Along Came the Rain

by Alison R Solomon

  “Wait! What do you mean she lost her own daughters? She had kids in foster care? She never mentioned that to us. And it never came up in her security clearances.”

  “No. Nothing like that. Like I said, I don’t remember all the details of our conversation, but I certainly remember her telling the whole class that she had twin daughters who died of meningitis. That’s not something you forget.”

  “My God, Wynn, I had no idea! I can’t believe she withheld that from us.”

  “But wouldn’t that be something you find out when you do background checks?”

  Sometimes I forget how people who are outside the system really don’t know anything about it.

  “They’re done through the FBI database. They look to see if people have arrest histories, that kind of thing. If there was nothing suspicious about her daughters, it wouldn’t come up in any kind of background check.”

  “Well I think it’s pretty damn suspicious she didn’t tell you she lost twin daughters, and yet she told a bunch of total strangers.”

  “That is weird.”

  “In fact, I remember her saying she must have blurted it out because she so rarely talked about it. Why would she keep it secret?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because she knew that if we thought she were using foster kids as a way to replace her own, we might have thought twice about placing children with her. Although, the fact is, we’re so damn short of homes, it probably wouldn’t have even made a difference.”

  “So what will you do? Can you talk to her? Can Gordon?”

  “I’ll definitely ask him to look into it.”

  Wynn looks suddenly exhausted. “Why don’t you draw a bath and put in some of those relaxing bath salts you have? I can order us a pizza and we’ll just spend the evening snuggling up together. There’s nothing else we can do tonight, so let’s just try and take our minds off everything.”

  I see her facial expression go through a number of different permutations. I know she wants to keep talking about all this, but there’s no point. It will just keep her worked up and we won’t gain anything. And the last thing I want is for her to start ruminating on all the small details, going over and over everything in her mind and just getting frustrated. So I take advantage of the fact that she’ll do anything not to upset me. I take her cup and saucer and put them in the sink.

  She sighs. “I guess you’re right, but—”

  I steer her gently toward the bathroom. “No buts, sweetie. Time to relax.”

  She looks at me long sufferingly. “I don’t think there’s much chance of that until my name is cleared and all this is just a bad dream.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Wynn, June 23

  I’ve been trying to remember all the things Mean Cop said were proof that I kidnapped the girls. Once I can remember what they are, I can go through systematically and refute them. I think I remember most of it, although it feels like I’m forgetting something important.

  First of all, he said I took Kallie and Michaela to the condo, which I did, although I didn’t know it was them, and I was just doing Barker’s student a favor. So one thing I have to do is track down Parminder. There has to be a way to find her. Surely, Barker must have discussed with her exactly which program she was going to apply for? I know how she is with her supervisees. They tell her they’re thinking of doing some program somewhere and she researches it to death and comes up with five reasons why a program that she found would be ten times better than the one they picked. Then she’ll track down someone she knows in the field who can give the student a sure way in, or at least a strong recommendation. I know she made comments about not caring for this year’s student that much, so perhaps she didn’t go to all the trouble she usually does. Wouldn’t that be just my luck? Still, I just have to find a way to locate Parminder, preferably within the next few days, because she is the one person who can explain why I was the one to take the girls to the condo. That’s number one on my list.

  Then there’s the issue of what Ava told them about me. This I find a little bizarre. I only met her twice and I thought we got on pretty well, even though neither of us ever pursued a friendship after the class disbanded. I remember we talked about foster care, but this whole idea that I thought we should teach the birth moms a lesson, I don’t remember saying that. And then there’s the claim that it was important to me to know whether her foster kids were attractive. I might easily have asked her if the girls were pretty. But what’s so sinister about that? Could she be the person who’s setting me up? Could she have masterminded this whole thing?

  It seems to me that Mrs. Ava Clark was purposely trying to point the finger at me, and the only reason I can see for doing that, is if she wanted to redirect the attention from herself. And why would she need to do that if she’s completely innocent? I don’t believe she is. There is definitely something highly suspicious about Mrs. Clark. She’s had way too much tragedy in her life. And while I might feel sorry for someone who lost her spouse and daughters, I also have to wonder what the likelihood is a person’s immediate family is struck not once, but twice by such rare and bizarre forms of death? Barker says Ava never even told the county about her daughters. Why not? This is definitely something I have to look into.

  There’s another thing that’s odd about Mrs. Clark. She doesn’t seem like someone who’s borne tragic losses in her life. You wouldn’t look at her and think, that woman bears a heavy burden. My class was only a few months after her husband passed. From what I know of grief, when you’ve had one loss it’s bad enough. But when you have a second one, it tends to get compounded by the first one so that the loss of her husband would have triggered an even stronger grief reaction than would be usual. How could you carry on providing the kind of structure and nurturing that foster children need in that situation? You’d think that when her husband died, she’d have asked to have the foster children removed from her home. Who could deal with such a terrible loss like that with two foster kids around?

