"Did Andrea tell you about her babies?" Nicole asked.
"Yes. It's a subject that's very much on her mind."
"Did she say who the father of her children is?" Nicole continued.
"No, she's never said anything about him. Do you think he's involved?"
"Probably," Ryan said. "Are you sure that no one else has visited Andrea?"
"Positive. However, a man dropped her off here when she first arrived. I spoke to him briefly in order to ascertain what medications Andrea had been taking."
"What can you tell us about him?" Ryan asked.
"He was young, early twenties, Andrea's age. He had blondish hair, on the longer side. I didn't really pay that much attention to him. I was more concerned with Andrea at the time." The doctor paused and then said, "I think he said his name was Devon. Or Dylan. Something like that."
"That's the name of one of the boys Carole told me about," Nicole said. "Devon Bolles."
"I didn't get a last name," Dr. Robertson said. "And he didn't wait around. I admitted Andrea, and he took off."
"What about a Jonathan Haywood?" Ryan asked. "Has he been here, either as a guest or a visitor?"
Something flickered in the doctor's eyes. "I'm sorry I can't confirm or deny that."
"So the name means something to you?"
"I really couldn't say."
"When will Andrea be awake?" Nicole asked. "When can we talk to her?"
"I will speak to Andrea in the morning," Dr. Robertson said. "And I'll ask her if she's up to talking to you."
"Up to talking to us?" Nicole snapped. "Our kids are missing, and she may be the only one who knows who took them."
"I seriously doubt she knows anything. She's been here for almost a month, and during that time she has spoken to no one outside of this center. Your kids disappeared last week," he reminded them. "Andrea didn't orchestrate anything."
"But she could tell us who the father is and whether or not he might have taken them," Nicole said.
"As I said, I will speak to her. I have to protect Andrea's interests. She's my patient, and at this point in her recovery she's fragile. I brought you up here so that you could see that for yourselves. I do understand the urgency of your situation," he added. "And I will do everything I can to help. But Andrea is more likely to speak to me than to you. She's very guarded, and you're strangers."
"We're the parents of one of her children," Ryan said. "And if she still cares about the kids she gave up, I think she'd want to help us find them."
Dr. Robertson nodded and handed Ryan a card. "This is my direct number. Call me tomorrow around ten, and I'll let you know what I find out."
"Not until ten?" Nicole asked, frustration in her voice.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Robertson said, an apology in his eyes. "I promise to do everything I can to help you. But there's nothing more that can happen today."
Dr. Robertson opened the door and escorted them down the hall, onto the elevator, and through the lobby. At the door to the parking lot, he said goodbye and waited for them to leave the building. It was clear he had no intention of letting them wander around on their own.
When they reached the car, Nicole gave him a look that was filled with shock and hopelessness. It reminded Ryan of the way she'd looked at him the first time they'd heard that Brandon had autism. And just like before, he wanted to fix it. Unfortunately, just like before he couldn't—at least not this second.
They needed to look at everything they'd learned and figure out what to do next.
But Nicole didn't appear to be in a thinking mood. Her heart was in her eyes. She was completely devastated.
"Andrea doesn't have the kids," Nicole said again. "All this time we thought she had them, but she doesn't. We've come all this way to get nowhere."
There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better, so he did the only thing he could do—he opened his arms.
She walked into his embrace and slid her arms around his waist, her face pressed against his chest. He held on tight, needing her as much as she needed him. And they stayed there for several long minutes.
Then she lifted her head and looked up at him. "I'm lost."
"You're not lost. I'm here. And you'll always know where you are when you're with me." It might have been a cocky statement to make given their history, but it was one that came from his heart. "And I feel the same way about you. As long as you're with me, I'll always know where I am."
"What if we're both lost?" she asked with a defeated shrug.
"Then we'll find our way together."
"I really thought Andrea had Brandon."
"I did, too."
