by Tina Leonard
They walked toward Ben’s truck, and he opened that door for her as well.
“Does she truly like the nurse?” Even though Ben would only be gone a few hours, Carolyn didn’t want to think about Lucy being with a starchy person like Mrs. Benton’s stern, disheveled caretaker.
“Lucy likes everybody. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” He flashed her a grin as he got in the driver’s side. They clipped on seat belts and Ben started the engine. “Anyway, to answer your question, this nurse is young and pretty and plays dolls and dollhouse with Lucy to her heart’s content. It’s my good fortune that she works the night shift.”
“Oh,” Carolyn murmured. “I see.”
He glanced at her again. “She’s married to a friend of mine.”
“Oh,” Carolyn repeated, wishing that piece of information didn’t brighten her up so much. She had turned to look out the window so that Ben wouldn’t see the dismay on her face at the mention of Lucy’s young, pretty nurse, so she totally missed the happy realization lighting his expression.
They sat in silence for most of the eighty-mile drive, Carolyn reading through her notes while Ben listened to soft country-and-western music. Finally the small house appeared on the road ahead.
“We’re here,” he said.
CHAPTER SIX
THIS TIME, the caregiver was less anxious to allow them inside the house. She stared at Carolyn and Ben belligerently.
“Mrs. Benton doesn’t see visitors. You got her overexcited yesterday, and it took me hours to calm her down.”
Ben felt Carolyn’s hand on his arm, signaling that she would handle the conversation. He heard Carolyn’s calmness with a sense of relief as she began speaking.
“My name is Carolyn St. Clair,” she began, “as I mentioned yesterday, and this is Ben Mulholland.”
“I remember. That Mulholland business is what got her all stirred up. You ain’t coming inside the house. And don’t think I don’t know you snooped in the office while I was outside. You need permission from Mrs. Benton for that.”
“I’d like to get her permission,” Carolyn said soothingly. “This is a matter of life and death. We desperately need to find someone.”
“You ain’t a policewoman, are ya? I don’t need any trouble with the police.”
Ben frowned. It was an odd statement for a caregiver to make.
“I am not a policewoman. I am merely looking for someone. But I could get a warrant to search the office, I suppose, if you think it would help. I do have friends who are investigators who could assist me—”
A shadow appeared behind the caregiver. Ben stared uneasily, until he realized it was only Mrs. Benton. She stepped forward and put one shaking hand on the screen as she supported herself with a black cane.
“You’re back,” she said to Carolyn, her eyes bright and lucid as she peered through the mesh.
“Yes, I am. And I’m still hoping to find answers.”
Ben held his breath. Carolyn was being very direct—and Mrs. Benton didn’t seem threatened by it.
“My husband is dead and he’s not coming back,” she told Carolyn.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know that I am. God only knows he’s probably roasting in hell.”
Ben put his hand at Carolyn’s waist for support, but he couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted. Suddenly, it seemed all the breath was gone from his body.
“If you’ll take me for a ride in your truck,” Mrs. Benton said, “I’ll give you thirty minutes to search for what you’re looking for.”
Carolyn’s next words surprised him.
“Mrs. Benton, I know you remember Eileen Mulholland. I knew yesterday that you did. It would help us so much if we knew the truth.”
Mrs. Benton held up a hand to silence Carolyn. “I can’t help you. I don’t want to think about the past. And I don’t want to be arrested for it, either. So whatever information you need, you’ll have to find it on your own, just as you tried to yesterday.”
Emotions so strong hit Ben that the hair on his arms tingled. The woman was as near to admitting what his mother had suspected as she ever would be. He wanted to shout with relief. He wanted to scream with outrage.
He gritted his teeth and kept his hand tight to Carolyn’s back. Whether he was supporting Carolyn or himself, he wasn’t certain.
“Where do you want us to take you?” Carolyn asked.
“Not you. Him.” Mrs. Benton’s gaze settled on Ben. “You stay and poke around all you can in thirty minutes. I want my freedom, and I want to be alone with him.”
He couldn’t have been more startled if the skies had opened up and dumped rain solely on his head. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with a woman who might possibly have helped engineer the theft of his mother’s child—his own sibling.
“I think we could arrange that, don’t you, Ben?” he heard Carolyn’s soothing voice say over the freight train roaring through his head.
“I don’t think—“ he began.
“I don’t think—“ the caregiver interrupted.
“I think that it’s the only way we’re all going to get what we want,” Mrs. Benton said. “And I probably won’t be thinking clearly for long, so I suggest we all move along before I change my mind. Right now,” she told Ben, “you have my permission to look through the records. In another five minutes, my condition could flare up and you won’t ever have my permission.”
He stared at her, pretty certain he was being threatened. It was the last thing he’d expected.
“All I’m asking for is thirty minutes away from this prison,” Mrs. Benton said softly. “Your girlfriend gets what you want, I get what I want, and you,” she said, turning to her caregiver, “can stick it.”
