Chapter
Twenty-One

I stared at my father, not certain I’d heard him correctly. “Did you say—?”

“Yes, Emily. The death of their son. Seems Elijah Fisher was walking home from school and some drunk hit him, killed him.”

I was trying to process my father’s words, but my mind had gone blank. What did this mean?

“The Fishers lied to us,” Reuben said.

“If all they did was show you Elijah’s birth certificate, they didn’t lie,” Dad said. “They just didn’t tell you the whole story.”

“What does this mean?” I asked. “Does it mean . . . ?”

“Yes, Emily,” Dad said, his voice breaking. “It means that Elijah is probably Ryan. It’s possible you’ve found your brother.”

I couldn’t stop the tears that cascaded down my cheeks. After all these years, we’d found Ryan? “Wait a minute,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I’ll bet Nathan’s told his brother that we’re looking for them.”

“But I’m certain they also assured them they had nothing to worry about,” Reuben said. “That they’d convinced you Elijah was their natural child.”

“What will they do?” I asked. “Will they run farther away, or do you think they might come home?”

“Hard to say,” Dad said, his voice heavy with emotion, “but I don’t want to take any chances. We need to contact the authorities now. It’s time.”

“We don’t need any kind of massive manhunt,” I said. “That would send them somewhere we’d never find them.”

“What are you thinking?” Reuben asked.

“Let’s talk to Paul. Lay everything out and ask him to help us search for the Fishers quietly. We’ll have a better chance of finding them that way.”

“Who is Paul?”

“Sorry. He’s a deputy sheriff. A friend of Reuben’s.”

“I don’t know, Emily,” Dad said. “You want to bring in one deputy sheriff? Don’t we need as much help as we can get?”

I shook my head. “I’ve been around this kind of stuff for a few years now, Dad. Reported on missing person cases. Abducted children. Many times the police don’t put information out right away because they need an advantage.”

“Maybe that’s what they’ll do this time.”

“Can’t count on it. I’ve seen it go the other way too, and sometimes it ends badly.”

“Once you tell Paul what’s going on, it will be out of your hands, you know. He may not be willing to do things your way.”

“I think he’ll listen,” Reuben said. “First of all, he’s a good man who will see this is the right way to go. Besides, I doubt he’ll accept our word about Elijah immediately. That should keep him from sounding an alarm for no reason.”

Reuben’s logic made sense. I prayed he was right. We were so close. Losing Ryan now was something I couldn’t allow.

“Do you really think this deputy sheriff has what it takes to find them?” My father sounded skeptical.

“You can trust Paul,” Reuben said. “He’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to solving cases. Everyone expects him to be the next sheriff of Madison County.”

Dad was silent as he mulled over our suggestions. “Okay,” he said finally, “but I’m still a little reluctant to do it this way.”

“Look, if Paul doesn’t find them by tomorrow evening, we’ll call out the cavalry,” I said. “But stealth is our friend right now.”

“All right. Will he come to us or do we need to go to him?”

“I’ll call him right now,” Reuben said, rising from his rocking chair. “Let me see what he wants to do.”

I sighed. “He’ll probably think I’m making this up to get out from being under suspicion.”

As Reuben walked a few feet away from the porch to get good reception on his phone, Dad took his place in the rocking chair next to me. “Why are you under suspicion?”

I told him about Paul’s earlier visit and his concerns about my involvement in August’s death.

“That’s ridiculous,” Dad fumed. “Are you sure you want this man to help us? He doesn’t sound very intelligent to me.”

“I think he’s our best bet,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to blow this. We can’t alert the Fishers that we’re on to them.” I smiled in the dark. “Good work, by the way. If it wasn’t for your tenacity, I’d have given up and gone home.”

“I want Ryan back as much as you do, Emmie. Maybe more.”

“Can you imagine what this would do to Mom? If we brought Ryan home?”

