Cinnamon Girl

by S. J. MacIver

  "Not my mother." Jeremy violently shook his head. "You don't understand. She's going to kill the baby, and it's all my fault."

  * * *

  Down in South Dakota, Martin and Sara Jones weren't completely surprised when they opened the door to their mobile home and found a couple of FBI agents standing on the makeshift porch.

  Martin, in particular, had previously and often found himself on the wrong side of the law. He'd gotten to the point where he pretty much figured every time he did something that wasn't entirely legal, he would eventually be caught. And caught he was.

  Sara, on the other hand, was relatively new to a life of crime. She freaked when she saw the blazers emblazoned with the big yellow letters, and ran screaming toward the bedroom. The agents caught up with her, of course, cuffed her and dragged her back into the combination kitchen and living room where her husband sat nervously chewing his nails.

  Once Sara had calmed down some and Martin had been informed that cameras had tracked his arrival and departure to and from the hospital—with and without the baby—he knew the jig was up and the best thing he could do would be to cooperate fully.

  In less time than it had taken him to figure out how to use the computer email system at the library, he told the agents how he'd found a baby broker who'd promised them a child at a ridiculously small price. He neglected to mention where he'd gotten most of the money—much of it was stolen—and simply told them that they'd been saving for the occasion for a long time. The agents didn't seem to be too interested in the money. All they wanted to know about was the baby broker.

  Being a wily type criminal who prided himself on details, Martin supplied the agents with all the information they wanted and more. He was able to describe the broker's vehicle, a shiny Cadillac Escalade with a mother of pearl paint job, and then described the broker right down to the flashy diamonds she wore on the ring finger of her left hand.

  Martin and Sara were arrested when the interview was over, of course, but the couple felt confident their cooperation had earned them either a pass against prosecution, or perhaps would lead to a lesser sentence. In any case, for them, the nightmare was almost over.

  * * *

  At the church, Lacy sat staring at Jeremy for what seemed like forever. There was no way he could have meant those words literally.

  "What do you mean your mother will kill the baby?" she asked. "You don't think she knows how to take care of your half-brother?"

  He sighed heavily and the tears began to flow again. "I mean she'll find a way to get rid of him the way she got rid of Candee."

  Lacy instinctively jerked back and would have fallen had she been standing. In a hoarse whisper, she said, "Are you saying that your mother had something to do with Candee's death?"

  Miserable in expression and voice, Jeremy simply said, "Yeah."

  Lacy clutched her chest and drew several deep breaths. This couldn't be true, it couldn't, and yet she could see just by watching Jeremy in his despair that he wasn't making any of this up. This was no crazy story fabricated by an unhappy youth. This horror was real and Jeremy was planted right in the middle of it all.

  "Why?" was all Lacy could think to ask. "Why would she do this?"

  "Because of the baby."

  He said something after that, but his sobs drown out the words. Lacy gave him a few moments. Then she said, "I don't understand. I can see why your mother wasn't too happy about your father getting married again, but why would she harm Candee over the new baby?"

  "Because he was going to steal my inheritance, and that's why this is all my fault."

  Jeremy must have seen the confusion in Lacy's eyes, because he went on to explain. "In my dad's family, the farm gets passed down to the youngest surviving son. My dad has three older brothers, but when grandpa died, my dad inherited all twenty-thousand acres."

  Twenty-thousand acres. More than enough for anyone to live on without ever having to work another day. But enough to kill for? Lacy glanced at Jeremy, who was deep in his misery, and then thought back to some of the things she'd learned about his mother over the last few weeks. Most telling were the stories Candee's friend had shared about Carole's destructive nature over her husband's abandonment. How deeply had she involved her son in her revenge? And how had she pulled it all off?

  Keeping her voice as quiet and gentle as possible, Lacy said, "If you have the information, Jeremy, I'd like you to tell me exactly what happened to Candee. Can you do that for me?"

