Before they exited the house, Abby asked Becca, “Did the baby ever do anything unusual? Stuff that most babies can’t do?”
Becca shrugged. “Nope, just normal baby stuff.”
Gabe pondered the words all the way home while Abby stared out the window and the baby slept. If Becca didn’t know Birdie could vanish, maybe it was a recent development. Maybe that was the deciding factor in Lizzie’s decision to leave Birdie with Gabe.
Gabe gritted his teeth in frustration. Why did everything have to be so damn hard?
Chapter Seventeen
THE SITUATION AT home wasn’t much better. Papi, Simon and Henry were huddled in front of the flat screen TV in the family room, watching football. Henry was stuffing his face with potato chips, his arm working with robotic precision. 1. Hand in bag to grasp chips. 2. Chips into mouth. 3. Chew. 4. Repeat.
Simon was hunched forward in his chair, elbows on knees, completely absorbed in the game. Apparently, Papi had been thinking about the whole basketball practice/babysitter situation and couldn’t wait to deliver the verdict. He shouted his proposal over the sound of Birdie’s Feed me now! squall.
“Here’s the deal, Gabriel. Our cleaning lady, Alice, is now 75 years old and wants to retire. If you take on her duties, I will pay you the same wage I pay her, and you can use the money to hire a babysitter for Birdie while you are engaged in basketball practice. Perhaps Miss Abby would be willing to care for her.”
Gabe knew Alice in a shadowy kind of way. She came in a couple times a week, usually when he was somewhere else. She vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the toilets, changed the bed sheets, did laundry, etc. Sometimes, she even shopped for groceries. Piece of cake. While he warmed Birdie’s bottle in the microwave, he thought it over. Would Abby be willing to babysit? Did he want a self-proclaimed witch caring for his kid?
Gabe changed Birdie’s diaper and popped the bottle into her mouth before responding. “That might work. I don’t know about Abby, though. She might be busy after school.”
“Think about it, son,” Papi said. “She knows our little secret. Who else could you trust with Birdie?”
Our little secret. What about Abby’s little secret?
Gabe bit his tongue and nodded. Actually he didn’t need Papi ordering him to think about it. On the trip home, he’d ignored Abby’s attempt at conversation and done nothing but think. How much information should he share with his family? The witch thing? Absolutely not. Gabe was having a hard enough time dealing with it. He didn’t need Papi’s old school superstitions muddling his mind even more. But, without that bit of information, he’d have to leave out the part about the gun. Would that omission put his family in greater danger? Questions without answers made his head hurt.
Gabe sighed, pressed Birdie over his left shoulder, thumped her back, and was rewarded with a loud, from-the-heels belch that stopped Henry in mid-crunch. “Jesus Christ, was that the kid? Sounded like it came from some fat old fart.”
Whap! Henry didn’t duck fast enough to avoid the rolled up newspaper wielded by his father. The jumbo-sized bag of potato chips flew from his hand, the chips littering the carpet like a late spring snowstorm.
“You do not take the Lord’s name in vain. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear,” Papi scolded.
“And,” Gabe added, “You called my baby a fat old fart.”
Henry ignored Gabe and mumbled, “Sorry, Papi.” He retrieved the chip bag, peering hopefully into its depths. Empty. With an impish grin, Henry glanced over at Gabe. “Hey, new cleaning lady! How about vacuuming up this mess?”
“De-lazify your ass and clean ’em up yourself,” Gabe snarled. “You spilled ’em.”
“Not my fault. Papi hit me with the newspaper. He made me spill ’em.”
Simon sprang to his feet and raked his brothers with an angry glare. “Shut the hell up! I’m trying to watch the game.”
Papi clapped his hand three times, his traditional command for silence. “Henry, get the vacuum. Simon, sit down.”
He plucked the baby from Gabe’s arms, plopped her down on Simon’s lap and spoke to her in his high-pitched baby voice. “Birdie, you will stay with Uncle Simon while I talk to Daddy.”
