The Homecoming

by Anne Marie Winston

  Everett nodded. “But I shouldn’t be.”

  “And you probably wouldn’t be,” the man said sharply, “if you’d continued on with that harebrained notion of representing yourself. I’m glad you’ve decided to accept your parents’ offer.”

  Everett shrugged. “I didn’t want to hurt their feelings.”

  The lawyer nodded, clasping his hands together. “Whatever your reasons, it seems your parents are most interested in doing whatever they can to help you refute these charges. They’ve offered to pay for your legal defense.”

  “I can’t refute the charges,” Everett said dully. “I did everything they say I did.”

  “Yes, but it’s why you did it that’s important,” Abernathie told him. “Charlie Prescott manipulated you right from the very beginning.” He leaned forward and placed his hands flat on his desk, pinning Everett with his gaze. “This morning I talked with the prosecutor. Since Prescott’s dead, they’ve come to the end of what they can accomplish in terms of recovering any of the children he stole. That Russian idiot is useless. If you’ll agree to give the cops all the information you have, and if it leads to the recovery of at least some of them, you’ll receive a suspended sentence during which you’ll be required to attend court-appointed psychiatric counseling.”

  A suspended sentence. The words echoed in his head. Everett hesitated. It wasn’t right, was it, that he got off unpunished? “But—”

  “But nothing,” his counsel said. “There’s no room for nobility when you’re facing prison.”

  Everett swallowed. “I broke the law, too.”

  Bernard Abernathie sighed. “Look, Everett, or Robert, or whatever you’d like to be called now. I deal with a lot of criminals. I see con artists and liars and worms every day. I represent some of them. You—” He looked Everett squarely in the eye. “—are not a hardened criminal. Jail is the wrong answer for you. If you feel you have to atone, do some kind of volunteer work. But you don’t walk away from a gift like this. This is your freedom we’re talking about here.”

  Everett still hesitated, evaluating Abernathie’s words.

  “Isn’t there anything you care about enough to avoid prison?” His lawyer’s voice was laced with exasperation and what sounded like a trace of compassion.

  Anything you care about. Nancy Allen’s face flashed across his mind. His heart squeezed in pain. He could never approach her again. She knew about what he’d done, knew the full story. He’d used her to gain information about the babies at Portland General Hospital. Surely she wished she’d never met him. She must hate him.

  Even so, he realized he wouldn’t get her out of his heart so easily. Nancy was everything good and right, the best thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life, and he’d never forget her.

  Danny’s unexpected visitor slept and rested most of the rest of the day. The next morning, when he went down for his first cup of coffee, Leilani said, “The young lady’s awake. I could set up breakfast for the two of you on the lanai.”

  Danny glanced at his housekeeper sharply, hoping she wasn’t having visions of matchmaking. But Leilani’s broad, pretty face was serene and she met his gaze as she waited for his answer.

  “I guess that would be all right,” he said slowly. He wanted to talk to Sydney Aston anyway. Did she even know she was Sydney Aston yet? Eddie had warned him to let her set the pace of her recovery. If she asked, he would tell her what her name was. But he hoped she’d remember on her own.

  He went out to the terrace after his workout and shower to find Leilani just seating his guest.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning.” She smiled at him. “You know, I’m not sure I even got your name yesterday. Did you tell me you’re Danny?”

  He nodded, smiling in return as he extended a hand. “Daniel Dane Crosby, but everyone calls me Danny.”

  “Well, Daniel Dane Crosby called Danny,” she said, “I owe you an enormous debt. If you hadn’t seen me, I can’t imagine what might have happened.”

  “At the very least, a really nasty sunburn,” Danny said, trying to lighten the moment.

  She laughed, but a moment later, her lovely face lost its glow. “I still can’t remember my name.”

