He drove straight to Quinn’s house and parked in front. When he spoke to Nicole, Ethan wanted to give his full attention to the conversation.
“That package,” he said when she answered her cell phone. “I think it was a two-way exchange. And I’m not talking about the money.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Nicole said.
Ethan hadn’t expected her to be surprised. He was confident she knew what he was talking about. A substitution. A trade. A sickly baby boy for a healthy one of the same age.
“My mother doesn’t have to know,” he said. She had lived her whole life without the truth. Ethan was certain of that. What would it change now?
“She deserves to know,” Nicole said.
“It’s not what’s between us,” he said.
“No,” she said. “Your father is what’s between you and your mother. Don’t add this. Everything can change in a day. Remember—no regrets.”
They hung up and Ethan sat in his car in the full light of day, staring at the features of Quinn’s house.
The shutters Ethan had once helped to paint.
The hail-struck dent in the gutter above one window that Quinn never replaced because it didn’t leak.
The strip of siding that he had replaced because squirrels nibbled through it.
The polished door knocker Quinn shined with his handkerchief nearly every day when he left the house.
It all looked so ordinary, as if the house itself was waiting for Quinn to pull into the driveway, turn his key in the front lock, and resume his life. Tomorrow he would go to the high school and relieve the substitute teacher who had taken his classes. The next day he would decide that his lawn needed mowing one last time before winter. He would be the same reliable Quinn so many people in Hidden Falls depended on, with that understanding gleam in his eyes that made people want to tell him their troubles.
Ethan was sure Sylvia was right when she said Quinn wanted him to have the documents. He was equally sure Quinn had wanted him to stay in town for a few days because he knew this moment would come and Ethan would resist it. Quinn had been patient with Ethan’s sullen nursing of familial wounds but never accepted that Ethan’s sense of rejection was final.
Ethan removed his keys from the ignition and opted to walk around the block to the Jordan household, where he stood on the sidewalk and took three deep breaths before knocking on the front door. His father, Ethan knew, would leave it to his mother to see who stood outside the house. He would have the TV on, and he wouldn’t turn it off if the president of the United States came through the door. It had always been that way. Richard Jordan put in his hours at work and figured he’d fulfilled his obligation to support his family. Beyond that, his time was his own. It didn’t matter how tired his wife got keeping up with everything else or what was going on in the lives of his sons. His father’s passivity had fed Ethan’s ambition for as long as he could remember.
“Hello, Mom.” Kay Jordan paid the price for the difference between Ethan and his father. Ethan fished around in his mind for a memory of his mother standing up to her husband. He had none.
He had startled his mother. Maybe she never expected to see him again. Maybe her life had been more peaceful that way. Ethan hadn’t even spoken to his mother on the phone in over a year.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Kay Jordan leaned her head over one shoulder. “Richard! Ethan is here.”
Ethan stepped into the entryway and closed the door behind him while he waited for his father to appear. The paint on the walls looked reasonably fresh, and a vase on an accent table held a vivid array of flowers, probably from the grocery store. The accent rug was plush and bright with color. Hanging from a decorative ribbon was a framed photograph of Ethan’s older brother with his wife and son—neither of whom Ethan had ever met. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—that life would have frozen the day he left? Obviously his parents had gone about their lives.
Richard Jordan came into the hall in a faded cardigan with a newspaper folded under one arm.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“Dad.”
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say. He heard the TV.
“I’ll make some coffee.” Kay smoothed her gray hair, still cropped at shoulder length as it always had been when its hue was darker.
Coffee would only make him more jittery, but Ethan didn’t stop her. He could nearly feel both Nicole and Quinn nudging him into his parents’ living room to accept their hospitality. Ethan sat in a chair at a right angle from the one his father had always preferred. This would be easier if he didn’t have to look Richard in the eye.
“Dad,” Ethan said, “would you mind if we muted the sound? I’d like to talk to you and Mom.”
Richard huffed slightly, but he picked up the remote, and the droning from the television dropped out of the room.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” Richard said.
Ethan said nothing. Would anything be different if Ethan had let his parents know he was coming? If he had stayed with them?
To Ethan’s relief, just then Kay returned with a tray of sandwiches and cookies to go with the coffee. Ethan forced himself to answer the perfunctory questions about his career before clearing his throat and unfolding the papers and explaining each one in chronological sequence.
His mother blinked in disbelief as she looked at the dates on the documents and discovered that she was a year old when her parents married and nearly two when her name changed from Kathleen Pease to Kay Petersen.
Richard scrunched his face toward his wife. “You’re adopted and you never knew it?”
Kay picked up the adoption decree. “I used to ask my mother to show me pictures of when I was a baby. I’m not so old that people didn’t routinely have portraits made of their babies. The answer was always that she didn’t know where they were. And then when she died and I went through her things, I never found a single one. But both of my younger brothers had baby pictures.”
“So you have no recollection of the man who claimed to be Dennis Pease?” Ethan asked.
“Claimed?” Richard pointed at the birth certificate. “His name is right there.”