Simon stiffened and mumbled a complaint, but after a stern look from Papi, gripped Birdie around her middle and bounced her up and down on his knees.
“Careful,” Gabe said. “She just ate.”
Simon frowned. “She’d better not puke on me.”
Heading for the living room, Papi called, “Babies puke, Simon. Good practice for when you have your own.”
With a bark of laughter, Henry said, “Yeah, right. Like he’s got a trail of hot chicks dying to hook up with him.”
Simon’s miserable lack of success with those of the female persuasion was a frequent source of amusement to his brothers. Simon tucked Birdie under one arm and used his free hand to flip Henry off. Henry returned the gesture, using both middle fingers.
Gabe grinned and followed Papi into the living room.
“So, Gabriel. Tell me about your trip. Did you locate the baby’s mother?”
Gabe chose his words carefully, making no mention of the gun incident and Abby’s bizarre intervention. Instead, he described their visit to the Hodges, the blood-spattered shed, and Birdie’s disappearing act.
Papi’s brows drew together in concern. “This man, Hodges, he actually grabbed her?”
“Yeah,” Gabe said. “That’s when the bracelet got caught on my shirt button and she disappeared. The Hodges want her bad. It has to be about money. Why else would they want her?”
After demanding a thorough explanation about the bracelet incident, Papi crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and studied the ceiling, his thinking mode. Gabe kept silent, knowing better than to hurry the process.
“Yes!” A cheer erupted from the family room. The Seahawks must have scored. Birdie joined in with a loud, “Eeep!”
Five minutes later, Papi’s gaze returned to Gabe. “If you’re correct and this is about money, here’s what we must do. Find out who wants the child so badly they’re willing to fork over large amounts of cash to get her. In other words, follow the money.”
Gabe sighed. “How the hell do we do that?”
Papi stood. “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry, Gabriel. We’re in this together. You. Me. Your brothers, too, in spite of how they act. Birdie is a Delgado, and Delgados stick together. Now, let’s go watch the rest of the game.”
Later that night, Gabe fought his way to consciousness, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. The dream had been so real. Donnie Hodges, Birdie dangling from one hand, ran through an apple orchard, Gabe right on his heels. Every time he caught up to Donnie and reached for the baby, gnarly tree roots erupted from the ground, snaked around his ankles, and jerked. Face down in the dirt, Gabe would struggle to his feet and resume the chase, all the while yelling at the top of his lungs, “Birdie! You can get away. Do it. Disappear!”
Now fully awake, Gabe listened for the sound of the baby’s breathing. Total silence. He jabbed at the bedside lamp, his gaze following the dim pool of light to the crib. The empty crib.
“Shit!” Gabe lurched out of bed, tripped over his gym bag, and sprawled on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and burst through the bedroom door into the hall.
Don’t panic, Gabe. She’s probably close by.
Papi’s door stood open. Gabe flipped on the light. The bedcovers were rumpled but there was no sign of Papi. What the hell was going on?
After checking Simon and Henry’s rooms, Gabe hit the stairs running, panic spiraling through his body. Then, he heard the sound of Papi’s singsong humming and a rhythmic thump, thump, thump.
“Gabe,” Papi called from the family room. “In here.”
Soft lamplight illuminated Papi in his recliner, gen
tly patting Birdie’s back. Weak with relief, Gabe collapsed onto the couch and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I woke up and couldn’t find her. I was still half asleep. Guess I panicked.”
“She was fussing,” Papi said. “It was such a pitiful sound, I went in your room to see what was wrong. You were tired so I let you sleep.”
“Thanks,” Gabe said. “It’s just that you’ve never done that before and when I saw the crib was empty, I thought she’d vanished again.”
Papi shifted the sleeping baby so she lay across his lap. “I wonder what was going through her mind. I guess we’ll never know.”
“I had a nightmare,” Gabe said. “And when I woke up, she was gone.”
“Tell me about the nightmare.”
