Florida Son

by W. J. Costello

  Julie and I were positioned across the street from the house. The truck was probably going to block our view of the house at the very moment when we expected to see Max step out of the SUV. The timing was impeccable.

  The big woman kept waiting in the doorway.

  The big truck kept coming up the street.

  My eyes darted between woman and truck.

  Woman.

  Truck.

  Woman.

  Truck.

  Now the truck trundled past and blocked our view of the house.

  Long truck. Long long truck. Very loooooong.

  Wind sucked along with it. Dust spun in the air behind it.

  The truck grumbled away.

  It no longer blocked our view of the house.

  My eyes focused on the carport.

  I caught a glimpse. Only a quick glimpse.

  Then he disappeared inside the house.

  It was a boy.

  CHAPTER 50

  “DID YOU SEE him, Rip? Did you see him?”

  “I did. Was it Max?”

  “It looked like him.”

  “But you’re not certain.”

  “It has to be him. Has to be.”

  “How certain are you, Julie?”

  “If it weren’t for that truck, I could have gotten a better look.”

  “Maybe we should call the cops.”

  “Not just yet.”

  I glanced at the house.

  The lights were on and the blinds were shut.

  “I have a plan,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  We loped soundlessly toward the house, crossing the street, moving up the driveway, entering the carport.

  It took me thirty seconds to disable the SUV. Heath’s parents weren’t going anywhere until this was resolved.

  We went around back, saw a back door.

  “Okay, Julie. Here’s the plan: You go stand way over there in the other yard and phone Heath’s parents. Tell them you need to see them tonight. Tell them it’s urgent. Tell them you’re already on your way to their house and you’ll see them in ten minutes. Then hang up.”

  “What if they don’t answer the phone?”

  “Leave a message. They’ll listen to it.”

  “What do you expect them to do when they find out I’m coming over? Turn off all the lights and pretend not to be home? Or try to sneak Max out of the house before I arrive?”

  “Let’s hope they do one or the other.”

  “And what if they don’t?”

  “We try something else.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to wait by the back door. Signal me if somebody comes out the front door. Just whistle or something.”

  She gave me a thumbs-up, then trotted off around the house.

  The backyard was quiet. The house was quiet.

  I was armed. Just in case. Though I didn’t expect that kind of trouble from Heath’s parents. I kept both guns holstered.

  Julie would be phoning them by now. How would they react? Would they be delighted to hear from her? Probably not.

  I waited for something to happen.

  Seconds ticked by.

  Nothing happened.

  I waited some more.

  Then something happened: The lights in the house went dark.

  Moments later the back door creaked open.

  Three figures emerged.

  The back door creaked shut.

  “Howdy,” I said, and switched on my pocket flashlight.

  It startled them. They jumped back.

  One by one I played the thin beam of my flashlight over their faces. First the big man, then the big woman, then the boy.

  I studied the boy. His eyes were blue blue. He looked to be about eight years old and he resembled the age-progressed photo of Max. But I still wasn’t sure it was Max.

  “Who are you?” the big man said.

  “Name’s Snodgrass,” I said. “Beauford Earl Snodgrass. And who might you lovely folks be?”

  “Hell you doing in our backyard?”

  “I lost my dog. My wife and I were taking Meatball for a walk when he wriggled free from his leash and took off like a rocket. I ran after him but he ran faster. Half an hour later we’re still searching the neighborhood for the little rascal.”

  I swept the flashlight beam across the backyard.

  “Meatball? Meatball? Where are you, boy?”

  “Go look in another yard,” the big man said.

  “Meatball has to be around here somewhere,” I said. “I saw him come down this way not five minutes ago. I yelled for him to stop but he’s a little hard of hearing. Can you believe he knows some sign language? Not much. Just a few words. I taught him myself. Impressive, huh? He can’t communicate in sign language but he can watch my hands and understand what I’m saying to him. I’ll show you something Meatball can understand. Watch my hands.”

  Earlier that day I had gotten online and learned a little sign language. Very little. Only one sentence.

  Now I held the small flashlight between my teeth and shone its beam down on my hands. I communicated to the boy in sign language. I asked him if his name was Max.

  He understood me.

  He nodded.

  He was Max.

  CHAPTER 51

  MAX STARED UP at me.

  “How did you know my name?” he said, and turned to his grandfather. “Gramps, how did he know my name?”

  Gramps eyed me.

  His wife crouched down and took Max by the shoulders.

  “What do you mean, honey?”

  “He asked me if my name is Max. He asked in sign language. How did he know my name, Granny?”

  Granny stood up, looked at me questioningly.

  “Max,” I said, “your mom’s waiting for you in the front yard.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Gramps said.

  He curled his big hands into meaty fists and stepped toward me.

  I yanked up my shirt to show him the holstered gun on my belt.

  That stopped him.

  “My mom is dead,” Max said.

  “No,” I said. “Your mom’s alive. Her name’s Julie and she’s waiting for you in the front yard. Why don’t you go see her.”

