“Ouch. How’s the jaw feel? No break there?”
“Would I be talking?”
He shrugged.
“You’d be surprised how well a person can seem after an accident, and then end up having very serious injuries. You write a guy off as being just fine, and then he dies the next day from an injury he didn’t even know he had. Don’t get any ideas about going anywhere until you’ve been cleared at the hospital. I won’t allow it.”
She grunted.
“Can’t exactly go anywhere until they set this arm, can I?”
“Good. Let’s be sensible about it, right?”
She nodded briefly.
“How about your belly? Anything hurt inside?”
“Feels fine.”
Sheldon could hear sirens approaching.
“That’ll be the ambulance,” he told her. “Once they give you a shot of Demerol, you’ll be feeling a lot better.”
The skater cast her eyes around her, without turning her neck.
“Where’s my board?” she questioned.
“I’ll look after it. You just worry about yourself.”
The ambulance pulled up, and Sheldon waited until they came over and he’d filled them in before leaving the girl. She watched him go, but didn’t ask him to stay with her. She’d be okay. He joined Robertson, who was writing down notes in his notepad as the driver still ranted on about skaters and how Katie had appeared out of nowhere. Robertson looked over at him.
“How is she?” he questioned.
“She’ll be okay, provided there aren’t any serious internal injuries. She’s got a broken arm, lots of abrasions from skidding across the road. I imagine she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on.”
The driver let out a deep sigh.
“She’s going to be okay?” she said anxiously.
“It looks like it.”
“I was so afraid. After I hit her … I thought she was going to be lying there dead. I honestly did. When she sat up … I thought I was seeing things.” It all came out in an avalanche of words. All the defensiveness was gone, replaced with relief.
“If I was you,” Sheldon said slowly, “I’d buy her a new skateboard. A really nice one, not a cheap department store one. Because if she chose to sue you for damages …”
The driver looked around and saw the skater’s shattered skateboard underneath her car. She gulped.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she agreed.
“Let me give you my number,” Sheldon pulled out a business card. “Get it right away. Today. Call me, and I’ll make sure that she gets it while she’s still at the hospital. She doesn’t have a fixed address, so it may be our only opportunity to make sure she gets it. Okay?”
The driver took his card and nodded gratefully.
“Great, thanks.”
It had been a long shift. Frank looked at his phone when it buzzed, and didn’t recognize the number. Frowning, he pressed “talk” and put it to his ear.
“Officer Sylvan.”
“Hey, Frank. This is Sheldon.”
“Oh, hi. What’s up, Sheldon?”
“Are you on shift, or are you free?”
“I’m wrapping up in about ten minutes. Why?”
“Well …” there was a long pause, “I came across someone who may be involved in your cold case. I’m wondering if you could come up to the hospital to talk to her.”
“A witness?” Frank said sharply. “I’ve talked to all of the hospital staff.”
“She’s not one of the staff. Do you think you could come? I think it could be important to the case. And I don’t know how long she’ll be here.”
Frank dared not get his hopes up. He had been chasing this case for thirteen years. The chances that Officer Sheldon had managed to break it in a few short weeks, by accident more than anything, were remote. Sure, Marilyn had said that a set of fresh eyes might help, but what were the chances that Sheldon had actually run into someone who had seen something all of those years ago. Who could it be? Janitorial staff? Another patient? Frank had chased down everyone that could be chased.
“Okay,” he agreed, “I’ll head up as soon as my shift is over. You really think you have anything? It’s so cold.”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. But I don’t want to mess anything up. You’re the one who knows the case. You’re the one who should talk to her.”
“All right. Tell me where you’ll be, and I’ll meet you there.”
Sheldon gave him the unit number and room, and Frank wrote it down and hung up.
Justine lay in bed, eager to be on her way soon. But she was still feeling dizzy from the painkillers, and Sheldon, the officer who had promised to bring along her skateboard, had not yet shown up. She drifted in and out of consciousness, her body exhausted by the shock of the accident, the pain, and the opiates.
There was a tap at the door, and Justine started up, startled out of a dream that she didn’t even realize she was having. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the visitor.
“Officer Sheldon,” she yawned. “It’s about time.”
He smiled and nodded at her. He approached her bed and brought his hand out from behind his back. Justine looked at the unfamiliar long board, and then up at his face in confusion.
“I hope it’s your style,” Sheldon said, “I don’t really know what to look for in these things. It’s from the driver of the car who hit you.”
“Where’s my board?”
“It was pretty badly broken up. I’m sorry about that. Will this one do?”
Justine took it from him, and examined it closely, eyes sharp as she went over the materials, workmanship, and a careful analysis of the spin of the wheels. She nodded slowly.
“Yeah. It’s a good board. Thanks.”
“How are you feeling? Pretty dopey?”
She nodded, which made her dizzy, and she immediately regretted it.
“Yeah. Once I shake this off … I’ll be on my way.”
