Thursday, November 8
“Call nine-one-one,” David yelled to me as he burst through our kitchen door around three-thirty, an ashen-faced Lily and her friend Megan in tow. “Tell them it’s an attempted child abduction.”
I sat at the counter concentrating on a Sudoku puzzle, and I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. “What—”
“Do it!” he shouted, bringing me out of my befuddlement. “I’ll explain in a minute.”
As I reached for the phone, my adrenaline rising precipitously, David knelt in front of Lily, looked her straight in the eye and said in a calm, sure voice, “You’re safe, honey. We’ll get him.”
Gulping air between sobs, she collapsed in his arms.
“Caroline,” David said, with almost scary composure, “tell them the suspect’s vehicle has Wisconsin plates, number 4769-BYX. It’s a late model gray Honda Accord.”
I followed his instructions as he rocked Lily back and forth, murmuring in her ear, “It’s okay, Pumpkin. It’s okay.”
When I hung up, David told me in a nutshell what had happened. And before the surreal scene fully became real to me, the cops drove up, sirens blaring. Wide-eyed, Megan jumped up and down with excitement. “They’re here already. Cool!”
I shot her a scathing look, which fazed her not at all.
Carrying leggy Lily on one hip, David answered the front door. “Thanks for your quick response, guys. C’mon in.”
He ushered the two fresh-faced sheriff’s deputies, one blond and the other Latino, into the living room and introduced them to the girls. “They’re second grade classmates and were walking home from the bus stop, which is three blocks down—at the entrance to our cul-de-sac,” he said. “The incident occurred about half a block from our house. The suspect was driving toward me as I drove onto the street, and I took note of the car because there are rarely vehicles here we don’t recognize.”
Thank heaven for David, I thought, and I sensed the deputies did too. They were clearly in over their heads. Deputy Rodriguez’s hands trembled as he fumbled for his pen and notebook. But I felt a wave of gratitude toward him as he regarded Lily with kindness and respect. She was plastered to her father’s side and still hadn’t uttered a word.
“Lily, honey,” David said, taking her hand in his, “please tell these officers what happened—”
“I’ll tell it,” Megan said, squirming on the couch beside me.
“There’ll be plenty of questions for you, too,” David said to her. “But let’s hear from Lily first.”
Lily swallowed hard. “I saw the car when we came around the corner,” she said, repeatedly twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “As we got closer, I realized it was a strange car, but then I saw the man looking at a map and talking on the phone. So I thought maybe he was just lost…”
I watched, paralyzed, as she buried her face against David’s side.
“You’re doing fine, Lily,” Deputy Rodriguez said. “Please tell us what happened next.”
She half-turned in his direction and said in a whisper, “He… he was parked across the street from us. He rolled down the window and called to me.”
Another pause.
“I know it’s not easy,” David said, “but we need you to tell us what he said.”
Unable to control herself anymore, Megan finished the story. “He asked her, ‘Are you Lily Spencer?’ Then he said, ‘I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to give you this note for your mom.’ He tried to hand Lily the note, but she wouldn’t go near the car. So I did. He gave me the note and drove away. I was reading it to her when her dad came home.”
“Lily, is that how you remember it, too?” Deputy Rodriguez asked.
She nodded. “I was so scared!”
“You were right not to go near the car,” he said to her. “And where’s the note?”
“It’s on the kitchen counter,” David said. “Caroline will show you.”
Apparently relieved to have a task, Deputy Johnson jumped up to accompany me.
I hadn’t noticed the note before. In stark black lettering on a half sheet of plain white copy paper was scrawled, “I know where Lily lives and I know her REAL mommy is a snitch.”
My knees threatened to give way. I put my hands on the counter to steady myself.
Deputy Johnson reached for the note.
“No—don’t touch it!” I shrieked.
Above his starched uniform collar, his still-pimply neck flushed with embarrassment, and I felt a pang of guilt for calling him out.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” I said in a more moderate tone. “It’s just that I really want to catch this fucker.”
“No, you’re right,” he stammered. “I’m going to run out to the car for an evidence bag. I’ll be right back.”
