Undeniably Yours

by Heather Webber

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Or maybe I’m confusing superbugs with that flesh-eating disease…” I powered up the window and adjusted the air-conditioner’s blowers to aim at my neck. “Or are they the same things?”

  He groaned. “Fine. I’m sorry I said I’d let Em kill you.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Did you call just to torture me?” he asked.

  “No, I think you’re doing a fair job of that yourself. I called to see if you could get me the addresses of Dustin’s CFC caseworker and her supervisor. I hit a dead end here at the office.” I told him about my visit, Barb Manciello’s sudden emergency, and also my meeting with Trey Fisher.

  “What do you think the deal is with Kira and Fisher?” he asked. “It doesn’t seem like they’re well-suited.”

  “I don’t know. Personally, I’d worry about STDs, but that’s me.”

  “Now I’m nauseated on top of everything else.”

  “Sorry. I have Tova Fisher’s number. If anyone can shed light on Trey and Kira’s relationship, it’s probably her.” I poked a finger down the top of my boot, trying to scratch an itch that was out of reach. “I haven’t met an ex yet who wasn’t willing to sell the soul of their previous partner.”

  “That’s a cheery thought.”

  “Sad but true.”

  “Have you set up a meeting with her yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

  “I’ll get those CFC addresses for you within the hour.”

  “Thanks.” I jabbed a pen down my boot and nearly sighed in relief. “I’ve been thinking about your predicament.”

  “Can you narrow it down? I’ve got a few going on.”

  “The surgery.”

  “Did you have to remind me?”

  “Do you want me to call Orlinda?”

  Orlinda Batista was my psychic mentor, a bit of a mystery herself, and a healer. I didn’t know how she did it, but I’d been at the receiving end of her healing energy and knew it worked.

  “Can she cure something like this?” he asked.

  “I don’t think it could hurt to try.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m game. Give her a call. Thanks.”

  “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Lucy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think you could bring Ava by the hospital tonight?”

  “Is she allowed?” I asked. Most ICUs had rules against visitors so young.

  “Not exactly.”

  “So you want me to sneak her in?”

  “Yes.”

  It wasn’t often straight-laced Aiden was willing to break the rules. “Fine,” I said, “but if I get caught, I’m blaming you.”

  I heard the smile in his voice as he said, “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  12

  “We’re about as intimidating as Rocky and Bullwinkle,” I said to Sean as clouds gathered on the horizon, dark and threatening. Afternoon pop-up storms were supposed to stay out at sea, but if the ominous thunderheads were any indication the forecast hadn’t been accurate.

  We were in the car, on our way to Stoughton to pay a visit to Elliman Bay, the supervisor who’d been suspended by CFC. Aiden had come through in a big way. By the time I arrived home from my wasted trip to the CFC office, I had the addresses I needed and was eager to visit them. To continue piecing together the timeline of Kira’s last known whereabouts.

  My mother suggested Sean go with me and had volunteered to watch Ava and the menagerie. I wanted to say no. I really did. Because Sean was still supposed to be taking it easy. And because I also suspected Mum only suggested he go with me so she could further plan my cottage’s makeover.

  But I’d taken one look in Sean’s eyes and agreed.

  I was weak where he was concerned.

  We had several interviews to tackle. First with Elliman, then we planned to drop by Cat Bennett’s (who wasn’t answering her phone) house, then go to the hospice in Braintree to meet with Patty Keefe. Tonight, we’d sneak Ava into the hospital to see Aiden. I’d already called Orlinda to see if she could help him, and she had agreed to try. I hoped her healing magic worked. Aiden was going stir crazy.

  I glanced at Sean. He had the passenger seat tipped back, a hat over his face as he rested. As much as he might deny being worn out, he was. I suspected, too, that being cooped up for so long was taking its toll.

  But it wasn’t only that. It was this case.

