Chapter Twelve

Wade’s frown deepened. His lips pressed together. “I hope you’re giving a thirty-day notice, Freddie.”

“Actually, I’m glad you asked, Sheriff. The letter states that I’m to report for duty on January second.” The deputy fumbled with his words. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get the job. I need to find an apartment, pack my stuff, and rent a moving van. Gosh, and with only three weeks left, I’m afraid next Friday’ll be my last day.” He shuffled his feet around while staring down at the tip of his spit-polished boots. “I hope you won’t hold it against me…my leaving you in a lurch. I mean, if things don’t work out in Maryland, I’d like to be your deputy again.”

Millie set her book aside, her glare less than friendly. “Freddie Sumner, you’ve got some nerve. If things don’t work out, what do you expect Wade to do, fire the new deputy just to give you your old job back? Humph!”

Freddie clenched his fist, his dark brown eyes bright with wounded pride. “Aw, shucks, Millie. You and my mother, you’re both alike. Can’t either of you be happy that I’m stepping up in the world?”

Wade hid his skepticism regarding his deputy’s new position with a big city crime unit. “Don’t mind Millie. She’s scolding because she’s quite fond of you and hates to see you go. In fact, we’ll all miss you.” He stood up and clapped the bumbling deputy on the back. “Don’t worry about taking early leave. My dad is still a certified law enforcement officer. I’m certain he’ll be more than happy to fill in until I can hire a permanent replacement.”

“You’re a stand-up guy, Wade.” Freddie seemed at odds with himself. He thumbed over his shoulder. “I’ll empty my desk and clean out my locker.”

Later that evening, Wade helped his dad clear the dining table and load the dishwasher while his mother loaded a plate with homemade pecan balls and perked a pot of fresh coffee. Lucy Grey said, “Wade, add an extra log to the fireplace, and Ward, please bring the coffee and mugs?”

Wade plopped a cookie into his mouth and washed it down with a slug of coffee. His mother laughed. “Just like when you were a little boy with confectioner’s sugar on your mouth.”

Wade ran his tongue around his lips. “Mom, I have a question that I think only you can answer.”

Lucy lifted her eyebrows. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. What is it you want to know?”

“The subject of why Emmett and Nell never married came up this morning. Emmett’s comment was, ‘Who says I never asked her?’ It’s plain as day the man loves her—so what gives?”

Lucy brushed at powdered sugar that had drifted to her son’s shirt. Her cheeks reddened as she crossed her arms over her chest in a hug. “I suppose after all these years it no longer matters.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Viet Nam is what gives. You see, Emmett loved Nell more than any woman deserved to be loved, and the feeling was mutual. Poor Emmett was so bashful he could hardly speak to Nell without nearly fainting, much less ask her out on a date or propose marriage.

“Lester Hopewell and Emmett were best friends, almost inseparable. Emmett deployed before Lester and was immediately sent to Viet Nam. Lester’s unit remained stateside. About a month later, Lester came home on leave, and he proposed to Nell. She accepted. I guess she got tired of waiting for Emmett to ask. Six months later, Lester was sent farther to Viet Nam. While the men were away, Nell opened Hope Ranch and began fostering children. I think she did it more to cope with the fear and loneliness than for the money. Long story short—Emmett came home. Lester didn’t. War changed Emmett from a shy boy to a stalwart man. He took over his dad’s ranch and worked as a deputy for your dad. Nell being a widow and him still loving her, he proposed. Before all that, she’d suffered a miscarriage and developed some female problems that resulted in a hysterectomy. In her mind, I suppose, she feared if she couldn’t give Emmett children he wouldn’t want her. Once, in a rare weak moment, she admitted she hadn’t loved Lester and said she loved Emmett too much to deny him the chance of being a father. Even though they’ve been on shaky terms for years, Emmett has always taken care of Nell, whether she wanted him to or not.”

Wade said in a quiet voice, “Kind of selfish on Nell’s part.”

Lucy kept her face resolute. “Maybe. Times were different then. The way of thinking was also different. There was a lot of social stigma against women who couldn’t bear children. Still is, I suppose.”

After a few minutes of small talk, Lucy excused herself. “It’s time for Murder, She Wrote. I do enjoy clean, wholesome mysteries without all the blood and gore.” She sighed. “Freddie…I can’t help but worry about him. He’s a grown man, but so naïve.” She cast a pensive look toward her son. “It’s like when you joined the Marines. I don’t think I slept a wink the whole time you were deployed.”

Wade reached over and clasped his mother’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I never meant to worry you, Mom.”

Ward finished off his coffee and set the cup on the tray. “Here’s the thing…Baltimore has one of the highest crime rates in the nation. The crime unit he’s assigned to will either grow Freddie into a good cop or send him home in a pine box.”

Lucy gathered the tray of mugs and the plate of leftover cookies. “It’s the pine box part that concerns me. I can’t imagine how his poor mother is coping. He is their only child, after all.”

After she’d left the room, Wade said, “Pop I’d like to discuss one of your old cases.” He removed a folded copy of a news article from his shirt pocket and opened it. The headline read: Do You Recognize This Child?

Ward pulled on his glasses and read. “Ah, yes. Your mother told me Addison was back in town. I hope she doesn’t step all over Nell’s heart like she did years ago.”