  He hung his head, thinking about it, and then slowly nodded. He did not raise his eyes as he said, "Mom knew Candee would be alone on Friday night because of Dad's annual pheasant hunt, so we drove to the abandoned glass factory. Mom gave me a throw-away phone, I called Candee and told her that some mean boys had beaten me up and left me there. I asked her to come get me, but not to tell my mom or dad."

  "And she agreed to all this?"

  He nodded. "Mom was hiding inside the building. When Candee got out of her car, Mom zapped her with a stun gun and we loaded her in the Escalade. Then we drove her out to the farm. I had to zap her once on the way to keep her from hollering too much."

  The thought of a mother involving her own child in this horror sent a shudder through Lacy. She bit back the urge to growl and said, "Your mother drove Candee to your father's farm outside of town?"

  "Yeah. The buildings, including the house, are all abandoned. Mom had everything set up in the house weeks ago. I just had to help her get Candee inside, and then she made me wait in the car."

  A small sliver of decency in an otherwise despicable woman. While Lacy was relieved that Jeremy hadn't witnessed the murder, there were still a lot of things that didn't add up.

  As delicately as she could manage, Lacy said, "If the baby was the reason your mother wanted to get rid of Candee, why on earth did she save the child?"

  A sob tore out of Jeremy's throat. He choked and sniffled for a few moments before he could answer. As he explained, his voice cracked with both adolescence and heartbreak.

  "That's my fault, too." He clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head back and forth. "When we found out the baby was going to be a boy, mom explained about the inheritance and all, and why we had to get rid of Candee."

  "And you didn't have a problem with that?"

  He shrugged. "Candee was a bad woman who scrambled my dad's brain and stole him away from my mother. I didn't care what happened to her, but I couldn't let the baby die. He's my brother—my brother."

  Jeremy was sobbing again, so Lacy sat back and tried to make sense out of all she'd heard. It was a truly sick story, something unimaginable, and yet she could almost understand how it all went down. Right from the beginning she could see how close Jeremy and his mother were, that they presented a united front, even when discussing the faults of the boy's father. It probably hadn't been too hard to convince a young man who worshipped his mother that Candee had to go.

  "Jeremy," Lacy said, rubbing his back. "You said you waited in the car at the farm. What happened after that?"

  He ran his hand under his nose, wiping it dry. "Mom brought the baby to the SUV. She told me Candee died in childbirth, but that the baby was all right."

  Jeremy smiled as he recalled this part. "He was so little, and all dressed up in a new nightgown and blanket. I could tell he liked me right away."

  Lacy wondered if Jeremy had somehow wiped the memory of how this baby had been brought into this world, or if he actually didn't know what his mother had done. Since there were other, more pressing questions that needed answering, she forged ahead.

  "Candee wasn't found out at your father's farm. How did she wind up in the refuge?"

  Reluctant to leave his memories of holding his little brother, Jeremy hedged a while, but finally gave in. "Mom had wrapped Candee up in a tarp, so I helped put her in the back of the SUV. When we got to the refuge, I helped get her out. That's all."

  "Not quite, Jeremy. What did you do with the baby?"

  Again
he smiled. "Mom gave me a bottle of formula and I got to feed him on the way to South Dakota."

  "You drove to South Dakota?"

  He nodded, still dreamy-eyed over his brief encounter as a big brother. "Mom found some folks on the internet who wanted to adopt a baby. We figured that way my brother would be safe, but nobody would ever know his last name or that he was supposed to inherit the farm. It seemed like a good plan."

  Lacy uttered a heavy sigh. "I suppose it did until the baby got sick and the parents brought him back. You do know that the police will find the couple who adopted your brother and that eventually, they will come for your mother."

  He burst into tears. "She doesn't deserve to go to jail. Mom only wanted what was hers and mine."

  And never mind how she got it, Lacy finished silently. She studied Jeremy, who was still crying, and worked on a way to do what she must without losing his trust.