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Gramps said. “Max, you wait right here. This man has a gun. You can’t believe anything he says.”

  “Go ahead, Max,” I said. “Go see your mom.”

  He looked up at his grandmother.

  “Granny, you told me Mom died.”

  Granny didn’t say anything.

  “Your grandparents lied to you, Max. They took you away from your mom when you were three.”

  Max looked confused.

  “Your mom loves you and misses you,” I said. “Go see her.”

  He glanced up at his grandmother.

  “Should I go, Granny?”

  She frowned, then nodded sadly.

  When Max had gone I dug out my phone and dialed a number and waited for a moment.

  “Detective Woods speaking.”

  “Detective Woods, it’s Rip Lane.”

  I told him the story.

  “I’ll be right over, Mr. Lane.”

  I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

  “Cops are on the way,” I told Gramps and Granny.

  “I need to get something from inside the house,” Gramps said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Stay put,” I said.

  “I need my pills.”

  “Stay put.”

  “But . . .”

  I put my hand on my holster.

  He frowned.

  By now Max would have found Julie in the front yard. I wondered how their reunion was going. Were there joyful tears? Hugs and kisses?

  Julie had missed out on five years of her son’s life. Years lost forever. Never to be recaptured.

  All because of two people. Two people who were part of Julie’s family. Two people she had trusted.

  Those two people now stood i
n front of me.

  My face must have shown what I felt.

  “We’re not horrible people,” Granny said. “I can see you think otherwise. You think we’re monsters. Don’t you?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well we’re not. We’re not evil. You have to understand . . .”

  “Shut up,” her husband told her. “Just shut the hell up. I don’t want you talking to this clown.”

  Clown?

  Granny didn’t shut up. She spoke again.

  “I want to explain something . . .”

  But that was as far as she got.

  Her husband seized her wrist. His eyes were hard.

  “You keep your trap shut. You understand me?”

  He yanked her wrist.

  “You understand me?”

  She struggled to free her wrist.

  “Let go of her,” I said.

  His eyes stared down the barrel of my gun.

  He let go of her and she rubbed her wrist where he had gripped it. Her eyes raged at him.

  “Let your wife talk. Don’t interrupt her. Keep your trap shut. You understand me? Nod once if you understand.”

  He nodded once.

  I kept the gun on him.

  His wife cleared her throat.

  “As I was saying,” she said, “I want to explain what happened. I want you to understand why we did what we did. I don’t want you to think we’re bad people.

  “My son, Heath, was diagnosed with prostate cancer five and a half years ago. Doctors told him he had only two or three years left to live. Heath told us the news and we were heartbroken. But he never told Julie. That might have been a mistake. I don’t know.

  “They were having marital troubles at the time. Julie had filed for divorce and she wanted full custody of Max. Heath loved his son. More than anything he loved him.

  “Heath was afraid he’d lose the custody battle. He didn’t want anything to jeopardize his chances of winning. He thought having cancer could jeopardize his chances. So he decided not to tell Julie about it.

  “During the divorce proceedings Heath came here to live with us. We took care of him while he battled the cancer. We played an active role in his health care. We tried to learn as much as we could about prostate cancer so we could be fully informed when making decisions about treatment options. It was a tough time for all of us.

  “Julie made it even tougher. She didn’t want Heath to be a part of Max’s life. She did everything possible to prevent the two of them from spending time together. She even lied in court, accusing Heath of domestic violence, saying he repeatedly abused her. She filed a restraining order against him. But Heath spent thousands of dollars in legal fees and fought back. He did everything he could to keep Max in his life.

  “After a while it began to seem likely that Julie would get full custody of Max. We couldn’t allow that to happen. Max was everything to Heath. Losing custody would have destroyed him.

  “Heath wasn’t going to be around forever. He had only a short amount of time left to live. Only a short amount of time left to spend with his son.

  “So my husband and I decided to take Max. We didn’t think of it as kidnapping. We still don’t. After all Max is our grandson.

  “One sunny afternoon we got into our SUV and drove over to Toddler Town Day Care and picked up Max. He was happy to see us. Big smile on his face. We all went and got some ice cream. Then we took Max home with us.

  “Heath beamed when he saw him. Max beamed too. They were both so happy to be together. So happy.

  “My husband and I were happy too. We loved having them live with us. We were three generations of a family living under one roof.

  “Heath was able to see his son every single day for the rest of his life. The two of them were able to spend every holiday together. Every birthday. Every special occasion.

  “One day Max came to me and asked about Julie. He wanted to know where his mother was. I told him she died. It seemed like the only option. Max cried and cried. I felt so horrible. But what choice did I have? Everything could have been ruined if he thought Julie was alive. He would have looked for her. He might have found her. That would have ruined everything.

  “Heath knew the police would immediately suspect him of taking Max. He knew he had to hide from them. He couldn’t let them find him. So he bought a new Social Security number and changed his identity.

  “Heath also knew the police would never stop looking for Max as long as he was alive. But if they found his dead body? Then the search would end. So what we did . . .”

