Taken

by Dee Henderson

  “I’d like your phone numbers and email,” she said. “Dates of birthdays for your wife and daughter. Things like that for now.”

  He dug out a business card and wrote the info on the back, offered it. “I know the press follows me—will even more as the campaign gets close to the vote, but I can slide free of it. Whenever you want to spend some time together, let me know the time and place and I’ll be there. If you’re not in this state, I’ll fly to you, no questions asked. I’ll bring the family with me as soon as you like, friends of yours, whoever you want to see.”

  “Thank you, Jeffery. I’d like you to tell your wife and our parents about tonight, but work it out so they don’t say anything to anyone else for the time being. There are some sensitive items still being played out. You can make the news public in two weeks, maybe three, if the news hasn’t leaked before then. When this becomes public, there’s a press release I’d like you to consider putting out that might help me.”

  “You have text for that press release in mind?”

  Matthew had a copy with him and handed it over.

  Jeffery scanned it and nodded. “Shannon, you talk with Matthew . . .” Jeffery looked over to Matthew. “Matthew Dane?”

  “Yes.”

  “I remember now . . . Boston, you have a daughter. Becky, is it? I was relieved when she returned home. I couldn’t help but have new hope for Shannon’s return.”

  “That’s right, and thanks.”

  Jeffery looked back to Shannon. “You talk with Matthew . . . Paul knows, John Key. Who else is on the safe list?”

  “Paul’s wife, Ann. A Chicago detective, Theodore Lincoln.”

  “That small circle is good. It helps to contain the information.”

  She shrugged. “I chose Matthew. The rest are his decisions.”

  “You found him because of Becky?”

  “Yes.”

  Jeffery looked over to Matthew again, then back at Shannon. “Still glad you made that choice?”

  She offered a small smile. “He’s been just what I needed. He even brought me roses tonight. Those roses.” She nodded toward the vase on the side table.

  Jeffery blinked, then laughed. “And that probably does sum up things best.” He folded the press release and slid it into his pocket. “You look . . . really tired, Shannon. So I am going to suggest we call it an evening, even though I’d like to stay and talk with you until the sun comes up.”

  He reached for her hand again and got to his feet. She rose with him. He gave her a hug goodbye, a long one that Shannon returned. She stepped back, wiping her eyes. “Good night, Jeffery.”

  “I like those words, good night. Call me in the morning and say ‘good morning’—and then I’ll have a matching pair.”

  She smiled. “I can do that.”

  Jeffery turned to Matthew. “You’ll take good care of her.”

  “I will.” Matthew handed him a business card as he walked him out to the hall, where John was waiting. “Paul’s sharing the ride back to your home,” Matthew said quietly. Jeffery nodded and stepped onto the elevator with John.

  Matthew returned to the living room. One major step in the process was over, and he felt that weight slide off his shoulders. Shannon was sitting on the couch again, head back, eyes closed, a hand lifted to the bridge of her nose, either fighting not to cry or a headache—likely both. Matthew took a seat beside her, reached over for her free hand and simply sat with her. He’d spent hours with Becky over the years, holding her hand after doctors’ appointments, crying jags, and days she was especially sad. Shannon needed someone to hold her hand tonight.

  “I felt like a prized rose under glass being inspected by an overloving rose enthusiast.”

  It was such an unexpected reaction and odd description, Matthew squeezed her hand. “It’s the pink.” He was glad to hear her laugh. “You looked and sounded poised and sure of yourself. He’s had an image in his mind of you at sixteen, and he just got walloped with the fact his little sister is alive, grown up, confident, and beautiful. I think you wowed him. He was observing you closely for any clues he could get—spent most of the night trying to read your mind, I think.” He waited, and the silence stretched. He didn’t know Shannon well enough to judge the fleeting emotions he could see. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  “I will be. Just replaying the evening. The lack of questions from him really bothered me.”

  “It bothered me as well until I shared a long look with your brother. He’s not a politician because he’s bad at the craft, Shannon. He made a quick and immediate choice that you he was simply going to love. But he’s going to hit Paul tonight and probably me tomorrow with all those hard questions and want straight answers. The man is being honest with you—he takes seriously his role as your brother and wants that relationship restored as swiftly as possible. He’ll go to others for the answers to his questions, for the tactics and decisions and how this is going to unfold from here.”

  “He’s handling me,” Shannon said.

  Matthew thought that summed matters up beautifully. “Yes.”

  She half smiled. “I’m going to let him. I don’t want a conversation with him about the details. Let him go through Paul, bug you.”

  “We’ll manage it for you, Shannon.”

  “I’m exhausted. Let’s go . . . well, home isn’t the right word, but I don’t know what else to call where we’re staying.”

  “‘Home’ will do for now.” He rose and held out his hand, drew her to her feet. “I do love those shoes.” He circled them in a dance step. “One day when you’re not so tired, we’ll go out for the evening so you can properly show off the dress and high heels on a dance floor.”

  She laughed as he had hoped, and he shared a smile with her. “Let me get a wet paper towel to wrap around your rose stems, and then we’ll go. John arranged a ride for us since he’ll be a while with your brother.”