He cleared his throat and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. “Best as I recall, she was found in the Boise bus depot. After Child Protective Services brought the child to Nell, she asked me to see what I could find out. As you’ve read, the details of her abandonment are sketchy.” He removed his glasses and leaned back in the recliner. “She was an exceptionally pretty girl, but Addison wasn’t the most pleasant child—threw temper tantrums, skipped school, and gave Nell a hard time. As I recall, Ruby Raye was about her only friend. Those two girls were pretty much inseparable, but nothing alike in temperament. Ruby was a star student and excelled in sports, even won a scholarship to college. But I digress.

“Even though it was out of my jurisdiction, I made a trip to Boise and paid a call on my old buddy Detective Stu Chatsworth. He’d worked the case, and he filled me in on what he knew. The bus depot’s security camera had been broken for a couple of months, so that was a dead end. The woman who found Addison sitting alone on a bench and sobbing had come in on a different bus than the child and whoever was with her. She took the girl to the station master, who called my buddy, Stu, who called CPS.”

Wade leaned forward, his hands dangling between his knees. “Did he check the departure depots of each bus?”

His dad replied, “Yep, and noted them in his report. Stu even interviewed as many passengers as he could locate from each bus that had arrived that day. No one remembered seeing anyone with a child or a toddler or anyone leaving a child alone in a seat. Same with the drivers—nothing.”

Ward scratched the end of his nose. “The Boise Times posted articles in all the border states’ major newspapers, and it was on all the nightly news channels. After a while, with no results, the case went cold. At seventeen, Addison packed a suitcase and left the same way she arrived—on an out-of-town bus.”

Wade pushed off the sofa. He walked to the fireplace and laid another log on the fire. He stirred the embers with the poker, then stood warming his backside. “In one sense of the word, she’s been running ever since. Without her actually knowing why she runs, I think it’s because subconsciously she’s searching—trying to find who she really is.”

“You could be right, son.” Ward Grey harrumphed. “And ironically, she’s right back where she started.”

“How did she get her name? Was there a piece of paper with her name on it pinned to her?”

Ward shifted his gaze from the fireplace’s flickering flames to his son. “Nothing that simple. When a doctor examined Addison, he estimated she was about eleven months old. Of course, she didn’t know her name and was barely talking. No, there was no note.” Ward Grey chuckled. “The bus station sits at the corner of Addison Boulevard and James Avenue. CPS decided it was as good a name as any—thus, Addison James.”

Wade gave his dad a quizzical smile. “Pop, it seems everyone assumed Addison was brought in on a bus and left inside the depot. With all you’ve told me, doesn’t it make sense that the mother simply walked inside and left Addison on a bench? I mean, a bus station is usually filled with people. The mother probably figured someone would find her baby and give her a good home.”

Ward stretched his long legs toward the fire. “Uh-huh. We thought of that, too. Stu canvassed the surrounding businesses and apartment complexes, looking for witnesses. ’Course, it brought a lot of loco yokels out of the woodwork, claiming they’d seen this or that and then asking if there was a reward. All of it just led to one dead end after another.”

Wade smiled wearily. He wished he had better news from his father. He fought against feelings he didn’t understand and wondered why he felt the need to protect Addison. “She’s ready to run again. In fact, she’s fighting hard to stay in Meadow Creek. I think that’s why she volunteered to take charge of the bazaar. Hell, she even admitted she hates Christmas.”

He snapped his fingers. “Wait…” He lifted the article from the coffee table and read, “…found on Christmas Day.” He raked a hand through his hair. “My God, Pop, what kind of mother abandons her child on Christmas Day? Even though Addison was barely a year old, she probably innately remembers things like decorated trees and Christmas carols. The day I picked her up at the airport, I turned the radio on and “Jingle Bells” was playing. She asked me to turn it off. No wonder she dislikes Christmas.”

He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace until his father beckoned him to sit. “Son, that was thirty-odd years ago. Things were different then for young mothers, especially if they were unwed and destitute or married to some sorry-assed no-good.”

A husky timbre filled Wade’s voice. “Ava and I were so fortunate. At least we knew our parents loved us. When they were killed, it was a real scary time, with us having no known relatives and being afraid Ava and I would be separated. We’re mighty thankful for you and Mom, and we love you more than we show. I’m just sorry Addison wasn’t that fortunate.”

Ward stood and embraced his son. “Your mother and I are the fortunate ones, and don’t you ever think otherwise.” He patted Wade on the back. “Besides with you and me having names like Wade and Ward, we took it as a sign that you and Ava were meant to be ours.”

“Thanks, Pop.” Wade heaved a sigh. “It’s late. I’ll say goodnight to Mom on the way out.”

Ward waited by the front door. His gaze slowly met his son’s. “I just had a thought. No one ever thought to take a DNA sample from the little girl and run it through the databases. ’Course back then, DNA testing wasn’t all that reliable.” He shrugged his shoulders. “If Addison is serious about knowing who she is, it’s something to consider. Good or bad, she has to be prepared to live with the results.”

Wade gave his dad another quick hug and a pat on the back. “’Night, Pop. You’re the best. If or when the time is right, I’ll consider mentioning it to her.”