“I care about you so much,” Benjamin said, breaking the silence. “You’re too good a person to harbor bad feelings. Try to accept your mother’s visit as a good thing. Think of forgiveness as the purpose for her visit.”
Joanne hadn’t been able to shake Benjamin’s words as they sat in the restaurant. Her dinner hadn’t sat well, but she’d tried to be pleasant, as Benjamin had suggested.
When they arrived home, Benjamin jumped from the car and helped Joanne’s mother from the back seat. To avoid slipping when she got out, Joanne kept her focus on the deep snow that had already piled up along the edges of the driveway. When she came around the car, Benjamin grasped her arm, too, and guided her and her mother up the stairs. Joanne unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the house’s warmth.
Her mother slipped off her coat and thanked Benjamin again for the dinner, then meandered into the living room, but Benjamin didn’t move past the doorway.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Joanne asked, curious as to what was wrong now.
“No,” he said. “You and your mom have lots to talk about. I think I’ll get home. I have a court date tomorrow and I need to check over my brief before bed.”
She really wished he’d stay, but she understood. He’d given her so much of his time, she couldn’t ask for more. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
He nodded and leaned into the living room. “Good night, Mrs. Ryan.”
“Good night, Benjamin,” her mom called, then chuckled. “How about Evelyn? That sounds better.”
“Sure thing,” he said, giving her an amiable smile. “See you tomorrow.”
To her delight, he leaned down and brushed her cheek with a kiss. He opened the door and the cold washed in as he stepped outside. Joanne wanted to call out, I love you.
“Drive carefully,” she said instead.
When his car lights faded into the night, she closed the door and turned back to her mother.
“I’m exhausted,” Evelyn said as she stepped into the room from the foyer. “Would you mind if I call it a night?”
“Not if you’re tired.” She felt relieved, and this would give her more time to think.
“Good night, Joanne,” her mom said, giving Joanne a hug.
The hug was a surprise. “Good night, Mom.” Miracles happened, and Joanne wondered if this could be one of them.
She heard her mother’s footsteps heading back to the guest room, and she sank into the chair, her mind churning over what had happened that day.
Melissa’s involvement had made Joanne question everything. She longed for reassurance that her daughter was alive and safe, and she’d begun to question if Carl Angelo had any connection. She had nothing positive to go on, and she was certain the police were only pursuing him because he was mixed up in some kind of stolen car racket.
She walked to the window and looked out at the flakes flitting past the windowpane in a spirited dance, twirling on the wind, but she didn’t feel so sprightly. The desire to look for Mandy hammered in her thoughts. She remembered Angelo’s address.
Should she do some investigating of her own?
She walked down the hallway and listened at her mother’s bedroom door. No light came from beneath, and she assumed her mother had already fallen asleep and would sleep soundly until morning.
The decision came to her. She wanted to look at Angelo’s house. Benjamin had driven past and had said there was no sign of a child, but she wanted to see for herself.
Joanne took only a second to don her coat, grab her gloves and handbag, then slip out the back door.
In the car she didn’t turn on her headlights until she’d pulled out onto the street—so as not to disturb her mother. The snow sailed past the windshield in a sheet of white. She tested her brakes to make sure she didn’t slide. So far so good.
When she reached I-94, she stayed on the freeway and followed it to Telegraph, then Cherryhill. She began watching the street names, then made her turn. Her hands gripped the wheel so tightly they began to cramp, and she released the steering wheel, one hand at a time, spreading her fingers to ease the ache.
What am I doing? she asked herself as she headed down the snow-covered side street. Her eyes pierced the darkness looking for the address. When she spotted the house, her heart raced, and she drove past a few houses before pulling over to the curb.
She sat for a moment peering back at the darkened house. Could he be inside? Her hands trembled as she pulled the key from the ignition and opened the car door. She hit the lock, then walked casually toward the house.
The night was quiet at this late hour, and as she passed a house two doors away from the Angelo’s, she could see light from the television flicker against a wall. When she neared the Angelo residence, her pulse pounded in her ears. She avoided the driveway and walked along the high shrubbery toward the back of the building.
As she approached, no sound came from inside, but she stood for a moment, listening to make sure. The only sound she heard was the distant roar of traffic on the main road. She moved closer and glanced into the darkened windows. No lights were on, and she could see nothing.
When she reached the backyard, she stopped and scrutinized the house. No light. No sound. She felt confident no one was home, but she didn’t want to arouse neighbors. A dog barked inside the house next door, and she ducked back into the shadows, waiting for the animal to quiet.
Nothing happened. No porch lights came on. She moved with cautious steps closer to the back door. Beside the porch, Joanne spotted two large trash cans. Something inside might give her a clue to the residents.
She cringed, thinking of delving into someone’s trash, but she would do anything to find her daughter. She brushed the snow off the lid and lifted it.
