by T. Doyle
Ray sat in Drew’s place which was weird, even with the kids gone I still thought of each chair belonging to them. I slid the rotisserie chicken onto a platter, added a fork and a carving knife, and handed it to Joe.
He dissected the chicken because as an orthopedic surgeon, he didn’t carve. “Ray said Evie Feeney had a bag of drugs in her room and tried to pin it on Jenny.” Joe handed me the chicken and plopped salad on his plate.
“That happened.” I sat next to Joe at the table and sipped my wine. “It was an interesting day.”
“Did they find any medical marijuana?” Joe slid a chicken leg onto his plate.
“No, but they found Percocet, Fentanyl, and Valium. Marabel thinks someone is stealing a pill or two at a time from the patients.” I took a hunk of chicken breast and glanced at Ray. “Serve yourself, boarding house rules.”
His lips twitched. Ray added salad and green beans to his plate. “What are boarding house rules?”
“One foot must stay on the floor, everything else is legal. Including stealing from a plate,” Joe said.
Ray grinned. “Just like home.” He snatched the other chicken leg. “This explains why all the Sanders have such fast hands.”
“Sander’s family motto, ‘It’s not yours until you’ve licked it.’” Joe reached over and squeezed my thigh.
“That’s actually disturbing,” Ray said, but he didn’t look disturbed. He turned to me. “Did you find out anything from Polly?”
“I did. Polly said Oscar asked about Tyler’s friend and acted weird after he added photos to Tyler’s wall of adoptions.” I sipped my wine.
“Weird how?” Ray asked.
“He became quiet, kept to himself. Polly asked him if anything was wrong and he told her he was fine. But here’s the thing, Tyler’s handled our nephew Paul’s adoption twelve years ago. In fact, there were only nine adoptions he did in that entire decade. Polly said in the last five years, he’s done eighty adoptions. That seems high, right?” I cut up my chicken breast.
Ray nodded, too busy chewing on his chicken leg to answer.
Joe sipped his beer. “That’s three kids placed every two months.”
I bit into a green bean and considered how we’d missed the number of new babies in town. “And they were babies, mostly. He’s got an entire wall of photos of all the adoptions.”
“How many pictures after the Bias’s?” Ray asked.
“Two more.” I’d forgotten to put a starch on the table. I got up, pulled the French baguette from the pantry, grabbed the butter dish, and sat.
“Any relation to Kristi Bias?” Ray tore off a hunk of French bread and made a happy noise.
“Jason and Claire are distant cousins.” Joe gave a small smile. “I saw Jason last week for a sprained ankle and he told me all about the adoption. You know he plays softball with Tyler.”
Ray helped himself to more chicken and I wondered how often he got a home-cooked meal. Or, in this case, store-cooked but home-served.
“Also, before I forget, Tyler has expensive hobbies.” I recapped my discussion with Polly.
“Does he own his own plane?” Joe asked.
“He does,” Ray said. “I saw a picture of it on his desk and asked.” Ray pointed his fork at me. “Also, if Tyler really loved SCUBA he wouldn’t go to the same place to dive every time. Maybe he’s laundering money.”
Joe sat back in his chair. “Depositing cash into a foreign account. Interesting. Adoptions can bring in big bucks.”
“You think he’d risk tax evasion?” I couldn’t imagine Tyler being so brazen.
“Maybe he wanted to hide his money from his ex-wife?” Ray said.
“What?” Joe asked.
“Ray’s mom mentioned Tyler’s divorce. According to Jenny, they tried to have kids for years. I guess the stress was too much, and they divorced.” I shrugged. “Tyler’s wife remarried and has kids with her new husband.”
“Was it contentious?” Joe asked.
I turned to Ray, hoping he knew more about the divorce.
Ray wiped his hands on a napkin. “Well, according to my Mom and my sister, he loved her. And then she remarried and popped out kids before the paper was dry on their divorce decree. I doubt that was easy for Tyler.” Ray said.
Joe winced. “Yeah, that’s a kick in the pants. Has Tyler dated anyone after the divorce?”