“There’s another officer coming to question you. He’ll be in shortly.”
Justine frowned and looked at his face.
“What other officer? Your partner? You already saw the accident scene, she hit me in a crosswalk. That’s her fault.”
“Oh, I agree. There’s just a few other questions to be cleared up,” he said vaguely.
“I have every right to cross the street. People think that skaters don’t have any rights, but I have as much right as anyone to be out there. She has to stop for me, even if she doesn’t like skaters.”
“I don’t think it was a matter of her not liking skaters. I think she just didn’t see you, or misjudged your speed. She was pretty upset about the whole thing.”
“Yeah,” Justine sneered, “I heard her complaining about how it was all my fault. Like I fell out of the sky in front of her car and intentionally got hit, right?”
Sheldon smiled.
“I’m sure she’d like us to believe that,” he agreed. “But she was pretty relieved when she heard that you were okay. When she got out of her car, she thought she was going to find you lying dead in front of the car.”
Justine flashed back to Christian’s accident, and she looked away, heartsick, trying to block the images out before they could overcome her.
Another officer came to the door and looked in. Sheldon nodded and motioned for him to enter. Justine studied the new officer, and a shiver ran through her, goose bumps rising on her arms. She didn’t know him, but there was something about his face … He walked up to her bed and looked at her curiously, and something in his expression changed.
“Your eyes …” he said softly. “Katie … ?”
An electric shock jolted through Justine. She stared at him. She caught her breath, and glanced over at Sheldon.
“You told him my name?” she questioned, trying to keep her voice steady. Her heart was racing, and she didn’t understand why. Of course Sheldon had told this new officer t
hat her name was Katie. How else would he know? Sheldon had told him all about her.
“No,” Sheldon said, “I didn’t.”
“What … ?”
The new officer took a step closer, and sat down on the edge of her bed, staring into her eyes.
“You’re Katie Kelly,” he said intensely, “aren’t you?”
“Kelly?” Justine repeated. “I didn’t know my last name. I only … I just used the name Katie, because it seemed right.”
He reached out and caught her by the hand, taking her uninjured one into his two big, rough hands.
“How could you even remember?” he questioned. “You were so small, when you were taken.”
Justine shook her head.
“I don’t remember,” she said. “Not really. Just in my dreams … just feelings …”
They both just stared at each other, unasked questions in their eyes. Eventually, they both broke eye contact, and looked at Sheldon.
“How did you find her?” Frank demanded.
Sheldon shrugged.
“I arrested her. And she gave me a song and dance about her name and an unlikely story about being kidnapped when she was little. She wanted to know if I knew anything about any kidnappings. And then I saw your file …”
“You didn’t even say anything to me!”
“I didn’t know if I’d be able to find her again. She doesn’t have a permanent address. These skater kids come and go, you never know if you’re going to see them again. And if she wasn’t the right girl …”
Justine focused on the new officer.
“What’s your name?” she questioned.
“Frank Sylvan.”
“And you know about when I got kidnapped? You know what happened?”
He nodded slowly.
“You were kidnapped from the hospital. We never knew who did it. Do you know who … ?”
Justine shrugged.
“Em, I guess. She lived here, and her little girl died. So she took me … and said that I was Justine, the girl that died … and moved away. Nobody knew, and she had a birth certificate and everything. So nobody ever believed me.”
“You knew you were kidnapped?” Frank questioned in amazement.
“I didn’t remember … but I didn’t like her, didn’t trust her, didn’t believe that she could be my real mother … I made up stories. I told people she kidnapped me. But I didn’t know, not for real. Not for sure.”
“And you came back here … how?”
“Skated and hitched. My birth certificate—Justine’s—said that this is where I was born … so I came here. Justine’s father still lives here … He’s the one that told me that she died. Up until him … nobody ever believed that I wasn’t really Justine.”
“And she took the name Katie,” Sheldon contributed. “That was what made the connection for me. And something about the eyes …”
“The first time I held you in my arms,” Frank said to Justine, “I was amazed by your eyes.”
Justine stared at him, her brows drawn down.
“When did you hold me?” she questioned. “How would you know … you wouldn’t know about me until after I was kidnapped, until I was gone.”
Frank rubbed his chin and didn’t say anything, considering how to answer her.
“You wouldn’t have any memory before that,” he said. “Before the kidnapping. How could you? You were too young.”
Justine shook her head hesitantly. Frank’s eyes roamed around the room, avoiding her intense gaze.
“We got a call from the landlord,” Frank said softly. “He had gone into an apartment because a tenant had not paid the rent and hadn’t been seen in several weeks. And when he went into the apartment … he found you.”
Justine shivered.
“He found me,” she repeated.
“You had been abandoned. Just left there in the apartment, alone, with no adult to look after you. It had been weeks since anyone saw your mother … you shouldn’t have survived.”
“How did I?” Justine questioned.
