“I will find you,” I whisper. “I swear it.”
51
I walk back to my car thinking about mothers—and in my isolation and desperation, missing my own.
I think about Charis and how she truly believed she was Magdalene’s mother, how what she did, as misguided and ultimately evil as it was, was understandable. I could understand a mother like her far more than one like Magdalene’s biological mother who could give her up and not want anything to do with her.
And then I think of Anna.
All thoughts about motherhood and everything else these days lead me back to Anna and Taylor.
I yearn for Anna, long to have Taylor back, so deeply and desperately I feel as if I might collapse from the weight of it.
Eventually, my thoughts lead me to Susan, the mother of my oldest daughter, Johanna. I think about the mother that she is, and how regardless of how fraught our relationship can be, I never question her love for and devotion to our daughter.
I think about how often she has questioned the care I give my daughters—not just the one we share together, but both of them—specifically when it comes to their safety. She has voiced her concern on several occasions—especially while we were dealing with the erratic, volatile, and violent behavior of Anna’s ex, Chris Taunton, and after what happened during Hurricane Michael some six weeks ago.
I think about how she has kept Johanna from me at times, and how cagey she’s been lately, and a thought flashes into my mind—what if she took Taylor? What if she did it for Taylor—out of concern for her? For Johanna—so she could have her little sister with her all the time? For herself—as a mother wanting control, as an ex wanting revenge?
And then I know. I know who has my daughter and I know why.
And I race to my car to go get her.
52
“I should’ve seen it sooner,” I say.
I’m back at the Florida House.
Keith, Christopher, and I are once again sitting at their kitchen table in their residence, while Sarah Samuelson, Brooke Wakefield, and Wren Melody hang Christmas decorations in the main hallway and parlor and Derinda cleans upstairs.
On my way over I called Merrill, Anna, and Roderick, and asked for their help.
“In both cases this was about mothers doing what they thought was best for their children,” I say. “Charis stole Magdalene out of a misguided sense of motherhood and Derinda stole Taylor for that same reason.”
I carefully watch and weigh their reactions.
Keith begins shaking his head immediately, his shock obvious, but behind his instant denial there is definite doubt in his hard, squinting eyes.
Christopher’s mouth drops open and he looks surprised but not stunned.
Their responses seem authentic.
“She has been watching how heartbroken you guys are for so long,” I say, “and she just wanted to help, to soothe the ache in your soul, to ease your pain even if only a little by replacing Magdalene with Taylor. Taylor is about the age Magdalene would have been if she had lived. Derinda’s the only one who could’ve done it besides you two and that’s part of why I’m here—to find out if you had anything to do with it.”
Christopher says, “We could never . . . never do to someone else what was done to us.”
“I’m not convinced she did it,” Keith says, “but if she did, we’re not involved in any way.”
“Has she told you what she did?” I ask. “Has she tried to give Taylor to you yet or is she still waiting for all the attention to die down?”
“I don’t believe she could do something like that,” Keith says. “I really don’t.”
“I bet she didn’t either,” I say, “right up until she did it.”
“I know you were right about Charis,” he says, “but I think you’re way off on this.”
“How?” Christopher asks. “How’d she do it?”
“She cleans the house for you,” I say. “She knows it intimately. She used the secret passageway in order to get from back here in your residence to our room. She snuck in through the fireplace, took Taylor and brought her back down here to your residence. She took quite a chance, but got lucky that Anna was sick and she and Taylor are deep sleepers. Or, who knows, maybe she found a way to slip them something earlier in the evening. While she was cleaning earlier, she unlocked the fireplace so she could get in. After she had taken her, she gave Taylor something to make sure she stayed asleep and hid her little body in the cleaning cart beneath the sheets and towels. She did this as I was talking to Charis on the landing. She went to the parlor and sat with everyone for a while. And at some point, probably while everyone was focused on Raphael, she slipped behind the desk and disabled the cameras. She then she walked out the front door with Henrique, creating the perfect alibi. Maybe she even drove off a short distance, but as soon as she saw that Henrique had gone inside his house, she circled back, went in through the back door, removed Taylor from the cleaning cart, and snuck her out. When she had finished cleaning earlier, she put the cart in the storage closet, but when we were searching for Taylor later, the cleaning cart was out in the hallway. I think that was from when she rushed in and grabbed Taylor out of it. Remember, Keith, you actually put it back in the closet after we searched it. She was able to get Taylor out of the area and back to her house and hidden before the roadblocks were in place. When you called her she came right back to further establish her alibi and act as if she had nothing to do with it. We’ve been searching Sandcastle and she’s even helped us because it didn’t matter. Taylor was long gone—outside of Sandcastle before we ever started looking for her here. What I want to know is did you know?”
“No,” Keith says.
“Did you have anything to do with it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Has she told you about it? About doing it?”
