“Regressing is a very normal response to a new sibling. Erik is acting like a normal five-year-old who’s just had a new addition to the family. Did you hear the word I repeated? Normal and normal. Cut the kid some slack, and cut some for yourself while you’re at it.”
We’d reached the parking lot of Time in a Bottle. I eased my rental car up over the slight bump in the concrete and pulled into an empty space.
“What if I can’t take care of him? And Anya? And Ty? What if I’m not up to this? Three kids and a full-time job?” Kiki’s voice was strained and her eyes were filled with tears.
“Of course you’re up to this,” I said, in the calmest voice I could muster. I wanted to grab her and shake her, but instead, I gripped the car keys extra hard. “You’ve been through worse. After all, your children are safe.”
But she didn't respond.
CHAPTER 12
When we walked back into the store, Lee Alderton was sitting in the office chair and holding Ty in her arms. “He’s such a good baby,” she said. “I can’t wait to be a grandmother. Thanks so much for letting me hold him. Margit is up front helping a customer.”
Kiki thanked the sweet woman, hugged her, and watched as Lee tossed on her coat and waved goodbye. Margit joined us, explaining, “It’s quiet now. No customers, but I listen for the dinger, ja?”
Of course, we had to tell her and Clancy what we’d learned.
“Bonnie and Jeremy must be frantic. Going through the recycling bin is a great idea. You’re right, Kiki. We haven’t dumped it out lately.” Clancy’s hand shook as she handed me a cup of Earl Grey tea. This easy camaraderie reminded me of my store down in Florida. In that parallel universe, we also served hot drinks to each other in times of stress. The back room at The Treasure Chest had become a gathering spot for food, friends, and fun. It was there that we had cemented our relationships by sharing tidbits about our lives.
“Kiki puts the scrap into scrapbooking.” Clancy pointed to a recycling bin that was actually two large trashcans duct-taped side by side. They were filled to the brim with paper pieces.
“Oh, boy,” I said. “Those are honking big bins. How about if we use plastic trash bags so we can sort through this mess one piece at a time? I’m assuming all this is…recent?”
“Yes,” Kiki said. “I keep anything that’s at least an inch by an inch or bigger. Then the scraps get divided by color into these smaller plastic bins. You wouldn’t believe how handy these pieces are.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t believe it. Looks like garbage to me.”
Ty whimpered and nuzzled Kiki’s neck. He was hungry. She was tired. I volunteered to take her home and come back and sort through the confetti.
“Not yet,” she said. “I’ll stay here while you look. I might be the only person who can recognize leftovers from Jana Higgins’ baby album. I can go and nurse Ty in the office. Call me if you see anything that might be a piece that Jana threw away. Do you remember what any of her photos looked like, Clancy?”
“Yes, I do. You’re looking for a photo of a man and two little girls. Jana made an offhand comment about her fiancé having daughters from another relationship. I'll go get fresh trash bags for us to use while sorting.” Clancy turned and headed for the kitchen.
Margit and I watched as Kiki carried Ty into Dodie’s office.
Even though it’s been months since Dodie Goldfader died, I can’t help but think of that room as “Dodie’s Office.” It’s as if Dodie’s spirit lingers there. Once Kiki closed the door, Margit removed her glasses, pulled a gray square from a pocket, and wiped the lenses. After replacing them, Margit shook her head. “Kiki is not herself.”
“You’re right. What do you think it is?”
Margit shook her head. “So much all at once. You know about Sheila, right?”
“No. How about if you tell me what’s up with her while I go through the paper?”
“I can help, too,” said Margit, but she didn’t look steady on her feet. The woman has to be in her late seventies, if she’s a day. Without asking, I pulled up a chair and gestured for her to sit. Clancy returned with the trash bags. After opening one, Clancy would pull out a wodge of paper from the recycling bin, hand half of it to me, and we’d untangle the pieces.
“Give me something to do,” Margit demanded. Since she was seated, she didn’t have the range of motion that Clancy and I did. I loaded a small empty plastic bin with papers that she could sort.
“Sheila is in rehab in California,” explained Margit.