“Donnie Hodges had her. I was chasing them, but I kept falling down. I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t just do the vanishing thing. I kept yelling at her.”
“Yelling what?”
“Do it, Birdie. Disappear.”
Gabe and Papi locked gazes. “Maybe,” Papi said, “The baby picked up on the fear in your dream and reacted to it. Maybe she wanted to vanish but couldn’t, because she was wearing the bracelet.”
Gabe blew out a gusty breath. “Guess I’d better try not to have any more nightmares.”
Papi gathered up the sleeping baby, patted Gabe’s shoulder, and headed for the stairs. “Try to get some sleep, son. Tomorrow’s another day.”
But sleep eluded Gabe that night. Each time he’d start to drift off, the image of Donnie Hodges running through the orchard with Birdie was all it took to jerk him out of dreamland. His father’s words follow the money, scrolled through his head over and over. But how? Where should he begin? Frustrated, weary, and completely out of patience, he turned on the lamp and fired up his laptop.
Chapter Eighteen
The Scientific Academy of Merit
“MONEY’S GETTING tight,” Hamilton Knowles said.
His nasally voice grated on Samantha Worthington’s tightly wound nerves.
“Think about it, Sam,” he said. “You’ve spent thousands to gather your specimens. And we have to keep giving out scholarships to worthy kids in order to maintain our stellar reputation as a philanthropic organization. Money’s a finite resource. It’s simple really. Income: zero. Outgo: most of Bryce’s fortune. Either get your hands on the kid right away, or go with what you have. Even without the vanishing gene, you’ll still have plenty of clients.”
Hamilton Knowles was Samantha’s money guy. He’d stuck with her because he wanted to get rich. Why else would he get involved in her scheme to devise the perfect super being?
Sam bit back her anger at his condescending manner. She needed him on her side. For the moment. Later, Hamilton Knowles might be expendable. The thought made Samantha happy. “My people in Maple Grove aren’t coming through, but I have a plan.”
Hamilton rolled his eyes. “I’m all ears.”
Samantha suppressed a smile. In addition to his annoying voice, Knowles had huge, jug-handle ears. She said, “I’ll send one of the supes.”
“Can you trust them?”
“They all want something . . . money, a new start in life. Most of them want out of here. Don’t worry about it. I know all the buttons to push.”
“What if they take off?”
“Whoever I send will have a minder to keep an eye out and to make sure the supe does his job.”
“And if he doesn’t?
Samantha made a slashing motion across her throat.
Hamilton pursed his lips in disapproval. “Oh.”
Samantha tried not to roll her eyes. What an ass! You don’t like my methods but you’re willing to overlook them and hang around for the payoff.
Knowles, a master at picking up her moods, gave her a weak smile. His gaze darted away from hers and back. “I’d like to address the incentive of a cash reward. Let me remind you again, your resources are diminishing.”
“And let me remind you,” Samantha said, “the supe will have to come back to the institute to collect. Trust me, it will cost nothing except travel expenses.”
“You mean . . .” He imitated her slashing motion.
“Exactly.”
Knowles’ Adams apple bobbed nervously. “Who will you use?”
Samantha opened a desk drawer and pulled out a dozen file folders. “I’m trying to decide who would work best. K-35 would be a good choice. He’s a stone killer. No conscience whatsoever. He could go in, wipe out the entire family, grab the kid and be done with it in less than fifteen minutes. Not to mention, he’d enjoy the process immensely.”
Knowles shook his head. “No way. That kind of crime would polarize a community like Maple Grove. No stone unturned until the crime is solved. What if they traced the killer back to the institute? We can’t afford that. You need something a little more subtle.”
“I was going for fast, not subtle. You just told me we’re running out of money.”
“There has to be a better way.”
Samantha shuffled through the file folders, extracted one, and opened it. “S-15 might work. She’s a sensitive.”
“Which means?” Knowles said.
“She uses touch to manipulate a person’s mind.”
“Physical touch?”
