Come to think of it, his birth father would fit that description, too. He might even use the same attorney. Jason’s insides churned at the thought. His birth father had tried to call him off and on for the past several months. He’d ignored the calls, letting them go to voice mail, then deleting the messages unheard.
He rolled his head from one side to the other, fighting the way his neck tightened up at the thought of talking to the man who continued to cast a dark shadow on his life.
“Anyway,” Caroline continued, “once we knew Henry was coming home to stay with me, we packed up his nursery and moved it to my house.”
“Makes sense.”
Caroline’s eyes shimmered. “I hope he will always know how much she loved him. And how much I love him. I hope he grows up secure in that.”
“He will,” Jason said. “It’s obvious to anyone how much you love him. You’re a great mother, Caroline.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Stephanie was much better. She had the most amazing scrapbooks for him. They’re beautiful.”
“Well, you can make him a scrapbook, can’t you?”
“I can put pictures in an album. Stephanie was an artist. The pages are decorated with hand-drawn sketches, little notes to him, funny remarks about what he was doing…”
“I’d love to see them.”
Caroline gave a harsh laugh. “Little chance of that. I doubt Mrs. Crawford will let you cross the threshold anytime soon.”
“You don’t have the albums?”
“No. Mrs. Crawford didn’t want to part with any of Stephanie’s stuff. Everything that wasn’t baby related was boxed up and taken to the Crawfords. Steph’s art studio is still set up in the basement with all her paintings and supplies, and I think they’ve turned it into a type of shrine to Stephanie. I think someday Henry might want it, especially her artwork, but I didn’t want to upset Mrs. Crawford, and it’s not like Henry wants any of it right now.”
Jason grabbed her hand. “You mean you never went through Stephanie’s stuff after she died?”
Caroline looked surprised. “Of course I did. I looked through her room and her desk. I needed insurance paperwork, birth certificates, etc. I took what I felt was applicable to Henry—”
“But you didn’t search everything in her room, her studio?”
“Well, no. I—”
“The answers we need may be in her stuff. Stephanie might have left clues for you, or for Henry when he gets old enough to wonder about his father. Maybe there’s a letter for Henry to read when he’s older or a key to a safe-deposit box or, I don’t know, something that will give us something to go on.”
“You may be right, but we just ticked off the people who have possession of all of Stephanie’s personal belongings. What are we going to do now?”
*
Caroline’s mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
“I should have searched through everything she owned,” she said.
Jason stopped her. “Don’t go there, Caroline. You had no reason to back then. Your focus was exactly where it needed to be—on Henry. I’m sure he spent quite a bit of time crying for his mommy.”
He had. They’d cried together. Night after night. As she held his tiny body and wiped away his tears, she begged God to explain Himself. How could He have allowed this to happen? To her. To Henry. To Stephanie. What had any of them ever done to deserve to suffer this way?
She wasn’t perfect. She’d messed up more times than she could count, but she was a good girl. She’d been in church her whole life. Accepted Christ as her Savior in elementary school. Never got in any trouble in high school. Dated a few morons, but she’d never really cared about them. None of them had ever been more than a distraction. An attempt to make Jason jealous.
Not that it had ever worked.
Even with Jason never seeing her as more than a buddy, she’d worked hard, gotten into Duke. Left for the university and thrown herself into college life.
She met Chad her sophomore year, and life had been perfect.
Until the day the police called. She’d identified his body. Even now, a decade later, her mind shied away from the image. His body mangled, thanks to a drunken driver.
At the funeral, the pastor said Chad’s time on earth was ordained to be brief. Was that supposed to be comforting? Was that supposed to help her process how short his life was? Or how long her own stretched out in front of her without him?
She’d come home to grieve, and for a time she’d watched the days come and go without fully processing how they passed. She couldn’t remember at what point they came to mean something again, but they did. Stephanie would stop by, make sure she was eating, force her to go to a movie with her or go shopping. Eventually, she started to look forward to the outings.
When she returned to school, she threw herself into her academics. If she was studying, she didn’t have time to think about how the future she’d planned had ended before it had even begun.
After graduation, she began her work at Harrison Plastics International. She knew her father would have given her a job no matter what, but she wanted to earn the position. She wanted to make her dad proud. Her predecessor made no secret of the fact that he’d been waiting for her to graduate so she could take over and he could retire. He retired four months after she came on board.
And then things got really interesting. Life got busy and full. But she never really found the happy, fulfilled, loving future she’d always hoped and prayed for. God, it seemed, had other plans for her. She wished He’d let her in on them.
“Caroline?”
She looked at Jason’s worried face.
“Are you okay?”
She wasn’t, and she hadn’t been for a long time. Not that she could tell Jason that. “I have to be,” she said. “I’m all Henry has.”
Jason squeezed her hand. “Caroline, you don’t have to carry this alone.”
“I carry everything alone,” she said. “I know my family is here for me. I know they’ll help me with anything, anytime. But I’m not wired to depend on others. I help everyone else. I don’t know how to ask for help for myself.”
