by Sharon Sala
“Grampy! I didn’t know you were already downstairs. After that flight, I thought surely you’d sleep in.”
Marcus smiled and kissed Olivia on the cheek as she threw herself into his arms.
“You didn’t,” he said.
“I know, but it’s so good to be home,” she said, then added, “You smell good. Calvin Klein’s Obsession, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and you smell pretty darn good yourself. Oscar Meyer bacon, right?”
As always, her laughter rocked his world. He slipped an arm over her shoulder as he led her to the breakfast room.
“Did you leave any bacon for me?” he asked as he seated her at the table.
Olivia made a face. “Why, Grampy… surely you’re not suggesting that I’m a pig?”
“Oh no… only that you like eating them.”
He grinned as Rose carried in a platter of bacon in one hand and a bowl of scrambled eggs in another. The basket of hot biscuits was already on the table beside a pot of honey and a glass compote of strawberry jam. Even though there were only Marcus and Olivia to share the meal, he always insisted their meals be served in an old-fashioned, home-style manner. Despite the vastness of his wealth, the simple bowls of food reminded him of his own childhood and humble beginnings.
“Rose, as always, it looks marvelous and smells delicious,” Marcus said as the housekeeper poured hot coffee into their cups.
Rose Kopecnick smiled and winked at Olivia. “Tastes good, too, doesn’t it, honey girl?”
“I plead the Fifth and please pass the bacon,” Olivia said.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll help myself first,” Marcus said. “After that, it’s all yours.”
“Works for me,” Olivia said, and served herself a healthy helping of fluffy scrambled eggs while keeping a watchful eye on the bacon Marcus was putting on his plate.
The meal progressed in silence as the first pangs of hunger were appeased, interspersed with bits of conversation later as it drew to an end.
“What are you going to do today?” Marcus asked as he laid his napkin beside his plate.
Olivia swallowed her last sip of coffee, then leaned back in her chair.
“Unpack.”
He smiled. “And after that?”
“Return some phone calls and sleep through jet lag. You should do the same.”
“I’ll nap in the daytime when I’m too old to do anything else,” Marcus said.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Oh, Grampy, you’ll never be old.”
He thought of the seventy years that were behind him while refusing to dwell on the dwindling few he had left.
“Maybe not in my head, but we’ll see what my body has to say about that.”
Olivia leaned forward and threaded her fingers through Marcus’s. Before she could speak, the phone began to ring.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
Marcus stood up and followed her out of the room. He was in the hall and heading toward the library when he heard Olivia raise her voice to the caller on the other end of the line.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and hung up the phone. There was a frown on her face as she turned around.
“Olivia… darling… what’s wrong?”
“That was weird,” she said. “Some reporter wanted to know if I had any comments regarding the headline in the morning paper.”
“What headline?” Marcus asked.
Olivia shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen a paper, have you?”
Marcus pointed down the hall. “Rose probably put them in the library with the accumulated mail. Let’s go see.”
Rose had laid the mail on Marcus’s desk, with the oldest on the left and the most recent on the right. The newspapers were in a stack with the most recent on top. Marcus saw the headline even before he picked up the paper.
“What the hell? Sealy connection to skeletal remains? What does that mean?” He tried to read the smaller print, then squinted and patted his pockets. “I need my glasses.”
“Here, Grampy, let me,” Olivia said, and took the paper out of his hands and scanned the story, frowning as she read.
“What’s it about?” Marcus asked.
Olivia’s frown deepened as she looked up.
“Some people up at Texoma were renovating a house they just bought. They found a suitcase in a wall, and when they opened it, it contained the skeletal remains of a little girl about two years old.”
“Good Lord!” Marcus said, and reached behind him for a chair. He sank into it with a thump. “That’s horrible, but why would they link the discovery to us?”
Olivia’s hands were shaking as she handed him the paper. “Because the coroner said she was born with two left thumbs.”
Marcus let the paper fall to the floor as he reached for Olivia’s hand, unconsciously rubbing the tiny scar where her second thumb used to be.
“We’re not the only family with such anomalies. Why would they single us out again?”
Olivia pointed to the paper, then had to clear her throat before she could say it.
“They’re putting the homicide at about twenty-five years ago… which was the time of my kidnapping.”
Marcus’s hand stilled momentarily; then he clutched Olivia’s hand firmly.
“See, that just proves that tragedies happen to all of us,” he said gruffly.
There was a long moment of silence between them, and when it was broken, it was Olivia who spoke.
“Grampy?”
He spoke absently, his mind still turning over the facts of what she’d read. “What, darling?”
“Were you sure?”
He started, then looked up. “I’m sorry… what were you saying?”
She said it again, this time putting emphasis on the last word.
“Were you sure?”
“Sure about what?”
“Me… when the kidnappers turned me loose. You knew for sure it was me, didn’t you?”
Marcus stood abruptly and took Olivia in his arms.
