11

 

Ellie yanked off her clothes, pulled on an old Carolina Panthers sweatshirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants then collapsed on the bed. Time and energy had evaporated, leaving her feeling like the case should be measured in weeks rather than hours.

She slowly rose and slipped on a pair of fuzzy socks then padded into the kitchen. Dinner would be either leftover Moo Goo Gai Pan from China House or two slices of leftover pepperoni pizza from Paulie’s Pizza. Settling for a glass of tea, she headed to the living room. She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the chunky coffee table she bought at a yard sale last spring. It was light pine, heavy, with thick legs and time-worn corners, and matched absolutely nothing in her house, but she liked it so much, it was part of her fire escape plan. She imagined herself frantically dragging the thing through the house to the back porch—providing, of course, the fire was located in the front part of the house. If the fire was in the back, no problem; she’d just open the front door and shove the table and her one box of childhood memorabilia into the yard. A pair of initials encased in a rudely drawn heart was carved into one of the corners of the old table. Ellie sometimes sat at night and studied the carving, imagining who the lovers were. Were they still together? Were they still a couple or was their proclaimed undying love just a summer fling?

She looked over the phone messages Jack had given her earlier then glanced at her notepad she had transcribed from her voicemail. There must have been fifty numbers between the two, and that didn’t include the new messages she had yet to transcribe. She opened her cell phone and called the first number.

Teresa Batten answered on the first ring.

“This is Detective Saunders with the Burkesboro Police Department. I’m returning a call regarding a missing child.“

“Yeah, I saw the story on the news about that little boy.” She spit the words out as if they were flames rising up through her throat. “My son disappeared eight years ago. He had blond hair and—”

“How old was your son when he disappeared, Ms. Batten?”

“Six. His father took him. Said I was unfit.”

Ellie’s heart went out to the woman, but her son didn’t seem to be the only thing missing. The woman seemed to be lacking simple math skills as well. “Ms. Batten, I’m assuming your son would be about fourteen years old now, right?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. Ellie imagined her mentally calculating the years. Parents of missing children often ignored time, holding a missing child in a perpetual age freeze. Ellie imagined Teresa Batten still thought of her son as a six-year-old. When she finally spoke again, Ellie could hear the resignation in her voice. “He’ll be fourteen his next birthday.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Batten. The child we found is much younger.” Before she hung up, Ellie told her she was sorry about her son and gave her the number to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

The second call was parents whose daughter went missing a year ago. The third call was parents who said their son was abducted by aliens, and the aliens must have sent him back.

“A rowdy little fella,” the father said.

If she hadn’t been so tired, Ellie would have busted out laughing.

She had gotten through ten of the messages when a loud knock at the door stopped her heart and caused her to spill her tea. “Crap,” she yelled as she jumped to her feet, the cold liquid seeping through her flannel pants. There was another knock, louder this time.

“Hold on just a second,” she yelled as she ran into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. She dabbed the wetness from her pants then wiped up the spill. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

She opened the door with a fake smile then wanted to slam it in Jesse Alvarez’s face. He pushed by her and dropped a pizza box and a two-liter soda on the coffee table. “Figured you’d need some help returning all those phone messages. I brought food.” He smiled. If he weren’t so annoying, he really would be a doll.

Ellie jammed her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have some sex offender to track down?”

He shrugged. “You got paper plates? Or napkins will work.”

Ellie shook her head then went into the kitchen and grabbed a roll of paper towels and two glasses of ice. She should just pile his pizza and soda back in his hands and head him out the door. But she was hungry and figured he owed her for barging in on her case.

When she came back into the living room, he was on the sofa rifling through the pink message slips with one hand while holding a slice of pizza with the other. Thin crust pepperoni and mushrooms—her favorite. How did he know that?

“You’ve got some duplicates.” He laid the messages back on the table and devoured half a slice of pizza in one bite.

“What?” She tore off two paper towels and handed him one then poured them each a glass of soda.

“Duplicates. Same person, same number. We should call them first.”

“I was calling in the order they came in. I figured the first callers were the ones most excited about seeing Johnny Doe on the news.” She sat on the floor at the coffee table, across from the wet spot, and took a piece of pizza.

“But if someone called more than once, they’re frantic for information. Let’s pull out the duplicates and check the times. Maybe some of these duplicates were the first callers.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him. Besides, it did sound reasonable.

“So what’s new with the kid?” Jesse asked. He took a long swig of his drink.

“Dr. Jenkins found some abnormalities in the tissue sample. But still nothing conclusive.” She picked a piece of pepperoni off her slice of pizza and popped it in her mouth, and then filled Jesse in on what Jenkins had told her.

“So the tissue samples could indicate hypothermia, and hypothermia could explain his resurrection—” he said.

“Don’t call it a resurrection.” She pointed her finger at him and glared with lowered brows.

Jesse laughed. “Why not?”

She sighed heavily. She didn’t know why not; it just didn’t seem proper. “I don’t know. Just don’t call it a resurrection.”