  Instead of finding Kira’s flash drive while searching Ava’s things, he’d found a small keychain-sized GPS tracker beneath the pad of her car seat. Although we’d already dropped the unit off at the state police barracks to get it tested for fingerprints, neither of us could shake the feeling that we were dealing with something bigger than anyone imagined. Except, maybe, Kira.

  Nya said Kira had called her investigation a shocker.

  She had certainly uncovered something big…something that caused someone to track her whereabouts via Ava’s car seat.

  “Are you Rocky or Bullwinkle?” Sean asked, lifting a black-banded fedora from his face to give me a sideways look.

  “What do you think?”

  He laughed. “Oh no. I’m not falling into that trap.”

  “Smart man. We’re here,” I said pulling up in front of a two-story colonial. White-stained cedar shingles, red shutters, brick walkway. A dark sedan was parked in the driveway, and a dog barked from an upstairs window. A man appeared behind a screen door, his hands in his pockets.

  Sean held out my crutches to me. He’d removed his head bandages and with the hat on it barely looked like anything was wrong with him at all. Just a few scratches on his face, which were mostly covered by his facial hair.

  I, on the other hand, looked a complete mess.

  Elliman Bay was expecting us—thanks to Aiden running interference, someone from the state police had called ahead.

  At fifty-eight, Elliman had worked with the CFC since its inception and had worked for the DCF before that. Becoming a social worker had been a second career. His first had been in journalism, but his job as an editor at a local paper had been downsized. He’d gone back to school ten years ago to get a social work degree.

  Tall with dark skin, keen black eyes, a rounded stomach, and a cleft chin, he met us at the juncture of the driveway and walkway, which was lined with pretty pink petunias.

  Sean introduced us, and I gripped my crutches and smiled a hello in order to avoid having to shake hands.

  “Let’s sit out back,” he said in a firm booming voice. He guided us around the side of the house, through a trellised gateway draped in green vines, and onto a back patio surrounded by lush plants and shrubs.

  He held out a patio chair for me, one of five that encircled a teak table, and Sean took my crutches and leaned them against a bench. Inside the house, the dog still barked, one of the neighbors down the block was mowing his lawn, and birds chirped loudly. A suburban symphony.

  “Something to drink?” he offered as Sean sat next to me.

  “No thank you,” I said. My stomach was still unsettled from my brunch of cookies and coffee—and possibly from being grossed out by Trey Fisher.

  Elliman sat down and looked at us expectantly.

  I used my outdoor voice as I said, “Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice.”

  He gave a curt nod. “I’ll do anything in my power to see that Kira is found safe and sound.”

  Sean said, “Do you know her personally?”

  It had certainly sounded that way.

  “Kira and I worked together briefly a lifetime ago,” Elliman explained. “She’s a gifted journalist with intelligence and integrity—rare attributes in a generation fixated on sensationalism. I’m honored to call her a friend. Have there been any leads on her case?”

  “Leads, yes,” I said, “but none that are panning out quite yet.”

  “Her daughter?” he asked, his intense gaze locked on
mine.

  Sean said, “She’s safe with a family member.”

  A bee buzzed by his ear and he swatted it away. “Good.”

  “We know Kira was working on a story about Dustin McDaniel,” I said, noting the way he stiffened at the name. “Did she contact you for an interview?”

  “No.” His chin jutted. “I called her.”

  My head came up at his admission. “You did? When?”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  Two weeks. Nya, Kira’s boss, said that it was two weeks ago that Kira received a call about this case and had been engrossed ever since. I met his gaze. “You’re Kira’s anonymous source for this case?”

  Elliman leaned in and clasped his hands on top of the table. “Yes. I’d had enough of the department’s lies and wanted the truth to come out. I knew Kira would do justice to the exposé, however, I never for one moment thought she’d be in danger. If I had known…”

  Sean said, “There’s been some speculation that she planned her own disappearance in order to heighten interest in her story.”

  “Speculation?” Elliman scoffed. “Try pure fiction. Kira would never do such a thing, and for someone to suggest it makes me question not only that person’s motives but also their intelligence.”