“You took whatever food you could reach and eat from the fridge. Some of it was too hard to chew or open. It was all rotted and dried up by the time we got there. You drank …” he gulped, swallowing hard. “There was a little cup in the bathroom. You survived by scooping water from the toilet.”
Justine made a face.
“Lovely,” she laughed.
Sheldon interposed.
“I saw your picture on the file,” he said. “You looked … you were starving. You looked like a concentration camp survivor.”
Frank nodded, his expression sad.
“You should have died,” he agreed. “By the time we got to you … you could barely move. I gave you a bottle of water, while we waited for the paramedics to get there. Your eyes were so bright. So intelligent. You weren’t even strong enough to talk … but looking at your eyes, you were just so alive. That may sound like a weird thing to say about a baby who was so close to death, but inside, you were so alive. Your eyes … you were reaching out to me, with your eyes.”
Justine nodded, fascinated. She was enthralled with his narrative.
“So then the paramedics came, and they took me to the hospital. And then Em stole me.”
“There were a few weeks in between,” he said. “I came and saw you at the hospital a few times. Watched you getting better and getting your strength back. Starting to smile, and recognize me from one visit to another. Saying a few words. A few times, you climbed out of your crib, and disappeared. Wandered off to another part of the hospital. Then you disappeared again, and you couldn’t be found anywhere. And it was because you had been kidnapped.”
Justine leaned back, rubbing her eyes. She cupped her hands over her eyes and forehead for a moment, letting the warmth from her hands relax her face.
“So that’s it,” she said with relief, and for the first time, a feeling of peace. “That’s my story. That’s where I came from.”
Frank hesitated, and nodded.
“I’m sure there are other details that you’re going to want … but that’s the bare bones.”
She gazed at him.
“You never forgot,” she said, marveling that he would remember so much, so many years later. That he would remember enough to recognize her when he saw her again, all grown up.
“I reviewed and reworked your file every year. And I had dreams about you … I couldn’t forget. I tried so hard to find you. Aged your photograph and looked for you on the internet. I’m sorry I couldn’t get any leads and find you … thirteen years ago. If I could only have brought you back home way back then …”
“It’s okay,” Justine assured him. “It’s nice … just knowing that someone was trying. I felt so alone. So out of place.”
“And you were,” Frank agreed. “You didn’t belong there. You belonged here …”
Justine frowned, pressing her lips together, a knot of dread forming in her stomach.
“So do I … have another mom? I don’t, right? Because she abandoned me?”
“We eventually tracked her down,” Frank admitted. “She wasn’t competent to be a parent. It’s unfortunate … when a couple wants to adopt a child, they have to go through a big application process, screening, training, follow up … but before a junkie gets pregnant, there’s no screening process. Very few programs to try to provide training and aid.”
“She was a drug addict?” Justine questioned.
“Yes. I guess she tried to go straight when she had you, but it didn’t last. So then she just ditched, ran away from her problems. When we eventually tracked her down, she was charged with abandoning you. But she never made it to court. She overdosed. I’m sorry.”
Justine nodded.
“I never thought much about having another mother w
ho would take care of me. I wanted to get away from Em, but I never really had a plan that involved other parents.”
“I’ll need to get all of the information you can give me about Em. We’ll arrange for an arrest to be made.”
Justine gazed at him, wondering how she felt about this. She should be sad. She should be upset that the woman who had been her mother for so many years was going to be put in prison. The woman that they had told her for years and years that she should love was going to jail, because of Justine. Because she had chosen to be a mother to Justine, unlike the birth mother who had abandoned her. How would her life have been different if Em hadn’t taken her? She would still have been raised by someone else, someone who wasn’t her mother. Would she still have been as distrustful and treated her like she had treated Em? Or was that because of the kidnapping? Had the kidnapping been traumatic for Justine? She didn’t have nightmares about being kidnapped. She dreamed about being alone in that empty apartment, starving to death. Maybe she wouldn’t have trusted any new caregiver.
“Okay,” she said tentatively, nodding. She gave him Em’s name and address and phone number, and where she worked.
“How are we going to verify her identity?” Sheldon questioned, nodding at Justine.
Frank looked at Justine with momentary confusion. He knew without a doubt that she was Katie Kelly. But how were he and Justine going to prove it to anyone else?
“We can match the image of the fake nurse at the hospital with Em,” he mused. “The cameras never got her face, but you can see her body, the way she moves. If Em lost her own baby, we can prove that Katie is not her, and it will be up to Em’s lawyer to come up with a reasonable explanation for where she came from. There’s plenty of circumstantial evidence. But to prove that Katie is Katie?” he shook his head. “There must have been blood samples taken at the hospital, hair samples, fingerprints, something. There are pictures, the computer aging. Babies don’t just show up out of nowhere. There’s a history, a trail.”
“And Em’s ex-husband,” Justine said. “Cliff Bywater. I found him on Facebook, and went and saw him. He can fill in some details too.”
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