The caregiver gasped. Carolyn grabbed the screen door, opening it wide. “Clock’s ticking, Ben. Please take Mrs. Benton for a drive.”
He stared at Carolyn. He didn’t like leaving her alone in the house with a stranger, and he sure as hell didn’t want to drive Mrs. Benton anywhere. Carolyn gently helped Mrs. Benton out the door, and he finally recovered enough to realize he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Unflappable as always, Carolyn was ready to do what she had to do.
“One last thing,” Mrs. Benton said as she leaned into Ben’s supportive hand, “I don’t want to know what you find or don’t find. I was a damn fine nurse. I also have a pretty good idea why you’ve come. But if you bring the police here, I’ll deny anything and everything. I’m not spending my last clear moments in jail. She’s bad enough,” she said with a jerk of her head toward the caregiver.
The other woman slammed the door and disappeared. Carolyn glanced at Ben, then at Mrs. Benton. “You’ve thought this through pretty well for someone with your condition. The police are not going to try to have a sick woman prosecuted.”
“Trust me, I wish I didn’t have this disease. But since I do, I prefer to use it to my best advantage. Consequently, I never think a thing about the past. And I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t come here yesterday. So,” she said with a glance up at Ben, “let’s get driving. I’ve done all the talking I’m gonna do. First thing I want is a cheeseburger.”
Ben felt a wave of revulsion. “I’m not going to feed the woman who—”
“Yes, you are,” Carolyn said, overruling him. “Ben, we can’t change the past. But we can take our best shot at altering the future.”
He heard the plea in her voice and knew that she was begging for Lucy’s sake. Of course, she was right. “Would you like a soda with that cheeseburger?” was all he said as he helped Mrs. Benton up into the cab.
* * *
BEN DROVE down the street, wondering if he was crazy to leave Carolyn alone in the house with the harpy. The woman seemed mea
n-spirited, but not necessarily criminal. And he had to trust Carolyn’s instincts.
He couldn’t believe he was sitting in his truck with Vivian Benton.
“I want to talk to you,” she said, making him start.
He couldn’t even glance at her. “All I want to hear from you is the truth.”
“I’m going to tell you a little more than what your girlfriend is going to find.”
That was the second time she’d made the girlfriend reference, but he wasn’t going to deny that Carolyn was anything more to him than a friend. It was none of Mrs. Benton’s business.
“I remember your mother very well, you know.”
A reply was impossible. He was too angry.
“You look like her. Of course she was very young—”
“Why did you do it? Why did you steal her child?”
Mrs. Benton didn’t flinch. “Greed. The ultimate sin.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I don’t expect you to be anything except angry. I wanted to talk to you alone so that I could tell you that I wish my husband hadn’t done some of the things he had. And I wish I hadn’t helped him.”
“You don’t expect me to care how you feel, do you? What about my mother’s feelings? She was dying, and if the baby ring had been broken a few months later, she’d never have known. And then I would never have known that I have a sibling out there somewhere. You’re a wretched woman, and nothing you can say can make me think anything good about you.”
“You are the crucible for any forgiveness I ever hope to achieve.”
“I don’t think so,” Ben said sharply.
“After I’m gone—or have totally lost my mind—all the records can be turned over to the state. Many people will find their lives affected in ways they never imagined. But you, I want you to have the information you need now. For Lucy’s sake.”
“Don’t try to bribe me with sympathy.”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s really all I have left to me. I’m hoping that if I do right by one person—you—that I can be forgiven in some small measure for all the others.”
“Does it work that way?”
“No, but I have to start somewhere. You know, I often wonder if the stress of what I did caused my health to deteriorate. Stress is a funny thing, you know, very damaging to the body.”
“Did you feel much stress when you were counting your money?” he asked harshly.
“Truth is, I never saw any of the money. My husband took care of the monetary arrangements. When he died, I found myself financially embarrassed, anyway. To be quite candid, Dr. Benton gambled. Frequently. So I’m not living on the proceeds of my sins, if you get my meaning. I’m mainly squeaking by on Medicare and the like.”
He shook his head, unswayed.
“But that’s neither here nor there. What I want to tell you is that I am sorry for what I did to your mother. Eileen was very young, and she was very afraid. I’ll never forget the night you were born, because it was storming, and she called at the last minute, terrified. We barely got out there in time. In fact, my husband hadn’t planned on your mother’s delivery, because she wasn’t a patient of his. When she had twins, he said it was too good to be true. Your mother and father were so poor—”
“That’s no excuse,” he interrupted, his voice cutting. “We would have been raised just fine.”
“No, but it was what popped the idea into my husband’s mind. The house was so barren, your family’s position so obvious, that Dr. Benton said it was a pity to burden them further. And he figured he’d probably never see a dime of his fee. When Eileen had twins, I honestly believe Doug thought he was doing your family a favor.”
“Well, he wasn’t.”
“No, I know that,” she said softly. “I’m very sorry, more sorry than you can ever know.”