Inside she peered at a jumble of trash bags. She untied one and looked inside, then shifted the contents. A brown banana peel slipped lower in the plastic sack. She shifted the bag and eyed an empty box of pancake mix, then another carton. She shook the container and looked again. Then she saw it. She slipped her hand into the plastic bag and pulled up a cereal box—sugarcoated, chocolate puffs. She couldn’t imagine an adult eating that type, but a child would. Her deduction was foolish, she knew, but she felt triumphant.
She dropped the box to the ground, then slipped the trash can lid back on. She hoped no one would notice that she’d moved it. Fresh snow would help.
Joanne picked up the cereal box and tiptoed toward the side of the house. But as she turned the corner, a hand gripped her arm.
Chapter Nineteen
“What in the world are you doing here?” Benjamin whispered in her ear. “Get inside.”
He pulled Joanne to his side and steered her through the shadows toward his car. He’d lost patience with her—something he’d tried not to do.
“I’m sorry,” he said, once they were inside, “but I can’t believe you took a chance like this. For what?”
She handed him the snow-dampened cereal box. He stared at the cartoon pirate on the front and shook his head. “It’s cereal, Joanne.”
“I know, but kids eat this, not adults.”
“You took a chance on getting yourself hurt for an empty cereal box?”
“For a clue that a child lives there. My child.”
His heart broke for her. “This isn’t going to convince anyone that Angelo has your daughter. You know that.”
She turned away from him and stared out the passenger window without responding.
He knew she was angry. “Look, I didn’t mean to frighten you, but you scared me. I couldn’t believe it when I saw your car parked on the street.”
“What are you doing here?” Her voice challenged him.
“Checking the house, but at least I do it from my car and not traipsing around the property, trespassing—it’s careless and against the law. I only got out of my car when I knew you were there.”
“I’m sorry.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I want my daughter back.”
“I know you do, but—”
“And you hurt my arm,” she said, rubbing her coat sleeve.
“I didn’t mean to. I grabbed you to get you out of there.”
In the streetlight he saw her flash him an angry look. He shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He’d never known a woman so determined. “Please, don’t be angry. Don’t you understand how much I care?”
He’d caught her attention finally, her frown softening as she looked at him. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. It appeared no one was home, and I—”
“Appeared? What happens if he’s inside? If the man’s a killer, you could be next. I don’t think you realize who you’re dealing with.”
“That’s the horrible part of it all. We don’t know if he has Mandy, or his own child, or if this is a hoax. We don’t know if the dead woman is his wife or someone else. The poor man might be on vacation with this family for all we know.”
“He might. But he might not be,” he said, keeping his emotions under control. “It’s late, and you drove here in a snowstorm. I’m going to follow you home, and I want you to promise me—”
“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll heed your warning.”
He felt grateful for that. “Okay,” he said, not willing to argue tonight. “I have to get home and read through my briefs, but I’ll follow you back first.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, unlatching the passenger door.
“I know you will.”
She stepped outside, and he watched her climb into her car and drive away from the curb. He moved in behind her. She could rant in that car all she wanted, but he was determined to follow her home. He loved the woman, whether she knew it or not. He’d spent years hiding his feelings, struggling with guilt and remorse. No more. He’d release the reins of his emotion. He’d loved her too long to hide it again.
Joanne had waited all day hoping to hear from the detective, but she’d received no telephone call. Melissa had taken the day off so she didn’t have to face Joanne, but the day dragged with her wondering about Carl Angelo and Mandy.
Benjamin had sent an apology e-mail that gave her a smile and then later he’d telephoned just to make sure she wasn’t angry for grabbing her so roughly. Tonight she had to find out how long her mother planned to stay. She felt that she should do something special to entertain her, but her mother had stated up front that she wanted nothing special—she was there for Joanne’s support.
Her mother’s visit still amazed her, but also gave her food for thought. Since Benjamin’s comments the night before, Joanne couldn’t help but review her unhappy relationship with her family, and she’d begun to ask herself questions.
When the clock hands moved to five p.m., Joanne breathed a relieved sigh and gathered her belongings to leave. An idea struck her, and since it was daylight and she wasn’t exactly going to the Angelo house, she didn’t think Benjamin could get upset with her. An idea had niggled all day.
She gave her mother a quick call to say she’d be home a little late and then she hurried to her car. Pulling out of the parking area, she headed onto I-94 again toward Dearborn. This time she hoped she would find some information. The traffic backed up along the freeway and then inched along on Ford Road. Telegraph moved better, and finally, she turned on to Cherryhill.
Her nerves heightened as she approached the Angelo home. It looked less formidable in the early dusk than in the dark, but tension still throbbed, remembering the night before. She pulled to the side of the road a few houses before Angelo’s, and slid from her car.
As she approached the house next door, she heard the same barking dog that she’d heard the previous evening. Before she could knock, a woman peeked at her through the small window, then opened the door a crack. The dog’s barking grew more ferocious.
“May I help you?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Donna.”
The woman frowned, then inched the door open wider. “You have the wrong house. She lives next door.”
“I know, but I haven’t been able to get hold of her for a few days. No one seems to be home.” She hated making up the story, but she didn’t know how else to get the information. “Have you seen her?”