  At length she said, "Why do you suppose you came here after you ran away from home?"

  He stopped crying, looked up at her and shrugged.

  "You came here," she surmised. "Because you knew what you and your mother did was wrong. You came here to ask God to forgive you and to find some peace. Am I wrong?"

  Again he shrugged.

  She pressed on. "I also came here today looking for something, and in the process, found a peace I've never known. Then I found you. Don't you think that means something?"

  One more shrug, and then he said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "I think we both came here looking for help. I also think we both found it. Will you let me help you now?"

  He mulled this over, guessing at what she had in mind. "You promised you wouldn't write about any of this."

  "Yes, I did, and I won't." Someone else would have that honor. "I want you to let me call a friend of mine, Brian Freyburg. Do you remember him?"

  Jeremy frowned and muttered, "Yeah. He helps out here, but he's also a sheriff."

  "He's a sheriff's deputy, but yes, he is the law. Brian can help you much more than I can. Please let me call him. I know he will make sure that you and your baby brother are safe. Then he can find a way to get you the help you need."

  As he considered this, Jeremy asked, "What about my mom? If I tell him what I told you, he'll arrest her."

  She could hardly deny that would happen. With a short nod, Lacy said, "Yes, I'm afraid he will probably take your mother into custody, but even that can have a silver lining."

  He scrunched up his face. "I don't see how. I don't want my mom to go to jail."

  "Maybe she won't wind up in jail, at least not ultimately. Maybe she, too, will get the help she needs."

  "All she needs," Jeremy grumbled, "is my dad."

  Lacy sighed. "I think you know that's not going to happen—not now, not ever."

  He hung his head and made no reply.

  Lacy scooted close and put her arm around the boy. Then she said, "The police know the baby is your brother and soon, whether you speak to Brian or not, they'll know your mother was involved in Candee's death. All I know for sure is that neither you nor your mother can even face one another until this whole thing sees the light of day. Surely you must understand that."

  Jeremy looked at her with sad eyes, rested his head on her shoulder, and finally said, "Call Brian. I'll tell him everything."

  * * *

  A couple of hours later after staying with Jeremy while he retold his sad story to Brian, an exhausted Lacy finally climbed into her Jeep and headed for home.

  She'd been surprised to see that it was dark outside when she walked into the parking lot, and realized that she had spent an entire day inside the church. Early on she drank the bottle of water she had inside her handbag, but other than that, nothing else had touched her lips all day.

  Lacy was not only wrung out, but starving. She was thinking of the pizza she had leftover from last night's solo supper as she pulled into her driveway and saw that something was amiss.

  There was a figure, a dark shadow, perched on one of the steps on her porch.

  Friend, or foe?

  Chapter 20

  Lacy killed the engine and watched as the figure rose and started walking down the steps. Even in a puffy jacket, she recognized Mike's build and his easy gait. She took a quick glance at the curb, and sure enough, there sat his big black truck. How had she missed it?

  Not entirely sure she had the energy for what would probably be a confrontation, Lacy dragged out of the Jeep, punched the security button, and then met Mike at the bottom of the steps.

  "Where have you been all day?" he asked with no small amount of irritation. "I've been worried sick about you."

  Lacy waited a beat. When she answered, her words were clipped and businesslike. "I'm not at all sure you're entitled to that information."

  Mike nodded slowly, and several times, before he said, "I take it Stephanie didn't introduce herself or explain the reason for her visit?"

  "No, she didn't. She just stood there wearing what I assume were your pajamas and looking a lot like she'd just crawled out of your bed. Then she slammed the door in my face."

  Mike took a step closer, getting within touching distance. Lacy resisted the urge to back away.

  "In case you forgot her name, Stephanie is my former fiancé," he explained. "I didn't invite her and I wasn't expecting her to show up."

  Lacy didn't know what to say to that or even what to think. Her mind was a big dark puddle, incapable of solving even the simplest of puzzles.

