Deadly Silence

by Mary Stone

  Blonde. Long fingernails. Wealthy.

  She wasn’t exactly elderly, though. Nor was she young.

  Kylie smiled. “I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of Elise Kirby’s infant daughter.”

  The woman’s bright, lipstick-rimmed smile quickly faded. “Who?”

  “Oh, you might have heard of it. It happened around here. In Luxury Acres about two years ago. I thought perhaps an agency like yours, which deals in the welfare of area children, would know of it.”

  The woman shook her head. “Perhaps, but it was a long time ago. I wasn’t aware of it.”

  “Do you deal with the Haywood County Children’s Protective Services?”

  She nodded. “Yes. We work with a number of social workers who are part of the local and state units for child welfare. But our primary objective is in helping those who want to foster or adopt get through the process and pairing them with children we feel will thrive in their home environment.”

  “Are you aware of any child laundering cases from the area?”

  Dr. Banks let out a bitter laugh. “I assure you that all of our adoptions are completely legal. I don’t deal in the criminal nature of baby-trading, though I’m sure it must happen. Unfortunately, I’m not the person to ask about such cases.”

  She crossed her arms and stared her down, making Kylie feel small. “Okay, I understand that, but I’m just trying to determine if Elise’s baby was part of some baby smuggling ring. Are there any resources you can point me to?”

  She shrugged. “The county sheriff?”

  “I’ve been in touch with the police. The mother had a caseworker that must’ve come from Haywood County’s social services. She doesn’t seem to remember what agency they worked for, but—”

  “I’d check with the county’s health and human services division.”

  Kylie wrote that down. “All right. Thank you,” she said, standing. “I think that’s all. I appreciate your help.”

  Dr. Banks sat back in her chair, and Kylie could feel her eyes burning into her back as she made it to the door. As she reached it, the woman stopped her.

  “Wait. In fact, I do remember that case. Didn’t come through us, unfortunately, so I can’t help you.”

  Kylie’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “Do you know—”

  “There was some talk that the mother, who was not right in the head, might have murdered the baby, but the body was never found. A sad story, all around.”

  Kylie hadn’t heard that one. It wasn’t even mentioned in the police report. Besides, anyone who saw Elise Kirby would know she couldn’t hurt a fly. “Thank you.”

  Well, that went over well, Kylie thought as she headed back to her car. The woman couldn’t possibly be any more dismissive of her, even if she tried.

  In fact, she’d gotten the feeling that just because she’d said she was an investigator, they’d been put off. Like they expected her to snoop around and create trouble, trying to air their dirty laundry. She was just trying to find out what happened to Elise’s baby.

  She climbed into her car and picked up her phone. She had a text from Linc: Ok?

  He sent her that same text almost every hour when they weren’t together. She knew he had a valid reason. If she hadn’t been kidnapped, held at gunpoint, run off the road by a psycho, shot at…maybe he wouldn’t be so concerned.

  But yes, she had a way of finding trouble. She texted him: Fine. Then, biting her tongue: Thanks.

  He’d certainly gotten better at texting since they first met. Before, he hardly used his phone at all. But now, he seemed to have it on his person at all times. And he texted more than she did. A moment later, he said: Coming home soon?

  She wasn’t sure. She felt like coming home now would be admitting defeat, and she wasn’t ready to give up this easily.

  She googled the health and human services division and went to visit them. When she was there, she asked about Elise Kirby and her baby, but interestingly enough, the division had absolutely no record of the case at all.

  When Kylie asked where else the caseworker might have come from, the helpful young receptionist said, “Well, I don’t know. We provide all the social workers for cases that come out of the hospital, but I’m not allowed to divulge that information to just anyone. I’m sorry.”

  Of course not. But that was part of Greg’s training. He’d told Kylie once that there were ways of getting around tight-lipped information keepers. She decided to employ one of his ingenious tactics.

  She doubled over, coughing. Patting her throat and gasping for air, feeling herself go red in the face.

  The woman stood up immediately, alarmed, trying to see Kylie over the high counter. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said between loud coughs. “Actually, no. Can I trouble you for a glass of water?”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course.” The woman stood up and ran off.

  Greg, sometimes you’re brilliant, Kylie thought, straightening and scampering around to the front of the computer. I’d like to thank the Academy, who made this performance possible.

  Jiggling the mouse, she found an entry for an E. Kirby. Where several names on the list had dozens of entries, there was just one small entry for Elise Kirby. She clicked and saw that Elise Kirby had originally been referred to social services by her doctor, but the referral had been cancelled.

  Cancelled? By whom? That made no sense.

  She looked at the date. It had been cancelled the day of the baby’s birth.

  But who would cancel the referral? And why? There was no doubt Elise needed the intervention of social services, being poor and jobless as she was. Had she simply fallen through the cracks? Had it simply been some mistake?

  Elise probably wouldn’t have cancelled it herself, knowing what dire straits she was in. Had someone done it for her? Someone who was part of an illegal operation? Someone who hoped to take the caseworker’s place?