“Not that I know of,” I said. “But then I didn’t know he owned a plane. And where is he getting all these babies for adoption?” I looked at Joe, stomach churning. “What if Oscar asked Tyler about his source for babies and it got him killed?”
Ray sat back and drummed his fingers on the table. “You said over eighty kids?” Ray stroked his beard and bread crumbs fell to his chest.
I stared at Ray’s chest, and he brushed the crumbs off. “Yes. There were eighty framed photos, and some have two children. Most of the babies are Hispanic.”
Ray scratched his chin. “You think Tyler’s got a baby farm somewhere? How would that work?”
“What’s a baby farm?” Joe asked.
Joe’s question seemed to cloud Ray’s face. “There was a story years ago about sex-trafficking in Nigeria. Women forced into prostitution got pregnant and the slavers sold the kids.”
Joe pushed his plate away. “That’s disgusting.”
That was too horrible to consider happening in Forest Forks. I grabbed my phone and searched through my gallery pictures. “Maybe Tyler’s importing babies from an orphanage in Mexico or South America.” I passed my phone to Ray. “Ingrid, at Sunnyview, said her son used Tyler for his adoption and said her grandkids came from Guatemala.”
“That’s not unusual to hire a lawyer to handle international or even local adoptions,” Joe said. “Angela and Christopher knew the birth mother, they found her through someone at church and Tyler handled the paperwork. Maybe Tyler made a name for himself and people all around the country use him.” Joe’s suggestion, although logical, didn’t settle the gnawing sensation in my gut.
“I think Oscar’s death has something to do with the adoptions,” I said.
Ray passed my phone to Joe. “Do you think there’s a chance Polly would loan you the laptop with Tyler’s schedule and client list?”
“Not likely. Why would she? But maybe Oscar downloaded Tyler’s schedule to his tablet?” I pushed back from the table and went into the dining room, searched the box with Oscar’s tablet and brought it back to the table. I plugged it in and we waited for it to charge.
Ray stroked his beard. “We could copy Polly’s laptop files.”
“How would we do that?” I asked.
“That sounds illegal.” Joe had that pinched expression like when the kids were trying to persuade him to extend their curfew.
Ray waved his hand. “Eh, it’s not as illegal as murder.” He stabbed a green bean. “If we could get Tyler’s financials and compare that with his client list and schedule we could maybe see if he’s hiding income. We might even see if he’s paying baby-finder fees.”
I slumped in my chair. “How would we get all of that?”
Ray’s eyes widened and he tossed up his hands. “I already told you, copy Polly’s laptop.”
“You say that like it’s obvious.” I turned on Oscar’s tablet and was stymied by the keypad wanting a numeric password. I punched in his birthdate, his phone number, the zip code. Nothing worked.
Ray worked on the tablet for a few minutes and gave up. “Oscar’s phone is still missing, right?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yeah, we’re going to have to break into Tyler’s.” Ray’s matter-of-fact tone made the solution seem reasonable.
“Wait a minute.” Joe wadded up his paper towel and put it on his plate. “This sounds dangerous. And Tyler lives on the second floor.”
Ray shook his head. “Not tonight. I asked. He’s got tickets to the basketball game at the college. He’ll be gone until after nine.”
Joe’s eyes widened. “You’re serious
about breaking in? Isn’t there some other way? And honestly, why should Tyler hide money? His wife can’t get alimony. She’s remarried. He doesn’t have to hide the money.”
Ray cocked his head to the side and narrowed one eye. “But she can get half the value of his practice and if she can prove he hid money, she can sue him for more.”
“Maybe.” I hesitated, still not able to wrap my head around the idea that Tyler, someone I knew, might’ve committed murder. “Do you think Tyler would kill Oscar over a few dollars?”
Joe picked up the plates. “It’s probably more than a few dollars. Not that I’m suggesting you commit a felony to find evidence of Tyler’s guilt.”
“I’ve seen people kill for a pair of sneakers.” Ray carried the empty beer bottles to the recycling. “Only way to know if Tyler is guilty of something is to see his financials. We’re going to have to break in and clone Polly’s computer.”
