Amber Alert, page 15
“You’re also expected to use your brain,” he mutters. “Come, let’s get a bite to eat. There’s a hotel across the street with a restaurant. I booked you a room.”
My jaw drops a little at the confession. “Does Georgia ever get annoyed with your control freak ways?”
Cal holds the door open for me. “Sometimes, but not often. It’s part of my charm.”
Does he ever know it…I refrain from rolling my eyes. At least I won’t have to spend the night at headquarters. With the upcoming search in yet another city, there won’t be much alone time. There’ll be a lot to clarify once life goes back to its familiar paths.
* * * *
Chrissie wonders if she was too hard on the woman, rejecting the toys. It wouldn’t have hurt Rosie, which is the most important point. Maybe it was petty, and she was a little too quick when she offered her forgiveness on TV.
She will worry about it another day. Joan Winters might not be guilty of kidnapping, but she passed judgment all the same. Though she’s mostly surrounded by people who couldn’t care less, Chrissie thinks she can interpret someone’s reaction pretty well. She doesn’t look like their cliché of a lesbian, and even if she did, what’s it to them?
Her family goes to church, not every Sunday, but on a pretty regular basis. It’s Ann who doesn’t. Rosie’s daycare is church-owned, and no one ever batted an eye at single parents, or same-sex parents. Of course, there are other, less welcoming congregations.
Chrissie doesn’t understand that way of thinking, and she’s not sure she ever wants to.
Other people’s prejudices are irrelevant anyway when she can hold her daughter in her arms again. The commotion at the airport made her cranky for a little while, but she’s sleeping now in the seat between Chrissie’s and Rachel’s, despite the noise of the engine. She’s so little, but Chrissie wonders if she missed them just as much, missed so much sleep that she’s exhausted now that she’s safe—well, almost. She can’t wait for the moment they’ll finally close the door of their home behind them.
“You’re a better person than I am,” Rachel says. “I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her.”
“I’m not.” Chrissie smiles. They talk in hushed tones, mostly because they are tired. If the sound of the engine doesn’t wake Rosie, it’s unlikely that their voices will. “I don’t know. It’s difficult. She wanted a baby as much as we did.”
“We didn’t take anyone else’s.”
“She didn’t know.”
Rachel sighs. “Yeah. We don’t know what their deal was.” She leans back into her seat, reaching for Chrissie’s hand. “You know what’s the best? We don’t have to. It’s sad for them that they’ve been lied to, but we have our own lives. Our baby,” she says, her eyes welling up.
Chrissie takes her hand, thinking of the burning questions, the fear they faced for endless days. Joan Winters who has been caught up in a vicious scam, Donna Clarks whose daughter isn’t coming back.
Rachel is right. They need to have a clear focus now, and the best lesson from all of it is to hold on tighter.
* * * *
At 11:30 p.m., I lie awake in my hotel room, admitting to myself that I should have probably gone home with Chrissie, Rachel and Rosie. There’s nothing here for me—nothing I can tell Walsh tomorrow that couldn’t have been exchanged through modern communication devices.
We should be so lucky that the agents find files revealing the location of other children who have been abducted, and bring them home. I’d like to be part of that, bring closure to the families and witness their relief when they find their child is well and alive.
What will come for me after that, professionally and privately?
It might be hypocritical, but having met Georgia makes a difference, even if she’s eerily cool about the affair, maybe from experience.
“You must ask yourself if it’s really what you want,” the words of my mother, when I first told her about Cal, come back to me. I was enthusiastic about my successes at work, about the praise of a much more experienced officer of the law, and, of course, younger. At the time, I told her without a doubt that yes, I was okay with not being the one who got invited to office parties. I didn’t mind the discretion.
Do I now?
There’s the Joey situation. I wasn’t at my most responsible, sure, but part of what makes the situation even more complicated is being a woman.
Once Cal leaves the FBI in favor of politics, some might pay attention and try to dig for dirt on someone who feels passionately about matters of choice and equality. Something tells me that many people would be a lot more forgiving than they would be looking at my situation.
Then again, I have to admit it’s not really the double standard that’s getting on my nerves—it’s my own inability to make up my mind.
I won’t make a decision tonight, either. The task force will now pack up for real, and it will be a while before I see Cal again. Joey might want to take that transfer and sort out the family stuff as he told me, and I’ll have some time to figure out where I want to go.
Tomorrow after work, in any case, I will check in on the newly reunited family.
* * * *
I drift off to sleep only to be jolted awake by the ringing of the telephone. It’s 5:00 a.m., and I haven’t taken off my clothes or even stirred.
“Cal? What is it?”
“It’s all gone,” he says, all suppressed anger. There are probably other people around.
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Somebody tipped them off. There was no file on Rosie or any of the other kids. The husband is out of town, and the wife can’t reach him. At least that’s her story.”
“What? The Winters signed a sworn statement!”
“That didn’t faze her at all. She says she remembers the Winters from a visit, the child not so much, and that maybe someone misplaced the file. She tells the same stories they sold to Joan and Lloyd. She also showed me some paperwork of kids from abusive families that have been placed with foster parents, and so far, the stories pan out.”
