by Mary Deal
The news was just too much. Abi leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If the blood vials were exchanged, then someone had to know Becky's whereabouts in order to extract a blood sample that matched her own. She opened her eyes and found both Joe and Det. Britto watching her expectantly. “What's the chance someone at the lab released wrongful information? Can that be faked, made to look like my DNA?”
“Can't be faked. Your Becky's around some place.”
Abi was already swinging her legs off the bed while trying to remain covered but she didn't get far. The IV lines stretched tight, the needles tore at her skin. Det. Britto jumped out of the way. Joe leaned across the bed and pulled her back. “Where do you think you're going?”
Abi felt the tightness in her lips. “My daughter is out there, always has been. I'm going to wring Megan Winnaker's neck.”
“This doesn't make Winnaker the culprit, ma'am.”
“She pretended to be my daughter.”
“Your daughter gave blood to someone so the match could be made.” The detective's tone was matter-of-fact. “She knows about the switch. Why hasn't she come forward?”
The thought was sobering. With all the media coverage, Becky was lurking out there somewhere watching it all and never bothered to make contact. “I need to see that… that inmate. The art, the scars—”
“You can't talk to her about this. Not just yet.”
“Like hell we can't, Britto.”
Det. Britto raised both hands as if ready to push her and Joe away. “It's back in the hands of the police. You two are not supposed to know any of this.” He looked suspiciously at Joe. “You didn't tell anyone, did you? That doctor, maybe?”
Joe was taken aback. “I just told him we had some real bad news for Abi.”
Det. Britto seemed greatly relieved, rolled his eyes and expelled another breath. “The PD has already begun an investigation on how the switch might have been made. They're going to have to take another sample from Winnaker, send it down and have it tested again.”
“She won't submit to that, Det. Britto. She's part of a cover-up.”
His lips tightened. “We can get a warrant for it now.”
Abi remembered all the times Megan's comments and actions seemed forced, contrived. She remembered Megan's words when she told her of the DNA match. DNA always comes through when you need it, she had said. Abi realized that if Megan knew Becky's whereabouts, then Megan and Becky together had schemed to get Megan freed. That meant Becky possibly thought more of her friend than of her own mother.
Joe looked Det. Britto square in the eyes. “You still feel Megan is innocent?”
Det. Britto looked as if Joe had insulted him personally. “This girl is not the perp. Makes no difference whether she's Megan or Becky Ann. She's innocent, and I intend to prove it.” He turned his attention back to her. “Ma'am… Abi…, please, give me a chance to work this out. We know for certain now that your daughter's out there and alive, and we can find her, but we have to give Winnaker a chance. We all agreed that we believe she's innocent. She deserves to be given her life back too.”
Abi mulled over the reasons they had so adamantly stuck by the inmate. As much as she and Joe understood, Megan really was innocent. “Pretending to be Becky was her last-ditch effort to get help when I showed up. It doesn't excuse the fact that she blatantly lied.” Abi needed time to think. She needed to be out of that hospital bed and back home, where she could close out the world and think. “I won't say anything… for now, but I'll sacrifice whatever it takes to find Becky.” Despite bewildering feelings and needing solitude, Abi would have to make the trek to the prison again soon to play out her part in the cover up.
Chapter 49
When Abi and Joe arrived home from the hospital, they walked into a house that had been ransacked. Glass panes in one of the patio doors had been shattered. The nearest neighbors were not close enough to have seen or heard anything, if they were home at all.
All the cameras Joe left lying around were missing. They could not see them lying under overturned furniture, broken lamps and vases and scattered books. Joe's angry stare was tinged with a look of resolve.
Abi gasped and pointed. “Look!” Standing on the piano stool and leaning against the ivories was a tall white cross, with the letters “KKK” inked across it. The message was chilling. They clung together.
Finally, Joe walked over to inspect it “This is not KKK. It's not their way.”
“Dreggers? I'd heard the Dregs burn crosses.”