  From what I’d learned of Kira, I agreed, and I also questioned Trey Fisher’s motives and intelligence, but there were those ATM charges… I hoped video surveillance would come through soon to verify if it had been Kira making those withdrawals.

  “You mentioned you’d had enough of the CFC’s lies. What in particular?” I asked.

  “For one thing, I never condoned Cat Bennett’s falsification of her case reports. Did I err in taking her reports as truth? Perhaps, but it wasn’t in my job description to play babysitter for my staff.”

  I couldn’t help but question what would have happened if she’d simply done her job and checked in on Dustin McDaniel. It was those kinds of thoughts that gnawed at my stomach, eating at me.

  Elliman added, “My superiors felt the need to have another scapegoat to cover up the department’s inadequacies, so I was suspended indefinitely. I became a social worker to try and right the injustices of the world, to make a difference, and in turn I was singled out for using my voice to do the right thing.”

  I could feel his anger from clear across the table. There were so many nuggets of information in his statement that it was hard to decide which one to focus on first. “What kind of inadequacies? I thought that the CFC was flourishing.”

  “You’re not the only one who has fallen victim to the PR smokescreen. It doesn’t matter that the state has added agencies, because there still remains a distressing number of at-risk families—a number that keeps growing instead of declining. It’s all but impossible to keep up so the same problems that have plagued the DCF now plague the CFC.” He let out a frustrated sigh.

  For years there had been a debate on how to overhaul the system, with the culmination of those talks being the creation of the CFC. But now I was starting to think that the solution wasn’t within child-protection agencies at all, but with preventative education and programs for the parents and families. Or perhaps a combination of both. I recognized that I was reaching for answers, but I hated thinking that this problem was getting worse not better.

  “It’s a broken system, and I cannot foresee any change,” Elliman said. “Within the CFC, there’s a profound lack of training. We’re overworked—often off the clock. Underpaid. Only two years out of college, Cat Bennett oversaw twenty-eight families.” His hands clenched into fists, then released. “Do you know the national average?”

  Sean and I shook our heads.

  “Fifteen. Fifteen families. I witnessed her exhaustion day in and day out and mentioned to my superiors that her workload should be cut back until she could catch her breath, but my request was denied. There wasn’t enough manpower to cover her cases. I myself have—had—thirty-two families. Colleagues have the same numbers.”

  It seemed the complete antithesis of why the CFC had been created in the first place.

  “It sounds as though you have sympathy for Cat,” Sean said.

  “Absolutely,” he said, not denying it. “She worked sixty hours a week and couldn’t put a dent in her workload—she hadn’t had enough time to learn proper time management skills. I’m not surprised that she succumbed to doctoring reports, as heinous as that sounds. She was a committed worker who couldn’t handle the pressure, and for that I blame not only her but myself and everyone else in the office who failed her.”

  “Do you know if Kira interviewed her?” Sean asked.

  “The last I heard, Cat was ignoring Kira’s requests,” Elliman said, “but if I know Kira, that wouldn’t deter her.”

  In the distance, thunder rumbled. “When did you last speak with Kira?”

  “Wednesday afternoon.” He looked at the dark sky as though wondering if the clouds were going to break right over us. “She called to ask me if anyone at the CFC drove a cobalt-blue four-door sedan with a smiley face ball stuck on the antenna.”

  Wednesday afternoon—right after she met with the mysterious Jarvis. “That’s pretty specific. Did she say why she wanted to know?”

  “She wouldn’t say,” he answered. “She rarely shared information during ongoing investigations.”

  It was becoming a familiar phrase.

  “Do you know someone who drives a car like that?” Sean asked. The wind kicked up, and he grabbed his hat and tugged it low.

  “Cat does.” Elliman’s jaw jutted again.

  As if daring us to make some sort of connection.