  “Eddie—Dr. Atada—says you’ll probably begin to remember soon. You just need a little rest and relaxation.” He poured a glass of the fresh strawberry papaya juice and offered it to her. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

  She smiled again, and he noticed that she had a small dimple in her left cheek. “Careful. It’s so lovely here I might be tempted to stay indefinitely.”

  “Danny?” Leilani came to the French doors that led into the house. “You have a telephone call. From Portland,” she added. “I think it’s your brother.”

  Danny was puzzled as he excused himself to take the call. Why would Trent be calling him this early? Although, he supposed, it was late morning on the mainland’s West Coast. Normally he and his brother corresponded through e-mail and instant messaging. The last time they’d spoken in person was a month ago.

  He headed for the phone in his office. Picking up the handset, he punched the talk button. “Danny here.”

  “Danny.” It was Trent, as he’d anticipated. “How are you?”

  “Good,” he said cautiously. “How are you?”

  Trent laughed. “I’m fine. You sound like you think I’m coming through the phone to bite you.”

  “Well, you don’t usually call unless there’s something urgent,” Danny pointed out. “What’s up?”

  Trent hesitated.

  Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A shiver rippled down his spine. He had no idea what his brother was about to say but something in the constrained quality of that momentary silence raised every alarm he possessed. “What is it?” he demanded.

  “Sit down,” Trent suggested. “I have some news that is going to weaken your knees.”

  Danny sat. “All right. Tell me.” His mouth was so dry he had to try twice before the words came out. They found Noah’s body. He knew before Trent spoke again what his brother was going to say. His son was dead, just as he’d feared for the past four endless years.

  “Robbie Logan is alive.” Trent’s voice was hushed.

  The words didn’t register for a long moment. Uncomprehending, Danny said, “It’s not about Noah?”

  “God, no!” Trent was suddenly more animated. “I’m sorry, Danny, I should have realized what you were thinking.” More gently, he said, “There’s still no news of Noah. This is about Robbie. Your friend Robbie’s been found.”

  Robbie. Found. “But Robbie’s dead.” He still couldn’t grasp it. “He can’t be alive. He was buried a long time ago.”

  “Robbie Logan is alive,” Trent repeated. “He’s already had testing done that proves it. And, Danny, there’s more. He was arrested in Portland under the name Everett Baker.”

  “Arrested?” He felt as if he’d followed Alice down the rabbit hole.

  “Yes. Apparently he’s been involved with a scheme to kidnap babies for resale to wealthy families. He worked for Children’s Connection and used his contacts there to set up the snatches.”

  “My God.” Danny was horrified. Kidnapping babies. How could he? He was a kidnapped child. And even worse, the Logans were ardent supporters of Children’s Connection. Had he known who he was all along? Had Robbie deliberately set out to sabotage his parents’ project? If he hadn’t, it sure was a huge coincidence.

  The talk of kidnapping and baby-snatching inevitably led to an image of his son, Noah, bald as a billiard ball, waving his little arms and squealing with pleasure as Danny lifted him high in the air. Drool glistened on his chin and several tiny white teeth were plainly visible through his grin.

  True, this story was different from his own situation in that the babies were being provided to the wealthy instead of taken from them, but still… Where had Robbie gotten those babies in the first place? Somewhe
re, some parents’ lives had been changed forever when their child was stolen. The similarities made his stomach churn.

  “Where has he been all these years and why didn’t he ever come home?” Anger was beginning to curl around the edges of the shock. “How could he let them—all of us—think he was dead?”

  “From what little I know, I don’t think he knew he wasn’t Everett Baker until the woman he thought was his mother passed away a few years ago. He must have been treated pretty badly by the people who had him, and by the time he learned who he really was, he believed the Logans didn’t care about him.”

  “But he was six years old when he was taken!” Danny protested. “How could he not remember his family?”

  “We don’t know what he went through, Danny.” Trent was quietly reproving. “And you know firsthand the living hell an adult can put a kid through. Maybe he had to forget to survive.”

