Ryan stared at the inspector in surprise. "How is that relevant? Angel's Bay is miles from here."
"We don't know yet."
"What’s the child’s name?" Nicole asked.
The inspector glanced down at the yellow pad in his hand. "Kyle Schilling." He looked up at them. "Ring any bells?"
"No," Ryan said.
"Do you think there’s a connection?" Nicole asked.
"That’s what we need to find out."
Chapter Five
It had been sixty-four hours and eighteen minutes since Kyle had disappeared from a birthday party at the miniature golf course arcade in Angel's Bay on Wednesday night. The birthday child’s mother and her sister were supposed to be watching the seven children invited to the party. She’d promised Jessica that six-year-old Kyle would be well supervised, but at some point in the party, Kyle had gone missing.
Jessica Schilling stared into the bathroom mirror, wishing she could stop reliving the horrific phone call and four terrible words—your son is missing.
She'd thought it would be minutes until they found him, then hours, but now they were going on three full days, and despite the dedicated and determined help of the Angel's Bay Police Department, Kyle had not come home.
A knock came at the door. "Jessica, are you all right in there? Are you almost ready?"
The voice belonged to her friend, Charlotte Adams. It took Jessica a minute to remember why she was even in the bathroom. She’d been operating on no sleep and too much coffee.
The television interview—that’s why she was here. She was supposed to be getting ready to go in front of the cameras again and make a plea for Kyle's safe return. Her hair was oily and limp. She couldn’t remember when she’d last taken a shower. Was it yesterday or the day before?
She took a band out of her drawer and pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail. Her skin was pale and blotchy from crying. The shadows under her dark brown eyes made her look like she’d been in a fight. She looked far older than her twenty-six years. In fact, she barely recognized herself.
Two years ago, at the age of twenty-four, she'd fallen hard for a much older man, a man with a four-year-old child, who had also stolen her heart. In three months, she'd gotten married and become a stepmother. For fourteen months, she'd been happy, finally finding the family she'd always wanted. Then Travis was killed in an accident, and she had to raise Kyle by herself.
She'd thought she'd been doing an okay job, although her mother-in-law had a lot of complaints, but Kyle had been happy to be with her. Now he was gone. She'd lost him. And she was starting to lose hope that she was going to get him back.
"Jessica?" There was worry in Charlotte's voice now.
"I'm coming," she said as she splashed some water on her face.
She was grateful for Charlotte's support. Charlotte had taken her under her wing after Travis's death, introducing her to her friends and helping her find her way in the community. She'd been so wrapped up in Travis and Kyle that she barely knew anyone in Angel's Bay.
Charlotte, on the other hand, knew everyone. She'd grown up in Angel's Bay and had even dated Travis's cousin, Andrew, back when they were in high school.
"Jessica?" A new voice rang through the door, this one belonging to one of Charlotte's good friends, Kara Lynch. Kara had also been born and raised in Angel's Bay, and her family ran the Angel's Heart Quilt Shop.
She dried her face and opened the door. "Sorry."
Charlotte and Kara were standing at the end of the bed. Charlotte was a slender blonde wearing a navy blue pencil skirt and a button-down blouse. She'd obviously come straight from work; she was an OB/GYN at the local hospital. Kara wore a light blue sweater over black leggings and boots. She was a curvy redhead, who'd added a few curves five months into her second pregnancy.
As Jessica's gaze moved to the photo in Kara's hands, her breath caught in her chest. It was a photo of Kyle wearing his soccer uniform—Kyle, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and happy smile. Her son was an outgoing, friendly kid, open and fearless in his innocence. He trusted far too easily and someone had taken advantage of that trust.
"The press wanted another picture," Kara said tentatively. "Is this one okay to give out?"
She nodded her head, too filled with fear to speak.