Sounded logical and foolish. I brought over the platter and pushed the leftovers into a plastic container.
Ray cleared the table.
Joe put the dishes in the dishwasher.
Ray clapped his hands. “Okay, then, Joe’s lookout, you come with me and we search Tyler’s office.”
“Now?” I asked. A little zing of excitement shivered through me.
“What? You worried you’ll miss The Bachelor?” Ray crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“NCIS.” Joe dried his hands and folded the towel. “How about I’m the lookout and Charlie stays here?”
“What? No.” I did not stomp my foot, but the urge was there.
Ray looked at his watch. “I want you as lookout, and Charlie to take pictures of all the kids on the wall while I search. We’ll be in and out fast.” His skeptical smirk didn’t ease my concerns. “We’ll take my car.”
“Your car is too loud. We’ll take mine,” Joe said, surprising me. He waggled his brows at me. “What? You think I’m going to let you have all the fun?”
Which is how, ten minutes later, I ended up wearing latex gloves, focusing my phone light on Tyler’s back door while Ray used a lock-pick set.
Joe had parked on the corner giving him a view of the alley and the front of Tyler’s office.
The doorknob turned in Ray’s hand.
“That’s very handy. Any chance you’ll teach me how to pick a lock?” I whispered.
Ray closed the door behind us. “Yeah. That’ll go over well at the next PTA meeting.”
I punched his shoulder. “Hey, I’m an empty nester. PTA is in the past. All I have to look forward to is the gardening club and…” I swallowed. “Quilting.”
“Quilting? You? I’m not sure I’d arm you with anything as sharp as a needle and scissors.”
“Stuff it. At least I’m not flirting with people half my age.”
Ray nudged me toward the photo wall.
I took photos with my phone, attempting to get four pictures frames in each shot.
“You’d make a lousy cougar. Your standards are too high,” Ray said.
“What does that make you? A manther?” My phone buzzed with a text from Joe. “Joe says the light turned on across the street.”
“Probably coincidence. Keep taking pictures. Joe will tell us if they come outside.” Ray sat at Polly’s desk and opened her laptop. He stuck a USB drive in the side and held down a few keys while the computer started. He harrumphed. “I’ll have you know, I haven’t entertained any women in a couple of weeks.”
I whipped my head around and slammed my mouth shut preventing an indelicate question from slipping out. “I wish you happiness,” I said.
He looked at me with his lips drawn back in mock horror. “Take that back.”
I ignored him and continued taking photos. “What are you doing over there?”
“I’ve got a program that allows me to use her laptop without her noticing. I can access her hard drive and copy files over,” he said.
“Would it work on Oscar’s cloud drive?”
“Nope. But I know a guy I can ask how to access Oscar’s cloud.”
I finished with the photos. “I’ll check out the file room, maybe he keeps his accounting and tax records in there.” Tyler’s file room contained several oak filing cabinets. They were heavy and locked. I peeked my head back into the reception area. “Hey, the filing cabinets are locked. Wanna teach me how to use the lock-pick now?”
“Don’t worry about it. His files likely contain paper copies of things he filed at the court, and we can get those online. I wonder if Tyler has a safe?”
My phone buzzed with a text from Joe. I read it aloud. “Cops driving this way.”
“Got it.” Ray pulled the USB drive out and closed the laptop lid. We slid out the back door, and Ray checked to make sure the door locked behind us.
“Weird that Tyler doesn’t have an alarm, right?” I stuffed my used latex gloves in my pocket.
“He does,” Ray said. “I noticed the keypad in his office. I disarmed it this afternoon. I hoped he hadn’t noticed.”
Outside, I pumped my legs to keep up with Ray’s long stride. “Are you kidding me?” I wanted to smack him but he was moving too fast. “What if he had noticed?”
“Well, then the alarm would have gone off and we’d have run really fast to Joe’s car. No big deal.” Ray opened the passenger door.
I gave him the stink eye. I slid into the car and closed my door.
Ray settled in the back seat.