“Then you need to learn,” he said. His words weren’t harsh. Each one was infused with compassion. “I’m still learning it myself, and I don’t always get it right. If you don’t feel like you can share with your family or your friends, you can always take it to God. He’s always there. Always listening.”
Caroline pulled her hand away. “I know that in my head. But my heart can’t feel it. I believe He’s Sovereign, but that means He knew this would happen, and He did nothing to stop it.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to trust someone who has let you down.”
Pain shot across Jason’s face.
She hadn’t meant that as a slam against him, but it seemed that was how he’d taken it.
“Caroline, He hasn’t let you down. People have let you down. You live in a fallen world where bad things happen. Friends die too young. Adults behave like children and children are forced to behave like adults.” His eyes burned with regret. “I let you down. I left and I never tried to fix things between us. I thought it would be better that way, and then I felt guilty for handling it that way. I tried to talk to you that first Christmas—”
“And I told you I never wanted to speak to you again,” Caroline said. “I was embarrassed. And I was hurt. I didn’t mean it.”
“I knew you didn’t, but it was easier to take you at your word. Still, every time something big happened, I wanted to call. Send you an email. Something. But I didn’t. I didn’t call when Chad died. I didn’t check on you after Blake’s first wife went to jail. I didn’t send a note when your dad had a stroke or when all that drama happened last year at the plant. I don’t have an excuse. Neither do any of the other people who have failed you.” He shifted his gaze, staring at nothing in particular. “People will fail you. He won’t.”
“You don’t think God let you down when you were a kid and your—” She couldn’t say
it. She knew his birth father had a serious problem with alcohol, and when he was drunk, he was a mean drunk. What made it worse was that he was defensive about his drinking, refusing to admit he had a problem. That meant that no matter how out of control he got, he never let himself back down or apologize afterward for the cruel things he did while drinking. That led to a sort of stubborn combativeness that made everything worse.
Jason’s mom had filed for divorce when Jason was one, but it had taken until he was three for it to be finalized. Even after she was able to get full custody, Jason’s birth father would argued with Jason’s mom over everything from where Jason went to elementary school to what brand tennis shoes he wore. And he’d humiliated Jason more than once as he yelled at the coaches and players while Jason played ball. He claimed he was acting out of love and concern, but it seemed more like spite and wounded ego. He’d been a constant trial during Jason’s childhood.
“I think my father was an idiot,” Jason said. “I still do. And I’m still working through how I’m supposed to deal with him as an adult.” He glanced at his phone. He’d ignored five calls from his birth father in the past three days. “But I don’t blame God for any of that. My father made bad choices, and I had to live with them. But my mom found the strength to get out. Then she found the courage to risk loving again, and I got the dad I’d always dreamed of. And of course, that’s when I met you. They got married and we moved here the summer before I started kindergarten. I remember you and your mom brought brownies and that was the start of our families’ friendship. So, it wasn’t all bad.”
Caroline appreciated his attempt to put a positive spin on things, but his dad’s health crisis loomed in her mind.
“I know you’re thinking about Dad,” he said.
Scary how good he was at reading her mind. “Your dad, your career, your future—nothing’s exactly turning out the way you wanted.” How could he not be angry, or at least frustrated with God?
He smiled. “Yeah. It stinks. All of it. This isn’t what I’d planned. Not even close. But I have peace that God is working, even in the mess, the pain, the loss. I don’t understand what He’s up to, but I am confident He is up to something.”
He spoke with such sincerity. Such maturity.
When had Jason Drake grown up?
TEN
Jason couldn’t figure out the look Caroline was giving him? Admiration? Annoyance? Both?
Regardless, he needed to change the subject. He knew from experience that trying to push someone into giving up their frustration with the Almighty didn’t work.
He’d have to trust that the Almighty could take care of that for Himself.
“I have an idea,” he said.
“What?” Skepticism laced her voice.
“Let’s go back to your house and look through everything you have from Stephanie—everything the Crawfords didn’t claim.”
“I don’t think there’s anything there.”
“There may not be, but we have to look. Sometimes things that appear innocuous take on a whole new meaning when you view them through a different lens.”
She smirked. “What comes after that?”
“I’ll have to talk to my boss. It might be possible for us to get a warrant to search through Stephanie’s things.”
“Are you crazy? Like the Crawfords don’t hate us enough as it is?”
He shoved away the reaction his stomach had every time she referred to them as “we” and “us.”
“I don’t think it will come to that,” he said. “Mr. Crawford looked like there were things he would have said if Mrs. Crawford hadn’t been in such a state.”
Caroline narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?”
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” he said. “I think there’s a good chance he’ll offer to help us as long as we catch him at the right moment.”
“And by right moment, you mean when Mrs. Crawford isn’t home?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
“That might be tough. They don’t have an active social calendar.”
“No, but Mrs. Crawford is planning to go to lunch with a friend tomorrow.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“They have a calendar on their fridge.”