"If you can't do this," Charlotte began, her gaze narrowing in concern. "One of us can be your spokesperson. Or Mrs. Schilling—"
"No," she said forcefully. She was not going to let her mother-in-law take over, even though Paula had been trying to do just that. Jessica was Kyle's mother, and she was the one who would speak for him. "I'll do it. I have to do it. I can't let anyone forget about Kyle."
"No one is forgetting," Kara said, compassion in her voice. "There are flyers up on every storefront, and this interview will put Kyle back on television."
"We're not giving up," Charlotte added. "Miracles happen all the time around here."
"Thanks for the pep talk."
"It's the truth," Charlotte said, kindness in her eyes.
She knew both Charlotte and Kara felt connected to Kyle's disappearance because she'd been with them that night. They'd been at dinner for Charlotte's bachelorette party, a party that had come to an abrupt halt with that phone call.
They left her bedroom and walked down the stairs together. At the front door Charlotte and Kara hung back while Jessica continued down the steps. The media had set up a microphone on her lawn. A barrage of cameras and reporters faced her. It was so surreal. She'd been an ordinary person living an ordinary life—until last Wednesday night.
As she stepped closer to the microphone, she realized it was a smaller group today, and that made her more scared. She needed the media not to lose interest in Kyle.
"I'm here to plead for the safe return of my son, Kyle Schilling. He's a wonderful, caring, loving boy," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "And he needs to come home. If you see him anywhere, please call the hotline. The police need your help." She drew in a deep breath. "I love my son, and I want him back."
As she finished, the reporters started asking her questions. One of the detectives who'd been working the case, Jason Marlow, came forward to provide some answers. As he stepped in front of the microphone, she made a hasty retreat into the house. Her mother-in-law, Paula Schilling, met her in the entryway.
Paula looked a lot like Travis, very tall, square jaw, dark brown hair, but where Travis had warm, friendly eyes, Paula's eyes were cold and hard. She hadn't liked Jessica from the minute Travis brought her home.
"That's how you dress to represent your son?" Paula asked sharply.
Jessica glanced down at her layered tank tops and skinny jeans that were ripped at one knee. She hadn't given her clothes any thought at all, but even if she had, she wouldn't have found anything too different in her closet, certainly not the kind of dress that Paula would approve of.
"I thought you did a good job," Charlotte cut in.
Paula rolled her eyes and brushed past Jessica as she left the house.
"Forget about her," Kara advised. "She's worried about Kyle."
"She blames me for his disappearance."
"You weren't even there," Kara said.
"Exactly, I wasn't there. I was at a party. I was being selfish. She's reminded me of that at least a dozen times," Jessica said.
Charlotte frowned. "You weren't being selfish; you were helping me celebrate my engagement. This wasn't your fault, Jessica. You can't let her get to you, and having a mother who is very much like Paula Schilling, I know that's easier said than done, but you have to try to blow off whatever she says."
"I can't even think about her right now," Jessica said with a sigh. "I just want to find Kyle."
As Charlotte finished speaking, the front door opened, and Charlotte's fiancé, Joe Silveira walked into the entry. An attractive man with olive skin and dark, intense eyes, Joe was the chief of police in Angel's Bay.
He gave Charlotte and Kara a brief smile, then tu
rned to her. "I have some information, Jessica. There was a kidnapping in San Francisco yesterday afternoon, a six-year-old boy by the name of Brandon Prescott."
Jessica stared at him in confusion. "What does that have to do with Kyle?"
"Maybe you can tell me." He handed her a photograph.
As she stared down at the picture, her heart stopped. "Who is this?"
"Brandon Prescott."
Her pulse began to race as she noted the blond hair and familiar blue eyes. This boy's name was Brandon?
Blood pounded through her veins, and her vision grew blurry. It was suddenly too much—the fear, the lack of sleep, and now more shock.
Her head began to spin, her breath coming short and fast. She heard Charlotte call her name just before everything went black.
* * *
Nicole sat down in the chair next to Inspector De Carlo’s desk. Ryan stood behind her. They both waited as the inspector finished his phone call.
