Suffer Little Children Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Suffer Little Children

  PROLOGUE | MAY 30, 2016

  PART ONE

  ONE | ROBIN

  TWO | AMBER

  THREE | ROBIN

  FOUR | ROBIN

  FIVE | AMBER

  SIX | ROBIN

  SEVEN | ROBIN

  EIGHT | AMBER

  NINE | ROBIN

  TEN | ROBIN

  ELEVEN | AMBER

  TWELVE | ROBIN

  THIRTEEN | AMBER

  FOURTEEN | ROBIN

  PART TWO

  FIFTEEN | ROBIN

  SIXTEEN | AMBER

  SEVENTEEN | ROBIN

  EIGHTEEN | ROBIN

  NINETEEN | AMBER

  TWENTY | ROBIN

  TWENTY-ONE | AMBER

  TWENTY-TWO | ROBIN

  TWENTY-THREE | AMBER

  TWENTY-FOUR | ROBIN

  TWENTY-FIVE | AMBER

  TWENTY-SIX | ROBIN

  TWENTY-SEVEN | ROBIN

  TWENTY-EIGHT | AMBER

  TWENTY-NINE | ROBIN

  THIRTY | AMBER

  THIRTY-ONE | ROBIN

  THIRTY-TWO | AMBER

  THIRTY-THREE | ROBIN

  THIRTY-FOUR | ROBIN

  THIRTY-FIVE | AMBER

  THIRTY-SIX | ROBIN

  THIRTY-SEVEN | AMBER

  THIRTY-EIGHT | ROBIN

  THIRTY-NINE | AMBER

  FORTY | ROBIN

  PART THREE

  FORTY-ONE | AMBER

  FORTY-TWO | ROBIN

  FORTY-THREE | AMBER

  FORTY-FOUR | ROBIN

  FORTY-FIVE | ROBIN

  FORTY-SIX | ROBIN

  FORTY-SEVEN | ROBIN

  FORTY-EIGHT | AMBER

  FORTY-NINE | AMBER

  FIFTY | ROBIN

  FIFTY-ONE | AMBER

  FIFTY-TWO | ROBIN

  FIFTY-THREE | AMBER

  FIFTY-FOUR | ROBIN

  FIFTY-FIVE | AMBER

  FIFTY-SIX | ROBIN

  FIFTY-SEVEN | AMBER

  FIFTY-EIGHT | ROBIN

  FIFTY-NINE | AMBER

  SIXTY | ROBIN

  SIXTY-ONE | AMBER

  SIXTY-TWO | ROBIN

  SIXTY-THREE | AMBER

  SIXTY-FOUR | LABOR DAY WEEKEND

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  To Elizabeth and Olivia, the best daughters a stepmother could have

  Suffer Little Children

  Red Adept Publishing, LLC

  104 Bugenfield Court

  Garner, NC 27529

  http://RedAdeptPublishing.com/

  Copyright © 2020 by Freda Hansburg. All rights reserved.

  COVER ART BY Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  PROLOGUE

  MAY 30, 2016

  ROBIN HELD HER BREATH, listening to Ben on his cell phone with the police dispatcher. Her gaze remained fixed on him, the man who’d been her lover those past months. She clenched her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms, yet she remained oblivious to the pain. Her teenage son, Sean, hovered at her side, suddenly adult and protective of his mother.

  Ben’s ex-wife, Vanessa, perched on the edge of her living room sofa, an arm embracing their son, Jaden, who sniffled and swiped a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. The seven-year-old leaned his head into his mother’s side, and she stroked his hair.

  The tenderness touched Robin. She’d never seen Vanessa display such empathy before. Usually Vanessa was too cranky and frazzled to comfort anyone, including herself.

  “She’s wearing jeans and a red-and-white-striped T-shirt,” Ben told the officer, reconstructing the outfit his ten-year-old daughter, Amber, had been wearing when last seen a few hours before. He described her suspected abductor.

  Robin shuddered at the image of a face that had come to haunt her nightmares.

