“That’s ridiculous. You people are frickin’ nuts!”
Marilyn had to restrain herself from using even harsher language.
Having the police called out to quell a dispute wouldn’t do her case any good.
“Ask the woman who took my child from me. She knows who I am.”
“Yes, ma’am. Officer Wallace already identified you as the one who turned over little Jacob. But we still have procedures to follow and we cannot give him back to you until the procedures are met.
“You cannot have your baby back until you pass a drug screening and produce a birth certificate.
“I wasn’t arrested on a drug charge. I was arrested for shoplifting, and it wasn’t even for me. It was for my baby.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. The screening is for everyone who has been processed in and out of jail, regardless of their charges. It’s a state law and we have no choice but to abide by it.”
The clerk was adamant, and Marilyn was getting nowhere.
She thought maybe if she did the drug screening and could prove she was clean, they might bend on the birth certificate.
It was really the only hope she had.
While she was waiting for the drug test to be processed she could think of ways to bolster her argument about the birth certificate.
“Okay,” she relented. “Where’s the damn bottle?”
“The bottle?”
“The bottle you want me to pee into for my damn drug test. Like you can’t just take my word that I’m clean.”
“Oh. We don’t do the screening here. There’s a walk-in clinic across the street and down half a block. If you tell them we sent you they won’t charge you for the screening.”
“How long does it take to process?”
“About two hours. They’ll call us with the results when it’s finished.”
Marilyn was frustrated and wanted to climb over the counter and strangle the woman.
But even in her agitated state she knew violence wouldn’t do anybody any good.
She stormed out and headed up the street.
She was back in less than an hour, a whole lot calmer and more restrained.
The fresh air and the walk, it seemed, did her a lot of good.
She even managed a smile to the clerk, reasoning she might have better luck by behaving herself.
“Remember me?”
The clerk would have loved to have not remembered her.
She was not amused.
But if Marilyn now wanted to play nice, she would too.
“Yes ma’am. Just have a seat while we wait for the clinic to call in with the results.”
Still on the plane, Marilyn had her phone turned off.
However, she was on-line and working when an email notification popped up.
It was from a man she knew to be a member of the U.S. Marshal warrant squad.
It said simply, “Suspect has been released from jail and is on the lam.”
She answered, “She’ll be going to Child Protective Services. You must stop her from getting the baby. If she gets him she’ll disappear again.”
The agent was halfway through his cheeseburger when his phone beeped with her reply.
“Let’s go,” he said to his partner. “I know where she is.”
Chapter 40
The walk-in clinic’s laboratory was having a slower-than-usual day and was actually ahead of schedule for a change.
As the marshals drove from one side of Akron to the other in rush hour traffic the phone rang at the CPS office.
The clerk answered the phone.
Marilyn strained to hear from the waiting area.
“CPS, this is Stacey.
“Oh hi, Mike.
“Jamison? Yes.
“Okay, got it. Would you be sure and fax over the results?
“Thank you. Bye now.”
She walked to the counter and called out, “Jamison?”
Marilyn got up and walked over.
“Ms. Jamison, the lab has confirmed you’re clean. You passed the screening.”
Marilyn couldn’t resist being snarky.
“I told you I would. All you did was waste your money and my time.”
The woman ignored her.
“There’s still the matter of the birth certificate.”
Marilyn’s frustration level began to rise again.
“Look, ma’am. Jacob wasn’t born here in Akron. He was born in Toledo. That’s where I live, and when I left there I had no reason to think I’d need to bring his birth certificate with me.
“Can’t we make an exception, since I live in another city?”
“That’s really not a problem, Ms. Jamison. If it’s not in the stateside system yet, I can have the Toledo Bureau of Vital Statistics email us a copy.
“Then as long as you’re listed as Jacob’s mother and your signature matches both the birth certificate and your driver’s license we’ll just place that copy in our files.”
“Well, you see, that’s just it.
“When Jacob was born the doctor’s office said the doctor was going out of town to care for his brother, who’d been injured in a horrible car accident.
“They said he would be gone for several weeks on a leave of absence, and probably wouldn’t be able to sign the birth certificate and file it until he got back.
“They asked me if that would be a problem and I told them I didn’t see why it would be. Of course I didn’t foresee all of this happening…”
Marilyn was an accomplished liar and could spin a tale to rival any professional writer.
Sometimes her lies got her out of jams.
Sometimes they didn’t.
On this particular day it was having little affect.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jamison. But we cannot release your child unless we have the birth certificate.
“It’s not our rule. It’s state law, and we cannot deviate from it.”
Marilyn tried a different tactic.