Joe turned on the headlights and drove toward our house. “How’d it go?”
“Good,” Ray said. “I’ll go through the files I copied tonight and make a list. Charlie, if you get time, upload the photos and send me a link. I’ll cross check photos with the missing persons database.”
I turned to face Ray. “Okay. Can I help? That seems like a lot of work.”
“Yeah.” Ray sucked air between his teeth. “See if you can’t keep my mom from extracting retribution on Evie.”
“Maybe she’ll forget about Evie.” Hope tinged my tone.
Ray chuffed. “You’re one heck of an optimist, Charlie.”
Chapter Eighteen
It took more than an hour to upload the pictures from Tyler’s office. I emailed the link to Ray and closed my laptop. I rewarded myself with snuggling Joe on the couch. We watched Joe Kenda on the Investigation Discovery channel and I wished I had his interview skills.
He squeezed my shoulder. “What’s got you huffing?”
“Am I?” I snuggled in closer. “Okay, I guess I am. I’m worried about the babies Tyler placed for adoption. What if some of them were kidnapped? A lot of parents could be missing their children. And a lot of unsuspecting adoptive parents could lose their families. I would help Angela and Christopher escape with Paul before letting someone take him from us.”
Joe kissed the top of my head. “Those are some depressing thoughts. Hopefully Tyler has a connection with an orphanage and only wanted to hide his assets from his ex-wife.”
I really hoped so. But the thought of parents missing children niggled at my brain. An uncomfortable feeling pierced my heart and dredged up the sensation that I never fit in with my own family.
Having been around Joe’s family for a couple of decades made me realize how strained my birth family ties were. The television flashed a scene of a woman having an affair with her golf pro and provoked my anger at my mom for asking me to hide her secret affair. “Joe, I might ask Ray to help me find my birth father.”
He twisted on the couch to face me. “Okay. You could take one of those DNA test kits everyone is using today, and maybe narrow down the field. Some of them even list possible relatives.”
Excitement shivered down my spine. “Really?”
“Yeah, if a sibling or cousin has taken the test and agreed to share the information, you can contact them.” Joe wrapped his warm hand around mine. “You could ask your mom again.”
I shuddered. “No, the last time she made it clear she never want
ed to discuss my biological dad. She didn’t talk to me for months afterwards.” Our relationship had never really recovered, making me feel more like an outsider than ever at family get-togethers.
“Do you think your dad would divorce your mom if he found out?” Joe’s soft voice held no judgement.
“I’m not sure. Dad’s a good guy, but I always felt like he treated me differently. He coached Robby’s and Samantha’s soccer teams, but not mine. Maybe it was because I was the youngest and he was tired. I felt lucky he showed up for my high school graduation.”
Joe tugged me into his arms. “The thing is, Babe, they were having trouble before you were born, or she wouldn’t have had an affair. None of this is your fault.”
“But it feels like it is,” I whispered.
“And I’ll never forgive your mom for making you feel that way.” He kissed me and made me believe everything would be fine. “Take the DNA test. And do some investigating into your mom’s hobbies back then. She met this guy, your bio dad, and spent time with him without raising too much suspicion.” Joe nodded toward the television. “My guess would be someone at your parents’ country club maybe, or one of the charities your mom worked on.”
“Mom does love her charities.” Actually, she loved organizing black-tie events so she could dress up, and her charity work allowed someone else to foot the bill for her extravagant tastes. It amazed me that I shared any DNA with her.
“You know what would be crazy?” I hugged Joe’s arm tighter around my waist.
“What?”
“What if none of my siblings are related to Dad? Maybe Mom had three affairs and not just one.” I turned to face him. “Maybe that’s why Mom’s afraid of my questions.”
Joe’s eyebrows rose and he got that twinkle in his eye. “We should give your siblings the DNA test for Christmas this year. Tell them ancestry has become your new hobby.”
“You are devious.”
“I’m an eeevuuul genius,” he drawled.
That night, I dreamt of milk cartons with photos of parents pleading for the return of their babies. They screamed, weird piercing screeches.