  Ben raked his fingers through his dark hair in agitation as he listened to the dispatcher’s response. He glanced over, and his eyes met Robin’s. She read the anguish there and the guilt. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. The call was taking too long, wasting precious minutes.

  “Ben,” she urged, “tell them we think they’re heading south.”

  He held up a hand, signaling he understood. “Officer, they may be heading south on I-95. Please hurry.”

  Robin hugged her shoulders. Sean’s hand rested on her back, but consolation eluded her. It should never have come to this.

  Ben ended the call, his eyes vacant, lost.

  “We know where they’re going.” Robin looked at the others, as if rallying their support.

  They stared at her.

  “We can’t just wait around,” she insisted. “We have to get there ahead of them.”

  But how?

  PART ONE

  The Goops they lick their fingers

  And the Goops they lick their knives:

  They spill their froth on the tablecloth

  Oh, they lead disgusting lives!

  The Goops they talk while eating,

  And loud and fast they chew;

  And that is why I’m glad that I

  Am not a Goop, are you?

  Gelett Burgess, “The Goops”

  ONE

  ROBIN

  ROBIN PERRY SIPPED THE last of her second margarita. Late-afternoon shadows enlaced the lawn, where the crowd of suburbanites chatted and toasted Cinco de Mayo, not a Mexican in sight.

  Mostly Ben’s friends attended the cookout, not many she knew. A surreptitious glance at her watch said it would be another half hour before they could excuse themselves to drive his kids back to their mother’s house. Robin scanned the gathering. Where are Amber and Jaden? With those two, out of sight did not mean they should be out of mind, she’d learned. The last time Ben had brought them to her house, Robin had found Amber in her studio, painting a mustache and glasses onto the self-portrait she’d labored over for a month.

  Frida Kahlo, a Mexicana worth toasting, only had to cope with monkeys. And even those were her own idea, unlike Ben’s kids, whom Robin no longer welcomed as house guests. She knew her decision hurt Ben, but she refused to have them over until he learned to control their behavior.

  “Ben tells me you’re running a clinical study.”

  Robin studied the tall, angular woman standing before her. Short, dark hair framed the unfamiliar face with sharp cheekbones and penetrating eyes.

  The woman offered her hand. “Gloria Reyes.”

  “Robin Perry.” Gloria’s hand felt cool despite the balmy spring afternoon.

  “I just talked with Ben.” Gesturing over her shoulder, Gloria smiled, revealing even white teeth. “I’m a friend of his and Vanessa’s.”

  “Oh.” A friend of a couple that’s no longer a couple. Glancing where Gloria had indicated, Robin spied Ben, his lanky six-two frame dwarfing the short, stocky man with a ruddy face he stood next to. Apparently worked up about his subject, the short guy made sweeping gestures, threatening to slosh beer onto Ben’s sneakers. Ben flashed Robin an eye roll.

  She laughed, and Ben grinned back—a slow stretch of the lips th
at suggested the possibilities awaiting them after they dropped off his kids. A warm sensation pulsed in places Robin had forgotten about until Ben.

  “Is it true? You’re starting a new cancer treatment program at Mountainview Hospital?”

  “Huh?” Robin refocused on the woman in front of her. “Oh. Yes. I mean, I work with the physician who’s the primary investigator. I’m coordinating the clinical trial, managing the administrative details.” Robin flushed with pride. She still found it hard to believe she’d landed her new position.

  “How exciting. And you’re a nurse?” Dark eyes, unnerving in their intensity, held Robin’s.

  “That’s right.”

  “Has it started yet? The study?”

  “Next week,” Robin replied. “I’m flying down to attend an orientation in DC tomorrow.” Again, she scanned the yard for Amber and Jaden, wondering what sort of mischief the two might be up to. She glanced at Ben but failed to catch his eye. Maybe she’d better find them. “If you’ll excuse me,” she told Gloria. “I need to check on Ben’s children. We need to take them home soon.”

  As Robin backed away, Gloria grasped her arm. “But tell me, please—”

  Crash!

  The patio’s screen door slammed against the house, followed by the shrill cry of a small dog and children’s shouting. All eyes, including Robin’s, snapped toward the commotion.