  But why would she have had the girls kidnapped and put in the situation Barker described? She already had the girls in her home. If she wanted to pimp them, she could have done it under her own roof. And if she just wanted them to have a good time with a couple of guys, she could have arranged that too. And why would she want to do either thing?

  If, for some bizarre reason, it was Ava, why would she set me up? She barely knows me. Did she know I was Barker’s partner? I was careful not to mention it, but we’ve never hidden our relationship from anyone, so it wouldn’t be hard to find out. Oh my god! Is that why she came to my class? Because she knew I was Barker’s partner and it was the perfect way to set things in motion? Is that why she mentioned her daughters, so that she’d have an excuse to talk with me afterward?

  The only reason I can see for her setting me up is if she had a vendetta against Barker. But why would she? Barker was the one who placed the kids with her. If she didn’t want them, she could have said no. The whole thing is extremely puzzling.

  Another thing I wonder about is why the police didn’t tell me about the photographs. They did say that they had a letter they thought might have been from me. But why not tell me what was going on with the girls? Is it because even they can’t come up with any plausible reason why I would have wanted to set the girls up in some awful bordello situation? Or because they know I have absolutely no reason to have any kind of crusade against birth moms?

  So the two things I have to do right now are find Parminder and research Ava Clark. The best way to do it is probably to use the Internet. I could ask Barker to help me, but she’s so involved with work and looking after me, that I don’t want to put any more on her plate. I’m the one who should do it. I can set aside my jewelry and make researching this case my full-time job. Suddenly, I remember that Dot works in information technology. I know I’ve always found her intimidating but I’m pretty sure she’ll help me if I ask.

  I used to know her phone number, but for the life of me, I
can’t remember it. I go to our phone book, find it, and dial it. When she answers, it occurs to me that she may not even know about the arrest.

  “Dot? Did Barker tell you what’s going on with me?”

  “What do you mean?” She sounds wary. I don’t know why.

  “Did she tell you I was arrested?”

  “No! What on earth did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I respond. “It’s crazy. They think I took those two girls—you know the ones who were in the newspaper? They were Barker’s clients. Well, I’m probably not supposed to tell you that. They said I took them. I mean, I did, but not the way they think I did. And now they’re accusing me of kidnapping!” I’m aware that I may not be making a whole lot of sense, but I’m sure, under the circumstances, it’s not surprising. “I need to do some research. Someone set me up, I’m sure of it, and there are two people I need to find out a whole lot more about.”

  “Have you asked Barker to help you?”

  “No. I don’t want to mention any of this to her. She has enough on her plate. But I thought you’d be the perfect person to help me because you work with computers all the time.”

  “Yes, but I’m a systems manager,” she says, as if that explains anything. I’ve never understood what she does, and I’m not about to get into it now.

  “I know, but you definitely know a whole lot more than I do about researching on the Internet. All I need is some basic information about the best way to go about finding out what I need to know. Can I meet with you at your workplace? During your lunch hour or something?”

  She hesitates. “Surely if this is something serious, Barker and the police are doing their research?”

  “I don’t know what the police are doing. They seemed pretty convinced I’m their woman. As for Barker, she told me they’re totally short-staffed at work and now she has to cover for another employee, as well as take care of her own cases. I just don’t want to burden her. I know she’s doing whatever she can from her end, but I have to do something. You have no idea what it was like, spending a night in jail—”

  “You spent a night in jail? I had no idea! Why didn’t she call us?”

  “I don’t imagine there was anything you could do. But there is now, and that’s why I called you.”

  “I understand. Let me check my calendar.” She pauses and I picture her looking at her appointment book, until I remember that nowadays most people have their schedules on their electronic devices. “I have an opening this afternoon around three. When you arrive, let the receptionist know it’s a personal appointment with me, and she’ll send you up.” I feel an enormous sense of relief. Dot is so smart, she’ll help me. “Don’t worry, Wynn,” she says. “We’ll sort all this out.”

  My chest feels tight as the tears start to form in my eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Wynn, June 23

  Dot was great! I was afraid that when she started showing me how to do things on the computer I’d space out, or just not understand, but she made it all really simple. She had me practice things with her, and she typed up some instructions for me, so I feel pretty confident now that I can do my research.

  I get home and immediately set myself in front of the laptop. When Barker comes home, she looks shocked to see me working on it.

  “Time to visit the twenty-first century!” I tell her, but I close it down because I don’t want her to see what I’m looking at. I head to the kitchen to make dinner just as the phone rings. Barker picks it up and listens to the voice on the other end. She looks a little alarmed, nods a few times then says, “Why don’t we come down there right now?” She hangs up the phone and turns to me.

  “The cops want to interview you again,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But they asked if you could come down to the precinct now, and I said yes. I’m coming with you. This time I’ll hear everything they have to say and make sure you don’t say anything incriminating.”

  “How could I do that, when I’m completely innocent?” I get up from the desk and go to fetch my purse. As I pass her, she pulls me into her and gives me a big hug.