  Kylie backed out of the entry on the computer and scooted back around to the side of the desk she belonged on, her mind racing through all the possibilities and questions. If this was a baby-smuggling operation, was it possible that someone could’ve cancelled the request and sent a false caseworker in the real one’s place, someone who’d been able to scout out Elise’s situation and figure out the best time for the “aunt” to make the grab.

  The woman came back with a glass of water, and Kylie accepted it as graciously as she could, taking several sips. “Thank you so much. I bet there’s still a lot of pollen in the air.”

  As if in commiseration, the woman sneezed, giving them both a good laugh before Kylie thanked her again and left. On the sidewalk, she decided that she needed to get more information on the child services and adoption process from someone who’d be a little more helpful than the people at Children’s Hope.

  First, she typed in a message to Linc: Just a little longer. Don’t hold dinner for me.

  Then she scrolled down the list under Adoption Services in the browser on her phone and found an agency in downtown Asheville. Southern Hills Child Welfare Society, which, from the address, wasn’t too far from her mom’s house.

  When she called this time, though, she decided to take a different tactic. When the receptionist answered, she said, “Hello. I’m pregnant and not sure what I’m going to do. Can I meet with someone?”

  Southern Hills Child Welfare wasn’t much different than the other, although it was in its own building instead of part of an office complex. Once Kylie got inside, she had a strong feeling of déjà vu. Like Children’s Hope, the reception area was made to look homey, with soft lighting and potted plants and photos on the walls of nature scenes. The same brochure rack that had been in the other office was here as well.

  The big difference? The reception.

  When she arrived, the woman at the front desk, a younger girl with bright red lipstick, came around and put an arm around her shoulders. Kylie was very touchy-feely, but even this seemed ov
er the top. The girl was wearing such dangerously high heels that she towered over Kylie, making her feel like a midget. “You must be Kylie. So nice to meet you. I’m Cherry.”

  “Nice to meet you too.” Kylie followed her into the back where she sat in a cramped office, across from a clean but beaten-looking wooden desk.

  “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Don’t be nervous. One of our social workers will be with you right away to discuss everything, all right?” The words tumbled out from the young girl’s mouth a mile a minute.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Another tiny woman with a round face, a short, hot pink pixie cut, and a wide smile came in and gave Kylie a bear hug. Kylie cringed. “Hi, Kylie! So wonderful to see you! I’m Wanda, a social worker here. You have questions, and we have answers!”

  Kylie shuffled in her seat, uncomfortable with the deception considering how nice everyone was being to her. “Hello. I’m not sure if I belong here.”

  “I understand. You’re seriously not the first person to say that. It’s a big decision to make. But just so you know,” she drew a square in the air in front of her, “this here is a judgement-free zone. Whatever you choose, we’re here to help you make the best decision for you and your family. All right? So, don’t feel like there’s anything you can’t tell me in complete confidence. I will understand.”

  Kylie placed her hand on her stomach and whispered, “I’m leaning toward adoption.”

  God, she hoped her baby wasn’t able to hear her say those words.

  The woman leaned forward in her chair. “Well, we can certainly help with that. It’s a great choice to make, helping another family who can’t have children realize that dream. Right now, there are thousands of couples out there waiting to adopt.” She cracked her knuckles before placing her fingertips on her keyboard. “I need to get a few details. Have you been to the doctor?”

  Kylie shook her head.

  “Well, we can help you get adequate prenatal care with our network of physicians and get you working on the forms in order to have the costs handled for you if you can’t pay. If you choose adoption, the adoptive family will often cover all your medical costs. Sound good?”

  “I’m not here to make any decisions right now,” Kylie said quickly. “I have some time. I wanted more information about the options so that I can make an informed decision as I get closer to my delivery date.”

  Just then, the door opened, and the young assistant appeared with a small tray, setting it down on the desk. “I brought you some cookies and juice. I hope that’s okay. We need to eat small meals throughout the day to keep our energy going.”

  We do, do we?

  Kylie looked at the plate of cookies and smiled at the woman. She would’ve normally declined, but she was already getting hungry. She bit into a cookie as Wanda continued. “All right. Options are what we’re here for! But you do need to see a doctor. That’s most important. Do you know how far along you are?”

  “Uh well, probably about six weeks?”

  The woman wrote something down on a piece of paper. “All right. Since you seem to be leaning toward adoption, we’ll start with that option first. You can seek an open or closed adoption, depending on whether you would like to be involved in the child’s life?”

  Kylie shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “All right.” The smile never wavered. “You don’t need to make the decision now. As I tell all my mothers, it’s never too late to decide on adoption. You can do it at the hospital, or a year after you give birth, if you choose. There’s no right or wrong time. The important thing is that you know we’re here for you. We want to assist you and make sure you’re comfortable with the option you choose.”

  “Okay,” Kylie said through a throat clogged with emotion, wondering how mothers could make such a difficult decision. No wonder everyone was being so nice. The women who came through here must have been nervous wrecks.

  “Please also know that you’re not giving up your child. Adoption is something mothers do out of love, to give their child the best shot at life.”