When I was satisfied the evidence was secure, I headed back into the living room. “We need to call Detective Connaboy and George Cooper,” I said to David. “I think I know who did this.”
The girls and I sat in the living room while the officers talked with David behind closed doors in the dining room: They didn’t want Lily and Megan to be influenced by his description of the perpetrator.
Megan swung her legs back and forth, repeatedly kicking the bottom of the couch with her heels. Annoyed, I put my hand on her knees to stop her.
“What’s a snitch, Mom?” Lily asked a minute or so later.
“A tattletale,” Megan said with an I-know-something-you-don’t-know look. “But what did the note mean about your ‘real’ mommy?”
Stunned by her forthright question, neither Lily nor I answered. We were literally saved by the bell when Megan’s mother, alarmed to see the squad car in our driveway, rang the doorbell and stormed in the front door.
I gave her the abbreviated version of what had transpired, and, to my great relief, she kept Megan in check.
Despite her bluster, Megan was unable to give many details of “the man.” She knew he was white and thought he wore a black shirt. In contrast, Lily described his dark-brown hair, green eyes, gleaming white teeth, and the deep, smooth voice with which he’d called to her. Lily said he sat tall enough in the seat for her to see he wore a black, silky shirt. I had no doubt she could identify the bad guy in a police line-up, but I prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
Lily was less anxious by the time Detective Doug Connaboy arrived and assuaged our fears: Joe Ames, driving the vehicle described by David, had been spotted and apprehended in Madison, only ten minutes after our nine-one-one call. He’d immediately invoked his right to remain silent, but Doug expressed confidence they had enough evidence to hold him and, at the very least, to revoke his bail. He took detailed statements from David, Lily and Megan, closed his notebook with satisfaction, and stood up to leave.
I leaned against the wall in the foyer as we said goodbye, relieved beyond words that Ames was back in jail and trusting that Doug would do everything in his power to keep him there.
**
After dinner David, Lily and I lingered at the table, each of us drained and distracted by our own thoughts.
Lily looked up from her plate, her lower lip trembling. “How can my real mom be a tattletale?” she asked. “She’s dead.”
David and I exchanged looks of astonishment.
We had told Lily she was adopted as soon as she was old enough to understand. She knew her birth mother had been unable to care for her but had loved her enough to arrange for her placement with our “forever family,” where she would grow up safe, happy and loved. She knew David and I believed God meant for her to be our daughter. She didn’t know we knew her birth mother—and wouldn’t know that for several years.
“What makes you say that?” I asked with equanimity I did not feel.
Silence.
“Honey,” David said, “Mom asked you a question we really need you to answer. What makes you say your birth mom is dead?”
“Well… I saw this movie at Anna’s house…”
Frickin’ Anna. This is all we need.
“Go on, honey,” David said. “Tell us about the movie.”
“Well… this woman who wasn’t married was gonna have a baby, and she found out she had cancer. And she wouldn’t let the doctors give her medicine to cure it because it would hurt the baby. And she knew she was gonna die so she found a family to adopt the baby. And Anna said that’s probably what happened with my real mom.”
I had no idea what to say. Although clearly stunned, David found words. “Anna’s wrong, honey. Your biological mom wasn’t sick when she arranged for your adoption. She couldn’t care for you because she was single and immature. Do you know what immature means?”
Lily nodded.
“Do you have more questions?” he asked.
“If she’s alive, why hasn’t she come to meet me?”
Her forlorn look cut me to the quick.
David sniffed back tears. “The adoption rules in your case don’t allow that to happen until you’re older—and then only if you both want to meet each other. Mom and I will help you do that, if you want, when the time comes.”
“It doesn’t seem fair,” Lily said, looking down at the dinner she’d barely touched.
“Maybe not,” David said. “But the social workers and the judge who made the rules thought it would be best for everybody.”
She picked up her fork and poked at her cold mac and cheese.
“What else, Lily?” I asked.
“That man, Mr. Ames… How does he know you’re not my real mom? And how does he know she tattles?”
I gasped. She’s right! How does he know?