“Fine. The hypothermia could explain his coming back to life, then.”

“It could. And the fact he was found in an alley beside a fish market that uses refrigerated trucks makes it even more possible.” She angled her glass toward his and tapped the rims of the glasses together then smiled.

“You haven’t solved it yet, Sherlock.”

“Yeah, but at least we may have some of the medical questions answered.”

“What about the bruises and cuts that disappeared?”

Ellie stared at him for a hard minute then finished her pizza. “We’re still working on that. Dr. Deveraux’s convinced it’s a miracle.”

“And you’re not?” He started on his second piece of pizza.

She slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what to believe. I saw the bruises, Jesse. I have pictures of them. They were real.”

Jesse grinned. “You’re thinking too much like a seasoned detective, sweetcakes.”

She raised one brow while lowering the other. “I don’t know if I should be offended or take that as a compliment.”

“A little of both. Despite what most evidence will tell you, everything’s not black and white. Sometimes there’s just no logical explanation.”

Ellie burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me Jesse Alvarez is jumping on the miracle bandwagon, too.”

“I was raised Catholic. We’re big on miracles.” He winked then handed Ellie another slice of pizza.

When she finished, she tore off a couple sheets of paper from her notepad and handed them and a pen to Jesse. “If we get a hit, send them to the station to see Mike Allistar. They can identify him through the picture. I’m not having a whole line of people gawking at him through a hospital playroom.”

Jesse settled into the sofa and began calling. They had finished several calls each when the yellow glow of headlights swung across the living room.

“Oh, no. I forgot all about Dad and Aunt Sissy,” Ellie said as she pulled herself off the floor. She went to the front door and opened it, welcoming her new visitors. She’d never had so much company in her little house.

“Hey, Daddy, Aunt Sissy.” She kissed her aunt on the cheek.

“Hey, sweetie,” her dad said as he gave her a hug.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Aunt Sissy said, casting a sideways glance at Jesse.

Ellie shook her head and laughed. “No. You’re not intruding at all.” She introduced everyone then offered something to drink. “I can heat some water for coffee, or I’ve got a fresh pitcher of iced tea.”

“Tea would be fine,” her dad and Sissy nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t you help me in the kitchen, Jesse.” Ellie hoped he understood it wasn’t a question.

In the kitchen, she took down two mismatched glasses from the cabinet and handed them to Jesse. “My dad used to be a preacher,” she whispered. “So watch your language and don’t mention anything about…us.”

“Us?” He raised his brows and watched her shake ice cubes from a plastic tray. “What us?”

She blew a heavy breath and glared at him. “You know what I’m talking about. That…night.”

It took him a moment but then his eyes widened. He nodded then smirked. “What are you afraid I’m going to say to him? ‘So, Ellie’s dad, I hooked up with your daughter, but I wish I never had, so I’m not really a bad dude. I just play one on TV?’”

She shushed him then glared in the direction of the living room. “Please. Just mind your manners, OK?” She filled the glasses with tea then took a deep breath and headed into the living room.

What did he mean by he wished he never had?

 

****

 

Ellie carried a pillow and set of sheets into the living room and dropped them on the sofa. Her dad was in the shower, Jesse was gone doing whatever Jesse did at night, and Aunt Sissy was in the spare bedroom getting ready for bed. Ellie returned to her bedroom and grabbed an extra quilt from the chest then carried it to the living room. She stuck her face deep into the floral patchwork and sucked in the sweet smell of cedar. Every now and then, she’d swear she could smell her mother’s perfume imbedded deep within the fabric.

Aunt Sissy was back in the living room tucking the fitted sheet around the cushions of the sofa. She was wearing a black tank top with the Harley Davidson emblem stretched across her chest and a pair of flannel lounging pants. “You’ve still got that old quilt? I’d figured the thing would have dry-rotted by now.”

Ellie smiled. “I drag it out every now and then. Aren’t you going to be cold? It gets a little drafty in here in the wee hours of the morning.”

“You’ve never had a hot flash, have you?”

Ellie laughed a tired laugh. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“So tell me about Jesse.”

“What?” Ellie’s mouth fell open.

“Don’t play all innocent.” Sissy smiled. She took the quilt and spread it across the sofa. “There’s some major chemistry going on between you two.”

Ellie plopped onto the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table. Sissy sat beside her and stared at her, waiting for an answer.

Ellie looked away and laughed. “Stop staring like that. I told you earlier, he’s helping me with the case.” She could still feel Sissy’s questioning gaze.

“Uh-huh. Guess it doesn’t hurt that he’s absolutely gorgeous, does it?”

“He’s gorgeous? I haven’t noticed.”

They chuckled like school girls. But why was it he never called back? And, why had he all of a sudden pushed his way back into her life? Maybe it was all about the case. “Jesse and I work together,” she said to Sissy. “That’s the extent of the relationship.”

Sissy gazed at her unbelievingly.

Ellie looked away, hiding from the knowing gaze.