Ethan nodded. “He might not have known himself.”
“Known what?” his mother asked.
“I think he was Merrill Tabor.”
“Tabor?” Richard sat up straight in his chair. “Like Tabor Avenue? Tabor Orchards? Tabor Mills?”
Ethan nodded.
Merrill Tabor was not supposed to survive. That’s why his father needed a healthy infant of the same age. Ethan suspected the two children also must have had some resemblance.
What Ethan had not yet figured out was what had become of little Dennis Pease once he was taken into the Tabor household.
And if the infirm child had not been buried—regardless of what name was used at the cemetery—then whose child was in that grave?
And who was the man standing in front of it who looked so much like Ethan?
12:13 p.m.
Liam couldn’t make himself go inside Our Savior Community Church. His justification was that after going home to clean up, he’d arrived too late for the start of the service, though he had dawdled intentionally to create this excuse. Then he told himself the parking lot would be full, left his car a few blocks away, and ambled to the church in no particular hurry. Eventually Liam reasoned there was no point in going in, and he sat on the cement steps outside the front entrance until an usher pushed open the doors and worshippers spilled out of the building.
Liam was only there because it was part of his deal with Cooper. That was hours ago. What was taking so long?
The day’s weather carried no vestige of yesterday’s wreckage. Midday sun illumined branches stripped of leaves the previous afternoon and spread its pervasive glare as if the occasion were only another mild September afternoon. Puddles formed in worn depressions of earth and as
phalt bore witness to the brief drenching rain that followed the howling wind, but most of the water had run off as quickly as it came down. Debris, however, was widespread. Television meteorologists named the places where the tornado had touched down, and Hidden Falls escaped all the lists. No structures had splintered or collapsed. Nevertheless, a force beyond anyone’s control left its evidence in papers scattered in the wind, downed branches, trash cans rolling through the streets blocks from where they belonged, tumbled signs, broken glass, shingles in all the wrong places.
The church had not been spared. Liam noticed now that the second-story window above the main entrance had cracked, and the church’s sign on the corner was missing most of its letters. A tent pole was lodged in the bushes across the front of the building, carried all the way from the back lawn. Most of the booths at yesterday’s health fair had been abandoned before they were fully disassembled. Liam hadn’t made much of an effort to deconstruct the tent he’d occupied, choosing instead to heed the warning to take cover.
Liam wasn’t sure what to do. He had to stay. This is where Cooper would come—and he’d be expecting to find Liam hard at work. Liam moved out of the way of Bruce and Raisa Gallagher, who carried their two little girls down the front steps. He looked up and spotted Henry Healy from the sporting goods store.
“You here to help?” Henry raised his bushy eyebrows.
Liam nodded. “Figured there would be plenty to do.”
“You figured right. Somebody’s gone for pizzas to feed the crew, but Pastor Matt wants everyone out on the back lawn as soon as possible.”
“Then that’s where I’ll go.”
“First come with me to the shed for a couple of the big trash bins,” Henry said.
Liam followed. Henry unlocked the shed, and they rolled two massive waste receptacles out to the lawn. Matthew Kendrick righted a collapsed table, and a couple of women folded back the tops of pizza boxes and set out a stack of paper plates. Liam wondered if anyone had more recent information about Lauren than he did. If anyone asked, he would tell what he knew. She’d come through the night well and shouldn’t be in the hospital too much longer.
The group of workers gathered around the pizza table. Liam hung back. Pastor Matt whistled for attention.
“We’re going to give thanks,” Matt said, “for willing workers, for the fact that more people weren’t hurt in yesterday’s storm, and for the ministry of Lauren Nock, who helps so many people. I want to offer the opportunity for any who wish to pray aloud for Lauren’s healing and recovery, and then we will bless the food.”
Liam bowed his head but looked out of the sides of his eyes at the people circling the table. He hadn’t done this in years, but something about it comforted him. People cared about Lauren, and their heartfelt words were persuasive that God cared. A soft angst oozed through Liam. He couldn’t think of anyone who would want to pray for him. Besides, his mess was more complicated than praying for healing.
He wished Cooper would show up. Instead of taking a slice of pizza, Liam picked up a large, thick plastic trash bag and moved to the outskirts of the lawn. Soggy papers littered the grass—blank forms and food wrappers and blurred recipes. Liam picked up one piece or sometimes a fistful at a time and stuffed it all in his bag. Others joined him. A chain saw started up, and a group of men attacked the fallen tree limb that easily could have killed Liam’s brother. Someone backed a pickup truck onto the lawn; volunteers tossed bent poles and ripped canvas and broken folding chairs into the truck’s bed to be hauled to the dump. When Liam filled his bag, he tied it closed, tossed it into one of the huge receptacles, and pulled another bag off the roll. He murmured greetings to people who were no doubt surprised to see him there but offered no explanation. After filling another bag, Liam switched to helping stack the pieces of oak that the chain saw trimmed to size. A couple of trustees inspected all the trees on the lot and designated a few more branches to be cut down before they fell.