"Now, we have to start over. We're back at the beginning. I don't know how much more I can take. I'm so tired." Her lip trembled. "And I really don't want to cry again."
He gave her a soft smile and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You can cry if want to. There's no shame in it."
"But it doesn't get me anywhere. What are we going to do now?"
"We need to go over everything we learned today and figure out our next move."
"I can't imagine what that would be," she said wearily.
He didn't know, either. "Let's find a hotel and get some food. It's almost dinner time."
"You want to stay here tonight? You don't think we should go back to Angel's Bay?"
"Not yet. Let's wait until tomorrow—until after we speak to Dr. Robertson. Perhaps Andrea will be willing to talk to us."
"That sounds like a long shot," Nicole said as he stepped away from her to open the car door.
"Long shots can pay off big."
"Or leave you broke," she said gloomily.
"When did we switch places?" he asked lightly. "You used to be the optimist."
"I feel beaten," she admitted.
"You just need some time to regroup. Get your second wind. You'll bounce back, you always do."
"I don't know, Ryan. I need more than time or a second wind."
He smiled. "Then we'll get you a cheeseburger, too. I know just the place."
"A cheeseburger is not going to make me feel better," she said grumpily.
"We'll see," he said, as he got in the car and started the engine.
* * *
"Okay, I was wrong," Nicole admitted an hour later, as she popped the last bite of her World Famous Tommy's chili cheeseburger into her mouth. "That was the best cheeseburger I've ever had, and I actually do feel a little better." She had energy again, and she didn't feel nearly as beaten down as she had when they'd left the clinic.
"Told you," Ryan said with a cocky smile. "Sometimes I'm smarter than you."
"Let's not get carried away. It was my idea to bring the food here," she added, as Ryan pushed his chair back from the small table by the window.
They'd managed to pick up the burgers and find a decent motel only six blocks away from the Serenity Healing Center.
"That's true. That was a good call," he said.
"I wasn't in the mood to sit in a restaurant with a bunch of strangers."
"Neither was I. It's been a rough day."
"I felt bad telling Jessica that Andrea didn't have the kids. She was really disappointed."
"We know how she feels," he said.
"I'm glad she's not alone. Sean will help keep her spirits up."
She tossed the remnants of her meal into a paper bag and then sat back against the pillows on her bed, watching Ryan stretch out on the opposite bed. He put his arms under his head as he stared at the ceiling. Then he yawned and said, "I think I'm about to fall into a cheeseburger and French fry coma."
"We need to talk about what we're going to do next. Make a plan. Come up with a strategy."
"You got your second wind fast," he said, as he rolled on to his side to face her. "Okay, I'm awake. I'm totally with you. Let's discuss strategy."
"Good. I'll take some notes." She grabbed her cell phone out of her bag and sat cross-legged on the bed. "Carole gave us the names of two guys tha
t Andrea used to date Devon Bolles and Malcolm Segal. We think Devon dropped Andrea off at the clinic. We also have Jonathan Haywood, who grew up with Andrea, their mothers are friends, and he is also a druggie." She looked up. "We can look them all up on the Internet. Maybe we'll get lucky and actually be able to find someone's phone number."
"That would be lucky," Ryan said.
"Or they may be on social media."
"Another good idea."
"We should probably talk to Carole again tomorrow. She lied about not knowing where Andrea is. Why would she do that? If Andrea has been in the hospital for three weeks, then she didn't take the kids. So why wouldn't Carole tell us that?"
Ryan shook his head. "The Holts seem big on pretense. Maybe she didn't want to admit that her daughter is seriously ill."
"She told us that Andrea was a drug addict, so she wasn't trying to keep that secret." Nicole thought for a moment. "She's protecting someone else. Maybe Jonathan Haywood. Maybe Carole has some loyalty to Jonathan's mother, Beverly. She could be trying to protect her friend's son. Or maybe she's protecting Jonathan because she knows he's the father of Andrea's kids and that he went to get the kids for Andrea."
