Swamp Santa

by Jana DeLeon

  Becca nodded. “The chart on the other baby’s crib clearly stated no medical records available and closed adoption. The adoptive couple would never know more about his birth parents. They wanted a healthy baby boy and they got one.”

  Megan and Seth looked at each other and I could tell they didn’t know how to react, what to think. I couldn’t blame them. It was a lot to take in and all of it centered on the child they considered their own and who might as well have been dropped off by a stork.

  Becca wiped a tear from her face. “Look. What I did was wrong but I’m not sorry I did it. I was protecting my son and if I had to do it all over again, I’d do the same thing.”

  “So where is your son?” Megan asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” Becca said. “I didn’t open the envelope for the other baby. It’s better this way. My son has an opportunity for the life I couldn’t have given him because of Cory. If I don’t know where he is, I’ll never be tempted to seek him out. That keeps him safe.”

  Megan went over and hugged Becca, softly crying. “I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard that was for you. But you’re an incredible person for what you did. I don’t blame you. I hope I would have had the strength to do the same thing.”

  “One thing I don’t understand is how did Cory find out about Caleb?” Megan said. “Did that man who died tell him?”

  “I think I can explain that one,” I said. “Some of it is speculation, but based on what we found in our investigation, I have a good idea about what happened.”

  Gertie put her hands up in the air. “Well, I wish you’d tell me, because I’m as confused as ever.”

  “When Becca told Cory their baby had died, he didn’t believe her. So when she left town, Cory hired Cooke to track her down and find his son. Since you have some time to change your driver’s license and other things, it took Cooke a while to track Becca to Mudbug. When he did, he broke into Becca’s house—that was the first break-in—and didn’t see any sign of a baby, but he found a business card or other contact information for Abshire.”

  Becca’s eyes widened. “He gave me a card. I bet it was in my house somewhere. I didn’t even think…”

  “Why would you?” I asked. “The cops told you it was kids looking for things to hock and that you’d returned early and scared them off. But my guess is it was Cooke and nothing was missing because he wasn’t there to rob you.”

  “So Cooke told Cory about Abshire’s card,” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded. “And I’m sure Cooke filled Cory in on Abshire’s reputation as well.”

  “So Cory assumed I’d let someone adopt our baby,” Becca said. “This all makes more sense.”

  “Someone—I’m betting Cooke—broke into Abshire’s office but couldn’t find the records because my guess is they’re all digitalized and the paper documents shredded,” I said. “When Cooke couldn’t find what he was looking for there, he paid Abshire a visit and roughed him up so badly he put him in the hospital.”

  Becca gasped and everyone looked shocked.

  “What?” Becca asked.

  “Abshire won’t say who attacked him—my guess is because he knew why Cooke was after him and wasn’t about to tell the police about his shady practices. But I paid him a visit in the hospital yesterday and even though he wouldn’t tell me the truth, I think I got a good enough read on him to know what transpired.”

  “So what do you think happened?” Myrna asked.

  “I think Cooke beat Abshire because he refused to tell him where Becca’s baby was,” I said. “But Abshire wouldn’t have known because Cooke was using the wrong name. It was Ashley that he prepared an adoption for.”

  “Oh,” Gertie said. “That makes sense. Then how did Cooke narrow it down?”

  “Because Abshire wouldn’t have remembered the names necessarily, but he might have remembered which towns babies were delivered to recently,” I said. “We know that Cooke checked Mudbug and Sinful, but he could have been through others. Only Abshire knows how many locations he provided.”

  “And since I’d moved to Mudbug and my mother to Sinful,” Becca said, “Cooke figured he’d hit the jackpot in one of those places.”

  Myrna shook her head. “So Cooke took over as Santa in Mudbug, so he could look for the baby.”

  I nodded. “Then he broke into Becca’s studio and stole the pictures she’d taken so he could send them to Cory in order to double-check his work.”