  He needn’t have worried. There were no connections to make. Not yet. Not until we knew why Kira had asked the question in the first place.

  “After I told her so, she asked if I could find out if Cat had been working on January third.” He held up a hand as I opened my mouth. “Before you ask, I don’t know the answer as to why she asked. I have a call into a friend at the agency who’s agreed to check the date out for me. When I hear, I’ll let you know.”

  January third. Why that date?

  “Do you know anyone named Jarvis?” Sean asked. “We’re not sure whether it’s a first or last name or if it’s a man or woman.”

  Elliman thought about it for a second then said, “No. Why?”

  Thunder cracked again, this time closer. Goosebumps rose on my arms as I said, “It’s a name that’s come up in our investigation. A loose thread.” There were lots of those with this investigation.

  “From your questions, I presume you have not yet spoken to Cat,” Elliman said.

  I tucked a piece of loose hair behind my ear. “Not yet.”

  “A forewarning… When I last spoke to her, she wasn’t in the best frame of mind.” Elliman’s tone hinted at something as dark and ominous as the clouds above. “I’m not sure how helpful she’ll be.”

  “Depressed?” Sean asked.

  “Yes. And drinking. She’s distraught over what has happened and also blames herself for what happened to me.”

  “You two were that close?” I asked.

  He shot me an annoyed look. “No, she is that kindhearted. She was upset that I, as her mentor, was suspended for voicing my opinion that she shouldn’t have been fired, only suspended, until a complete investigation was undertaken.”

  Thunder clapped again, but no rain fell as Sean said, “You didn’t think she should have been fired?”

  I echoed the incredulousness I heard in his voice. If ever there was a case for someone being fired… “Dustin McDaniel’s well-being was her responsibility, and she failed him. Of course she should have been fired.”

  “Maybe so,” Elliman shot back, “but my argument is that if Cat was fired, then so should two other employees, because I suspect that Dustin is not the only child missing.”

  Thunder rolled, shaking the ground. Or maybe that had been from Elliman’s statement. Stunned, I asked, “Not the only one? What do you mean?”


  “When Dustin’s case came to light,” he explained, “I began hearing whispers around the office about other missing children. Apparently Cat wasn’t the only one doctoring paperwork. From what I overheard, there are two other children currently unaccounted for, Ms. Valentine.”

  Sean looked at me. This case had just hit the fan, so to speak.

  “Two girls between one and two years old who fell off the radar over the past eighteen months. I went to my superiors, who vowed to look into it.”

  “Do you have proof that the girls are missing?” I asked. “Names? Addresses?”

  “No,” he said. “I tried to go through the files, but there were too many. I do know the names of the two employees I overheard.”

  He listed them off, and I quickly wrote them down.

  “In the weeks following the news of Dustin’s disappearance,” Elliman explained, “I waited for news of the other missing children to be released by my superiors, but it never was. I’m assuming they’re keeping it classified because it would reveal the deep level of turmoil within the department, but I believe that information should not be suppressed. Lives are at stake. I couldn’t go to the media myself. No one would believe me. That is why I called Kira.”

  No wonder she’d been consumed with this story. Three children.

  I thought about the baby doll that had been left in Kira’s car and the attached note.

  A shiver slid down my spine.

  “What about the girls’ families?” Sean asked. “Why don’t they come forward?”

  Elliman shook his head. “Unfortunately, these children are probably missing because of one of their parents. Think about what you know of Dustin McDaniel’s case. His disappearance came to light only because of his grandmother.”

  My heart ached for the cruelties of this world, and for the little babies who suffered because of them.

  Elliman glanced up at the sky again, at the cloud ceiling that kept sinking lower and lower. “The blood of these children is on the hands of the CFC.” His troubled gaze shifted to me. “I pray Kira’s blood isn’t as well.”

  13

  The dark swirling clouds followed us to Braintree but the rain still refused to fall. Neither Sean nor I had much to say since leaving Elliman Bay’s house. There just weren’t words.