“Look,” she pleaded. “That’s my baby. You all know that because you remember me giving him to you. Please, just put yourself in my shoes for a minute and try to see my side.”
The clerk was starting to get frustrated as well.
“Look,” she countered. “Some days I don’t like this job, but I need it to pay my rent. Please, put yourself in my shoes and understand if I give you your baby without a copy of the birth certificate I will lose my job.”
It was a good old fashioned standoff.
“How about I do this,” the clerk offered. “How about I call your doctor’s office and explain the problem to them?
“I’m sure they have another doctor who can certify the birth. Most people think only the delivering physician can sign it, but that’s not true.
“Any doctor can sign attesting to a live birth. It’s supposed to be filed with the state first, but if your doctor’s office can fax me a signed copy I’ll forward it to the state for filing.
“But that’s really the best I can do. I’m sorry.”
Marilyn was so focused on the problem at hand she never heard the door open.
She never heard the footsteps of the two men walking up behind her.
All she heard was the question the taller of the men asked.
“Marilyn Jamison?”
She turned around, puzzled.
“Federal Marshals. We have a warrant for your arrest.”
For a brief moment she thought of running.
But it didn’t last for long.
She wouldn’t have gotten far against two athletic men who were obviously in far better shape than she’d been in years.
She squeaked out a meek, “For what?” although she already knew the answer.
“First degree kidnapping and interstate flight.”
She suddenly felt light-headed. One of the marshals kindly took her arm to keep her from falling.
“I… I need to sit down.”
Federal marshals can be very tough characters when they
need to be.
But they’re human, and can be very understanding and supportive as well.
“Come, let’s sit over there until you feel a bit better.”
The tall man led her back to the very chair she sat in while waiting for the clinic to call.
The shorter of the marshals asked the clerk, “Do you have a bottle of water, ma’am?”
The clerk suddenly realized if she’d given up the baby she’d have made a dreadful mistake.
That this woman, despite her insistence to the contrary, was no more Jacob’s mother than the clerk was.
Marilyn was confused.
She understood the kidnapping part. The “interstate flight” part puzzled her.
“What do you mean, “interstate flight?”
“That’s when you run to avoid arrest and cross over a state line.”
She could have argued.
She could have cried and begged to be let go, to be given another chance.
But she knew the gig was up.
They walked her to the car, one on either side of her.
They could have cuffed her, but there was no need.
She was compliant.
The back seat of the car they were driving was caged. And the interior door handles had been removed. They’d searched her for weapons.
No sense humiliating her any more than they had to.
They knew her ordeal was just beginning.
And that in all likelihood this was her last journey in the sweet air outside prison walls.
Chapter 41
Stacey, the clerk at the Child Protective Services Office, had dodged a bullet.
She knew that now.
She was explaining the entire experience to a co-worker who’d been out doing a home inspection when Marilyn came in.
“She had me feeling sorry for her,” Stacey told her friend.
“She had me believing her. She almost had me bending the rules and giving her back her baby without the birth certificate.”
“Wow. Be glad you didn’t, girlfriend. You’d have been canned for sure. And if you gave her the baby and he wound up dead, the real mother would come after you for sure. She’d get a million dollar judgment against you and you’d be paying for the rest of your life.”
“I know. I guess it just goes to show why you can’t ever feel sorry for any of our clients.
“They made their own beds, they have to lie in them, no matter how much I feel bad for them.”
“Did the marshals say when the real parents were picking up the baby?”
“No. They said they didn’t have any details. But that the warrant came from the Department of Homeland Security.
“They said somebody from DHS would be by to fill us in.”
It so happened that before her words cleared the air and she drew her next breath the door of a taxi cab slammed shut in front of the building.
A tall and strikingly handsome woman walked confidently through the door and presented a badge at the counter.
A DHS badge.
“I’m here to inquire about the Jamison baby and to secure custody of him,” she said.
Stacey took a deep breath and thought to herself, “Here we go again.”
Out loud she said, “Were you aware that Ms. Jamison was just taken out of here by federal marshals?”
“Yes. I’m the one who sent them.”
“Did you bring a court order remanding custody to you?”
“I did.”
Rebecca reached into an inner breast pocket of her jacket and took out a folded piece of paper.
There had been many times in her career when she presented fake court orders or warrants to people she suspected wouldn’t know better.
In this case, though, the document was real.
She’d had one of her people visit a local judge on the golf course with a sworn affidavit as to the baby’s whereabouts and a completed court order ready for him to sign.
The operative then walked it to the county clerk’s office and made sure it was duly logged and filed.
However, in this case, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Very well,” Stacey said. “All I’ll need now is a copy of your driver’s license and a copy of the birth certificate for our records.”