“If this boy is your brother, he won’t be the Ryan you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he’s lived with the Fishers longer than he lived with us. His personality won’t be the same. He won’t be . . . our Ryan.” Dad sighed. “At least it seems the Fishers are good people. That makes me feel better.”

“They may be victims too. Just like Ryan.”

“I know. We need to get all the facts before we accuse anyone of kidnapping.”

“But if they’re completely innocent, why did they leave?” I asked. “They know this Elijah isn’t their son. Maybe they think they love him, but keeping a child that doesn’t belong to you isn’t love.”

My father was silent.

“I’m not talking about you, Dad. Let’s stay focused on Ryan.”

“All I’m saying is that we should reserve judgment until we have the truth. Right now all I want to do is find my son.” Dad rubbed his eyes. “I need to tell him how sorry I am for failing him. For not being the father I should have been. And I need to apologize for the last words I said to him.” He dropped his hand and looked over at me. “I guess I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. To Ryan, to you, to your mother.”

“God forgave you a long time ago, Dad. We will too. All you can do is try to make amends and move on. Our reactions belong to us—not to you. I just listened to a sermon that meant a great deal to me. The pastor pointed out that we can’t move forward with our lives by looking behind us at the past.”

My father didn’t respond. We sat in silence until Reuben stepped back up onto the porch.

“Paul’s on his way. He wasn’t too happy about my call. I think he was already in bed.”

“Speaking of being in bed, I wonder if I should wake up Zac,” I said. “He doesn’t like to be left out of the loop.”

Reuben smiled. “You talk about Zac as if he were your brother.”

I chuckled. “On the way up here, I was ready to strangle him. Now he really does feel like family. Weird.”

“He seems like a good kid,” Dad said. “I like him.”

“Let him sleep,” Reuben said. “We’ll catch him up in the morning. He’s been through a lot.”

“Okay, but you can take the blame for it if he gets upset.”

“I’ll take that responsibility.” Reuben yawned widely. “I think we should put some coffee on. We may be up for a while.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. “Won’t take long.”

I got up and went to the kitchen. After watching Esther prepare coffee in her old percolator, I was pretty sure I could handle it. My coffeemaker at home was certainly easier to deal with, but I actually preferred the taste of the coffee brewed in the ancient pot. I rinsed it out, filled it with water, put the metal basket inside, and added two scoops of coffee to it. Then I put on the lid, set it on the stove, and lit the burner. Just to be sure, I waited around a few minutes until it began to percolate.

By the time I left the kitchen, Reuben and Dad had come inside and were sitting in the living room. Dad was talking about the official investigation into Ryan’s abduction.

“Coffee’s brewing,” I said. “Shouldn’t be long.”

Reuben nodded distractedly. “Lyndon,” he said, “can I ask you something else?”

Dad straightened up in his chair. “Sure. What is it?”

“Tell me again about the man who was blackmailing you.”

He took a deep breath, trying to pull up painful memories. I could tell the past was still raw and tender. “He told me he knew the nurse who helped me switch babies that night. Before she died, she told him what she’d done. I guess she felt guilty about it.” He shrugged. “At the time, she sure didn’t seem to have a problem. In fact, she said she was happy to send Emily to a good home instead of into foster care. I guess over the years, she changed her attitude.”

Reuben frowned. “Something about that story bothers me.”

“What is it, Reuben?” I asked.

“What kind of a friend is at your bedside as you’re dying? Who is the person you share your deepest secret with?”

His question took me aback. I looked over at my father.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Someone very close.”

Reuben nodded. “Like a boyfriend or a husband.”

“You might be right,” Dad said. “But what does it matter?”

“It matters,” I said, answering for Reuben, “because we might be able to discover who this man was.”

“It wouldn’t change anything.”

“I know that, Dad, but if we can find—what was his name?”

“Mac,” my father said slowly. “He called himself Mac.”

“If we can find Mac, we may be able to prove the link between Ryan and the Fishers.” I held my hands out, palms up. “If they’re innocent, this could prove it. And if they’re not . . .”

