7

 

As far as Ellie was concerned, Peggy had played a part in her mother’s death. The woman may not have held the razor, but the blade was laced with the humiliation Peggy had caused. Humiliation, betrayal, ruined public image. They all played a part, and Peggy had been at the root of it all.

Ellie parked beside Jesse’s Camaro and lugged the box of tapes up two flights of stairs. She didn’t feel up to her standard three and sure didn’t feel like pressing for the fourth flight.

Jesse was at her desk, in her chair, on her computer. She dropped the box beside the desk and fell into the other chair.

“I’ve already emailed the picture,” he said, his nose buried in the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children website. “Remind me again why you don’t want the center involved?”

She ignored him. “How did you get into my email?”

“Connections.” He glanced up at her and raised his brows. “What have you been crying about?”

Ellie quickly wiped at her face. “It’s windy outside.”

“You’re crying because it’s windy?”

Ellie huffed then sniffled. “I haven’t been crying. How long will it take for the Feds to get back to us?”

Jesse shrugged. “They said they’d call me today.”

Me? She wondered if there was a memo back there with all the un-read faxes informing the department Jesse Alvarez was now a part of this investigation. She glanced at the box of tapes, figuring if he was going to continue to involve himself in her case, she might as well use it to her benefit. “Want to take a look at these tapes while you’re waiting?”

He glanced over the desk at the box on the floor. “You know the kid’s probably between four and six years old, and you’ve got about twenty years’ worth of tapes there. I think we can safely cut out the ones prior to 1998.”

Ellie grinned. “Actually, it’s only the last ten days. But fourteen cameras.”

“Is hospital security a little paranoid?” He rose from her chair at her desk and picked up the box.

“We’re particularly interested in the morgue. The last forty-eight hours.”

“How do I know which camera’s the morgue?”

She dug out the reference sheet and handed it to him. “They’re very thorough.”

“But they still can’t explain how a dead kid’s not dead anymore.” He smiled and then disappeared into the audio/video room.

Ellie sneaked a peek at herself in a chrome clock on Mike Allistar’s desk. Satisfied she could get by with the wind story, she headed into Jack’s office.

He was on the phone and motioned for Ellie to sit.

“I agree we need security up there, but I don’t think it should come out of CID’s budget. The chief’s the one that wanted to go public.” He glanced at Ellie and rolled his eyes. “Well, see what he says and get back to me. Yeah, OK, I will.” He hung up and blew enough air through his nose that Ellie felt the breeze ruffle her hair. “Hospital’s wanting extra security.”

The weight of her brief encounter with Sara Jeffries drove Ellie deep into the chair. “I swung by there after lunch, and the place was swarming with media.”

Jack removed his glasses and massaged his eyes. He picked up a stack of pink phone messages and handed them to Ellie. “Some are requests for interviews; some are people claiming he’s their kid.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open as she skimmed through the pieces of paper. “There must be thirty messages here.”

“I’m going to have the tips routed to Mike. He can tell the difference between the crackpots and the legits.”

“You know you’re going to be cutting into his on-line shopping time.”

He almost smiled and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “You know not to release information like what he was wearing and his exact height and weight, right?”

She glared at him, wondering if he reminded all of his investigators of the rules of play before the big game. She doubted it. “Can I refer interview requests to the chief?”

Jack grinned. “You’re going to try to weasel out of any contact with the media, aren’t you?” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. “Actually, yes. It’s a big case, his department. He’s going to want the face time on this one.”

That was fine with Ellie. She could say “no comment” as well as any seasoned politician. “I’m meeting with the detective and parents from Avery County at the hospital at three. You think we could have security in place by then?”

Jack shook his head. “I doubt it. We’re negotiating whose budget it’s going to come out of.”

“Wonderful.”

“Also—you need to keep in mind news times. The chief’s going to be wanting updates in time to get it on the different newscasts.”

Ellie played it safe and held back the things she wanted to say. “Anything else the chief would like?”

“I’m sure he’ll come up with something. Let me know how it goes at the hospital.” He slipped his glasses back on, a sure indication he had said all he intended to say.

Ellie got up and started out, but Jack added one more thing.

“You OK working with Alvarez?”

She jerked around and stared at him. “What?”

“Jesse Alvarez. Are you OK working with him?”

Ellie felt the flush spread across her face. Her heart raced with panic. “Sure,” she squeaked.

Jack gazed at her over the rims of his glasses. His eyes were narrowed into tiny slits. He finally nodded. “Just checking.”