“Oh, Olivia, of course I was sure. You were my grandchild. Your father and mother ate Sunday dinner with me every week. You and I fed the fish in the goldfish pond every Sunday afternoon. I remember the day I let you pick all the blooms off your mother’s prize begonias because you liked the way they felt against your skin. I knew you, darling… just as I know you now. Never doubt that we are of the same flesh. Never.”
Olivia blinked back tears as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry for asking. It’s just that we never talk about it, and I wasn’t sure if—”
Marcus took her by the shoulders and pushed her back until she was forced to meet his gaze.
“Darling, we never talk about it because there’s nothing to say. You were so small, barely two years old. Thank the good Lord you have no memory of seeing your parents murdered, or of where you were kept, or who had you. It has been the only blessing to come out of it all. The last thing I would ever do is speak of something that I always feared would cause you emotional damage.”
“Oh, Grampy, I’m sorry. I never thought of it like that.”
Marcus smiled gently as he cupped her face. “You know who you are. There are pictures of you with your parents all over this house, and at least once a year we get out the old albums and look at them, right?”
She nodded, then managed a smile. “And the old movies… don’t forget them,” she added.
“Yes. Your father was something of a fanatic about you. He filmed you at every stage of your life. I’d venture to say there’s more film of you and your first two years of life than many people have of their entire existence. Besides that, there’s no mistaking that the baby in those pictures is the same baby I got back.”
“When the kidnappers let me go, was I happy to see you?” Olivia asked.
Marcus frowned. “You weren’t happy about anything, darling, and the doctors expected it. You cried nonstop for days, begging for your mother. It ne
arly broke my heart.”
Olivia laid her hand against her grandfather’s chest, taking comfort from the steady rhythm against her palm.
“How did you cope?”
“I finally hired a nanny, remember? It was Anna Walden who finally settled you in, although, to be honest, by then I think you’d just cried yourself out.”
Olivia nodded. “Speaking of Anna, it’s been ages since I visited her.” Then she frowned. “Do you think the reporters will bother her about this?”
“I don’t know, but I’d lay odds that if one of them thinks about it, they will,” Marcus said. “I’ll try to take some time off and drive out to Arlington to see her, but it’ll have to wait a bit. I wouldn’t trade a moment of our three weeks in Europe, but I fear there’s a lot of business that needs to be tended.”
Olivia pointed at the newspaper, which had fallen on the floor. “So what do we do about that?”
“It has nothing to do with us, so we do nothing, okay?”
“Okay,” Olivia said, then threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck. “I love you, Grampy.”
He closed his eyes as he hugged her back. “And I love you, too, my dear.” Then he turned her loose with a pat on the back and gave her a handful of phone messages. “I believe these are all yours. Don’t overdo yourself with commitments. I’m getting selfish in my old age and want a little of your time to myself.”
“I promise,” she said, and left with the messages in her hand.
***
Marcus and Olivia weren’t the only ones shocked by the morning paper. Dennis Rawlins, a man with painful secrets, read the same headline, but with a different reaction.
Without delving into details, he made a snap judgment, deeming the Sealy family guilty of some deadly indiscretion and decided that they must pay.
It would take a lot of planning, but he was determined to make his presence known.
***
Trey pulled up to the Grayson County sheriff’s office, exiting the comfort of his air-conditioned car for the summer heat of Texas just as a skinny, middle-aged woman walked out. It was all Trey could do not to stare. Between her spiky pink hair and the little dog with a matching pink topknot that she was carrying, she was a sight to behold.
The woman caught him looking and blasted him with a hundred-watt smile. As she did, the dog bared its teeth and growled.
Now he was caught. Both with matching pink hair. Both baring their teeth at him. He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
The woman scolded the little dog, but at the same time she gave it a gentle squeeze and kissed it on the nose.
“Now, Cujo, you be nice to the pretty man, you hear?”
The dog continued to growl at Trey as the woman shifted it to her other arm, then grinned and winked as she sauntered past.
Trey tipped his hat and wisely kept on walking. Moments later, he was inside the sheriff’s office and back to serious business. Investigating anything that had to do with Olivia Sealy felt wrong—as if he was going behind her back. Feeling guilty about that was stupid because he hadn’t seen or talked to her in eleven years, and the last words they’d shared had been in anger. He didn’t owe her anything, especially loyalty or allegiance.
Still, his conscience continued to smart as he walked up to the receptionist. She was standing at a file cabinet with her back to the door. When she continued to file papers without turning around, he cleared his throat.
“Excuse me,” Trey said.
She jumped, then turned abruptly.
“My stars, you nearly scared the life right out of me. I heard the door chime, but I thought it was just Mama and Cujo leaving.”
Before Trey thought about how it might sound, he heard himself asking, “The lady with pink hair was your mother?”
The woman grinned. “Yeah, and that little old rat of a dog is the only sibling I’m ever likely to have.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
The woman held up her hand. “Don’t apologize. She takes pride in her… individuality, as she calls it. However, Cujo hasn’t been the same since Mama had the dog groomer dye his hair pink, too.”
“I can only imagine.”