  “Come on.” She picks up the keys and we head downtown. As we drive, I realize I’m shaking. The last time I was being driven down here, I was so scared. Once I was there, it was even worse: the fingerprinting, the picture taking, the endless waiting, and then being told I was going to have to spend the night there completely freaked me out.

  “What if they lock me up again?” I say, my voice thin and reedy.

  “They won’t,” she pats my knee reassuringly, the other hand steadying the wheel. “They can’t. You’re out on your own recognizance. That means until the court hearing, which isn’t going to be for ages. And by then they’ll have figured out it’s not you.”

  “You’re sure they can’t take me back?” I hear what she’s saying, but it’s as if a part of me can’t take it in. Even though I have moments of clarity, mostly everything is starting to overwhelm me.

  We arrive at the station and Barker strides down the hall while I trot nervously behind. She’s been here many times with clients, so it doesn’t raise the same emotions for her that it does for me. She seems to know where she’s going and stops in front of an open door.

  “Here,” she says, pulling me in. The officer sitting behind the desk isn’t one I know. “This is Detective Gordon, honey.” Ah, so we’re meeting with her friend, not with Mean Cop or Young Cop. I feel a sense of relief.

  He stands up and pushes forward a large, hairy hand for me to shake. “Pleased to meet you,” he says. “And don’t worry—you don’t have to say the same back. I’m sure you’d rather not be here.” I like him right away. He has a firm handshake and feels like someone I can trust, as well as being someone who knows what he’s doing. His office is a mess, just as I’d expect a busy law enforcement office to look. His desk is covered with a pile of papers, on which sit a coffee cup with the logo, ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ and a half-eaten bag of potato chips scrunched up.

  “I just need a few bits of information so I can square certain things away. Barker, do you want to get us something to drink from the coffee machine?”

  She looks at him, a little startled. “I’ll stay right here, thanks.”

  “Sure, fine.” He looks unruffled and turns to me. “When you had your initial interview with Officers McNab and Carillo, they brought up the issue of the check you wrote.”

  That’s what I’ve been forgetting! How could I have forgotten such a central piece of information? “Yes. They said I paid for the condo. But that’s nonsense.”

  “And yet you admitted that you wrote a check for $1,500 to Summerlicious, which is the name of the condo owner’s account.”

  “Then it must be a coincidence. The check I wrote was to Barker’s program.” Detective Gordon turns to Barker and raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to confirm what I just said. Her brow knits in puzzlement.

  “Honey, I—” she looks awkward, like she is about to say something she doesn’t want to say.

  “I asked you if I could make a donation.” I remind her, then I turn from her to Detective Gordon and explain. “Barker’s workplace decided they wanted to start a fund so that foster kids could attend summer enrichment programs. I asked her if we could make a donation. She said she couldn’t because of her position, but that I could make one out of my business account.” I turn back to Barker, “So that’s what I did, right?”

  She looks embarrassed. “You did make a donation to the program. But it wasn’t that check.”

  I’m stunned. It has to be that check!

  She swivels to face the detective. “I take care of our finances, even Wynn’s business account. So when she asked me to make a donation, I went to the website and used her credit card. Then I logged it in Quicken so we’d have a record of it.”

  “But isn’t your program called Summerlicious? Isn’t that what you told me?”

  “Does that sound
like a name we’d give to a social services program?” She smiles, but there is absolutely nothing humorous about all this. Although there’s definitely something funny going on.

  Detective Gordon looks a little embarrassed too. “Do you remember mailing the check?” he asks me.

  I shake my head. “I put it in an envelope. But I have no idea what happened after that. I presume Barker mailed it.”

  “You probably did give it to me,” she confirms. “Whenever Wynn or I have something that needs mailing, I take it to work and put it in the mail there. It’s more convenient than going to the post office and the only mailbox near us is in an awkward location that you have to make a U-turn on a busy road to get to. So most likely I was the one who mailed it.”

  “Do you by any chance remember mailing something for Wynn at the end of May?”

  “Wynn still does a lot of stuff by mail that other people might do online—she orders jewelry supplies, sends greeting cards and letters—so I take mail in all the time. Anyway, what difference does it make, if she acknowledges that she wrote the check?”

  “I just need to cover all my bases, and I’m trying to look for any way that Wynn might be off the hook.”

  “Trust me, I wish I could help you.” Barker’s eyes fill up and I know my decision not to have her do more research with me was right. This is really wearing on her.

  “What else did you want to know?” I ask. I just want to get out of there.

  “Do you remember that we told you the person who took the girls sent a letter to their parents?”

  Barker butts in. “I know we just told you Wynn writes a lot of letters but that’s not what we meant!” She looks indignant, and I’m glad I have her here with me. Even though I don’t like what we’ve covered so far, I feel more at ease than when I was by myself with Mean Cop and Young Cop.

  “No, I wasn’t barking up that tree. I wanted to talk about the substance of it. You see, we did have to do a little snooping into your background, Wynn, and we noticed something that seems pretty relevant to this case.”