  “I’m ready to call it a night,” Shannon agreed.

  11

  Matthew loosened his tie as he stood in front of the refrigerator and considered food options. Shannon had only pushed food around her plate before they left to see Jeffery. He pulled out the lasagna she had made. She had gone to change, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she turned in without saying good-night. He was still running on an edge of adrenaline, and it needed to wear off before he crossed the hall to the other apartment and turned in himself. His phone rang. “Yes, John.”

  “He would like to meet with you.”

  “I expected he would. When and where?”

  “His home, eight a.m. If it needs to be a phone call instead, he’ll accept that.”

  “It’s okay—that works for me. How did he seem to you?”

  “He’d been expecting to hear one day that she was confirmed dead. He lost it for a few minutes on the way back to the hotel, quietly cried, mostly relief. Paul filled him in on everything Shannon has said so far. It didn’t make sense to hold back the information. The details shook him hard, but he came back with questions by the time we reached his home. He struck me as . . . a good guy. For what it’s worth, he took Paul’s advice to heart on how matters should best play out for law enforcement’s needs. There won’t be comments from Jeffery about the case once that press release goes out, so I think it’ll be safe to keep him informed on further details. He was asking good questions about Shannon, what doctors she might need, how best to handle family and friends.”

  “Any concerns?”

  “Jeffery wants to put a lawyer in the loop, someone Shannon can call when she has questions—not necessarily to step in as a buffer. Paul gently pushed back on that, suggested Jeffery talk with her about what questions she has and then hand matters on to a lawyer when appropriate. Paul explained that the plan for the first few weeks was to keep Shannon’s immediate circle to no more than five people. Jeffery accepted the point so long as he and Shannon are having regular conversations.”

  “I was expecting something of the kind. If he can’t b
e in on everything to protect her interests, he’ll want someone he knows in that loop. I’ll make sure he’s hearing whatever concerns Shannon voices. Thanks for this evening, John.”

  “Call if you need me.”

  Matthew put his phone away and heated up a plate of the lasagna. He took his meal into the living room to find an old movie—Shannon had the right idea there. He found Chariots of Fire and settled in to be distracted. He was too tired to process tonight yet. At least his initial impression of her brother was good. Shannon had the first brick in place toward rebuilding a solid foundation for her future.

  Matthew left a note for Shannon on the kitchen counter, hoping she would sleep in late enough that he’d be back from the meeting with her brother soon after she saw it. The cookout was tonight, which would cover the evening, and maybe this afternoon he could get her out shopping. It would be best to keep her busy. She had his number should she need anything while he was gone, and he noted down again John’s number as a backup. He checked to make sure he had his phone turned on and headed out to meet Jeffery Bliss.

  The directions John had provided led north out of Chicago to a sprawling early-era home in a neighborhood where trees decades old shaded the roadway, the lots had large front yards, and Children Crossing signs warned motorists to drive with care. Matthew pulled into the drive and parked behind a minivan. That his arrival had been anticipated wasn’t a surprise. The front door opened before he reached the steps.

  “Thanks for coming, Mr. Dane.” Jeffery Bliss’s tone was expansive in its welcome as he invited Matthew in, the oversized coffee mug in his hand and the still slightly damp hair suggesting it had been a rushed morning.

  “Please, make it Matthew. I’m certain you’ve had an interesting night.”

  “I haven’t slept much,” Shannon’s brother agreed with a smile, “hence the mega cup of coffee I’ve already refilled. I don’t mind. I haven’t felt so good since the day my daughter was born.”

  “That I can understand,” Matthew said, remembering well the day after Becky was first home.

  “Can I get you coffee, a Danish?” Jeffery asked.

  “Sounds good.”

  Jeffery led the way back to the kitchen. “My wife will join us in about twenty minutes. Our daughter has found that kittens are the new joy in life, and our backyard neighbor has four. She has to go say hello to them as soon as her shoes are on.”

  Matthew smiled. “Been there with Becky. Her love was ducks.” He accepted the coffee. “I wanted to give you this before our conversation got started.” He offered the documents he had copied for Jeffery. “The DNA test confirming her identity. The fingerprint analysis and photograph comparison. There will come a point in some press conference or interview when you’ll need to confirm those steps were taken in the first hours after she identified herself.”

  “Thanks.” Jeffery accepted the papers, walked over to a desk and put them in its center drawer. He came back with an envelope, held it out. “While we’re dealing with practical matters, an ATM debit card and a prepaid credit card for Shannon. The statements will come to me. There’s enough money in the account to provide Shannon some security and options. I’ll keep the account topped off at that amount as she begins to spend it. Tell her it’s eleven years’ worth of Christmas and birthday presents, and she’ll be doing me a favor if she would accept the gift.”

  Matthew pocketed the envelope. “She needs to hear the message behind the gift as much as she does the funds. She’s traveling with some cash of her own—I have no idea how much. That will probably become clear over the next few days. I’m in the role of listening, providing some advice, handling logistics, dealing with law enforcement while trying to stay light on asking questions. I’m getting answers, but I’m in the mode of easing through doors as she opens them.”