Joe's smile was smug. “Then I guess I'm lucky my house didn't go up.” He followed her into the bedroom so she could lie down. All the dresser drawers were turned out with belongings scattered everywhere.
“Do you think they knew we weren't home?”
“Well, the media and the undercover guy played tag with your ambulance. Someone had to be watching the house to know everyone left.”
Abi knew he shrugged off the irony of it all. For all the secrecy they tried to maintain, their every move was being scrutinized, and not just by the police. For a moment, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Her need to find her daughter was the reason their lives were in utter chaos and she was truly sorry. Joe's reaction to everything said they would get through it. No time for guilt existed. She went to his side and hugged him. “Someone's trying to send a message.”
“Yeah, about leaving well enough alone. Someone wants Megan to die.”
“Only they don't know what we know about the blood.”
“Not so. They at least know what the police know. By sending that vial to the Police Department, they're trying to throw you off the case so Megan gets the needle.” He yanked the cell phone off his belt loop. “Without you trying to help, Winnaker's chances are nil.” After ending the conversation with Det. Britto, Joe took her arm and pointed to the back door toward the garage. “We're to get out of the house. Britto's on his way and the crime lab crew will show up.” Joe led her to the tiny studio apartment behind the garage. “And you have to rest.”
Abi looked at the bed that Margaret slept in and did not want to lay there. Joe sat on the bed and pulled her to him. She had no choice. She was too weak. Again, she realized she was being forced to do something she did not want to do. Then, as they lay together, Joe wrapped his arms around her and whispered how much he loved her. She fell asleep almost immediately.
They spent the next three winter nights in front of a fireplace in a cottage at the Cliff's Edge Bed and Breakfast overlooking the south shore. The first evening, they stepped out on the terrace and Joe wrapped his arms around her as they looked out toward the deep blue horizon. “You make a great hausfrau.”
She slapped his arm playfully. The inactivity was restorative. Abi stopped caring that anyone might see her wearing long housedresses and without makeup.
Joe had been embarrassed to admit, especially to Det. Britto, that he never got into the habit of setting the burglar alarm at his home. Det. Britto earlier had a bit of news of his own. One full gas can was found hidden among the rocks along the creek behind Joe's home. No prints were found on the can. The closest neighbors said they heard several dogs frantically barking and growling, which must have scared off the intruders before they could do more damage.
The private setting at the B&B was perfect for several meetings with Emery, who seemed speechless about the recent news. He refrained from making comments about Megan's actions, though diminished respect showed in his attitude. He, too, still insisted on her innocence. “Let's see if we can shed some light on these latest findings.” He sipped coffee and seemed to be warming up. “Megan put off having DNA tests. How long was it, Abi?”
“At least three weeks. Once she knew she would have to give blood, she must have panicked.”
Emery smiled a crooked smile. “She knew we'd learn that she wasn't Becky.”
“Yes.” She squeezed Emery's hand to thank him. Suddenly more pieces of the puzzle began mentally juggling together. Before she could speak
her thoughts, someone knocked at the door.
“I smell coffee.” Det. Britto held a hand above his eyes and strained to see through the screen door. He stepped inside the combined living room and dining area and a rush of cold moist air accompanied him. Rain began to pour.
Abi was getting used to the detective's presence and felt good about him showing up. Despite her past opinions of the man, Det. Britto never once made overtures strong enough to be labeled as outright romantic interest. She began to see him as a man who jumped into people's lives whenever he needed to become involved with them. He never hesitated, and got right into the thick of things to absorb all he could. His way had been to get to know her, her motivations and the depth of her character and commitment. Joe had been right all along about his trusted friend. Joe poured him a cup of coffee while the detective shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the back of a chair.
Det. Britto quickly shook hands all around as Emery turned his attention back to Abi. “You were about to say?”
Abi had to think a moment. “Oh yes. I think I've put something together here.”