She couldn’t get out of his office fast enough, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. How much did he know and how did he know it? To her knowledge, there weren’t any policies about dating a co-worker. Again, if there had been an intra-office memo about it, she missed it. It was probably back there in the fax pile. But she wouldn’t exactly call their one-night stand a date. She was fairly certain she wouldn’t lose her job over it, but how embarrassing if others knew. Especially if one of the others was your boss. Be sure your sins will find you out—how many times had her father preached that message before his sins found him.

Furious, she marched into the AV room and planted herself between Jesse and a monitor, her hands jammed on her hips. He looked around her at the flickering images, paused the machine, then looked up at her. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is Jack just asked me if I could work with you.” She angrily crossed her arms and pulled her mouth into a tight knot. “Why would he ask me that, Jesse?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, his mouth contorted into various wordless shapes. He opened his hands wide, like he was getting ready to explain something but again, said nothing.

“Please, tell me you didn’t tell him about…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “us.” They never had been an “us.” Besides, he was the one who never called back.

“Using the Feds’ scanner? Of course I told him about it. You know, the whole budget thing you mentioned.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “That’s all you told him?”

“I told him I thought it could be useful in your investigation.” He spoke slowly, like a prisoner carefully gauging his words before divulging too much information. “Was there something I was supposed to tell him?”

Ellie wasn’t completely sure she believed him. Other than her own guilty conscience and a good dose of paranoia, she had no reason to not believe him. She marched out of the room and headed to the hospital.

On the way, she called Brady Mitchell and arranged to meet them in the Emergency Room. She didn’t want to drag the parents through the army of press crowding the main lobby. She realized when she pulled into the parking lot, she’d probably made a mistake.

News vans with colorful logos and satellite antennas jabbing at an overcast sky lined the patient pick-up and drop-off lane. The reporters crowded around the double doors in clusters, their watchful eyes zeroing in on everyone who came or went. Ellie took a deep breath and pushed her way through, motioning for the admitting nurse to buzz her back into the treatment area. Safe behind the electronic door, she stuck her head in the admissions booth. “I’m expecting a detective from Avery County. When he gets here can you page me?”

“He’s here. Exam room two.”

Ellie nodded, found room two, and peeked behind the curtain. Mitchell was standing beside the examining table while the parents were seated in two metal chairs. “Detective Mitchell?” Ellie pushed the curtain aside and offered the detective her hand. “Detective Saunders.”

Mitchell looked about a month shy of his thirty-year mark chasing bad guys. The lines etched deep into his face and gray hair were the tell-tale battle scars of a man who had seen it all. He had a flat face with sagging jowls that reminded Ellie of a bulldog. And she’d bet money he was a bulldog.

He introduced the parents as Richard and Tina Chambers. They looked to be in their mid-twenties, teetering on the poverty level, and very tired. There was a difference between numb and tired, and these parents fell into the latter. He was wearing navy work pants with wrinkles as deep as the lines on Mitchell’s face and a light blue work shirt with an oil stain on the front tail. “Bekley’s Wholesale Seafood” was monogrammed on a white fish sewn onto the upper left chest. His blond hair looked about an inch or two longer than a good buzz cut was supposed to be, creating scattered porcupine-like spikes all over his head.

She wasn’t faring much better. Her bleached blonde hair hung straight, falling on her shoulders like dirty mop strings while her face was long and narrow with sunken cheeks void of color. Her amber eyes reflected a perpetual state of confusion, or boredom. She was wearing dark brown corduroy pants accessorized by tiny balls of gray lint and a plain yellow sweatshirt whose sleeves had been shortened in the dryer.

The mother’s eyes darted back and forth between Mitchell and Ellie, while the father studied a callus between his thumb and index finger.

“Ritchie,” Mr. Chambers said in a voice barely audible.

“Pardon?” Ellie cocked her head to hopefully hear him better.

“I go by Ritchie.” He finally looked up, met Ellie’s eyes then returned his attention to the callus.

Ellie looked at Mitchell. He slightly moved his tired shoulders, raised his brows.

“Is he OK?” Tina asked. She looked back and forth between Mitchell and Ellie, not sure who would answer. “Dusty. Our son.”

Ellie smiled slightly. “His name’s Dusty?”

Tina bobbed her head up and down. “Is he OK?”

“If our Johnny Doe is your son, then yes, he appears to be fine.”

“We’re paying a babysitter and need to get back. Can we see him now?”

Ellie glanced at Mitchell then at Tina. “I’ll be glad to take you up in just a minute but I need to speak with Detective Mitchell first.”

She motioned for Mitchell to join her in the hallway, smiled at Tina then drew the curtain. She stepped a few feet away from the room, hoping the Chambers were safely out of earshot. She wondered if it would be wrong to pray that Tina and Richie Chambers were not little Johnny Doe’s parents?

