband.'
     'Most likely, Lieutenant Haldane will tell you about that.'
     She gagged, choked, shook her head in disgust.
     Quade said, 'Sorry about the stink in here. Arrested a guy for drunken driving earlier tonight, and he had the manners of a pig.'
     The odor was not what made her stomach twist and roll. She felt sick because, on the phone a few minutes ago, they had told her that her husband had been found, but they hadn't mentioned Melanie. And if Melanie was not with Dylan, where was she? Still missing? Dead? No. Unthinkable. Laura put a hand to her mouth, gritted her teeth, held her breath, waited for the nausea to subside.
     She said, 'Where ... where are we going?'
     'A house in Studio City. Not far.'
     'Is that where they found Dylan?'
     'If they told you they found him, I guess that's the place.'
     'How'd they locate him? I didn't even know you people were looking for him. The police told me there was no cause for their involvement ... it wasn't their jurisdiction. I thought there was no chance I'd ever see him ... or Melanie again.'
     'You'll have to talk with Lieutenant Haldane.'
     'Dylan must've robbed a bank or something.' She could not conceal her bitterness. 'Stealing a child from her mother isn't enough to interest the police.'
     'Buckle your seat belt, please.'
     Laura fumbled nervously with the belt as they drove away from the curb, and Quade hung a U-turn in the middle of the deserted, rain-swept street.
     She said, 'What about my Melanie?'
     'How's that?'
     'My daughter. Is she all right?'
     'Sorry. I don't know anything about that, either.'
     'Wasn't she with my husband?'
     'Don't think so.'
     'I haven't seen her in ... in almost six years.'
     'Custody dispute?' he asked.
     'No. He kidnapped her.'
     'Really?'
     'Well, the law called it a custody dispute, but as far as I'm concerned, it's kidnapping pure and simple.'
     Anger and resentment took possession of her when she thought of Dylan. She tried to overcome those emotions, tried not to hate him, because she suddenly had the crazy notion that God was watching her, that He was judging her, and that if she became consumed by hatred or dwelt on negative thoughts, He would decide that she wasn't worthy of being reunited with her little girl. Crazy. She couldn't help it. Fear made her crazy. And it made her so weak that for a moment she did not even have sufficient strength to draw a breath.
     Dylan. Laura wondered what it would be like to come face-to-face with him again. What could he possibly say to her that would explain his treachery — and what could she say to him that would be adequate to express her outrage and pain?
     She had been trembling, but now she began to shake violently.
     'You okay?' Quade asked.
     'Yes,' she lied.
     Quade said nothing. With the emergency beacons flashing but without using the siren, they raced across the storm-lashed west side of the