This I knew, but I didn’t say anything. I wanted to let Margit and Clancy lead the conversation.
“Robbie took her there himself,” Clancy said. “He planned to handcuff her to the car if she didn’t agree to go. That poor man even drove her there himself because he figured she’d make a fuss on the plane. Anything to get out of going for help.”
Margit picked through papers, examining each one carefully. “Last week Sheila had a set-back. She drank hairspray.”
The papers in my hands fell to the floor. “She did what?”
“Actually, not that uncommon,” said Clancy. “I looked it up. Usually people drink cologne. She must have been really hankering for a fix.”
“What is this ‘hankering’?” asked Margit.
“That means she was really aching or longing for alcohol,” I explained. “Wow. I didn’t realize she was such a mess.”
Clancy pulled out two pieces of paper and set them aside. “I can’t tell if these are anything. There’s a man in them. I’m not sure what we’re looking for.”
“Best to ask Kiki,” I said. “If they are from this Jana Higgins character, Detweiler and Hadcho might be able to track the fiancé down, and that might lead us to the kidnapper. Was Sheila really that bad? I never saw her drunk. A little lubricated, but still...”
Clancy examined more chopped up pieces of photos. “Robbie was covering for her. As were people at the country club. Linnea, her maid, covered up some of her misdeeds. Even Kiki, although Kiki didn’t totally realize what was happening. Anya, too, I guess you could say. Turns out, that Anya was talking her grandmother out of driving places on a regular basis. That poor kid had to make snap judgments as to whether her grandmother was too drunk to get behind the wheel.”
I rocked back on my heels. I’d dropped to a squat to retrieve the papers that had fallen to the floor. “You have to be kidding me! Sheila was driving around drunk and with the kids in the car?”
“We think so.” Clancy frowned. “After Brawny started working here at the store, Sheila volunteered to pick them up from school two days a week.”
“Brawny teaches knitting classes here,” explained Margit.
“At least twice that I know of, Sheila was a bit tipsy when she got to the carpool line. On one occasion, she took Erik and Anya straight to her house under the guise of having forgotten her cell phone. Instead of running in and grabbing the phone, she parked the car, took the kids inside, and poured herself a gin and tonic. Fortunately, Anya refused to get back into the Mercedes with her or to let Erik go either.”
“That’s awful!” I blurted out.
“Kiki blames herself,” Clancy said, “because she grew up with a father who was a drunk. Although she knows better, Kiki feels like this drinking business has something to do with her. Goodness only knows what!”
“Ja, and it makes no sense, but when does the human heart understand logic? Where there is emotion, logic hops on his horse and rides away. Now Sheila can be no help to Kiki, and Detweiler is struggling.”
“You mean with his wounds? He does look tired.”
“Ja, the good detective is still healing, but there is more to their problems. It’s his mother, you see,” Margit said with a disapproving click of her tongue.
Clancy shot Margit a dark look. “I think you shouldn’t have shared that.”
“Cara is an old friend. She needs to know,” Margit protested.
“Thelma has a problem? Something physical?
” I got to my feet so I could stretch out my back. After sitting on the plane, it had stiffened up.
“Nothing that a good, swift slap across the face couldn’t cure.” Clancy kicked one of the plastic recycling bins. “Or a kick in the butt.”
“Huh? From all I’ve heard, Thelma Detweiler is the perfect mother-in-law. That’s changed?”
The co-workers became co-conspirators. Margit and Clancy bent their heads close to mine so they couldn’t be overheard. Clancy explained, “Thelma made no secret of her disappointment that Kiki didn’t stop coming to work sooner. She phoned here often to keep tabs on Kiki. We never told her what Thelma was doing, because we didn’t want to upset her. Then when the baby came so fast, and because Kiki had him at home, Thelma really got her tail feathers in a twist. She practically went bonkers.”
“Ja, she told Detweiler that Kiki could have had the baby at the hospital. She said Kiki should have waited. It would have been safer for the boy. Thelma is a good woman, but ach, Man muss die Dinge nehmen, wie sie kommen.”
“Translation, please,” I said.