The woman opened the storm door. Warm air traveled from the house and curled around Joanne.
“No, I haven’t.” The woman looked into the air as if thinking. “I haven’t seen her since last week sometime. I usually notice her when she picks Connie up from school.”
Connie. Her breath caught in her throat. Did they call Mandy “Connie,” or had she been totally wrong?
The woman grinned. “Connie loves Ralph.”
“Ralph?”
“Our golden retriever.”
Joanne looked down by the woman’s hand and saw a wet nose poking out. The sharp barking had stopped, and when the woman moved aside the dog’s tail wagged in the warmest welcome Joanne had seen in a long time.
“How about Connie?”
The woman frowned. “She loves the dog.”
“No, I meant, have you seen her?” She held her breath.
“Not since I saw her mother.”
Joanne’s stomach churned, and panic charged through her. Though her legs turned to mush, she forced her body to remain steady.
“I have seen Carl.”
Joanne tried to keep her voice calm. “Recently? I could ask him about Donna.”
“He’s been gone since Friday. Maybe Saturday. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of them, now that you mention it.”
Filled with fear, Joanne took a step backward. “Well, thanks for the information. I’ll try calling her again tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll show up.” In the morgue, Joanne thought.
She gave the woman a friendly wave and hurried from the porch. She’d learned something important, but the something scared her. The woman had seen Carl but not Donna or Mandy.
Joanne couldn’t bear to think of what that could mean.
“The detective wants you to call,” Evelyn said as Joanne walked into the house.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to take care of something.”
“I understand.”
She smiled at her mother, who was standing in the kitchen making cookies. That’s one memory she had from her youth: her mother seemed to live in the kitchen. Perhaps it was there that Evelyn Ryan found her identity. Her mother had always been a good cook.
Joanne slipped off her coat and dropped it over a chair, then went to the telephone. She checked the number posted on the cork board nearby and dialed.
She waited while the call went through, wondering what Cortezi wanted. Within minutes she knew.
After hanging up, she said to her mother, “He wants me to come to the police station tonight. I’m really sorry about this. How about if I pick up some dinner on the way home?”
“I’ll cook,” Evelyn said. “I noticed you have a nice slab of beef. I can make Swiss steak. Do you have potatoes?”
She had to think before answering. “You’ll find some in that cabinet.”
Her mother’s behavior seemed to contradict what had gone on between them for the past few years, and Joanne felt as if she were walking in a fun-house barrel. The floor seemed to roll out from under her as she tried to balance and make sense out of their relationship and all that had been happening between them since her mother had arrived.
“I think I’ll let Benjamin know where I’m going,” she said, but instead of using the kitchen phone, she went to her bedroom.
Not knowing if he were home or at the office, she rang his cell phone. It took a few rings before she heard his hello.
“Benjamin, Cortezi wants me to go down to the station now. I’m heading that way. Mom’s making Swiss steak if you want to come for dinner later.”
“I’m just leaving. How about if I meet you at the station.”
“I’d like that.”
“And tell your mom I’d love a home-cooked dinner.”
She called to her
mother on the way out the door, then drove the mile to meet with Cortezi.
When she arrived, the clerk opened the door and pointed to Cortezi’s office. Anxiety coursed through her and she wished Benjamin would arrive before Cortezi told her his news—whether it was something she didn’t want to hear or something wonderful that she wanted to share with Benjamin.
She glanced behind her before heading past the desks to the detective’s office.
“Mrs. Fuller,” he said as she stood outside his door. “Come in.” He rose and shifted a chair for her.
“This must be important,” she said, searching his face to see if she could read his expression.
“I have two things,” he said without preamble. “One is we’ve finally located Rose Stella Angelo, now Bannicki. She’s remarried and lives in Indiana with her daughter.”
“Her daughter’s in Indiana?” Joanne’s heart thundered and she pressed her hand against her chest to hold back the ache. “I can’t believe it. He has a child—” She stopped herself, knowing he would ask why she was so certain.
“We haven’t verified that yet, since he’s missing.”
“You told me earlier that someone at the trucking company said he’d gone on vacation with his family.”
“Family. Wife. We don’t know for sure.”
But Joanne knew. She’d found the cereal box and later she’d talked to the neighbor. She was opening her mouth to tell him when she heard a knock on the door and then it opened. Benjamin. She reveled seeing him come in. He’d become her hero.
“Do you mind?” he asked Cortezi.
“Not at all.”
“Angelo’s ex-wife lives in Indiana with their daughter,” Joanne said in a rush.
Benjamin’s eyebrows lifted. “Really.” He looked at Cortezi.
The detective nodded. “Remarried. We finally located her.”
“So what’s happening now?” Benjamin asked.
“We’re still looking for Angelo. He’s managed to vanish for the time being.”
Benjamin eyed Joanne. “Are you all right?”
“Sort of,” she said.
Benjamin looked at Cortezi. “Is that all?”
Finding Christmas Page 18