  Mike suddenly took her by the shoulders. Before she could shake him off, he said, "I did myself proud, Lacy."

  She knew that meant something, something important.

  "Do you remember the mantle I try to live by?" he asked as if reading her mind. "Stephanie showed up in the middle of the night and I couldn't turn her away. I gave her a place to sleep and I took the couch. I did myself proud in the eyes of the Lord. Please say you believe me."

  Lacy did believe him and didn't doubt a word Mike said. His eyes were fully on hers, unblinking and shining with conviction. Still she needed more information, but not here, not like this. She reached up and touched his cheek.

  "You're freezing," she said. "Let's go inside."

  Mike released her and then followed her up the stairs and into the house. He remained quiet as she headed for the thermostat and turned the heat up to a warmer setting. When she flipped the switch to a small lamp near the couch and beckoned him to take a seat, he instantly complied. Lacy made herself comfortable a full cushion away from where he sat.

  Still sounding a little irritated, Mike said, "I wish you'd tell me where you've been all day and why you haven't answered your phone. I even called your mother to see if you'd arrived there yet."

  "My mother?" Lacy sat up in alarm. "You didn't tell her I was missing, did you?"

  He shook his dark head. "She told me you were sick and going to spend the day in bed. I'd already driven by your place and saw that the Jeep wasn't here, but I thought maybe someone dropped you off. When you didn't answer the door, I let myself in to make sure you were all right."

  "But the door was locked, wasn't it?"

  "It was. It only took me a second to find a spare key under the flower pot. You really need to find a new hiding place. That's the first place criminals look."

  A little stab of embarrassment shot through her before Lacy said, "I was raised in a small town where nobody locked their doors and they even left their keys in the truck. I've come a long way."

  "Maybe you have at that." He smiled briefly, and then got serious again. "Why haven't you returned any of my calls?"

  That was easy enough. "My phone has been turned off all day and I wasn't aware that you'd been calling. Before I discuss anything else about what I've been up to, I'd like to hear the rest of what happened at your place last night."

  "Fair enough, but there isn't much to tell. Like I said, Stephanie just showed up at my door around midnight. She drove straight thro
ugh after work with a six-pack of beer to keep her company. I couldn't turn her away and let her back on the road again, not in her condition, so I put her up for the night."

  "And this morning?"

  "This morning we had a little talk, both before and after you stopped by."

  Lacy braced herself for the worst. She could barely speak, but finally said the words that might prompt an answer she didn't want to hear. "Stephanie wants you back."

  Mike looked at her cockeyed for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.

  "Actually," he said through his chuckles, "she doesn't want me at all. It turns out that she doesn't want anyone else to have me either."

  Lacy frowned. "I don't understand."

  Finally warm again, Mike slipped off his jacket. Then he said, "This all started last Saturday when we spoke on the phone."

  "We who? You and me?"

  "No. Stephanie and I talk from time to time, not often, but we remain friends."

  Lacy sat back against the cushion and folded her arms across her chest. Her mouth was pinched and her eyes had narrowed.

  Mike quickly explained. "It seems that last Saturday afternoon when Stephanie called she somehow got the impression that I had fallen hopelessly in love with a Cinnamon Girl, and that I was thinking about asking her to marry me."

  Lacy's mouth dropped opened and her hands fell to her lap. "Me? You were thinking about asking me to marry you?"

  He smiled warmly. "You're the only Cinnamon Girl I know, so yes, I guess it must be you."

  Her mind went back to that night, specifically to their walk along the river. "But you didn't ask me to marry you. You didn't even hint at such a thing."

  "Ah, no." He fixed her with a pointed gaze. "You made it pretty clear that you were not ready for any kind of intense relationship. It seemed best to put my plans on hold and back off enough to give you a little more space."

  So that's why she'd been forced to eat pizza alone last night. Mike had given her the space she'd practically demanded of him, and then some.