  Amber and Jaden. Of course. Robin spotted the little dog they chased, their hostess’s white fluff ball of a toy poodle. Muffin? Puffin?

  “Oh dear!” Gloria exclaimed.

  “Shit,” Robin muttered.

  Crimson streaked little white Muffin-Puffin’s face, the same color that stained the towel in Amber’s hand as she pursued the yapping poodle. At first, Robin thought it might be blood—but it didn’t appear dark enough. Muffin-Puffin’s neck sported a hot-pink silk scarf that trailed behind, catching his back paws, causing the dog to stumble as he ran.

  “Oh my God! Biscuit!” Their hostess rushed over and scooped up the whining poodle. She glared at Amber and Jaden. “What did you do?”

  Jaden held out a lipstick stub. “We gave him a makeover. Don’t you like it?”

  She grabbed for the tube, her scarlet lips curling into a snarl. “Give me that!”

  Amber dashed in front of Jaden. “You leave him alone, lady. It’s not yours anyway.”

  “Why you...” Too shocked to complete a sentence, the woman reached for Amber.

  Ben stepped up and yanked his daughter away from her. “Please. It’ll be all right, Caroline. Send me the cleaning—uh—grooming bill, and I’ll take care of it.”

  Grasping Jaden’s hand, he caught Robin’s eye and jerked his head, signaling a retreat. His other hand clutched the nape of Amber’s neck.

  “Oww,” she whined. “Dad!”

  “I’m really sorry,” Ben told the hostess, who held the squirming Biscuit and scrubbed his carmine-smeared face with the pink scarf.

  Robin set her empty margarita glass on the nearest table, eager to leave and embarrassed to be associated with the debacle. “It was nice to meet you,” she told Gloria. “I’m afraid we have to leave now.” Scooping up her handbag from the bench, she hurried after Ben and his children.

  IN THE BACK OF BEN’S SUV, his children shrieked and giggled delightedly. In the passenger seat, Robin seethed. Tick, tick, tick. The explosion built.

  “Dad, wasn’t that awesome?” Amber crowed. She’d taken the stained towel with her, perhaps as a trophy, and now waved it like a flag.

  “Please, Amber,” Ben said. “That’s blocking my rear view.”

  She continued flapping the towel. “But did you see Jaden’s and my cool makeover we gave?” She tousled her brother’s light-brown hair. “We could be artists, right, Dad?”

  No wonder she marred my self-portrait, Robin reflected bitterly.

  “We made the doggie so bee-yoo-tiful!” Jaden chortled.

  Ben returned his dark eyes to the rearview mirror, smiling tolerantly at the children’s antics.

  Seriously?

  Possibly sensing Robin’s wrath, Ben asked the kids, “What happened to the drawing pad and markers we brought for you?”

  “I dunno,” Jaden said.

  “Oh nuts, we left them there,” Amber complained. “Dad, can we go back and get them?”

  Ben shook his head. “I think we’d better head home. I’ll get you some new ones.”

  Oh, great, he intends to reward them. Robin clenched her jaw, stifling a protest. She opened her purse to get a stick of gum. She needed something to close her teeth around.

  “Amber, please put down the towel,” Ben repeated.

  Whooping, Amber wrapped it around Jaden’s head, causing them both to erupt in high-pitched laughter. Robin flashed Ben a searing look.

  Ben cleared his throat. “You know, kids, it’s not nice to play with other people’s pets without their permission.”

  Playing? Nice? That’s the best he can do? Robin continued rooting in her purse. The chewing gum should have been right there with her makeup.

  A raspberry blatted from the backseat set her teeth on edge, and the words spilled from Robin’s mouth. “Jaden, how would you feel if someone did that to your dog?”

  Jaden laughed and nudged his sister, who guffawed along with him. “No way! Nina wouldn’t let them.”

  They had an answer for everything. “That’s not the point.” Robin twisted around to confront them. “You might have frightened that dog or even hurt him.” Lecturing once again. But someone had to teach them civilized behavior, and Ben wouldn’t do it. His eyes remained glued to the road. Robin faced forward, determined not to let them provoke her further. Her fingers found the package of gum in her purse. Empty.