The woman laughed. “Now, how can I help you?”
Trey managed a shamefaced grin. “Detective Trey Bonney to see Sheriff Jenner. I think he’s expecting me.”
She glanced down at a desk calendar, then up at Trey.
“Yes, Detective Bonney, he is, but he’s on the phone. Please have a seat, and as soon as he’s finished with his call, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Trey nodded, but before he could sit down, the door to the sheriff’s office opened and a man walked out. The receptionist looked up.
“Sheriff Jenner… Detective Bonney is here.”
Blue Jenner paused in midstep. Trey saw him shifting mental gears as he held out his hand.
“Detective, I got a call you were coming.”
Trey nodded. “After the discovery up at Lake Texoma, my lieutenant was pretty insistent.”
Blue shoved a hand through his hair, then scratched absently at the back of his neck.
“I welcome any help I can get on this,” he said. “I’m looking at a very cold trail to an old crime. Lord only knows if the people who did this are still alive, but if they’re not, I hope they’re burning in hell. It’s been a while since anything got to me like this has.”
Immediately, Trey picked up on the timeline.
“So we know for sure that the remains are old?”
Blue nodded. “Let’s talk in my office,” he said, closing the door behind them as Trey sat down in a chair opposite the sheriff’s desk. Blue sat down, too, then opened a file and shoved it across the desk toward Trey. “It’s all in there.”
Trey picked up the file and leafed through the papers until he came to the autopsy report. It was difficult to maintain his composure as he scanned the coroner’s drawings of the tiny bones, with the clinical notations of age and injuries. Despite his years on the force, he never got used to working cases involving children.
“How firm is the estimated date of when the crime took place?” Trey asked.
“As firm as it can be.”
Trey sighed. That meant the death of this child really had occurred at about the same time as the Sealy kidnapping. The odds of two little girls with an extra thumb on their left hands going missing in the Dallas area at the same time without any connection to each other were astronomical to impossible.
“What do you know so far?” Trey asked.
“We’re researching past owners of the lake house. There were quite a few during the past twenty-five years.”
Trey fingered the pages in the file as he thought through his options, but his instructions from Lieutenant Warren had been clear.
“My lieutenant wants to make sure we cover all the bases on this, so before I go, I’d like to take a look at the site of the discovery.”
“No problem,” Jenner said. “Ever been to Texoma?”
“Yes, but it’s been a few years.”
Blue reached for a piece of paper and a pen. “I’ll draw you a map.”
“I appreciate it,” Trey said.
Jenner drew the map, explaining a couple of the landmarks to Trey as he handed it over, then walked him to the door.
“Look, Bonney, if this turns out to be connected to the old Sealy case, I don’t have any problem with your department taking over the lead. Just keep me in the loop.”
Trey shrugged. “If it turns out to be connected to the Sealy case, we’ll both probably take a back seat to the Feds who ran the show the first time. They were the ones who caught the perp who picked up the ransom. Fisher Lawrence, I think his name was. No, Foster. Foster Lawrence.”
Blue’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I knew anything about a ransom being paid.” Then he grinned. “This was all a good bit before my time.”
“Yeah, mine, too,” Trey said. “However, I did go to high schoo
l with Olivia Sealy.”
“You’re kidding! What was she like?”
“Rich,” Trey said shortly.
Blue Jenner grinned, then changed the subject. “This Lawrence fellow, did he ever give up any of the others involved?”
Trey shook his head. “According to the old reports I read last night, he didn’t tell the Feds anything.”
“Then how did they connect him to the crime?”
“He was seen picking up the ransom. They went after him, lost him, then found him again, only he’d stashed the money somewhere in between. All he would say was that he didn’t know anything about anyone being killed.”
Blue grinned. “They’re always innocent, aren’t they?”
“As a baby,” Trey added, then shook Jenner’s hand. “Thank you for the information and the map. When you get a list of cabin owners, let me know, okay?”
“Will do,” Blue said.
A short while later, Trey was on his way to Lake Texoma. The map Jenner had drawn for him was easy to follow, and any doubts about being in the right place vanished when he got to the driveway that led to the house. The For Sale sign and the yellow crime-scene tape were impossible to miss. Originally, it had probably been stretched across the driveway to keep the curious away. But now that the coroner and the men from the sheriff’s department had come and gone, what was left of the tape was entwined among the trees and bushes at the entrance. It made Trey think of the yellow ribbons family members often tied around trees as a reminder that someone in the family was missing. Only this time a tiny someone, who nobody even knew had been missing, was now found. All the authorities had to do was figure out her identity and they would be one step closer to finding out who had killed her. He turned off the road and accelerated up the driveway.
As he pulled up to the house, he realized he wasn’t alone. A tall, gray-haired man was carrying a box out toward the open doors of a rental moving van. When he saw Trey, he began to frown. Trey killed the engine and got out.
“I’m sorry, mister, but this is private property, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the man said.
Trey took out his badge.
“Detective Bonney… Dallas PD,” Trey said.
The man set the box into the back of the van.