‘‘I’ll bet,’’ she said with a knowing look in her eye. ‘‘I see you’ve found your way to the tree.’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ I said, holding the branch up for her to see. ‘‘What’s with all the names on the leaves?’’
‘‘That’s what we’ve been trying to show you, dear,’’ she said, and turned one of the leaves toward me. The name read Dutch Rivers.
‘‘I don’t get it,’’ I said.
Grams pulled another branch toward me. She turned up the bottom leaf on that branch and I read Hanna Rivers.
‘‘Oh!’’ I said as her meaning dawned on me. ‘‘This is Dutch’s family tree!’’
‘‘Yes,’’ she said. ‘‘And at the roots of this tree you’ll find Dutch.’’
‘‘Huh?’’ I said.
‘‘Step back, and I’ll show you,’’ she instructed. I did and the mighty oak morphed into a giant palm tree with large coconuts. ‘‘You might want to step a little farther back,’’ she said.
When I did, one of the coconuts dropped to the ground and burrowed under the grass. Immediately a stone popped through the surface and began to grow. When it was about two and a half feet tall, it flattened out and turned partially oval. My heart began to beat rapidly. I’d seen this scene before. ‘‘Don’t,’’ I said, wanting to turn away, but my eyes were fixed on the tombstone in front of me. Writing began to appear on the stone. HERE LIES DUTCH RIVERS AT PEACE WITH OUR LADY Of SAINTS. . . .
‘‘Stop!’’ I shouted, and looked to my grandmother for help, but she had vanished. In her place was Dutch the way I’d never seen him before. He looked thin, incredibly pale, and nearly translucent—like a ghost.
‘‘Abby!’’ he said, holding his side. ‘‘You’ve got to help me!’’
I rushed to him, but he disappeared like vapor on the wind. I stood in his place and felt chilled to the bone, his voice echoing in my head. ‘‘Follow the coconuts . . . ,’’ he said. ‘‘You’ll find me there, but you’ll have to hurry!’’
‘‘Dutch!’’ I yelled. ‘‘Dutch, come back! Please! Tell me where you are! Dutch! Dutch!’’
‘‘Abby!’’ my sister said into my ear, and my eyes snapped open. ‘‘Abby, are you all right?’’
It took me a full minute to comprehend that I’d been having a very vivid dream, and to come to terms with where I was and why Cat was shaking me. ‘‘Are you okay, Abs?’’ Candice asked when I continued to look blankly at the two of them.
‘‘Yeah,’’ I said, pulling my knees up to my chest. ‘‘Just a really intense dream.’’
‘‘Want to talk about it?’’ Cat said.
I ran my hand through my hair. It was damp with sweat. ‘‘It’s the same one I’ve been having, and it still doesn’t make sense.’’ I proceeded to fill them in on the details.
‘‘I miss Grams,’’ Cat said with a sigh.
‘‘Me too,’’ I said. Our maternal grandmother had always been more of a mother figure to us than our own mother.
‘‘Follow the coconuts?’’ Candice said, puzzling over the meaning of the dream.
‘‘I know,’’ I said. ‘‘It’s crazy. But I keep feeling like all I have to do is put it into context and I’ll have all I need to find Dutch.’’
‘‘Is there some tree out here that maybe Chase and Laney planted in honor of Hanna?’’ Cat asked.
‘‘Not that I know of,’’ I said.
‘‘That makes sense,’’ said Candice. ‘‘You know, since we’ve become so earth conscious, people are planting trees for any special occasion.’’
‘‘Maybe we could call Laney and find out?’’ Cat offered.
I was already reaching for my cell phone when Candice caught my arm. ‘‘Whoa there,’’ she said.
‘‘What? You think it’s too early?’’
Candice glanced at the clock radio on the table. ‘‘Yes, five a.m. may be a bit early for a phone call, but more importantly, my guess is that our friendly Feds are running taps on Laney’s phone line.’’
‘‘Just the same,’’ I said, sitting back again. ‘‘I don’t know Laney’s number anyway.’’
‘‘Well, it’s eight a.m. back East,’’ Cat said reasonably. ‘‘Should we call Agent Gaston?’’
I looked to Candice. ‘‘Still a bit early for that,’’ she said. ‘‘Better give it a half hour. Since we’re up, let’s get something to eat. I know this great twenty-four-hour diner not far from here and we can call Gaston from the pay phone there.’’
‘‘Why the pay phone there?’’ I asked. ‘‘Why not from my cell?’’
‘‘Because we’re not sure that Gaston will be on our side,’’ Candice said. ‘‘For all we know, he could completely believe Robillard and think Dutch is an agent gone bad.’’
‘‘Good point.’’