  “Nyahh, nyahh.”

  Robin whirled back around. “What did you say?”

  Amber and Jaden seemed barely able to contain their laughter.

  Robin told them, “Besides abusing that poor animal, you children had no business stealing from the hostess. Her scarf—”

  “We didn’t steal it!” Jaden interrupted. “We found it on the coat rack.”

  “Found it on—” Robin choked on the words. Talking to these children is pointless. She took a breath then managed, “And Caroline’s lipstick?”

  The children exchanged grins. “Wasn’t hers,” Amber said.

  Robin pictured the color she’d seen on the poodle’s face. She turned once more to probe the space in her bag next to the empty gum wrapper.

  A hand from the back seat appeared beside her as Amber held out her lipstick. “You can have this back now. We’re done borrowing it.”

  Robin’s body tensed. She snatched the lipstick from the girl’s hand and flung it on the floor. “They stole my lipstick and used it on that dog,” she muttered.

  Ben patted Robin’s knee. “Sorry, Bird. I’ll get you a new one.”

  New pencils. New lipstick. Buying things was Ben’s solution to every problem.

  In the back seat, Amber snickered and whispered loud enough for Robin to hear, “Miss Perfect.”

  The children giggled.

  Robin gnashed her teeth. If this kept up, she would need a night guard. She wanted to jab an elbow into Ben’s ribcage—or better, a steak knife. He shouldn’t allow them to disrespect her that way. If my son had ever done something like that...

  But of course, Sean never had. She’d raised him to know better.

  Ben let his kids get away with murder. They played him like virtuosos. Ben was a regular Disney dad, wanting every visit with them to be a special treat. He felt too guilty about splitting up their home to deny their most frivolous whims, punish their atrocities, or correct their constant misbehavior. He had the precise formula for breeding little monsters. Robin adored Ben—a sweet, funny, modest, generous man—but those same qualities made him a pushover parent. She refused to sign on as a surrogate mother. Uh-uh. And the idea of becoming his kids’ stepmother made her want to run screaming.

 
Robin fumed silently, vowing not to intervene again. The few times she’d suggested setting limits, Ben had gazed at her with wounded-puppy eyes. For the past six months, Robin had subsisted on a steady diet of swallowed rebukes.

  Breathe, she commanded herself, trying to quiet the outrage thrumming in her ears. She thought of all the years of dating disasters and disappointments since her divorce, all the frogs she’d kissed until finally Robin had met her prince. If only the package didn’t include two feral kids. She wondered how much longer she could put up with it.

  She flashed to a memory of Thanksgiving dinner with Sean and Ben’s kids, the one and only time her son—now finishing his first year at UMass Amherst—had shared the dinner table with them.

  “Jeez, Mom!” he’d complained. “Didn’t anyone teach them how to eat?”

  Robin shuddered.

  They were savages at the table. They grabbed from each other’s plates, talked and laughed with their full mouths wide open, and shouted demands for whatever they wanted. If no one passed the food to them immediately, they grabbed for the platter and stuffed the food into their mouths.

  The Goops. Robin never said her private epithet for Amber and Jaden aloud except to Sean, who lived three states away and was thus unlikely to repeat it to Ben.

  “Robin?”

  They’d pulled up in front of Vanessa’s house. Robin stayed facing straight ahead.

  Ben put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She remained silent.

  “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “I’m going to let Vanessa know what happened with the dog. The kids ought to receive a consequence, right?”

  Robin turned away from him, certain his ex would have no intention of enforcing consequences.

  “I’m thinking they should write Caroline an apology letter.” He waited. When she didn’t respond, he added, “At least. Want to come in or wait out here?”

  “I’m not going in there,” Robin snapped. She had no intention of entering the lion’s den.

  “Okay.” Ben stepped out of the SUV and opened the back door. “Let’s go,” he said to the children. “Say goodbye to Robin.”

  They trooped up the toy-strewn walk. Bicycles lay haphazardly outside. Amber dropped the stained towel on the front porch. Robin shook her head. They didn’t even bother saying goodbye. Damned if she cared.