  “Sounds like a real tightrope,” Jeffery replied.

  “My job is to help keep her together as this unfolds and get her to a good outcome,” Matthew explained. He took a Danish and then pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “It’s a job mostly of patience. There are a lot of pieces she needs to turn over, and if I’m careful I can make that process less stressful on her as well as fruitful for the investigators.”

  “I’m glad Shannon found you,” Jeffery said, pulling out a chair angled toward his. “Paul filled me in on more of your history with the Boston PD and Dane Investigations, Matthew. I’m not sure what my sister is facing right now, but I’m very relieved a man of your caliber and experience is there to help her figure out those next steps. She hasn’t had even a month of freedom yet. I’m stunned by the implications of that. I’m aware that I’m walking on a lot of fragile ice right now, that it’s best if my role in this stays that of her brother, that I let the questions that need asking remain with the authorities. But that’s not easy, given how compelling the need is to see justice come swiftly on her behalf. There’s a fierce anger in me that’s simmering just below the surface.”

  “Having been in that role as a father, I know where you’re coming from,” Matthew replied with sympathy for what the man was feeling. “I’ve felt both that overwhelming joy . . . and the overwhelming anger. She needs you as her brother. You’re the only one who can fill that role in her life. There are good people working to unravel what occurred during the last eleven years. Trust them to do their job. Paul will keep you informed on where the investigation is progressing. I can answer any questions regarding how Shannon is doing.”

  “I accept that. Paul’s got a good reputation,” Jeffery said.

  Matthew decided staying direct was probably the best way to handle this conversation. “What you and Shannon need from each other over the next few days is what I’m here to work out with you. But one thing I’ve learned from my daughter’s experience is that expectations may need to slow way, way down. Your sister is running on adrenaline right now, and her body will only let her do that for so long. Her recovery is going to depend on having a lot of days where nothing happens. The sooner we get to that point, the better off Shannon will be.”

  “That’s what I want most from you, Matthew—advice. You’ve been here with your daughter. What can I do to make this transition for Shannon easier? What needs to be on my list?”

  “She’s got some very difficult things to tell the cops. If she’s emotionally flat with you, not engaged, don’t let it throw you off in your interactions with her. I don’t know what is coming as she unpacks the last eleven years, but it’s going to be intensely difficult for her, I know that much. You’ve got to be the calm in the storm, the normal in her life.”

  “My present world is rarely normal or particularly calm, but I’ll work on it,” Jeffery offered.

  Matthew smiled. “You’ll learn. Give her time, Jeffery. Shannon asked for your phone number last night, but she didn’t give you hers. I noted that as significant. When she calls this morning, and she will, keep it casual—a ‘Hi. It’s good to hear your voice. What’s in your day?’ kind of call. Suggest you’d love to hear from her for a couple minutes every morning when she wakes up. Or that you’d love to always talk to her at noon every day. Whatever you suggest, make very sure you can always answer in person if she calls. Tell her what your daughter did the day before. Tell her about something you and your wife did on vacation. Talk about hobbies you’ve had, a book you’ve read. If you can’t think of something better, tell her what you’re doing that day on the campaign. Give her touch points so she feels like she knows you again.”

  “I’m filling in the blanks for her.”

  “Exactly. Think of her life right now as a pitcher of muddy water. She’s got to dump out what she’s had in her life, and she’s got to refill it with something clean and good. You’ll be the refill. Paul, Theo, myself, we’re the ones helping her pour out the bad stuff. She’ll be giving us a lot more of her energy and emotions—more than she will be giving you over the next few days and weeks—because she has to do that, but what you’re building into her during those s
ame days and weeks is what’s going to be there after we’re done helping her get the past dumped out.”

  “I’m the normal life—a wife, daughter, house, job, family—a life that doesn’t have cops and painful facts to deal with,” Jeffery realized out loud.

  Matthew nodded. “Shannon needs to get to a normal life. She doesn’t even know what that looks like yet. You’re part of her answer. When she paints a picture of what she wants, do everything you can to assist her. Help, but don’t push. Give her time to paint that picture—where she wants to live, what she would like to be doing. It will come. She’s just had years where she hasn’t been able to make decisions for herself, whether large or small, and it’s going to take time. That’s your role as a brother. You walk beside her. You be there through the process. But you give her space to define what she wants those steps to be and where they will take her.”

  “The one thing I can guarantee, Matthew, is that I’ll be there for her.”

  Matthew was glad for that intensity and certainty. He offered a caution. “Shannon may not engage much with you initially. You’ll know she’s gaining capacity to deal with people when she offers you her phone number. She’s overwhelmed right now, and she’s exerting control as best she can over her world and how much comes at her. She loves you—this holding back has nothing to do with your place in her life. It has to do with capacity. She may need to curl up in a ball now and then, limit how much comes at her. Good stress, bad—it doesn’t matter to her body, it’s just stress. The best thing you can provide is to be emotionally the same when she calls you. The same calm, normal, interested, reassuring voice of her brother. You’ll find over time she starts to lean against that and depend on it. Her calls may not get more frequent, but she’ll become more engaged with you.”