Liam wiped an arm across his forehead, drawing sweat away from his eyes. When he looked up again, Cooper fell into step beside him. They crossed to a quieter corner of the lawn.
“I only have a preliminary opinion,” Cooper said.
Liam welcomed any encouragement he could get.
“It would have helped,” Cooper said, “to have the second note for comparison.”
“The storm,” Liam said. He’d never meant to leave yesterday without picking up the envelope from where he’d dropped it in the box of health brochures.
“I know.” Cooper stooped and picked up a two-foot piece of tree limb. “The note you did have uses a mixture of complete sentences and fragments, but everything is spelled correctly and punctuated. That seems to indicate a level of sophistication.”
Liam had never thought of blackmailers as sophisticated. Sinister was the word he would have chosen.
“There’s a certain cadence to it,” Cooper said, “a certain structure in the three lines.”
“And what does that mean? Is it a clue?”
Cooper cocked his head. “It might indicate a person with a mathematical bent. Or a highly organized person.”
“Like Jessica, you mean.”
Cooper put up one hand. “I’m not pointing fingers. I’m just giving you the preliminary profile I got from my buddy.”
Liam swallowed. “What else did your friend say?”
“It’s a person who likes to be in control, to call the shots.”
In other words, just like Jessica. “I’ve been an idiot, Cooper.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been saying that for thirty years, but in this case, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Cooper adjusted the Cubs hat on his head. “I kept my inquiries general. If you want to take this further, the sheriff is going to want to know more.”
“They’ll suspect me.”
“Maybe. But do you have a choice?”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“You haven’t been accused of anything yet.”
Liam looked away. The men with the chain saw dropped a tree limb.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Liam said, “except be stupid in love.”
“Innocent until proven guilty.”
“Why doesn’t that comfort me? I’ve been over those accounts enough times that I could practically prove myself guilty. It won’t take much to make a case against me.”
“If there’s a crime,” Cooper said, “I can’t be complicit in concealing it.”
“I know.” Liam had set his own course when he confided in his brother. “When can you get more information for me?”
“Probably tomorrow.”
“You’ll have someone look at the accounts?” Liam asked.
Cooper nodded. “If that’s what you want. We’ll need your cooperation. But there won’t be any turning back from what we find.”
“So maybe I should put Jack Parker on retainer after all.”
Cooper let out a controlled breath. “I’m not going to advise you on that.”
“You don’t like Jack.”
Cooper pressed his lips together. “Not too much, no. But that’s no indication of his legal abilities.”
“I’m innocent, Cooper. Embarrassed, and probably naive, but innocent.”
1:22 p.m.
Dani wasn’t leaving. It had taken her all morning to get this far. Apparently Sunday mornings at the Hidden Falls hospital were not highly administrative, but she had eventually wormed her way into the human resources offices at one end of the third floor.
Green shoes.
Why hadn’t she realized it sooner?
The assistant to the human resources director blinked and squinted and gingerly rubbed a spot in one eyelid.
He should just take out those stupid contact lenses, Dani thought. People did the oddest things in the name of vanity. Dani had no pity for someone who continued to cause their own discomfort.
“I just want you to help me find this man.” Dani crossed her legs and her arms. If her body language
made her appear hostile, all the better in this situation.
The assistant looked at her and tilted his head. “You do realize that we don’t track employees according to the style of their footwear.”
What an idiot.
“I don’t care how you track employees as long as we find this one. Male. Thirties. Dark hair.” And green shoes.
He pulled open a desk drawer. “We have a form appropriate to situations like this one. If you fill it out in detail, we will call the incident to the attention of the shift managers, and they will remind their staff of our policy.”
“What policy is that?”
“Defer to hospital guests in the use of elevators, stairwells, and common areas, except in the case of medical emergency.”
This guy could probably quote every policy in the five binders on the shelf behind him—if Dani didn’t choke him first.
“I mean no disrespect,” she said carefully, “but I am not here to fill out a form. I want to know who this man is.”
“And no disrespect to you, Miss Roose, but I can’t point fingers at employees. This is a hospital. We are a significant employer in this community. We have policies in place for the sake of everyone’s safety and confidentiality.”
Dani uncrossed her limbs and then folded them in the other direction. “Dark blue scrubs. What is that code for around here?”
“Code?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” He couldn’t stand behind patient safety on this question. A system of colors was supposed to help patients identify types of caregivers and employees.
One eye twitched when he met her gaze. “Dark blue is the uniform of our well-trained patient support staff.”
Dani didn’t need this guy. If she had to, she would ask every employee on duty in the hospital. Someone would have noticed a patient support employee who wore green tennis shoes.
It was a daring touch, those green shoes. Catch me if you can, they said.
Well, she would.
In a hospital, green shoes would pass for a statement of quirky personality. In the woods outside Dani’s lake cabin, they would pass for camouflage—especially in the dark.
She stood up. “I commend you. You’ve done your job well and have been only the most minimal help to me. Perhaps you would like me to write that on a form.”
Hidden Falls Page 48