  Kylie’s nose began to burn. Although she was sure she’d probably suck as a mother, she also knew she’d do her very best. She just wondered if her very best would be good enough.

  “So, it’ll generally work like this,” Wanda continued. “When you decide on adoption, whenever that is, you’ll fill out personal and medical history forms, which will help us get to know you and your baby and match you with the right prospective adoptive parents. Once we have your preferences of the type of family you’d like to place your baby with, we’ll send you some profiles of families to choose from. We have a file of prospective parents, quite a large one, unfortunately, and they’re all looking to add to their families.”

  “So…I get to pick who my baby goes with?” Kylie asked. “I didn’t realize that.”

  “Yes. Considering you’re only six weeks along, you’ll have plenty of time to make the decision, but it’s never too late. Or too early, for that matter. Like I said, there are so many families waiting to welcome your child. Then you can meet them to make sure they’re the right fit. You’ll also be able to discuss post-adoption contact preferences, if you so choose, should you want to watch your child grow up via pictures and letters.”

  “And do I just go to the hospital, give birth, and hand the baby over?”

  Wanda shook her head. “Well, it’s not as simple as that. You’re in charge of how you want your birth to go, since it’s your body. Your adoptive parents are not to interfere with your prenatal care. But after the birth, you will sign away your parental rights and the adoptive family will take custody of the baby. Then, you can remain in contact with the family as the child grows up, and you’ll be provided free counseling from one of our adoption specialists as long as you need it.”

  She dug around in her drawer and pulled out a brochure, which she pushed across to Kylie. It was the same one she’d seen in the last office, but Wanda’s card had been stapled to the top. Kylie glanced at the cover, gazing at a picture of a happy family having a picnic. Inside was almost everything Wanda had said, word-for-word.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you have any questions, Kylie?”

  She thought of Elise. “What if I decide I want to give the baby up for adoption later on? Like, two months after the birth?”

  Wanda’s beaming smile beamed brighter. “That can be arranged. Like I said, it’s never too late.”

  “And…you’ll send someone to my house to take the baby away? Just like that?”

  The smile faltered just a bit. “Well, like I said, there are forms, so it’s not that easy, but essentially, yes. We need to make sure the parents are ready, but it can move quickly.”

  “What if I choose adoption, get to know the parents, but then I change my mind and decide to keep the baby?”

  “You can always do that, as well. We try to keep this as low-pressure as possible, as we know it’s a very stressful time you’re going through.”

  “Thank you.” Kylie set down her half-eaten cookie and stood up. She didn’t want to be asked to fill out any forms, because if she did, she’d have to lie even more. “I appreciate the information. I’ll think about it and let you know if I have any questions.”

  Wanda followed her out to reception. As they reached the front desk, Kylie saw the receptionist talking with a heavyset older woman with bright platinum hair. She turned to her as she approached.

  “Oh, hello,” the woman said brightly, and Kylie had to wonder if they gave these people happy pills. She took her hand and shook it brusquely.

  Wanda said, “This is Kylie. She’s considering adoption.”

  The woman patted the top of Kylie’s hand with her smooth one. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Kylie. I’m Leda Butler, director of this establishment. Whatever you choose, we’re behind you. Please know that.”

  She said it so compassionately, with so much concern, that it almost drew a tear out of Kyli
e’s eye. “Thank you.”

  Then she pulled her into an unexpected hug. “It’s the least we can do. Please, please, please stay in touch.”

  The smell of the woman’s perfume nearly overpowered her. It was strong. Too strong for Kylie’s already heightened sense of smell. Her stomach roiled.

  After ending the hug, the older woman reached into her pocket and pulled out one of her cards. “Here you go. Should you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate.”

  As Leda handed the card to Kylie, Kylie had to admire her long, shiny pink fingernails. Then she hesitated, thinking once again of the description of Elise’s “aunt” that Agnes Mott had given.

  Kylie meant to say a thank you, but her mouth wouldn’t seem to work.

  Leda took her hand again. “Are you all right, dear?”

  She blinked and forced a smile to her face, squeezing the woman’s hand in return. “Oh. Yes.”

  As she left, she shook her head. She was being stupid. Leda Butler was probably pushing eighty. That sweet old grandma couldn’t possibly be a baby smuggler.

  Besides, what had she said before? There were plenty of women out there who fit Agnes’ description. She’d already met one. It was likely just a coincidence.

  I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Today was a good day. Meeting with adoptive parents. Women who were considering putting their children up for adoption. Making dreams come true, little by little.

  And I’d just heard from K. The boy had been united with his new family, and they’d named him Forrest. They were absolutely delighted, and so thankful. K had thanked me so much for the support and told me he’d wired the money to my account.

  Five-hundred thousand dollars.

  Well, a chunk of it was already gone, thanks to that bastard Mark Lamb. But still…cruise vacation, here I come, I thought to myself as I deleted the email. I’m going to drink cocktails in Bonaire this fall.

  But, of course, that’s when the floor usually dropped out from under me.