  Danny fell silent. Trent had hit a nerve. Their own mother was a sick, abusive witch. She’d damn near succeeded in making him believe he was worthless, so Trent was right: He shouldn’t be judging Robbie.

  Robbie! He couldn’t believe the little boy had lived. For years they’d thought he was dead. The police had even found a child’s body along the Willamette River that had been widely accepted to be Robbie’s. And now here he was, alive!

  He had another moment’s pity for some other family still waiting in vain for their little boy to come home. Maybe now that they knew Robbie was alive, the Logans would exhume the child they’d buried. Surely DNA testing was sophisticated enough to figure out who that little victim had been.

  “God,” he said slowly. “This creates a host of issues to resolve, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does,” Trent said. “But I’m mostly concerned about how it’s going to affect you.”

  Danny shrugged, then realized his brother couldn’t see him. “I don’t think it’s going to, in any significant way. I mean, I’m glad he’s alive, but it’s not going to change my life.”

  “No, but it should give you hope. Doesn’t it make you think it’s possible that Noah is still out there somewhere?”

  “I don’t think about Noah,” Danny said flatly. “I can’t. It’s terrific that the Logans have found their son, but let’s face it. Most children abducted by strangers are killed within the first few hours if they aren’t found.” And besides, with Noah’s heart defect, he didn’t have much of a chance in the first place. Even if whoever took him hadn’t killed him, they wouldn’t have known that he desperately needed surgery within the next year.

  What he didn’t tell his brother was that he knew Noah wasn’t still alive for another reason—because he’d had the misfortune to be Danny Crosby’s son. Danny knew that the therapists he’d once seen would say it was ridiculous, but even now he couldn’t shake the gut-deep certainty that his son’s disappearance was a cosmic payback for his failure to save his little friend all those years ago. And even learning that Robbie had been found alive didn’t alleviate the feeling. Because he hadn’t acted quickly enough, Robbie had been through God only knew what, and he and his family had lost an entire childhood together.

  He realized suddenly that there was a strained silence from the other end of the line.

  “I do appreciate the call, Trent,” he said. “That’s really good news.” And then he disconnected.

  Sydney was still sitting on the lanai having a cup of decaf coffee when her rescuer returned from his telephone call. As Daniel Crosby walked toward her, she studied him from beneath her lashes.

  Her host was definitely a hottie. He looked like a young god from a Greek story, with his golden hair and blue, blue eyes. And his build did nothing to detract from the image. He was tall, with wide shoulders that tapered to a slender waist and strong thighs that showed beneath the khaki shorts he wore today with a white sport shirt that hugged his chest, hinting at even more hard, muscled flesh.

  She wasn’t looking for a man, but if she were, she’d look twice at him.

  Then she stopped with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She’d just remembered something! She was single, she was sure of it. Not even a fiancé or a boyfriend. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did.

  Then she saw Danny’s face and she immediately set her new knowledge aside. “What’s wrong?”

  Danny resumed his seat opposite her at the lovely glass-topped table beneath the umbrella. He sighed. “My brother called with some good news. At least, it’s sort of good news.”

  Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why you look as if your last friend in the world just died.”

  Danny looked at her strangely. “Actually, it’s the very opposite of that.”

  She was intrigued by the statement, and by the air of melancholy that surrounded the handsome man. She’d noticed even through yesterday’s somewhat muddled impressions that Danny rarely smiled. The corners of his mouth turned up a little when something amused him, but his expressions were nearly all variations on a sober theme. What could make a man look like that?

  “I’m sorry,” Danny was saying. “You have enough to worry about. How’s your head feeling?”

  But she wasn’t going to abandon his moment of sharing, regardless of whether he regretted it. Danny needed someone to talk to, she was certain. It would be a small thing to do in return for what he’d done for her. “My head’s fine,” she said firmly. “Tell me what you meant about your friend.”

  Danny hesitated. One long finger traced the rim of his saucer over and over in a gesture she doubted he even knew he was making. “When I was six years old,” he said at last, “my best friend was abducted. A man took him right out of my front yard.”