"That’s a lot of maybe's," Ryan said.
"True," she said with a frown. "We need to narrow things down. I have three possible candidates for biological father with Jonathan Haywood at the top."
She pulled up the Internet on her phone and typed in Malcolm Segal's name. Five minutes later, she found him on Facebook. Six minutes later she knew she could eliminate him as a suspect, because Malcolm Segal was a marine who had been deployed for the past seven months.
"It's not Segal," she said.
When Ryan didn't reply, she glanced over at him and realized that he was asleep. As much as she wanted his input, she couldn't bring herself to wake him up. He was exhausted, and she couldn't blame him. He'd been the one driving them all over the state for most of the day.
So she settled more comfortably on the bed and searched next for Devon Bolles. He wasn't too difficult to find, either. Devon Bolles was a professional DJ, and he had a photo on his website, which matched the description Dr. Robertson had given them of the man who had dropped Andrea off at the center.
As she surfed Devon's website, she found a gallery of photos, many of which had been taken over the past weekend. It soon became clear that Devon had been working in a club on the other side of the country for several weeks. There was no way he could have been involved in the kidnapping.
"Damn," she muttered. That was two suspects off the list. She was left with one, Jonathan Haywood.
Her search for Haywood didn't turn up anything. There were several Jonathan Haywoods on the Internet, but none that were the right age or in the right part of the country.
She set down her phone with a sigh and gazed at the man slumbering so peacefully across from her.
When they'd asked for a room, they hadn't specified how many beds, but they'd ended up with two. Now she had to admit that she would have been happier with one. Ryan felt like he was too far away. She didn't want to sleep on this bed by herself. She wanted to curl up next to Ryan, the way she had for most of the ten years that they'd been together.
After another minute of indecision, she got up and stretched out next to Ryan. She'd barely settled her head on the pillow when he flung his arm across her waist and pulled her into the curve of his hips.
As Ryan's steady breath soothed her nerves, she found her eyes getting heavy. She told herself she'd take a little rest and then she'd continue on with the research. But soon she was drifting off on a wave of exhaustion.
And then she saw real waves pounding the beach.
She was standing on the sand, watching Brandon play at the water's edge. He was building a sand castle. Ryan was helping him. Every few minutes they would fill the bucket with seawater and then dump it onto the sand. Ryan then showed Brandon how to mold the wet sand with his hands.
Brandon watched his father with rapt attention, a sparkle in his blue eyes. Then with a mischievous smile, he grabbed the bucket and tossed the rest of the water at Ryan's face.
Ryan sputtered. Brandon squealed and went running down the beach.
Ryan chased him, and soon they were wrestling on the beach. Ryan was tickling Brandon, and Brandon was laughing and squirming in his arms.
Nicole felt her heart swell with joy as they played together.
Ryan saw her watching and gave her a smile and a wave.
She was about to join them when she heard a woman call Brandon's name.
Her little boy was pulling away from Ryan. Brandon was looking at someone else down the beach, a pretty blonde woman. She was motioning for Brandon to come to her.
And Brandon responded. He ran down the beach to the woman.
The two of them hugged. Then the woman raised her gaze. Her eyes met Nicole's.
"He's mine," she said. "He's my baby. Not yours."
Nicole screamed, "No, he's mine." But they were walking away from her.
They met up with another woman, an older woman, who looked like Carole Holt. She pulled out a bag of gummy bears and gave Brandon a treat. He popped it into his mouth, and then he put one hand in Carole's, the other in Andrea's, as they walked away.
"Brandon, come back," she yelled. "Come back. You're my son. Mine."
"Nicole," Ryan said.
She pushed him away, wanting to move, to run, but her feet were stuck in the sand. She couldn't get free.
"They're getting away," she yelled, flailing her arms and legs, kicking out at whoever was holding her back.
"Nicole, wake up!"
Ryan's voice was suddenly louder.