“Going after him will definitely bring attention back to Ryan and to us,” Dad said. “Do you want to be in the national spotlight again? You saw what happened to that family in Salt Lake City.”

“Of course not,” I said gently. “But don’t you think it’s time for the truth? All of the truth? The most important person now is Ryan. Proving that the Fishers were unwilling accomplices in his abduction could keep his current family intact.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Reuben said, staring at me. “You’re the investigator. Investigate.”

“I haven’t done a lot of actual investigating, but I’ll do my best,” I said. “Dad, do you remember the name of that nurse?”

“How could I ever forget? She changed our lives. Her name was Marian. Marian Belker.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can find out about Marian. I’ll look through Social Security death records. Old obituaries. Maybe I can find something that will lead us to Mac.”

“She worked as a nurse,” Dad said. “Can’t you check hospitals in Illinois to see if she’s listed?”

I nodded. “Sure, but I’m not certain that will tell us what we need to know, although it might at least give us her last known address.”

The smell of coffee reminded me about the pot on the stove. “Reuben, why don’t you help me with the coffee?”

He stood up and stretched. “Sounds good. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

I headed toward the kitchen, and he followed me. “Where are the cups?”

I pointed toward the cabinets. “Over there. You get cups and saucers, and I’ll get sugar and cream.”

“You got it.”

I found the tray Esther used for carrying coffee and food. I put the sugar bowl on it and got the cream out of the refrigerator. Reuben brought the cups over to me.

“That was really sharp,” I said, “thinking about Mac’s relationship with Marian Belker. It should have occurred to me.”

He put the cups down on the tray. “No, it shouldn’t have,” he said, taking my hand. “You’ve been through a lot of emotional upheaval. Right now, you’re just trying to hang on.” He raised my hand to his lips. “I’m really proud of you.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to be proud of.”

He kissed my hand. “You’re wrong. Most people would be a basket case by now, but you’re keeping yourself together. You’re still kind and generous. Even with your father. After what he told you, you could have gone ballistic. Ordered him out of your life. Shut him out completely. But instead, you’re trying to work through it. Understand him.”

I shook my head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. After this is over, I’ll probably have a complete nervous breakdown.”

“I don’t believe that. But I do believe you’ll find a way to make your relationship with your father and mother stronger than ever. That’s the kind of person you are. I’m also confident you’ll have your brother back soon.” He kissed me gently. “You’re a very strong woman, Wynter. Stronger than you realize.”

“I hope you’re right.” I gazed into his eyes. “But if I decide somewhere along the way to fall into a million pieces, will you help pick me up and put me back together?”

He smiled and kissed my nose. “Always.”

We were interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. Reuben quickly grabbed another cup and saucer, picked up the tray, and we both hurried to the living room. We got there just as Paul Gleason was coming in the front door.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” he said with a scowl. “Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

“No,” Reuben said. “As I told you on the phone, it’s important. There are some things we’ve kept from you. Things you need to know.” He pointed toward the couch. “Have a seat. This could take a while.”

Paul glared at him. “So you’ve been lying to me?”

“Not lying, really. After we explain, I hope you’ll understand why we kept quiet.”

Paul glared at him. “If we weren’t friends—”

“I know. You’d throw me to the floor, slap handcuffs on me, and haul me off to jail forthwith.”

Paul’s annoyed expression relaxed a bit, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Hardly,” he said. “I was thinking more of walking out on you.”

“Just give us a few minutes. I think you’ll change your mind.”

“Does it have anything to do with August Metzger’s death?”

“Good question. I wish I had the answer.”

Paul walked slowly toward the couch, his reluctance showing in every step he took. After he sat down, I poured him a cup of coffee and put the cream and sugar within his reach. As he picked up his cup, I had to wonder if this was a mistake. Ryan was so close. The voice from my dreams echoed in my head. Would I finally be able to answer his calls for help, or would this decision send him out of my reach forever?