  “I wonder if Cory would have even recognized his child,” Ida Belle said.

  “I’m sure he thought he would,” Becca said. “His arrogance wouldn’t have allowed him to think anything else.”

  “So obviously he didn’t find what he was looking for in Mudbug,” Seth said, “because he did a number on Rollie and took his place in Sinful.”

  “But if Cooke told Cory where to find Caleb, then why did he wait until today to come here?” Megan asked.

  “Because Cooke was killed before he got a chance to tell Cory about Caleb,” I said.

  “Then how did Cory find us?” Seth asked.

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” I said.

  Megan’s eyes widened. “What? How?”

  “Because when I questioned Cory today, I used Ashley’s full name and I left him my card,” I said. “I also mentioned that her family was anxious to find her because she’d recently had a baby. My guess is Cooke had identified Ashley as a connection investigated but had her logged as a dead end. After I left, Cory must have realized where he’d heard the name before. It would have been a simple enough matter to track you down once he knew what he was looking for.”

  Seth blew out a breath. “Still. What Cory did was crazy. Showing up here and holding us at gunpoint. He couldn’t be sure. Why take that kind of risk? Why not see an attorney and subpoena the DNA test?”

  “My personal opinion is that Cory cracked,” I said. “I don’t think he’s ever been mentally stable. Then his perfectly laid plans were ruined and he was committed to doing anything possible to salvage them. I think he was so obsessed that he didn’t stop to think about the consequences.”

  “Or such a narcissist that he actually felt he was in the right,” Ida Belle said. “That he was the victim.”

  I nodded. “And also convinced he could buy his way out of anything.”

  “Or have his father-in-law pull strings,” Gertie said.

  “All of this is so incredible,” Megan said, then she stiffened. “Wait! Who killed Cooke?”

  Everyone looked at Becca and her eyes widened.

  “I didn’t do it. I swear!” she said. “I never knew he was an imposter. I thought he was Rollie. Oh my God! The police are going to arrest me for killing him, aren’t they? I mean, what else could they possibly think, especially with what Cory did today. Everything is going to come out and I’m going to go to prison.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “The police found an unopened bottled water in Cooke’s car. It had cyanide injected into it. They also found a discarded bottle of water in the trash in the cafeteria with cyanide in it and Cooke’s DNA on the rim. He had them before he ever got to Sinful.”

  “He was drinking bottled water while I was setting up the camera,” Becca said. “Oh my God! What if he’d given someone one of those bottles? Someone else could have been killed.”

  I nodded. “It was a huge risk.”

  “But if the poison was in the water in his car as well, then who did it?” Seth asked.

  “No one knows,” I said. “The case has been turned over to the New Orleans police. Cooke was already under investigation and he had a lot of enemies. They might not ever figure it out.”

  “Given what kind of man Cooke was, I don’t think I care,” Megan said.

  “I don’t either,” Gertie agreed.

  “So I’m not going to get the blame?” Becca asked.

  “I don’t see how you could,” I said. “Besides, even if you knew who Cooke was and what he was up to, you also knew Caleb
wasn’t Cory’s son. You had no motive for killing him. All it would have taken is a DNA test to make Cory go away.”

  Becca’s shoulders slumped with relief. “That’s right.”

  “What about Ashley’s baby?” Myrna asked. “Could Cory have the body exhumed and tested?”

  Becca shook her head. “Ashley and I thought of that. He was cremated and we spread his ashes in the Mississippi River.”

  Myrna sniffed and hugged Becca. “So your son—my grandson—is safe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was a long, emotional day, and I capped it off with a long, emotional recap to Carter of everything that had happened and all my suspicions about what had happened. Carter thought my ideas were all completely plausible and probably close to the truth. He also agreed that we’d probably never get confirmation because all the parties in the know would remain silent. Cory had refused to speak at all other than to ask for his attorney.