“You have got to be kidding me?” She whispered to Mitchell as he joined her. “They have to hurry this up because they’re paying a babysitter?”

“Mom don’t work; dad makes nine bucks an hour. They’ve got a one-year-old, a three-year-old and an eight-year-old back at home.” He shrugged then popped a piece of chewing gum in his mouth. “I checked out Bekley’s Wholesale Seafood. The dad’s route is up through Tennessee. The driver that handles this area is a guy by the name of Jerome Kenton.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“He’s running Charlotte today. He’ll be back in your area tomorrow. I figured either you could grab a few minutes with him tomorrow or I can pay him a visit at the loading dock.”

Ellie nodded. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. What about the parents? What’s your take on them?” She stared at the curtain, angry at the complacency behind it.

Mitchell shrugged again. “If stupidity’s a crime, then they should probably be arrested. But I don’t really see ‘em doing anything harmful to the kid.”

“Not even in the heat of anger? Maybe a spanking that went too far?”

Mitchell shook his head. “Like I said, they’re not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier, but they’re not criminals.”

Ellie ran her hand through her hair. “Well, let’s get this show on the road. We don’t want to run up that babysitting tab.”

“He’s named after Dusty Rhoades.”

Ellie stared at him, her brows raised.

“Dusty Rhoades. The wrestler,” he said.

“They named their son after a wrestler?”

Mitchell smiled. Ellie sighed and followed him back into the room.

“Y’all ready?” Mitchell asked.

Tina pulled herself out of the chair like she had been planted there with weights. Maybe she had. Maybe this wasn’t the way she had envisioned her life to turn out. Maybe she loved her kids desperately and cried at Christmas and birthdays when there wasn’t enough money to go around. But would she cry if there was one less mouth to feed?

Ritchie tagged along behind as if disjointed from the whole experience.

Ellie led them through the treatment area and to the elevators. “The media should be confined to the lobby and entrances, but you never know. Some of them may have wormed their way up to the fourth floor. If you’re approached, just turn your head away and if you say anything at all, just say, ‘no comment,’” she said, as they stood there waiting.

Tina stared with her empty eyes then turned back to the elevator door and watched and waited. Ritchie studied his callus again. Mitchell shrugged.

The ride to the fourth floor was so silent, Ellie wondered if the Chambers understood that they were going to see if a found child was their missing son. She wondered if they even cared.

“He’ll be in a playroom where you can observe him without him seeing you.” The elevator stopped, and Ellie held the door as the Chambers and Mitchell stepped off.

A small group of reporters were clustered around the nurses’ station, their attention zeroed in on the same perky nurse Ellie had spoken with earlier. “It’s truly a miracle,” she said, her voice as animated as her hands flaying about.

Ellie wanted to scream at the nurse and tell her to shut-up, to scurry the reporters away from hearing anything more about miracles and little Johnny Doe. But if she interrupted, the vultures would turn their attention to her and to the possible parents of the miracle child. She opted to hurry the Chambers and Mitchell away from the scene, herding them down the left hallway and toward the playroom.

“What was that all about?” Tina asked. It was the first time she had showed an interest in anything other than getting back home.

“A sick child was apparently healed.” She figured that was all they needed to know at the moment. If Johnny Doe turned out to be their son, they’d hear the rest of the story soon enough. If he wasn’t their son, they could return home, pay the babysitter, and watch the story of Johnny Doe on the evening news.

Ellie peered through the window of the playroom. Johnny Doe, wearing the blue Spiderman sweat suit, and Leon were building a skyscraper out of red and green Legos. Johnny Doe erupted in a fit of laughter apparently over something Leon had said. He grabbed his belly and swayed back and forth in his pint-sized chair while Leon had a goofy “what I’d say?” look on his face. Another child, a little girl with a purple cast covering her leg, was playing a board game with a nurse and glanced over at the dynamic duo, then went back to her game.

Ellie watched Johnny Doe for a moment then stepped aside and allowed Tina and Ritchie to step up to the window. “Remember, he can’t see you.”

Ritchie glanced up then went back to picking at his callus. Tina shook her head. “That’s not him.” There was no emotion in her voice. No disappointment. Nothing. She turned away and stared at Ellie. “Can we go now?”

“You’re sure that’s not him?” Mitchell asked. “We can have him turn more toward the window so you can get a better look.”

Again, she shook her head. “It’s not him. Dusty’s hair’s shorter. Can we go now?”

Ellie couldn’t tell if the Chambers’ detachment stemmed from the shock of having your child go missing, or if they just didn’t care. She had seen people more upset over a pair of lost gloves. She wished them all the luck in the world finding their son, Dusty. But was almost thankful her little Johnny Doe wasn’t the child they were looking for.