Amber Alert, page 9
“You’re not going to cut me off,” I say in disbelief. “You know that I could—”
“No, you won’t. You’re too much of a decent person to go there.”
There…No need for further explanation. He’s right. My threat of blackmail was utterly empty. I have no intention of putting more lives on the line, Georgia’s, his.
“Georgia knows,” he says. I stare at him in surprise, feeling irrationally betrayed. Cal sighs. “Why don’t we sort out all of this another time? Let us deal with Duncan.”
“If I go home now, will I still be on the team once I come back?”
He hesitates too long for my liking.
“I’ve had a talk with your lieutenant. He wanted to know if you’re still available to this department. I think we should take it easy for awhile, with the job…and us.”
My head is spinning everything I need to make sense of, all at once.
I can’t quit, not before we have found Rosie. As for the other subject, I have no idea what to do or say.
“How long has she known?”
He shrugs. “Since last year.”
“Okay. I see.”
“No, don’t twist this around on me. You went all crazy on a murder suspect, that’s the issue here.”
“Forgive me if I don’t share your opinion. For me, the issue is that we might find my sister’s baby girl buried in the woods next!”
Cal is right in one thing. I need to get out of here, now, or anything I do or say will be held against me in a court of law. I can’t take any more risks.
* * * *
It’s early in the morning, but when I drive by Chrissie and Rachel’s house, I see that the lights are still on. Sleep has become a luxury for all of us. I stop, all of a sudden overcome with the longing for some simple human contact, to erase Duncan’s words from my mind and soul.
“Hey, Ann! That’s a surprise. Come on in.”
Rachel is wearing a fleece robe. She sounds too happy, her cheeks flushed, making me worried about what I am about to walk into. In the living room, I find Chrissie in a similar condition. Distantly I notice that there are sheep on her PJs.
“What are you doing?” I sound impatient, and irritated, and I can’t care much. There are family pictures strewn all over the coffee table. Next to it, there are two empty wine bottles, a third just opened.
Chrissie smiles at me. “You’re welcome! We were looking at pictures. You know, sometimes it’s still hard to believe. We made a baby! She’s so perfect.”
I can feel my mouth drop open. Hold it right there, sis. I never asked them about the details. I know that conceiving Rosie involved doctor’s visits and a donor. All else falls under “Too Much Information.”
“You’re drunk.” Forgive me for my lack of eloquence. I need to sleep. Maybe I already do, and this is a surreal, disturbing dream. “Anyway, I got news for you for a change. We identified the kidnapper, and it looks like he was working for someone else.”
“Can’t you ask him?” Rachel wants to know, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t sound sarcastic.
“Unfortunately, no, we can’t, because he’s dead.” I have to hold my tongue. I didn’t even mean to share that detail. “At least, we can trace his steps, now that we know for sure it’s him. That’s good news.”
“Yeah well. They’ve been coming in sparsely lately, so I suppose we should be grateful,” Chrissie says.
“What is up with you?” I can’t believe this. “What the hell are you doing, having a freaking party?”
“Shut up, Ann.”
Chrissie flinches, but Rachel jumps up, and for the second time this night, I get pushed around. Never mind getting hit on the head. Bring it on, I’m still standing.
“I know you’re doing everything you can,” Rachel says once she’s closed the kitchen door behind her, and it’s just the two of us. “We appreciate it, but you do not get to judge us. We’re not celebrating, you can believe me. We’re grateful that we still hang on to the hope that Rosie is alive, and that we’ll get her back. We’re scared out of our minds, and I still spend most of the day trying to convince Chrissie that we still have a reason to go on. Honestly? We’re just trying to make it through the night.”
“What do you mean about Chrissie…?”
Rachel shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I’m so scared of what’s going to happen. When we know…How long it will take. Why can’t you find her?”
Between the two of them, Rachel has always been the level-headed, less emotional one. She’s the more organized type to Chrissie’s slightly chaotic ways. The fact that she’s about to unravel is almost as disturbing as the hint at that Chrissie could have suicidal feelings. I don’t know how to help either of them.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say.
“Yeah, me too. You should leave.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll do better,” she whispers. “I know this isn’t great, but I didn’t know what to do. You know I love her more than anything in the world. I couldn’t stand it if—”
“You’ll be okay,” I interrupt her, not wanting to hear the rest. “I promise you.”
I don’t know if she believes me. I don’t know if I would.
* * * *
The day is dawning when I finally make it home, but I can’t see much of a difference. At some point during the night, it started raining, and the sky is still heavy with clouds. I need some time, to sort out what happened tonight. After a few hours of sleep, I’ll go back in, knock on the lieutenant’s door to make nice, and beg Cal to let me continue on the task force. Forget about my pride for a little while. I can’t be on the sidelines.
I flex my fingers, wincing. It felt too damn good, even though it was just a brief moment, a distraction. We couldn’t save Donna Clarks’ daughter.
Why can’t you find her?