  Carter had informed the New Orleans police of his arrest, and the situation surrounding it, but had left out everything to do with the baby switching. He hadn’t been happy with the duplicity but reporting that truth would only send psycho Cory after another set of adoptive parents and would land Becca in jail. Carter didn’t like dishonesty but he hated the bad guys winning even more. So Becca’s secret would remain in Sinful, hopefully never uncovered. As far as everyone else, the official story was that Megan had adopted her sister’s baby and Becca’s baby had died after she fled an abusive relationship.

  The New Orleans police gladly agreed to take Cory on. I think, hoping to make a connection between Cory, Cooke, and Abshire. I wasn’t convinced they’d be able to, but I liked the direction they were going. At least they were going to try. I’d warned Megan and Seth before leaving that they should expect an attorney to contact them about providing a sample for DNA testing. No way was Cory going to take our word for it. But since Caleb wasn’t his son, they had nothing to worry about.

  After all the talking, we were both worn out. I offered for Carter to stay the night, but he still had to feed Tiny and he had to be in early the next morning to file paperwork, so it was better for him to head home. We were too tired for anything of the romantic nature anyway, and both of us were used to sprawling out in bed alone more often than not, so it was probably for the best.

  I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, and for the first time in a long time, I had a completely dreamless and restful slumber. No alarms, no phone calls, no disgruntled cats. I awakened feeling refreshed and looking forward to the upcoming holiday celebration at Emmaline’s.

  But first, there was one more conversation I needed to have.

  Myrna was sitting on her front porch drinking coffee when I pulled up. She took one look at me and waved me inside.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said as we sat in the kitchen.

  “You knew Becca had given birth,” I said, making a statement, not asking a question.

  She nodded. “As many years as I spent caring for babies and women who’d had them, it would be a shame if I didn’t recognize the signs in my own daughter. I knew that arm break wasn’t a bicycle either, same as you. It didn’t take much thinking to know what really happened.”

  “But you never said anything when you and Becca patched things up.”

  “She told me a little about Cory…enough for me to know that he was the root of her troubles. She was so careful about leaving her house and so secretive about her move that she had to give me a reason. All it took was her telling me she was scared of him and I knew the score. I never pushed her for more because I wanted her to tell me about the baby herself. When she was ready.”

  “You were the hospital nurse who did the exam on the babies Abshire filed adoption for.”

  “Yes. I didn’t like the man, or his practices, but those babies and the families they were going to deserved the best care they could get. I saw Becca and Ashley outside his office that day. They were hugging each other on the sidewalk and they were both crying.”

  “Then you saw the babies, and you knew Nathan Vincent was your grandson.”

  She didn’t say a word but I could see the tears forming.

  “You knew Becca wouldn’t give up her child without a good reason,” I said. “So when you retired, you moved to Sinful where you could keep an eye on him.”

  She studied me for a moment, then nodded. “I was wondering if you’d figured things out that far.”

  “It was the birthmark on Nathan’s cheek. Becca has the same one although the night Gertie commented on it, she thought it was face paint from the night before.”

  Myrna nodded. “I don’t think Becca thinks about it anymore. Honestly, it had never bothered her. She wasn’t that sort of child. And it had faded so much as she moved into adulthood. A light cover of makeup was all it took to hide it.”

  “Or pretty snowflakes.”

  Myrna was silent.

  “I’m going to tell you what I think happened, and you don’t have to say a word.”

  She gave me a single nod.

  “I think you worked the Mudbug festival and Margaret Holden told you about the strange incident with the Santa. When someone broke into Becca’s studio and all they stole were pictures, you were afraid Cory was looking for his baby. Then while you were preparing to leave for the Sinful event you saw Santa parked in front of your house, which made no sense. Then you realized it wasn’t Rollie’s car.”

  I shook my head. “Of all the unlucky moves for Cooke to make, parking where the only person who suspected what he was up to would see him. Later you overheard him on the phone with Cory and even though you’d rushed to paint Nathan’s face, you knew you were too late. Cooke had already seen the birthmark.”