  She was horrified both by the revelation and by what he hadn’t said. “Did you see it happen?” she asked carefully.

  He nodded.

  “Oh, dear heaven.” Without thinking she reached out and placed her hand atop his. “I’m so sorry.”

  He looked surprised as his gaze locked on her face. “Thank you,” he said. “It was a tough thing to go through.”

  “I can’t imagine,” she responded. When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “You said you had some good news.”

  He nodded. “Apparently, my friend has been found alive. He was living under another name.”

  “Wow.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she released him and tried unobtrusively to draw her own hand back across the table. “That is good news.”

  “Yes, but he’s been accused of being involved in a kidnapping ring.”

  She shook her head, speechless. Every time he revealed something new, she was sure her mouth was hanging open. “Well,” she finally said, “I can see why you aren’t sure it’s good news. Does his family know?”

  “Trent didn’t say. But I’m sure they must. That’s part of what’s so awful. They held a funeral for him—or at least for a child they thought was him—years ago. And the kidnapping ring has been targeting an adoption and fertility clinic called Children’s Connection, which his parents, the Logans, have supported in a big way.”

  Children’s Connection. The name hit her like a bolt from a clear blue sky. She must have made some sound or expression of shock, because Danny leaned forward, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Children’s Connection is in Portland. Attached to the hospital.”

  This time he was the one who took her hand in a strong grip. “That’s right! You remember that? What else?”

  “I—I’m not from Portland, I’m from Washington state. But I moved to Portland several years ago.” She felt as if she were swimming underwater with her eyes open, seeing things with the blurred vision the water produced. “And I’m Sydney, Sydney…Aston!” she said triumphantly.

  Danny was squeezing her hand tightly and she turned her fingers up without thinking and laced them through his. “That’s terrific,” he said. “You’re remembering.”

  He didn’t sound entirely surprised, and she paused in the middle of the retu
rning memories to glance at him. “You knew already, didn’t you?”

  “Only your name,” he said. “I didn’t know you lived in Portland. That’s interesting. My family is from Portland.”

  “Crosby,” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re one of the Crosby Systems Crosbys?”

  “Yeah.” His lips curved upward in that intriguing little smile. “I guess I am.”

  “How weird is that, that I should be rescued by someone from my own city?” She shook her head. “How did you know my name, anyway?”

  “When I called the police to report finding you, your hotel had reported a woman of your description missing. But the doctor didn’t think I should prompt you.”

  “The Marriott,” she said promptly. “So they know I’m all right?” Then something else floated to the surface of her mind. “Good heavens, I’ve got to call my mother. She’ll be frantic, not hearing from me in two days. She’s keeping my son. I have a son! Nicholas.” She smiled crookedly, feeling tears rise. “I can’t believe I forgot him. He’s five and he’s wonderful and I miss him so much.”

  Danny carefully withdrew his hand from hers and stood. “I’m glad you’re remembering,” he said. “I’ll go call the doctor and let him know.” He turned and started across the terrace toward the house.

  “This is a wonderful day!” she said exuberantly. “Lots of good news.”

  Danny paused for a moment, turning to look at her. “Yes,” he said, “lots of good news.” But his expression was odd—remote, as if he were no longer involved in their conversation but merely a disinterested observer.

  Her euphoria dropped a notch as he left the lanai. Sipping her juice, she thought back over their conversation. When she’d begun to tell him what she remembered, he disappeared. What had happened to cause that reaction? He’d withdrawn as surely as if he’d pulled a curtain down between them.

  Leilani, the housekeeper who’d been so kind to her, came out to the table with a covered dish, which she set on a trivet with a conch-shell beside Sydney’s plate. “Macadamia-nut pancakes, eggs Benedict and fresh pineapple,” she said, whipping the shiny cover off with a flourish. “Guaranteed to put some meat on your skinny little bones.”