“That’s not possible! Have you looked on computers?”
“Thanks for the suggestion. We’re not doing this for the first time, remember?”
I don’t feel like apologizing.
“The longer you search, the more time they’ll have to plan the next wave of kidnappings!”
“I don’t think so. They will be more careful.”
“Great. What about the children who are still out there?”
“Ann, I can’t really talk now. I just wanted to give you an update. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll call you later.”
He hangs up on me before I can answer. I sit up, swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
Now what? This is not good enough. There’s nothing I can present either to my boss, or to Rachel and Chrissie who will want to know who was behind the scheme of kidnapping their child.
Who told the Middleton couple that the police were coming?
Chapter Twenty-One
Coming back to my desk is a sobering experience. I’m still giddy with joy knowing that Rosie is home, and that she wasn’t harmed during her absence. Whatever else is there to say about the Winters who thought it was all right that doubling the money would push an adoption through just a little bit faster, who didn’t question the finer details—they’re not evil.
Sure, it is deeply frustrating for Chrissie and Rachel that many people need to be educated to realize that gay people do not huddle in a sinister conspiracy to take over society—but thank God for the people that still can be educated. I hope that Joan and Lloyd Winters will learn something from their experience. It seemed that way to me.
I’ll drop by at my sister’s on the weekend. All is well there.
As for the job, there is too much unfinished business, not just for me, but every investigator on the case of the still missing children.
Cal is still out of town, conferring with the locals about the next steps, and I guess that’s priority now, determining how far the reach of the Middleton institute really is. Martinez stayed there as well.
Joey is taking care of whatever family business is going on in his hometown, but he did let the lieutenant know about my absence.
Walsh catches me sitting at my desk staring into nothing, on my screen still the site of the Middleton institute, part of the network “For Faith and against the Homosexual Agenda.” It’s too bizarre, a world I never even knew existed. The Christians I know are usually all about “Live and Let Live”…nothing like this. Some people can’t be educated, because they resist all the way. Even if by some miracle Joan and Lloyd Winters didn’t know that Rosie was not legally taken from her parents, their attitude shows. The Middletons promote “ex-gay therapy,” banning the word gay from schools, ranting about gay marriage and adoption, the whole nine yards.
“Not exactly uplifting literature,” Walsh comments. “I’m glad your niece is back home.”
“Thanks.”
“I hear not everything went that well.”
“No.” I sigh. “I have no idea how they did it. I mean, it’s a big compound. There’s no way they could have erased all evidence within just a short amount of time.”
“It’s entirely in the hands of the FBI now,” he says, not that I needed a reminder. “Maybe it’s time for you to let it go. It’s not like it’s that boring around here.”
It’s a gentle hint that there’s enough work left on my desk to keep me busy even without poking my nose where I only could because of my ties with the leading agent on the case. The thought is depressing. I never intended to sleep myself up the career ladder, and I never saw what happened between Cal and me that way, until today, and until now.
“Check your partner’s desk too,” Walsh advises. “Since he’s taken some personal time, it will be up to you to do a few interviews around town. Have fun, McCoy.”
He turns back to his office, and I make a face behind his back.
“I saw that, McCoy!”
“No, you didn’t,” I mutter to myself, but get up to walk over to Joey’s desk in order to gather the necessary information. He’s right about one thing, I could use some distraction. Fortunately, Walsh has no idea why that is the case.
* * * *
I call Chrissie between two interviews, hearing Rosie chatting excitedly in the background. It’s something I will never take for granted again. Rachel is at a meeting; Chrissie worked in the morning. Life goes on, which is a wonderful thing. I should appreciate it more.
Cal does not call me again, and I show my appreciation for life by still sitting at my desk at 8:30 p.m., catching up on paperwork, a cop’s least favorite part of the job. If you saw that in crime fiction—it’s true. Nevertheless, I make good progress, thinking that I can probably have an actual weekend off this time. I might spend it doing internet research, but who cares?
I finally print out the last report and pick up a small stack of files that belong to Joey. When I do so, a piece of paper sails to the floor. I bend to pick it up, realizing that it probably doesn’t belong in the file. There’s a name and a phone number written on it.
Ryna (work)
I put it back where I found it, but curiosity has already gotten the better of me. It’s not that I’m jealous, or that I’d have the right to be. Most men I know aren’t of the patient kind, and trying to keep them at arm’s length almost never works. Not that I was trying—or was I? With a heartfelt sigh, I turn off the computer. Maybe it’s time for me to remind myself what it was like to be single and happy.
Back at my own desk, I shuffle a few papers around before picking up my jacket and keys.
“I didn’t expect you to be still here…”
I spin around at the sound of Joey’s voice.
“Hey, partner. What are you doing here?”
“That’s a good question indeed.” He looks tired. “I’m glad about your niece though. We really need a good happy ending every now and then in this job, especially when it’s family.”
“True.”
His words are heavy with meaning, but cryptic to me. I stand by my desk, hesitating. It’s none of my business, I tell myself. I should just go. It’s been a long day.