“Let's have it.” Det. Britto sipped his coffee and kept both hands around the hot mug.
Joe went to close the door against the draft.
Abi's hands shook. She really didn't know all the answers, just some ideas that seemed to fit. “If Megan knew the DNA would prove who she was after pretending to be Becky… don't you see?” She waited but the three men only stared back. “The first time I tried to get a good look at her cheek, she suspected something. That's the exact moment she began her charade. When I used the name Bippy, Megan remembered the name. She acted like it was a name she had been called.”
“You've been privy to things we haven't.” Emery spoke as he wrote notes. “Where are you going with this?”
They still didn't get it. “Megan knew she wasn't the one who used to be called Bippy. She already knew Becky and knew that Bippy was her nickname.” Abi breathed deeply. Her revelation was so strong she could not speak it all at once. “Megan's words to me were…” Abi signaled quotes with her fingers. “ 'My dad told me never to say that.' ” Abi watched their faces. “Don't you guys get it?”
“Keep going with this.”
She had a feeling that Emery, at least, understood and wanted the others to hear it. “When Megan heard the name Bippy, she knew at that moment that I was Becky's mother. She also knew that if she pretended to be Becky, I would help her.”
Det. Britto sat nodding his head. “Wait a minute.” He was putting it together too. “Winnaker came to town looking for family, but for Becky's family, not her own.”
Joe added a touch more coffee to their cups. “Why wouldn't Becky come?”
“I know why.” Abi stood, then paced, letting her thoughts roll out freely and gesturing with her hands. “When Megan posed as Becky, she told me her dad said her mother ran off with another man. She must have been quoting the lie that Preston told my daughter about me.”
“Otherwise, she might have searched for you a long time ago.” Emery doodled, drawing connecting lines on a piece of paper. At the junctures, he placed the names of both girls and both fathers, like drawing a family tree. “His lies would make any impressionable young child have doubts about her mom.”
Abi agreed. “The real Becky didn't want to come because her father turned her against me.” Abi had detached herself from the scenario and spoke as if she were only an observer. It was necessary in order to see the entire scheme for what it was. After the real Becky's father probably died—whenever that was—Becky must have wanted to find her mother but had mixed emotions, or maybe was too young to do anything about it.
“That fits. Nine years ago now, when the P.D. checked Winnaker's ID, we learned that Vance Winnaker died just before Megan came west.”
“What we don't know is if and when my husband passed away.”
“To the PD, Winnaker was always Winnaker.” Det. Britto leaned forward over the heat of his mug. “Even though the DNA said she was Becky, we had no way to prove this Vance guy wasn't Preston.”
“Abi, your husband must have changed his and Becky's names to something else all together, otherwise, with all the searching you've done through the years, you'd have found them.”
Det. Britto waved off the comment. “That whole underworld scene. They can produce phony names on dummy documents anytime they need to hide someone.”
They remained around the table, each offering up a piece of the puzzle. Megan Winnaker knew Becky for who knew how long. Megan coming to Seaport might have been the act of a caring young girl wishing to help her uncertain friend. Way back in Joe's studio before being arrested, Megan had not lied outright about looking for family. She was honestly looking for the whereabouts of Becky's mother. Then someone burned Yates's house and, most likely, framed her. After all, she was not one of the local Aryans and not a member of any gang. She had simply been made someone's scapegoat.
Emery had remained quiet, listening, then spoke. “Megan's and Becky's fathers must have known each other. That's how Megan ended up with a box that contained the birth certificates.”
“That box must have belonged to Preston at one time.” The idea that Preston became a neo-Nazi, and raised his daughter that way, was something Abi could not fathom.
Joe took advantage of everyone silently putting the puzzle pieces together. “Wait a minute. Get me back to this blood thing. If Megan delayed for weeks to give blood, is it likely she needed time to get Becky to come to Seaport from wherever she was at that time?” The rain stopped and he rose to open the door again.