“Yes,” Samantha said. “A simple touch on the arm and she has access to that person’s innermost thoughts.”
Knowles stroked his chin. “Hmm. So if she touches the kid’s father, does he then fall under her spell, so to speak, and hand over the baby if she wills him to do it?”
Samantha studied the papers in S-15’s file. “Here in the lab, her success rate for mind manipulation was around ninety percent. Pretty good odds, I’d say.”
“What about the other ten percent? Any commonalities?”
“Didn’t work on the shifters and the other clairvoyants,” Samantha said.
“Could be a lot more resistant types. Remember, your clientele here isn’t exactly normal. Plan sounds iffy to me.”
Samantha used a cold smile to mask her internal rage. Why did every man in her life try to destroy her dream? First, her father with his rigid ethical standards had refused to let her experiment with bio-genetics. She’d begged him to let her continue. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, she may have been able to save her mother’s life. Instead, she’d watched her mother waste away.
After her father’s passing, she thought she’d found a kindred soul in her husband. But, he, too, began having his doubts. She’d meticulously orchestrated his death in a sailboat accident. The money kept flowing. Now, this jerk was second-guessing her.
“You wanted subtle,” she said. “This is subtle. I’m going with S-15.”
Knowles stood and waved a dismissive hand. “You’re the boss.”
Damn right I am. And don’t you forget it.
“There’s another reason I want to use S-15.” Samantha handed him a photo. “Look at her. She’s extremely attractive. Twenty-eight but she could easily pass for eighteen. I need you to do something for me, Hamilton. Check out the Delgado family. There has to be a weak link somewhere. Find it, and I guarantee you we’ll get our hands on that baby.”
Knowles nodded.
“I’ll hold off with S-15 until you report back.” Samantha paused and flashed a brief smile. “I do have another plan in place that might make S-15 unnecessary. There’s a person in Gabe Delgado’s circle of acquaintances. A woman who says it’s just a matter of time before she’ll have the baby on a plane with a one-way ticket to Sacramento.”
“Do you trust her?”
Samantha shrugged. “Who knows? She wants the money, of course.” She folded her arms across her chest, leaned back in the chair, and stared out the window.
Knowles edged toward the door. “A
nything else?”
“Actually, yes.” She stood, put her hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. “You know, Hamilton, I think you’re right. We’re spending too much money. Remember K-35?”
With an involuntary shudder, Knowles said, “The killer?”
“Yes, the killer. He needs a job. From now on, those who fail me will be terminated. No money exchanges hands. K-35 gets to do what he loves. It’s a win-win situation.”
The color drained from Knowles face. Before he slipped through the door, he said, “Let’s hope they don’t fail.”
“MR. DELGADO, ARE you trying to tell me how to do my job?’ An angry flush bloomed on Mrs. Wachsmith’s narrow face as she studied the slick brochure given to Gabe by Paula McMillan.
“No, of course not,” Gabe said. “But I thought you ought to know this agency doesn’t exist.”
“There must be some mistake. She showed me identification.”
“ID can be faked.”
“Why would she go to all that trouble to get fake brochures and a false ID? It doesn’t make sense,” Mrs. Wachsmith said.
Gabe shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they’re into black market baby selling.” Actually, that wasn’t far from the truth, but it was all he could safely reveal to the childcare supervisor. Gabe continued. “Just thought you should know about McMillan. And, please make sure my dad and I are the only ones on the list to pick up Birdie.”
Mrs. Wachsmith, still put out, gave him a brief nod. “Custody issues?”
And so much more. “Yeah.”
“It would help if I knew more about the mother.”
That makes two of us. Gabe stood to leave. “I’ll keep you posted.”
As he offloaded Birdie and her paraphernalia, a stray thought nagged at his brain. Was Wachsmith in on it? Could he trust her? Yeah, she said his child’s safety was her main concern, but wave some cash under her nose and she might cave. Teachers didn’t make that much money and she was close to retirement.
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