  “It’s an interesting theory, but there’s a hole in your story. Caleb doesn’t have a birthmark and Cory still thought that baby was his son.”

  “He didn’t have a birthmark, but he had a smudge from the face painting still on his cheek. Becca said the paint wasn’t easy to get off. Cory might not have remembered the exact shape or size or he might have thought it had gotten smaller as the baby grew. But there was enough discoloration from him to believe, along with the other information he had, that Caleb was his son.”

  Myrna shrugged. “Hard to say what someone like that thinks.”

  “I’ll tell you what I think. I think after you saw Cooke get out of that car, you went through it and found his case file on Becca, which you took and destroyed. That’s why Carter never questioned you or Becca directly about Cooke. You were afraid Cooke would discover Nathan at the gala and you came prepared to deal with that possibility.

  “You tried to hide Nathan’s identity with the face paint,” I continued. “But then you overheard the phone conversation and knew you were too late. Your only chance to protect Nathan was to stop Cooke before he had a chance to give Cory the information. So you gave him a bottle of water injected with cyanide. And then when everyone was scrambling to handle things after Cooke collapsed, you hurried back home and put another poisoned bottle in his car. That way, the police wouldn’t suspect someone from Sinful of poisoning him.”

  I studied her for a moment. “You see, one of the things that didn’t fit was the fact that you’d spent years working in the ER but you never offered to render aid to Cooke. And the only two answers for why not were either that you knew he’d been poisoned and didn’t want to expose yourself to it, or you weren’t there.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Myrna said. “Cooke was just one man. Cory could easily hire another. What good would it do to get rid of him?”

  “You knew the Vincents were moving to Abu Dhabi right after Christmas. You only needed to delay things long enough for them to get out of the country. You figured if Cooke was murdered, Cory would hold off on hiring someone else until he was sure the police couldn’t connect him to Cooke in any way. Killing Cooke bought the time it would take for your grandson to leave the country.”

&nbs
p; Myrna took a sip of her coffee and stared out her back window. “That’s an interesting story. You have a vivid imagination.”

  “Does Becca know that Nathan’s her son?”

  Myrna turned back to me. “No. I painted him before she saw him that night. Zach Vincent’s brother is a photographer. They never hired Becca to take photos of Nathan.”

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  “No. I was going to, but after everything she said yesterday, I don’t think she’s ready to know. Might not ever be.”

  I nodded. Becca was the one who’d tried to ensure that her son was adopted to a good family that she’d never be able to track. If Myrna didn’t want to tell her that she knew where her son was, then I couldn’t argue the point. Not when Becca herself had taken drastic measures to keep herself in the dark.

  I rose to leave, satisfied that I had the answers I’d come for.

  “Are you going to tell her?” Myrna asked quietly.

  “It’s not my place to tell her. Nor to decide what she’s ready to hear.”

  Myrna nodded. “Thank you for that. And for not offering up this information yesterday.”

  “Becca has suffered enough, and she’ll probably feel guilty for everything that transpired for the rest of her life. I’m not interested in piling more on her. She and her son deserve some peace and the ability to live happy and fulfilled lives.”

  “Are you going to tell the police what you suspect?”

  “What would be the point? They can’t prove it. And besides, Becca isn’t the only one who’ll be living with guilt. Sometimes that’s worse.”

  Myrna frowned and looked away.

  I walked out of the house and took a deep breath. It was time to cleanse myself of all the negative energy that this case had presented and focus on happy things. A young woman was safe. Her baby was safe. Two couples had beautiful children. And a cruel man was going to prison.

  It wasn’t perfect, but things rarely were.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Emmaline’s house was beautifully decorated in traditional red, green, silver, and gold. There wasn’t a surface in the room that didn’t have some form of Christmas decor on top of it. She even changed out her drapes and had matching throw pillows and table linens with bright red cardinals on them and cute green-and-red plaid edging.