“You must take things as they come,” explained Margit. “Kiki did not want to have the baby at home. What else could she have done?”
“Thelma keeps telling her son that she’s worried that the baby is not safe. That Kiki is not being a good mother,” Clancy said.
My mouth dropped open. It took me a minute to gather my thoughts. “You have to be kidding me. What does Detweiler do about this? Surely he’s ignoring Thelma. Or telling her to stay out of their business?”
Again, the co-workers exchanged glances that signified there was more to the story. Slowly, Clancy said, “Thelma has managed to make Detweiler nervous. See, this is coming at a time when he doesn’t feel capable any way. So she’s dealt him a low blow. Worst of all, Thelma is throwing Kiki off-balance, you know? She’s always counted on Thelma being supportive and helpful. Now suddenly, she’s causing this riff between Detweiler and Kiki. Kiki’s already got so much to handle—but Thelma keeps adding to the pressure. It doesn’t make any sense. Neither of us can figure out what her problem is!”
“Oh, my goodness.” I processed all of this. “No wonder Kiki looks so beaten down. Besides all that, it’s cold and dark outside. She’s never done well with winter, has she?”
“No,” said Clancy.
“Not ever,” said Margit.
CHAPTER 13
On that somber note, we continued our separate tasks. Margit, Clancy, and I kept combing through the scrap paper pile until we’d reached the bottom of the bins. As a result, we had a nice little mound of scraps to show Kiki.
“Could you go through these, please?” I asked, as she came out of her office. “See if any of them look like what Jana Higgins had. I think we might have found something, but you’re the only one who can really confirm what we have.”
“Sure,” Kiki said, handing Ty to me. His tiny head bobbled in the transfer.
I inhaled deeply, filling my soul with the fragrance of innocence while simultaneously stirring my own desires to have another child. Brushing my chin against the top of his head, I was transported to my son’s early days. Babies are crowned with velvet, and the sensation of that gentle new sprung hair is intoxicating.
Kiki had just dumped the bits of paper on a lap desk when Hadcho walked in, stamping bits of ice off his shoes. With a deft hand, he brushed snowflakes off his shoulders. More flakes dotted his jet black hair. “Detweiler sent me to see what you’d found. You okay holding the baby, Cara? That’s my godson, you know. I can take him any time you want.” After taking off his coat, Hadcho extended his arms, but I didn’t hand over the baby.
“He’s my godson, too, buddy. I love holding him,” I said, cradling Ty to my chest. “I adore babies. Absolutely adore them.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Someone else does, too. Enough to steal one of them.”
“Kiki? You want a Diet Dr Pepper?” Margit paused behind the refrigerator door. When Kiki said she did, I took it as a good sign. Her interest in her favorite soft drink seemed like a step in the right direction.
After laboriously piecing one image back together, Kiki said, “That’s Lois Kimmel’s son and daughter-in-law. Not what we’re looking for.”
Pulling a magnifying glass from a nearby top desk drawer, she worked patiently to assemble yet another shredded photo.
A buzzing signaled that Hadcho had a new message. He checked his phone and stepped into Kiki’s office leaving me to rock Ty while Kiki worked with miniscule pieces of a photo.
Because of where I was seated, I could hear the detective talking on his cell phone. He seemed to be talking to another law enforcement officer, giving commands to interview all the hospital personnel. Last but not least, he talked to someone about reviewing camera footage from the hospital exits. That must not have gone well, because he cursed and snarled.
When Hadcho opened the office door, a chill swept through the back room. It reminded me of the subzero temperatures outside—and that gave me a thought.
“There had to have been two people. Either that or the abductor used a cab service or Uber.”
“How do you figure?” His dark brown eyes glittered with interest.
“You wouldn’t walk outside with a newborn in this cold weather and get into a cold car. You’d want the car to be warmed up, wouldn’t you?”
“That’s assuming this person is thinking straight. We don’t know that.”
“But Cara’s right,” Kiki said. “We know that the abductor is a plotter and a planner. We have every reason to believe she wants to take good care of this infant. Why jeopardize his health by loading it into a cold car? If the vehicle was warmed up and sitting outside for her, maybe someone at the hospital saw Jana get inside. Maybe a security guard took notice of a woman fitting her description carrying a baby? Or even any woman carrying a baby out of the hospital earlier today.”