“You got your family stuff figured out?”
“Does anyone ever? You know what, I was going to check a few things, but that can wait another day,” he says. “How about we go have a few drinks? You have something to celebrate. Me—well, I’ll celebrate with you, but frankly, any excuse is welcome.”
“Are you okay?”
Joey shrugs. “It will be fine. I just think we could both use a break, right?”
Uh-oh. There’s a bit of a hopeful tone in his voice that I don’t want to, shouldn’t encourage, even though…I’m afraid that if we go out and get wasted, the course of the evening is too predictable.
“Right. Who is Ryna?” Might as well get that out of the way. It will either remove an obstacle, or help me step on the brakes.
“Why? Did she call?” His expression is wary, concerned.
“Not that I know of.”
“Very good, then.” He sighs. “I’ll tell you the whole story if you want. Let’s just go somewhere else, okay? Ryna is my sister, and the reason I’m almost out of this department, something I can hopefully avoid.” Joey regards me with curious speculation.
“What?”
“You were a bit jealous, right?”
“No way,” I protest.
He just smiles, and as we leave the department together, it’s best to gently let that topic go. I have an idea about how to proceed.
“If we hurry a bit, I could be just in time to say goodnight to Rosie, would you mind? After that, there’ll be a couple of cold beers waiting in my fridge.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
* * * *
Rosie isn’t in bed yet but still running around in the cutest pink-and-white PJs the world has ever seen. She hugs me tightly, casting a shy smile at Joey afterwards.
“Hello, princess,” he says, “That’s an awesome truck you got there. Could you show me?”
The shyness doesn’t last long. She picks up the toy truck, which is also pink, to show him, and tells us that its name is Buddy.
“I have no idea,” Chrissie sighs, but she smiles happily at her daughter, an enormous weight lifted off her shoulders.
“My nieces and nephews tend to name most of their things,” Joey says. “I don’t think I was ever this creative.”
“We just came by to say goodnight,” I remind everyone.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Rachel jokes. “Would you guys care for a beer? We still have some left from the party, would you believe it?” Of course, there hasn’t been much opportunity since then. I remember the moment I caught them both blitzed on cheap wine…We have all been so lucky. There are families who still live in uncertainty and terror every time the phone rings. I cast a look at Joey. We’ll get back to work on this tomorrow. For now…
“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”
It’s eerie to see Joey interact with members of my family, just like he’s known them for a long time. At the first impression, he’d been a bit cocky, eager to make an impression. He’d been asking a lot of questions, especially after learning that my sister was a married lesbian mother. Not that I told him, somebody at the station had.
However, that’s what it’s like for good, no-nonsense people: family is family, and love is love, those aren’t just empty slogans.
My mind is drawn back to the people who think of anyone who is not like them as an offense, people like the Middletons. It makes me shudder to think how much leverage they have to push their harmful theories—down to kidnapping?
I catch Chrissie’s amused gaze on me, and realize I’ve been drifting. I think I need to catch her alone one of these days and set her straight about some things. These are extraordinary circumstances. Me, bringing my partner at work to hang out for a few beers, it doesn’t mean anything. For sure, it’s not what I imagine she and Rachel are thinking.
I prefer to believe that even an hour later, when Joey and I are back at my apartment.
I frown at the thought of the elephant in the room—why do people even say that?
“Thank you for tonight,” he says. “It’s a relief that not everybody’s family is crazy.”
“That bad?” I wonder about his decision to ask for a transfer, and if anything has changed. Frankly, I don’t know anymore what would be better. If he stays, it will be even more important for both of us to make up our minds.
Cal and I never had a problem working together, but for most of the time, we didn’t. Maybe it was because it was clear we’d never be together all the way—or is there still a chance? I’m sure Georgia doesn’t believe so. I don’t know what I believe.
“Worse. My sister has threats from her employer hanging over her head and wants me to step in between. My seventeen-year-old baby brother thinks smoking pot on a regular basis is cool and all cops suck. Add to that my parents who think that I could magically change everything to the better if I leave my job here and go work for a police station in a town no one has ever heard of. Yeah, it’s that bad.”
“Whoa. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sighs. “I try to help, but I don’t really want a transfer and get in the middle of all that.” Holding my gaze, he continues, “For many reasons.”
I blush.
“You know you’re one of them.”
“No, Joey, don’t do that. We work together.” The possibilities are in the room, in bright colors. I feel warm in other places all of a sudden. This is not good.
“I could just ask for another partner. Problem solved.”
It wouldn’t solve all of my problems. I can’t go there again. That one time, being scared and lonely might serve as an excuse.
I’m only now beginning to understand that Rosie’s kidnapping dragged a lot more to the light than I ever wanted to see, unsolved questions and emotions I haven’t figured out how to handle. I remember that conversation with my mom, where she asked about Cal. At that time, I wanted her to be wrong. After all, she’d been married for most of her life, what did she know about my situation? Not all men were serial cheaters, and if Cal were to leave Georgia at some point, not that I’d ever ask him to…I miss her, so much, and maybe she had a point about taking a step back and asking myself loaded questions. Am I happy?
