Little Girl Found

Her parents separated when she was only five, her mother Darlene citing a cruel and abusive relationship, and an unhealthy disposition toward their daughter as the reason for the legal separation from her father, Adam Smith. When he defied several restraining orders, Darlene petitioned the courts for divorce and was awarded custody of the young Anna.

Her memories of that time were vague. They moved to a new town, near her maternal grandparents where her mother worked as a cocktail waitress.

Everything seemed fine for a period of just over two years, until Anna’s father showed up one night her mother was working. Luring out to his car, he abducted her, stealing her away from the apartment she and her mother shared. Despite a massive manhunt, escalating beyond a state level to a national level as the story captured the country’s imagination, Adam eluded authorities and slipped away undetected, his precious Anna in tow.

No one understood what she meant to him, how special she was to him, she knew, because he would often tell her she what a truly singular child she was, exceptional beyond all others.

Moving from community to community, he kept her from school. Purchasing seconds books, he started teaching her himself, citing knowledge was the key, knowledge was power. She didn’t understand why he had come and taken her away from her mother, whom she missed, but she was a dutiful child and eager to please her sire, she did as her father bade unquestioningly, even after he started hurting her. He said he did it because he loved her.

It wasn’t until her disappearance was re-broadcast on a nationally televised television program that someone working in a Walmart coincidentally recognized the slightly age advanced computer picture of her from the show and called the local authorities.

She remembered walking through the store, they were looking at clothes for her when the police showed up, surrounding them. Her father pulled her close to his side, eyes wild, like a trapped animal. “You can’t have her!” he yelled, squeezing her arm painfully hard as he spun looking for an avenue of escape.

She grimaced at the pain in her arm, but didn’t make a sound, like he had taught her.

“Easy Adam,” said a policeman, tone calm, left hand out, palm down, “Just let Anna go,” he said, “And we can talk about this, okay?” he asked, right hand curled around the holstered Beretta at his hip.

“She’s not ready, I’m not finished!” Adam said, reaching under his jacket and pulling a knife from the sheath he kept on his belt, holding it to her throat, the edge drawing a thin red line across her alabaster neck.

“Whoa! Come on Adam, she’s just a little girl,” said the policeman, both hands now raised to shoulder height, palms out.

Adam swiveled his head, police seemed to be everywhere, hands on guns. “You can’t take her,” he whined, almost pleadingly, shaking his head.

“Just let Anna go,” said another policeman, “C’mon Mr. Smith you don’t want to hurt your little girl.”

Several bystanders looked on, some with cell phones out, recording the dramatic scene unfolding despite the best efforts by police to keep the area clear.

Adam shook his head from side to side, tears welling up in his eyes so very like Anna’s own. “I can’t,” he said, voice breaking, lower lips trembling.

“Please Adam, she’s your daughter,” said the first policeman, moving a step closer, eyes sympathetic.

Anna started to cry, fat blue tears rolling down her cherubic cheeks, she was afraid the police were going to hurt her daddy. “I love you daddy,” she said, voice choked with emotion.

“I love you too, princess,” he sobbed, the knuckles on his hand gripping the knife handle whitening from added pressure, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The world seemed to slow, seconds elongating into hours. The report of the gun, thunderous and deafening in the tense silence, the bullet catching Adam in the shoulder, spinning him away from her, the knife falling from his hand. She turned, specks of blood misting down on her head as her father was shot and staggered backwards.

The world snapped back at double speed as several police officers rushed the scene. She felt her whole body scooped up and pulled into the arms of young policeman who immediately carried her away from there. She didn’t see her father fall, but several other officers rushed passed and there was a lot of yelling.

A cheer rose up from the assembled crowd, several people applauding.

“Anna!” she heard above the commotion as he screamed, lying on his stomach, pinned by arms and knees to the ground while the police handcuffed his wrists behind his back.

“Daddy!” she wailed, stretching a small hand over the policeman’s shoulder back toward him.

“It’s okay you’re safe now,” reassured the policeman, hand cradling the back of her head. “You’re okay.” As he brought her feet back to the ground. “The nice ambulance lady is going to look at you now,” he said, warm smile on his face as he put his hand to her face and thumbed a tear from her cheek.

Anna turned to the paramedic, a woman with sandy hair, white top, colorful badges, black pants and blue nitrile gloves, stethoscope around her neck.

The woman smiled at her, “My name is Jill,” she said, eyes looking at the shallow laceration on Anna’s neck. “Is it okay if I take a look?” she asked.

Lower lip out, snot running from her nose Anna nodded.

“Oh that’s not too bad,” Jill assured,, examining the wound “Just a scratch. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

The girl looked down but remained quiet.

The female paramedic frowned, “It’s Anna, right? Are you hurt somewhere else?” she repeated, tone a little firmer.

Anna slowly shook her head, daddy told her never to tell and she was a good girl.

Puzzled by the sudden change in body language, Jill said, “It’s okay, you know you’re not in trouble, but if you’re hurt I really need you to let me know, so I can help you.” The smile on her face was pleasant, her tone now soothing.

A pout still on her face, Anna reached her right hand up and quickly patted her stomach before lowering her hand back down.

“Okay,” Jill said, “I’m just going to take a look.” Pulling the bottom of the t-shirt up, she suddenly released it, leaning back and away from the ten year old girl, eyes wide, horrified, “Sweet Jesus!” she breathed, bringing a gloved hand to her own face.