Hadcho called that in.
When he finished, Kiki handed him a photo. “This man? He’s the guy that Jana identified as her fiancé. I remember it now, because Jana said he had two kids from a previous marriage. Daughters. That’s one reason she must have wanted to steal a boy. She said something about men wanting sons.”
Hadcho leaned close to look at the snapshot. Unfortunately, there was a stray bit of paper that was stuck to the man’s face in the picture, obscuring his features.
“That piece of paper can be removed,” said Kiki. “It’s glued down. But it would probably be best to have a lab tech do it. I mean, we scrapbookers have our ways, but that would be tampering with evidence. Let me go through the scrap paper recycling again, okay? I seem to recall that Jana did a little journaling. Let me run to the bathroom and then I’ll see if I can dig that out.”
“I hate this,” Hadcho said, after she left. He carefully tucked the photo into an evidence bag.
“What do you mean?”
“I hate knowing that seconds and minutes are ticking past. Gimme,” said Hadcho.
I passed the baby to him. He held Ty very naturally, rocking ever so gently in his chair. Ty’s eyes fluttered closed. Hadcho’s face creased into a smile totally at odds with what I knew of him. The scene caused me to wonder if we really know anyone. Unless we’ve seen that person in every situation imaginable, our perspective is sorely limited.
“Let’s work this through, okay?” I said. “This Jana person takes a class at Kiki’s store. A baby album class. Why would a person do that if she wasn’t pregnant? Or if she didn’t have a close friend or family member who was expecting?”
“That’s the point.” Hadcho scooted down into the chair so he could relax while holding Ty. In an almost sleepy voice, he said, “Here’s what I learned from the National Center: There’s a very narrow, very typical, and very specific profile of an infant abductor. In nearly all the cases, the abductor is a woman who desperately needs to produce a baby because she’s been pretending to be pregnant. Usually, there’s a man involved. Usually, she has t
old that man that she’s having his child. Often she’s tried to have a baby and failed. As the months go on, she needs to come up with a kid, right? So the abductor will actually seek out and target a woman about to give birth. Typically she does this by lying and saying that she’s pregnant, too.”
I felt slightly ill. “You mean to tell me that this person might have been watching Bonnie for months?”
He opened one eye and stared at me. “Bonnie and Kiki and maybe even another mother-to-be. But the good news is that our abductor wants desperately to prove she can be a good mother. That she can take care of a baby. She’s highly invested in playing the part of a loving parent.”
“That means Jeremy and Bonnie’s baby should be safe.”
“At least for now.” Hadcho opened one eye and shifted his weight. “The problems could occur when—and if—our abductor is challenged about giving birth. And there’s one more possible hiccup. What if it’s beyond the abductor’s abilities to take care of the infant? Then what does she do?”
CHAPTER 14
Kiki bent over the recycling bin. After a few minutes of digging around, she held up a crumpled sheet of paper with handwriting on it. Previously, we’d overlooked this scribbling, because we hadn’t known what we were searching for. But Kiki had recognized Jana Higgins’ handwriting. The journaling said: Derrick and the girls, last summer at the annual picnic. He’s going to love my new baby more than he loves these two, I just know it. He told me he’d love to have a boy.
Hadcho passed the baby to me and took the paper out of Kiki’s hands.
“Now we need to find some poor sap named Derrick who has two daughters.” He slipped the paper inside a second evidence bag.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “How do you know she didn’t lie about the man’s name? If she isn’t Jana, maybe he isn’t Derrick. Maybe they’re in this together.”
He shook his head. “Highly unlikely. In most cases like this, the husband or man involved has no idea that the woman is perpetuating a lie. In fact, he is usually convinced that his partner is pregnant. But when she disappears and mysteriously pops up with a baby in her arms, he starts to wonder. Bit by bit, it dawns on him that the woman’s shape hasn’t changed, and that for someone who’s just given birth, she seems particularly spry.”
Glue, Baby, Gone Page 12