"Wake up," he said again, giving her a little shake.
She didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to lose sight of Brandon, but Ryan was calling her back.
"You're dreaming," he told her when her eyes finally fluttered open.
She wasn't on the beach anymore. She was in the hotel room with Ryan.
"What—what time is it?" she asked, blinking at the unexpected brightness.
"It's seven," he said.
"In the morning?" she asked in surprise.
He smiled. "Yeah. We slept all night."
"I just laid down for a minute."
"What was wrong with your bed?" he asked.
"It was a little cold. I didn't think you'd mind."
"I've always liked sleeping with you—even if we're just sleeping." He sat back against the pillows as she turned on her side. "So what were you dreaming about?"
"I saw Brandon."
Ryan nodded. "I figured that much. You were yelling his name."
"You and Brandon were building a sand castle on the beach. It was weird, because I don't think you've ever done that together. But Brandon was laughing and smiling. He dumped water on your head."
Her words brought a painful spark to Ryan's gaze, but still he asked, "What happened next?"
"You chased him down the beach, and you were wrestling together. It was so sweet, so perfect a moment. But then Andrea came. She took Brandon's hand, and he went with her. I wanted her to bring him back to me, but she said he was her baby."
His eyes softened. "It was a dream, Nicole. Brandon is our child. Andrea gave him up."
"Not willingly. Andrea was a mixed up girl whose parents forced her to give away her children. She didn't want to do it."
"Andrea was a fifteen-year-old who wasn't ready to be a mother," he reminded her. "And she did a wonderful thing. She gave her children to two families who could take care of them better than she could."
"But she didn't want to."
He frowned. "I told you not to feel sorry for her."
"It's hard not to feel bad for someone who has ended up the way she has. She's only twenty-one years old and look at where she is—in a mental hospital going through drug detox. Did she go crazy because she lost her kids?"
"Or because she was into drugs?" he suggested. "We don’t know he
r whole story yet. And maybe it doesn't matter. You can't pick a moment in time and decide that that was the catalyst for everything else. Maybe she doesn't get pregnant, but she still gets involved with drugs. Obviously, her family wasn't close. Carole is certainly no treat. And when Carole talked about Philip, she reminded me of my mother, the way she used to get nervous when my father was in a bad mood. She would make me tiptoe around him, as if he were some kind of king. He was just an asshole."
"We don't know if Phillip is like your father," Nicole pointed out.
"He probably isn't like my dad. But I didn't like the way Carole talked about him, as if his wishes were more important than hers, or her daughter's."
"Carole was in my dream, too. She gave Brandon gummy bears, and she had the orange ones that he likes."
As she said the words, the image flashed through her mind again, followed by another one. She sat up. "Oh, my God!"
His gaze narrowed. "What's wrong now?"
Her heart began to race. "Gummy bears. She gave Brandon gummy bears."
"So?" he asked in confusion. "Sugar treats in dreams don't count for poor nutrition."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Ryan. There were gummy bears in the grocery bag that Carole took into her house yesterday. When she set the bag down on the counter, the gummy bears fell out. I didn't think anything of it at the time." Excitement rushed through her as she tried to make sense of her shocking new theory. "Why would a fifty-something woman who lives in Beverly Hills, with only her husband, be buying gummy bears?"
Ryan stared back at her, his lips tightening.
"And why would this same woman lie about her daughter being alive?" she continued. "Why would Carole want us to continue searching for Andrea when she knew where Andrea was all along?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I think Carole knows exactly where the boys are. In fact, I think she might be our kidnapper." She bounded out of bed, wondering why Ryan wasn't jumping to his feet. "What?" she demanded.
"You dreamt about gummy bears," he said. "Are you sure you saw them in Carole's bag? And that it wasn't part of your dream?"
"They were in my dream, but they were also in that grocery bag." She met his gaze. "I am absolutely, positively sure, Ryan. We need to talk to Carole again."
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