  Gramps interrupted.

  “For Christ sake. Will you ever shut up? We’re already in enough trouble. Don’t you know you have the right to remain silent?”

  “So do you,” I said, and slapped Gramps in the side of his head.

  It took him by surprise. I heard his quick suck of breath.

  Then his wife slapped him. Her fingers left marks on his cheek.

  “Stop telling me what to do,” she told him. “All of my adult life you’ve been telling me what to do. Who the hell are you to talk to me that way?”

  Gramps was speechless.

  His wife looked at me again.

  “As I was saying,” she said, “we had to fake Max’s death. Otherwise the police would never stop looking for him. But we couldn’t fake his death on our own. We needed outside help.

  “Before my husband retired he was a hotshot lawyer in Tampa. He had a lot of connections. Powerful connections. He had dirt on everybody. He had dirt on the mayor. He had dirt on the chief of police. And he had dirt on the assistant coroner at the Hillsborough County Coroner’s Office.

  “The assistant coroner had repeatedly lied under oath about his credentials. The man had committed perjury. If that information ever came out, he’d lose his job and go to jail.

  “He thought his secret was safe. But it wasn’t. My husband knew all about it. He had leverage on the assistant coroner. And he used it. He threatened to expose the secret. He pressured the assistant coroner until finally the man agreed to fake Max’s death.

  “My husband did more than just apply pressure to him. He also told him horror stories about Julie. Stories about how she used to abuse Max. Stories that would make the assistant coroner want to help Max escape from his horrible mother. Stories that would incentivize him to fake Max’s death.

  “The assistant coroner laid out the plan. He told us he couldn’t fake Max’s death immediately. He had to wait for the body of an unidentified child to turn up. It had to arrive at the Hillsborough County Coroner’s Office on a day when the coroner was off work. Otherwise the assistant coroner couldn’t do what he needed to do. Not with the coroner watching over him.

  “What he needed to do was falsify his report so that it would identify the dead child as Max. The way he planned to do this was to match Max’s DNA to DNA from the unidentified remains. But in order to do that he needed to obtain Max’s DNA. So we gave him one of Max’s hairbrushes.

  “The last thing the assistant coroner had to do was delete the autopsy photos from the system—just in case there was ever an investigation. He had to do this without the coroner finding out about it.

  “Months passed before an unidentified child’s body arrived at the Hillsborough County Coroner’s Office on a day when the coroner was off work. The assistant coroner was finally able to implement his plan.

  “The timing couldn’t have been better: Julie and her mother were involved in a hit-and-run accident only two days before the unidentified body was found. They were both in comas on the day when the assistant coroner falsified his report.

  “Not having to deal with them made his job a little easier, though neither woman would have been able to identify the body, because it was decomposed beyond recognition.

  “The plan worked and the police thought Max was dead. That was such a big relief. We could finally stop worrying about them looking for Max.

  “Heath lived with us for two years before the cancer took hi
s life. When he passed away we knew he had to be buried anonymously. We couldn’t risk exposing his true identity. We decided to bury him in Lettuce Lake Park. He always used to love that place.

  “We dug a grave there and wrapped him in a blanket and kissed him good-bye. There was no funeral, no headstone, no obituary.

  “Our house was so quiet when we got home that night. Quiet and empty. Our son was gone forever.

  “We still had Max though. Heath had left us a grandson to raise. We took solace in that.

  “The three of us went about our lives without any problems for over two years. Then something happened that jeopardized our situation. It happened last year. We were shopping at Walgreens one day when we ran into Julie’s brother. Moe was stunned to see that Max was still alive.

  “Moe was going to turn us into the police. We begged him not to. We explained to him why we did what we did.

  “Moe had his phone out to call the police. We had no doubt that he would. He was Julie’s brother after all. We were sure he’d have her best interest at heart. But we were wrong. So very wrong.

  “Something clicked in Moe’s mind. I could see it in his eyes. He put away his phone and grinned at us like a barracuda. Then he promised to keep our secret if we paid him.

  “We were so relieved. It meant we could go on with our lives. It meant we wouldn’t have to go to jail.

  “Moe told us how much money he wanted from us. It was a small fortune. But what could we do? We had to pay it.

  “And so the four of us left Walgreens and went directly to the bank and I took out the cash and handed it over to Moe. He told us the secret was safe with him, then pretended to zip his mouth shut.

  “My husband and I thought that was the end of it. But it wasn’t. A few weeks later Moe showed up on our doorstep with his girlfriend. He demanded more money. He wanted regular payments.

  “We agreed to his demands. We had to. We had no other choice. It was either that or go to jail. An easy choice really.

  “Moe and his girlfriend began to show up at our house once a month to collect the cash. They always counted it before they left. They wanted to make sure they got every last penny.

  “During one visit Moe told us he wanted to take Max somewhere. We refused. We argued with him. We didn’t want Max to go anywhere with Moe. But then he took out his phone and threatened to call the police. He loved to do that. It was his source of power. He was such a creepy little worm to deal with.