Keith shakes his head.
Christopher says, “Now that I’m thinking about it . . . she may have hinted at it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but . . . I don’t know . . . She may have hinted to me about us getting another daughter at some point.”
“I’m going to talk to her before I do anything else,” I say. “Do you guys want to be present for that? And if you are, will you help and not hinder?”
“If she did do it,” Keith says, “what are you going to do to her?”
“I’m not going to do anything,” I say. “I only care about getting Taylor back. If she’s helpful with that it will go a long way for her with whatever the Walton County Sheriff’s Department decides to do.”
53
“Oh my God, what have I done?” Derinda says, tears streaming down her cheeks in what appears to be genuine remorse.
She is now at the kitchen table with us, having just confirmed much of what I had come to believe about what happened.
“So, it’s true?” Keith says. “Mama, are you . . . You really did it?”
“John,” she says, “I’m so sorry. I just went a little mad. I’ve never believed in temporary insanity before, but . . . I don’t know what I’ve been thinking.” She turns to Keith and Christopher. “I’ve just watched you boys suffer so much for so long and then after all that time . . . to find her . . . dead.”
“You took Taylor before Magdalene’s body was discovered,” I say.
“I just thought, I’ve got to do something to stop the pain,” she continues, ignoring what I’ve just said. “I’ve got to help them. They are my boys, my sons. But I knew I was wrong even as I was doing it—and especially after I did it, but then . . . I wasn’t sure how to undo it. So I just kept doing it, trying to figure out a way to either tell Keith and Christopher eventually or to somehow return Taylor to you and Anna. I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you know.”
“Is she alive?” I ask. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“I have treated that little girl like a princess,” she says. “I have taken such good care of her. She has been safe and loved a
nd doted on. She just thinks that I’m keeping her for you guys while you help Keith and Christopher find their little girl.”
“Where is she?” I ask.
“My house.”
“Who keeps her while you come here?”
“I leave her at home.”
“Who is with her right now?” I ask. “Because Merrill, Anna, and Roderick are about to enter your house to get her and I want to know who’s in there with her.”
“No one,” she says. “I just give her a little sleeping medicine and I never stay gone for very long.”
“Mom,” Keith says.
“I leave cartoons playing in her bedroom and lock the door in case she wakes up.”
“Are you hearing yourself?” Keith says. “Listen to what you’re saying.”
“But she never has woken up and I always get back very quickly. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did this. I’m still shocked at my own actions—especially hearing it out loud like this now. It was like something just came over me. I’m not someone who would do something like this.”
“But you are,” Keith says. “Turns out you’re exactly someone who would do something like this.”
“Keith,” she says, as if he has slapped her hard across the face.
“You better hope to God she’s okay,” he says. “Because if she’s not . . .”
“She is. I swear it.”
54
“I think I’m almost out of hugs,” Taylor is saying.
Anna and I both laugh, but she doesn’t look at me like she once would have.
“We’ve just missed you so much,” I say. “Sorry if we’re making you sore from all the hugs.”
“It’s okay. I missed y’all too.”
The three of us are in a booth inside the Donut Hole on 98.
We’re actually on the same side of the booth. Though the other side of the booth is empty, neither of us wants to be that far from her just now.
In addition to over-hugging her, we’re allowing Taylor to have as many doughnuts and as much ice cream as she wants.
“Did you find Mr. Keith and Mr. Christopher’s little girl?” she asks.
“We did,” I say.
“That’s good,” she says. “Makes it worth it then I guess.”
I shake my head. “No, it doesn’t. Sorry, but it just doesn’t. I missed you way, way too much. I don’t ever want to be apart again, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
So far we haven’t gotten into the real reason she was kept away from us for two weeks. It is only one of so many things that are still open and unresolved, like wounds that have yet to heal.
But in the light of having her alive, having her safely back, not much else seems to matter.
Like me, most of Anna’s attention has been directed toward Taylor. I have no idea what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling—especially about us and our future. She certainly hasn’t given me any indication that getting Taylor back makes her want to get back with me. But even that—as much as that matters, as vital that is—even it dims in the brilliant light of having our daughter back and our need to celebrate her return.
For this my daughter was dead, and is alive again; she was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.
I think about how many cases I’ve worked over the years where children weren’t found alive, didn’t get to come home, weren’t able to be hugged too much and have doughnuts and ice cream. Even as I grieve for Martin Fisher, Nicole Caldwell, Mariah Evers, Magdalene Dacosta, and the one who haunts me the most, Derek Burrell, I rejoice all the more that Taylor isn’t among them, that for once the disappeared has reappeared, that the lost has been found, that my daughter who was dead is alive again.
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Innocent Blood
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Blood Money
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Blood Cries
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Blood Betrayal
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Bloodshed
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The Girl in the Grave
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