“Would fit, Arno. Someone knew the labs prefer fresh blood, not something that's traveled for days across the country and got degraded before the switch could be made. Good point, Arno!”
“How would an inmate contact Becky to get her to come to Seaport right away?”
“I know!” Abi had stood leaning back against the kitchen counter. She was remembering tiny details and it was just a matter of time before all the facts fit. “I know!” Joe reached for her hand. “Megan told me the one friend she has written to all these years was called Rae Overland. Emails and regular mail.”
Det. Britto looked surprised. He slipped a notebook from his shirt pocket and wrote the name and scribbled other notes. “Emails can be picked up from anywhere in the world. They take a lot of time to verify. Time we haven't got.”
“So, Britto? It's not important enough to try?”
“Well, handwritten mail. That's gonna tell us something a whole lot quicker.” He stood, slipped into his jacket, took a hurried last sip of coffee and rushed toward the doorway.
“Emery, I want to go on Missing Persons. I've got to find my daughter.”
Det. Britto stopped suddenly and spun around. “Oh, no you don't. Not with the PD's investigation going on again.” His tone meant business. “So far, the media's not gotten wind of the cover-up.
Chapter 50
The crime lab finally released Joe's house. His cleaning lady removed dark carbon powder from just about every surface in the living and dining room and bedroom. The police lab techs found lots of smudges. The perpetrators must have worn gloves.
Abi and Joe worked to restore some semblance of order to the house and determine what furnishings might be repairable. “You know, Joe? Megan is cunning way beyond her years.”
“Seems that way.” He picked up an armload of books and began placing them in topical order back onto the shelves. “She knew all along what she was doing.”
Getting the house back in order was momentary diversion. The phone rang. It was a job for Joe, if he wanted to go on the road. He turned it down. “I'm not going out of town again till we get Megan freed.”
They didn't have to wait long for news. The next afternoon, when Joe returned from Det. Britto's office, he stood looking out the patio door that was not boarded up. He not turning to acknowledge her said something was wrong.
“The Supreme Court…” His words
barely audible. She pulled away and looked at him. Tears already filled her eyes. He shook his head slowly as tears spilled over.
Abi pulled away. “No! She's innocent. She's not Becky but she's innocent.” Joe took her into his arms and they made their way to the sofa. She could not allow herself to get agitated and needed to sit.
“Emery's already filed the Petition for Clemency. We still have the Governor.” Joe seemed resigned. He couldn't seem to get the words out. Then he cast his gaze to the floor and mumbled. “Execution is in fifteen days.”
Abi's mind raced. She had not wanted to visit Megan Winnaker. Now she wanted to hold her, like she would have held Becky, like a daughter. Regardless of all that had happened, Megan needed to know that someone cared. “Does she know?”
“Emery told her.”
“We should go to her.”
“She's refused to see anyone, especially us, Abi. They forcefully took her blood. She knows that we know.”
Abi knew what she had to do and felt no shame as her emotions careened up and down and anger bubbled over. “If she has to die, the least she could do is tell me—”
“Emery says Megan has this notion that keeping Becky's whereabouts a secret might buy her some time.”
“Is she nuts?”
“Emery thinks she's losing it.”
The next day, Emery accompanied them to the prison to beg Megan to meet with them. She refused. They hung around a couple more hours, waiting, hoping Megan would change her mind since they made the trip to see her. She didn't.
As the days passed, they tried repeatedly over the phone. The Warden's office always relayed Megan's same rejection.
A few days later, visiting him in his office at the Police Department, Det. Britto reported that several letters from Rae Overland that Megan held in her cell were confiscated, scrutinized and fingerprinted. Megan admitted that she had received many and, once read, discarded them. Investigators determined that older letters were mailed from Kuna, Idaho, but the recent ones surprisingly came from Creighton. When investigators asked prison officials if they suspected anything from the change in postmarks, they responded that they thought a long-time friend wanted to be close to offer emotional support when the end came.