“Were you snooping in their house?”
“I wouldn’t call it snooping.”
“What would you call it?”
“Investigating.”
Caroline laughed.
“I was hoping there might be a photo of Stephanie with a guy or in a unique location. Something that would give us a clue. I think there’s a good chance I could go back tomorrow and talk to Mr. Crawford without Mrs. Crawford being around.”
“Did you see anything else useful?” She sounded impressed.
“No.” Not one single thing.
“Do you think we can safely reenter my house?”
“As soon as your sister-in-law’s guy gives us the all clear, we’ll head over there. I’m sure you’d like to sleep in your own bed tonight.” Caroline didn’t reply immediately. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” she rushed to say. “I desperately want to be home, but I…I want to be home the way I was three days ago. I want to feel safe. It’s always been my sanctuary. The place where everything is okay. Now it feels like my refuge has turned on me.” She laughed at herself. “I know that sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “It’s a normal reaction. Maybe even a mild form of post-traumatic stress syndrome.”
She groaned.
“What?”
“I just realized what this means,” she said.
He had no idea where she was going with this. “What does it mean?”
“Heidi’s best friend, Sara, is a clinical psychologist who specializes in PTSD. Heidi experienced a lot of trauma as a kid, and Sara’s helped her with that. Then last year, when Maggie was kidnapped by that lunatic at the plant, Sara came immediately. She’s been unofficially seeing Maggie at least once a month ever since. I don’t think Maggie even realizes she’s in therapy. But Sara’s done wonders for her.” She blew out a long breath. “I’ve always suspected that Sara would love to get me on her couch. I guess she’s about to get her chance.”
“There’s no shame in getting therapy,” he said as he parked in front of his parents’ house.
She studied him long enough to make him uncomfortable. He didn’t see anger or frustration in her expression. He saw concern. Maybe understanding?
She started to speak a few times but stopped herself.
“Spit it out,” he said.
“No,” she said. “No, not now. Later.”
“What’s wrong with now?”
Her eyes flashed a warning a millisecond before his mother’s voice stretched across the yard. “Jason Drake!”
He opened the door. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Are you two going to stay out there all afternoon? Bring that child in here!” As she stepped off the porch, he heard her mutter, “If someone’s trying to kill you, seems like it would be safer to be in the house rather than sitting out in the open. But what do I know? I wasn’t a sniper. I wasn’t a marine. Nope. Not me. Just a housewife who watches too many cop shows, I guess.”
Caroline laughed under her breath. “Your mom is a trip.”
“Yeah,” he said. “She has a PhD in sarcasm.”
“She’s worried, that’s all.”
That wasn’t all. She was worried, but she was also hoping for something that couldn’t happen. He walked behind Caroline, Henry held secure in her arms, probably looking to an outside observer like every inch the family his mother hoped they’d become.
No. It couldn’t happen. No matter how much his mother wanted it.
*
Caroline watched Jason for the next couple of hours. He played with Henry, teased his mom and had a few conversations with his dad that didn’t appear, on the surface, to have anything to do with her, but she suspected there was a subtext she wasn
’t quite following.
Regardless, when Jason’s phone buzzed, her stomach did a flip, and she forced herself to breathe. He looked at his phone, then at her.
“Heidi says she has an agent at your house and he’s given it the all clear. Unofficially, of course. She says you know the agent and that we should head over there to talk to him.”
She took another breath. She should be relieved. She was relieved. Wasn’t she?
“Did she say who it was?” This not-having-a-phone thing was getting really old, really fast.
“No. How many FBI agents do you know?”
“A few.”
“Let’s go see what the FBI unofficially has to say.”
It took longer to get Henry buckled into his car seat than it did to reach her driveway. Jason punched in the security code, and as the gate slid open, her stomach clenched. If she lived through this mess, would she ever be able to approach her own home without fear? Would it ever feel safe?
Jason bumped her elbow. “Earth to Caroline. You okay?”
She hoped her smile was convincing. “Of course.”
Jason sighed. So maybe her smile hadn’t been as convincing as she’d hoped. They wound up the drive, past Blake and Heidi’s, past her parents’ home and on to the top of the mountain.
The red Camaro in her driveway eased her tension. She didn’t realize she’d leaned forward in the seat until Jason said, “I guess you know this agent.”
“Yes.”
Kyle Richards stepped off the porch, hands on his waist. “Took you long enough,” he said as he opened her door. He pulled her into a hug and squeezed her tight. “You okay?” he said into her hair.
She stepped out of his arms. “I’m good.”
His mouth flattened into a tight line. “Not good enough,” he said with a shake of his head. “This should never have happened. I am so sorry.”
“None of this is your fault, Kyle.”
“That’s debatable.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but his eyes flickered to Jason, now standing a mere two feet away.
She hesitated. Jason already knew Kyle was an agent. But how much could she say? She decided to stick with names and let Kyle take the lead. “Jason, I’d like you to meet Kyle Richards.”
Hidden Legacy Page 8