Rebecca coolly pulled out a driver’s license, exquisitely fake, but which had a name matching the name on her DHS identification card.
Which also listed a fake name.
The mysterious Rebecca went to great pains to protect her true identity.
One made a lot of enemies in her field of work.
Sometimes they had very long memories, and could come after her many years later.
But they had to find her first.
And she was going to make that as hard as she possibly could.
Stacey took the driver’s license and said, “And the birth certificate?”
Still cool as a cucumber, Rebecca said, “There is no birth certificate. There was never a birth certificate produced. The baby was born while the mother was in DHS custody.”
Stacey felt just a bit intimidated by the tall woman standing before her and felt she might be a bit outmatched in the battle of wills that was about to begin.
“Excuse me just a moment,” she said.
She walked past the copier, where Rebecca assumed she was going to copy the license, and went instead to the office of her supervisor.
She rapped on the open door’s jamb.
“Knock knock.”
Maggie Trejo looked up from her desk and said, “Hey, what’s up?”
“More problems in the Jamison case. Now there’s a lady from DHS to take custody. She’s got a court order but no birth certificate.”
“Oh, geez,” Trejo said as she stood and walked toward the door.
She led the way, with Stacey two steps behind her.
While Trejo introduced herself to Rebecca, Stacey made a copy of Rebecca’s license and then handed it back to her.
Trejo said, “I’m sure Stacey explained to you, ma’am, that we cannot release this child without a valid copy of the birth certificate.”
Rebecca was undeterred.
“Did Stacey explain that I’m from the federal government? And that I have a valid court order from Judge Masters with the 99th District Court?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I know Judge Masters well. And even he would explain to you that all normal procedures must be followed and normal requirements met before we can release the child.
“Would you like for me to call Judge Masters so he can convey that himself?”
It might have been a bluff.
Or Rebecca might have finally met her match.
She went down about three pegs and muttered, “But I’m with the federal government.”
Trejo wasn’t impressed.
“Then you know, ma’am, that state birth and death record statutes supersede federal statutes on all matters except for census issues.”
Rebecca did indeed know that. But few others outside the government did.
Trejo went on, “The court order is valid for a week, until the twentieth. Surely you can have a birth certificate made and filed by then. After all, there’s no reason to wait. The baby will have to have one anyway.
“Unless, of course, you plan to kill him once he’s in your custody.”
The last comment, as snarky as it was, was heartfelt.
It seemed that after news broke about the DHS and how it kidnapped Hannah and Tony, and murdered several others, their reputation was soiled.
Without another word, Rebecca turned and left.
Chapter 42
Hannah and Tony were making their way across Kentucky when they got a call from Rebecca.
“We’ve hit a bureaucratic roadblock,” she said. I went to the place that has Samson, but they need a copy of his birth certificate before they’ll release him.”
“His birth certificate? But I don’t have a birth certificate. Where in hell do I get a birth certificate?”
“I’m taking care of it. I’ve got a team in St. Louis talking to the doctor who delivered him even as we speak. They’ll send it by courier and we’ll have it late tomorrow morning.
“But I need to know Samson’s middle name.”
“David. Samson David Carson.”
“Thank you. Where are you?”
“About fifty miles from Louisville.”
“Okay, you’re still several hours away. Are you going to stay the night somewhere, or coming all the way to Akron?”
“We’re coming to Akron, but our GPS says we won’t be there until around ten p.m.”
“Okay. I’ll make a reservation for you at my hotel. The Travel Lover’s Inn near the airport. I’ll tell them you’ll be checking in late, but the room will be paid for and it’ll be comfortable.
“The CPS won’t release the baby to you unless you have a car seat, and they’ll check it to make sure it’s properly installed. Did you bring one?”
Hannah gasped.
“Oh, no! It’s in the other car!”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got some spare time. I’ll pick one up for you. Please let me know when you get to the hotel and check in.”
Hannah hung up the phone and looked at Tony.
He was watching the road and wasn’t facing her directly.
But she could still sense something was bothering him.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
He hesitated a moment, then said, “Who says something is wrong?”
“Me. I say. I know you better than you know yourself, remember?”
“Nothing. I mean, not really. I mean, nothing I can lay my hands on specifically. It’s just that…”
He paused again, not wanting to upset her.
“It’s just that I can’t help the feeling this might be some kind of trap. That’s all.”
“Baby, don’t be ridiculous. Why would Rebecca set a trap for us?”
“Hannah, don’t forget what happened the last time we were in a strange city with that woman. We couldn’t understand why she did what she did last time either.
“And we almost died, remember?”
“But we’ve already gone public. She has nothing to gain by kidnapping and torturing us again.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Explain please.”
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