As he hung up the phone, the inspector gave them a quick glance, his expression thoughtful. "Wait here a moment. I’m printing out a photograph." He got up from his chair and walked across the room to the printer.
Nicole gave Ryan a worried look. "I don’t understand what’s happening. Is someone going around kidnapping six-year-old boys? How could this child in Angel's Bay have anything to do with Brandon?"
"Kidnappers can go after the same type, blondes, kids, boys, girls." Ryan rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. "I just don’t want to believe that someone took Brandon. I keep hoping that he wandered away and we’ll find him hiding somewhere, like in the tube at the park."
"I keep hoping the same thing," she said, but deep down she knew that hope was fading. Someone or something was preventing Brandon from coming home.
A moment later the inspector returned. He sat down behind his desk and handed her a picture. It was a photo of a child along with vital statistics, noting age, height, and weight.
She stared at the picture in bemusement. It was a picture of Brandon, but the name and the other details were wrong. "Kyle Schilling?" she murmured. She looked up at the inspector. "I don’t understand."
"What the hell is this?" Ryan demanded, looking at the photo over her shoulder.
"It appears that Brandon has an identical twin," the inspector said. "Now, does someone want to tell me what’s going on?"
"Brandon isn’t a twin," Nicole replied, staring down at the photograph, her heart beating way too fast. The boy in the picture was Brandon, and yet he wasn’t. This child gazed straight into the camera with a smile, with warm, interested eyes. Brandon hadn’t smiled in more than two years. And he never looked directly at anyone.
But there were details about this little boy that made her heart turn over, the cowlick on the corner of his head, the tiny freckles that dotted his nose, the slightly crooked teeth. He looked exactly like Brandon—but this child wasn't her son.
"This isn’t Brandon," she said, handing the photo back to Inspector DeCarlo.
"No, it’s Kyle Shilling. But this boy’s looks and his birthday are the same as Brandon’s. Was your son adopted?"
"Yes," she said.
"Why didn’t you tell me that before?" he questioned sharply.
She didn’t like the suspicious look in his eyes. "I didn’t think I needed to. We adopted Brandon when he was four days old. He’s our son. I don’t think of him as being adopted. We’ve been with him almost every second of his life."
"Almost," the inspector said, his gaze moving to Ryan. "What about you? Anything to add?"
"When we adopted Brandon, we weren't told he was a twin."
"What adoption agency did you use?" DeCarlo asked.
"We went through an attorney," Nicole answered. "Jim Edwards. He has an office downtown. He’s very well respected and specializes in private adoptions. He would have told us if there was another child, because we would have adopted him, too." She paused, wanting the inspector to understand her motivation.
"I've known since my teens that I wouldn't be able to have children of my own," she continued. "I have a medical condition that makes that impossible. So Ryan and I started exploring options right after we got married. But it still took years for us to get a baby. When Jim Reynolds told us that we were getting a son, we were over the moon. If there were twins, Mr. Reynolds would have asked us to take both, and we would have said yes."
DeCarlo jotted down some notes on a pad and then gave a nod. "All right. I'll check with your attorney. At the time of the adoption, were you given any information about the birth mother or father?"
"All we knew was that the mother was a teenager," Nicole said. "Otherwise, it was a totally blind adoption." It was the way she'd preferred it. She hadn't wanted Brandon to be confused by two sets of parents.
"What about when your son was diagnosed with autism, weren’t you concerned about the family medical history?"
"Of course I was concerned, but the doctors told me that there's no familial link where autism is concerned, at least as far as they know." She licked her lips, her gaze moving to the photograph of Kyle Schilling again. It hurt to see Kyle's smiling face, hurt in a way that only a mother of an autistic child could understand. Because this boy, this exact replica of her son, looked so happy, so normal. This was supposed to be her son. This was what Brandon should look like now.