Reaching the top of the stairs, I stop and blink at the visitor leaning against my front door. I must be hallucinating.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ll go if you want me to. I just thought you might want to…talk?”
Yeah, why don’t we have a nice chat while everything else is falling apart? My censors are so far down that I have to be careful with every word that’s coming out of my mouth now.
“I don’t want to talk,” I say, and after a moment of hesitation: “…but you can come in.”
“Sure?” Joey asks.
Hell, no.
“If you don’t expect witty conversation, we’ll be fine.”
“That’s okay.” He chuckles. I unlock my door, wondering what I’m doing here. Advil, shower, bed—that was the plan. I acknowledge that this might not be all about me after all. Joey hasn’t been a detective for long, and this is his first case of this magnitude, if only on the sidelines. The families’ grief and uncertainty about their children’s fate is bad enough, but now one of those children is dead. Maybe I don’t want to be alone either. Unlike Chrissie and Rachel, Joey obviously welcomes my company, or is it the other way around? It’s hard to tell.
“You want a beer?”
“It’s six-thirty,” he points out, his amusement mixed with concern.
“Yeah, well, it’s after work and before bed for me. There’s not much else I can offer you, unless you want to make coffee. I really need that shower now.”
“No problem. Go ahead.”
No problem, that’s easy for him to say, I think when I’m finally by myself in the bathroom, pondering the significance of my partner coming to visit me at home. It’s complicated. It’s dangerous. A few days ago, I would have just sent him on his way, laughed off the idea like I did before. After all, I am—or was?—in a relationship. Its status is not so certain at the moment.
Nothing is certain.
My thoughts go back to the girl in the woods, Sarah Marie Clarks, wearing a cheap plastic bracelet. Cherries. What happened to Rosie? I lean my head against the tile and cry, a few minutes’ indulgence before I go out there and face my partner.
When I return to the living room, the sight makes me smile unwittingly. Joey has indeed helped himself to my cupboard and cabinets: he’s made tea.
“I don’t even know if this is still good,” I say. “One of Chrissie’s friends gave it to me.” It smells great, in any case, like honey and almond.
“Seemed all right to me. I thought it was better not to add any more caffeine if you want to sleep later. Come, sit.”
“You changed too.” I noticed only now, but I didn’t have to say it out loud, did I?
“Yeah. I needed some time to work up the guts to come here.”
“Oh.”
Somehow I’m beginning to think that this conversation is going to turn awkward, and that it will be less about the case, and more about something trivial to avoid all the unspoken things. With my shirt, shorts and a long robe over that I’m not inappropriately dressed, but I still feel naked. Raw, might be a better way to put it. Honestly, I want to turn this around to fix what, at the moment, is not working in my life. Get it together, be a better cop and end the terror for all of my family…but all I can think of is digging myself deeper.
Joey regards me intently, with a curiosity that I know is not just for what’s on my mind. Damn the lieutenant for making me the babysitter of a handsome and eager rookie detective.
Damn Cal.
I can try laying the blame all I want, but in the end, it’s all with me.
“I can go if you want me to, or stay. Your call.”
We both get up at the same time.
I know that I don’t have a lot of time to make up my mind—or to explain that I can’t throw myself into another relationship disaster right now. At the same time I can’t stand the thought of being alone. I know it’s selfish and needy.
“You know I’m in a relationship,” I say which doesn’t have the desired effect of a cold shower. In fact, it doesn’t have much of an effect at all.
“Yeah, and he’s doing a great job supporting you through all this. Where is he now?” Before I can come up with an answer, Joey shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right.” I leave it open to anyone’s guess what that refers to, and close the space between us. I’ve spent every waking hour of the past week with the imagined horror of what could be. I want something that feels real, and good. Now. The kiss is more tentative than passionate, but it is revealing at the same time: we’ve both thought about this, and it’s going to happen.
“It’s been a rough week. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”
“Take advantage,” I say. “It might be the only chance you get.” I guess a little bit of warning that this might not be for the long haul is in order. I start unbuttoning his shirt. My robe falls to the floor, and I enjoy the warmth of his hands exploring my body. I probably never even opened the curtains or made my bed, but somehow I think Joey won’t mind.
Chapter Fourteen
Joan brushes her hand softly over Margaret’s head, frowning. The roots of a lighter hair color underneath the auburn are showing. Who does that, dye the hair of a baby? There’s no doubt that Margaret is better off with two parents who not only give her the unconditional love that she deserves, but also have the means to provide her with what she needs to be happy and healthy. Margaret is healthy, for sure, but she is also a difficult child. Her happy spells over toys and chocolate, hugs and cartoons on TV, never last long, and she cries a lot. She gets easily frustrated, her verbal skills not yet catching up with her need to express herself.
Sometimes, Joan is afraid, thinking that she understands a lot more than they give a two-year-old credit for, thinking she still wants to go back to her mother.