“But you unequivocally admit that there was another child—a boy?” he asked.
“Your twin brother was born healthy.”
The words rang in Ben’s ears.
“It could have been me you took,” he said starkly. “You could have stolen my life.”
“You cried the loudest,” Mrs. Benton said. “My husband said your brother would make less noise as we left the house. He didn’t cry much.”
“Oh, my God,” Ben said. “You sure nailed down all the details.”
The energy seemed to leave her eyes, and she slumped in the seat a bit. “Yes,” she said dully. “Yes, we did.”
* * *
THE CAREGIVER didn’t bother Carolyn as she tore through the records, copying notes and digging for anything else that could help them. The house was strangely quiet without the TV blaring, and the air felt excessively still and hot.
Perspiration broke out along her upper lip as she swiftly moved through more files. There was no air-conditioning in the small office. Impatiently, she got up and went to the window, lifting it to let in whatever breeze might be outside.
And that’s when she saw it, as if it had been laid out for her to find. A black leather journal, marked with a sticky note that read only Mulholland. It lay on the right-hand side of a filing cabinet. The handwriting was shaky, not the firm hand she’d noted when she’d hastily read over the daily notations yesterday.
She opened the file and gasped.
Inside were at least twenty notations of sale, written in a man’s hand.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAROLYN COULD hardly believe it. The last page of the journal was marked Baby Mulholland. She wanted to scream with relief and joy—and frustration for Ben’s sake. And Eileen’s.
She snatched her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Jennifer Rodriguez. “Jennifer, I’ve got a record here that tells the whole story, basically. There was another baby. It was sold to…a couple in a FoodSavers grocery store parking lot.”
“Where are you?” Jennifer demanded.
“In the doctor’s house, looking through his records.”
“That’s my job!”
“No, no, it’s fine. I was allowed in by the wife. But I’ve got to hurry. Anyway, that’s all the record says. I also learned that on the same night Ben was delivered, the doctor is supposed to have delivered another baby, same time, different place.” She took a deep breath and organized her whirling thoughts. “I’ll send a picture of Ben to you, in case his brother should look anything like him. Since we don’t know whether the twin was fraternal or identical, it’s a long shot, but it may come in handy.”
Examining the journal more closely, she saw the word Madison written in tiny letters. “Someone has written Madison here, under the name of the grocery store. Madison, Texas, maybe. That could be where they sold the baby. It looks like the doctor’s penmanship, only very small, almost as an afterthought, or a notation he didn’t feel was very important.”
“Madison could be the name of the family he sold the baby to, as well,” Jennifer suggested. “That’s worth a try. I’ll start with an Internet search.”
“Okay.” She heard the front door slam and knew that her time in the office was up. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. “I’ll call you if I find out more.”
Ben appeared in the room. “Mrs. Benton is ready for us to leave.”
Searching his face, she noted the strain around his eyes. Clearly, he had not enjoyed the outing. “I’m all set to go.” She glanced at the journal, wondering if she dared sneak it out. There were other people who would never know the truth of their lives—
“No,” Ben said firmly. “Leave it.”
“All right,” she murmured reluctantly. Walking to his side, she looked up at him. “Do I thank her for allowing me to go through her husband’s files to search for a crime that they committed? What’s the etiquette for this?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Taking her by the hand, he led her into the TV room where Mrs. Benton sat, watching the television. The caregiver sat in the corner, knitting, as if they weren’t in the room.
“We’re leaving,” Carolyn said, but neither woman looked up. Ben shrugged at her, and they left.
“It smells wonderful out here,” Carolyn said once she was on the porch. “I didn’t realize how suffocating it was inside the house.”
“I know.” He grabbed her hand and they ran to the truck. She opened the door and jumped inside before he could offer to help her. He got in the driver’s side, and for a moment, they both stared at the house.
“It’s sad,” Carolyn said. “She should be legally punished, but actually, she’s already suffering for her crimes.”
He started the engine and pulled into the street without lingering further. “I couldn’t stop worrying about you alone at the house with that weird woman.”
“She didn’t bother me a bit. And Mrs. Benton left a journal out for me to find that clearly referenced that your mother had another living baby boy. Baby Mulholland was the notation.”
Even though he was hoping for it, hearing that written proof existed shocked Ben. “Baby Mulholland,” he said in stunned amazement.
“And a reference to Madison was on the same line, in smaller letters.”
“Madison. What the hell does that mean, I wonder?”
“It was either the town where the transaction was made, or it’s the name of the family your sibling was sold to. Jennifer Rodriguez is checking out both angles.”
“Mrs. Benton admitted a lot of this, but finding actual proof is stunning. I can hardly believe it. Mom was right,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “Somewhere, someone may be able to help Lucy.”
She smiled at him. “That’s our hope.”
“It’s very thin hope, but still… Had Mrs. Benton died before you saw the journal, maybe no one going through her personal effects would have ever known an illegal activity was being referenced.”