Ryan's hand came down on her shoulder, and she welcomed his warmth. It had been a long time since she and Ryan had been in sync, but in this moment she felt like he was the only person who could possibly understand what she was feeling. She cleared her throat, turning her attention back to the inspector.
"It doesn't appear that Kyle is autistic," she said.
"No, he's not," DeCarlo confirmed.
"What do Kyle's parents know about the adoption?" Ryan interjected. "Were they aware that their son had a twin?"
"I haven't yet spoken to the Schillings, but the police department in Angel's Bay informed me that Mrs. Schilling is as surprised as you are that her son has an identical twin. They also used an attorney; not the same one you mentioned, but I suspect there’s a connection somewhere."
"So what do we do now?" Nicole asked. It was mind-boggling to know Brandon was a twin, but that fact wasn't bringing him home."
"Continue investigating," the inspector said. "We’ll start with the attorneys and go on from there."
"This other boy," Ryan began. "How long has he been missing?"
"This is the third day," DeCarlo answered, his expression grim.
Nicole's heart sank. Three days?
"But," the inspector said, obviously reading the disappointment in her expression. "The connection between the boys gives us a new lead to work."
"You think they're together?" Ryan asked.
"Yes, I do. And I'm very interested in finding the biological parents. I don't believe it's an accident that someone kidnapped two brothers who have been separated since birth."
"Why is this happening now?" Nicole asked. "Brandon is six years old. Why would anyone wait so long to try to get him back? And why not find us, talk to us, see if we wanted to connect? Kidnapping is such a drastic step. I don't even understand how they made it happen."
"They must have planned it in great detail," Ryan said slowly. "This kidnapping took some coordination. They had to get each child away from their parents in a very short amount of time. They had to have been following Brandon. Waiting for an opportunity."
Nicole hated the idea that someone had been watching her and Brandon.
"I agree," the inspector said. "This wasn't a crime of opportunity, a grab of a random child. It wasn't a stranger who kidnapped your son."
"Yes, it was a stranger," Nicole said forcefully. "Brandon doesn’t know his biological parents or his brother. He’s going to be terrified and confused and wondering where we are, and why we’re not coming to get him. You don't understand how hard it is for him to connect with anyone, to adjust to even the smallest change in routine. He hits his head agains
t the wall when he gets agitated. And then he starts screaming in this super high pitch. I don't know what they're going to do to him when they realize he's not—normal." Her voice broke as she choked on a knot of fear. "You have to find him."
DeCarlo's gaze filled with compassion. "We're going to do everything we can, Mrs. Prescott. Brandon is our top priority. I do think that Brandon's chances of being found are greater now than they were before. And if the biological parents are involved, I doubt their intent is to harm the boys."
She really wanted to believe that. "But you don't know that for sure."
"No, I don't, but let's try to stay positive. Why don’t you go home? We'll be in touch as soon as we know anything."
"What about the polygraph?" Ryan asked.
"That’s on hold. If you remember anything or anyone that might have had something to do with the adoption proceedings, please let me know."
Nicole was suddenly reluctant to leave. Going home and waiting were unappealing, but the inspector was picking up the phone, and Ryan tipped his head toward the door. She got to her feet and followed him down the hall and out the front door. She paused when they got to the sidewalk, the bright sun seeming so at odds with the darkness surrounding her life.
"I can't believe what's happened," she said. "Brandon has a twin? How could we not know that? And his twin…" She had to bite down on her bottom lip to stop the trembling.
"I know," Ryan said, meeting her gaze. "He's not autistic."
She shook her head. "It's all so strange. Do you think Mr. Reynolds knew there was another boy?"
"Only one way to find out. Let's go talk to him."
"What about the police?"
"They can talk to him, too. But I don't feel like waiting around for them to get to that."
"I don't, either." As they walked to the car, she was relieved to have something purposeful to do. And she had a lot of questions for Jim Reynolds.
Chapter Six
Between Now and Forever Page 4