Joan prays hard over her doubts. The pastor and the Middletons made it clear that every single adoption through the institute will save a child from neglect and abuse. While in Joan’s opinion, violence is never the answer, she secretly wants to do harm to that woman, for having hurt a sweet, innocent child.
More than that, she hopes she’s doing enough. She wants to understand what Margaret has been through, to help her best she can. She’s been thinking about seeking help from a counselor, but the one time she brought it up, Lloyd told her the Middleton institute was offering seminars, and they could look into attending one of those.
As grateful as Joan is for the turn of events that finally made them parents, she doesn’t want to go and see the couple again. She can’t put her finger on it, but there’s something about them that makes her uncomfortable. Prior to this attempt, she and Lloyd researched their options high and low, and they had a pretty good idea of the costs of an adoption.
What they transferred to the Middletons was a lot more than that. Lloyd never shared that detail with her, but Joan found the bank statement. She tries to forget about it, because if there was anything not entirely legal going on, she doesn’t want to know.
Margaret is hers now. She won’t give her back into the hands of the woman who gave birth and then turned her back on the child.
Family, marriage, children, those are sacred values. She can’t muster much pity for those who don’t respect them.
* * * *
There is peace in the present moment. I know it’s treacherous, because all the questions are still there, ready to attack me anytime soon, but I just want to stay here a little while longer. I think back to the moments before I fell into a deep dreamless sleep, the memory sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.
Even now, it feels good to be held, even if it’s selfish and needy.
“I fell asleep right away. I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, but I really needed that rest.”
Joey laughs softly. “It sounds flattering to me.”
Sleep, laughter, light conversation and sex. I almost feel human again. I never even tasted the tea, but I don’t regret that at all.
Am I ready to face the challenges that still lie ahead? It’s not like I have much of a choice. I hope we’re on the same page here. There can be no strings attached. We’ll still have to work together.
That never stopped you before, a nasty little inner voice speaks up.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, his fingers playing in my hair. It’s distracting.
“I need to go back to work.”
“Food first? We could continue the breakfast theme. I’ve been known to make a mean omelet.”
On cue, my stomach is growling. Remembering the conversations I’m going to have, it seems like a good idea to stall a little bit longer.
“Thank you. For staying with me.”
“My pleasure,” he says with a smile. If the circumstances were different, if we weren’t partners, if…basically, if we were completely different people, this could have worked out. I get up, about to push back the covers, but I think better of it and reach for the nearest piece of clothing I can find. There’s a lot of backpedaling and creating distance in my future.
“I think you already know your way around my kitchen, and there are eggs in the fridge. So yes, I could eat.”
A few minutes later, delicious smells of eggs, bacon and coffee fill the kitchen. I’m finally able to think more clearly.
“So I know I’ve been sent home because I pissed off The Powers That Be, but what about you?” I ask him.
Joey shrugs. “I took a half day.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been following a few leads on my own, but mostly I wanted to—” He sighs. “I know this is tough on you, with your niece missing. Some of my siblings have kids that age. It’s scary to think that it could happen to any of them.”
“Well, as far as I know, the increase of missing children was specifically around here.”
I wonder how relevant Cal’s theory still is after the arrest of Duncan, if any of those other cases are related. Then, there’s the murder of Travis Boggs.
“You think there’s a pattern elsewhere that’s looking the same? I think the FBI would have caught that.”
Joey stirs his coffee, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Not if they focus on a different angle. Think about it. They have a murder, and a likely perp. That’s taking precedence over everything else.”
“Yeah, I know.” It’s something Cal will use as an argument not to let me back in, I’m sure. Over time, more horrendous crimes will happen, Rosie’s case getting colder. It’s only been a week, but it feels like we’ve been missing her forever.
“I think you’re better off staying on the sidelines of this one. I’m sorry I involved you in the first place. It’s not the best way to kick off your career as a detective.”
“You know how this works. At some point, she’s not going to be a priority anymore. I want to help.”
“There’s still a lead to follow. Boggs.”
“Yeah.” Joey reaches out and gently brushes his hand over the back of my head. “There’s someone out there I’d like to have a word with.”
“Me too, believe me.”
“Did you look at those letters your sister got?”
I shake my head. “Not really, we were a little busy with Duncan, but I hear it’s the usual homophobic crap. Those are people who want to feel important.”
“Probably,” he agrees.
He takes my hand on the table, and I don’t withdraw it, knowing that the moments of displaying affection like this are numbered. In my mind, I already anticipate the next steps: seeing the lieutenant and, if possible, Cal. Take a look at those letters. Tomorrow, my appointment with Donna Clarks. I already want to go back to bed.
However, there’s a two-year-old girl out there depending on us. We won’t give up on her.
Rachel’s words come back to me, and I wonder if I’ll ever have that in my life, someone to whom I’ll mean everything. It doesn’t matter now. We have a job to do.
* * * *
“Sir, can I have a word with you?”
“Detective McCoy, come on in. How’s the head?” Right. I almost forgot about that. Lieutenant Walsh waves me into his office, and I walk in and take a seat.