‘‘We’ll eat, then make the call and boogie on out of there. It’ll be hard for the Feds to find us from that place. It’s a common truck stop, ten miles north of here, and there are plenty of seedy motels along the route to keep them preoccupied if they managed to trace the call and came looking for us.’’
* * *
We got dressed and loaded up the car. We had every intention of returning that night, but Candice’s point was that we’d been surprised by the Feds before—best to take everything we’d need with us in case they managed to track us back to the cabin.
I wasn’t really hungry when we arrived at the diner, my stress level over finding Dutch intense since I’d seen his awful condition in my dream. Somehow, I had a feeling he was in pain and suffering greatly, and that took away any appetite I might have had.
I waited for Candice and Cat to finish their breakfast, then said, ‘‘Okay. I’m going to make the call. Do you know where the pay phone is?’’
‘‘It’s in the back by the restrooms,’’ Candice said. ‘‘We’ll pay the bill and wait for you here.’’
‘‘Cool,’’ I said, and headed toward the pay phone. I fished around in my backpack for loose change and pumped in a bunch of quarters. Dialing the main number for Dutch’s office—which I knew by heart—I was rewarded with a receptionist who said, ‘‘Federal Bureau of Investigation, Troy, Michigan. How may I direct your call?’’
‘‘I need to speak with Special Agent in Charge Bill Gaston,’’ I said. ‘‘And it’s kind of important.’’
‘‘Special Agent Gaston is at a summit in Germany. May I redirect your call to the assistant special agent in charge, Agent Robillard?’’
‘‘No!’’ I said, then quickly lowered my voice. ‘‘I mean, that won’t be necessary. I really needed to try and reach Agent Gaston. Do you know if he checks his voice mail?’’
‘‘He does,’’ she said. ‘‘But I’m not sure how often. Would you like me to put you through to it?’’
‘‘Please,’’ I said. Then I heard some background hold music followed by a confident male voice that told me I had reached the voice mail of Special Agent in Charge Bill Gaston, who was out of the office until October 29. If I liked, I could leave him a message, or contact the assistant special agent in charge, Ray Robillard, at extension 262.
When the beep finally sounded, I said, ‘‘Hi, Agent Gaston, my name is Abigail Cooper and I’m Dutch Rivers’s girlfriend. I don’t know what you’ve heard from Agent Robillard, but Dutch is in serious trouble. I think he might be gravely injured and I also believe that Agent Robillard is doing everything in his power not to find Dutch and to discredit him in the process. I also believe that there is a connection between Ricardo Delgado, Agent Robillard, and Donovan Kelton, and I believe somewhere in that triangle is the secret to why Cynthia Frost was murdered.’’
At this point I hesitated as I thought about how to have Gaston contact me so that I could talk to him about Dutch and Robillard and not on a traceable phone. No idea came to me, so I decided to put my trust in the man that Dutch had also trusted and I said, ‘‘I’m in Las Vegas. Robillard is searching for me, and I believe when he finds me, he will kill me
. I really need to talk to you, Agent Gaston. Please call me at the following number. . . .’’ I left him my disposable cell phone number and hung up the phone, only then realizing how slick with sweat my palm was and how shaky I felt.
I trudged back to the table and sat down. ‘‘How’d it go?’’ Candice asked.
‘‘He’s at a summit in Germany until next week. I got voice mail.’’
‘‘Did you leave a message?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
Candice looked at me critically, and I could tell she knew I’d given my cell number to Gaston. ‘‘Kind of risky to have him call you back, ya know.’’
‘‘I know, but what else are we going to do?’’
‘‘That’s a good question,’’ my sister said. ‘‘What are we going to do next? I mean, we’re sort of at a road-block here. We can’t walk around freely and interview the people we need to. What’s our next move?’’
Candice took a long sip of her coffee and tapped her fingers on the table. Finally, she met our eyes and said, ‘‘You’re right. We can’t interview the people we need to, so how do you two ladies feel about kidnapping a witness?’’
Chapter Thirteen
Cat gasped. ‘‘How do we feel about kidnapping a witness?’’ she hissed in a breathy whisper.
‘‘I think Cat tends to frown on it,’’ I said.
‘‘Candice,’’ Cat said. ‘‘You can’t be serious!’’
‘‘Oh, I’m serious,’’ she said calmly.
I held up my hand and said, ‘‘Whoa there. So far all we’ve done is a little impersonating of federal agents, which we both know is hard to prove and probably only a misdemeanor. This is serious shit, Candice.’’
‘‘Not necessarily,’’ Candice said. Then she pushed her breakfast plate to the side and leaned in. ‘‘The key to finding a missing person is to talk to the person that saw them last. And the person that we think saw Dutch last is sitting in a hospital room, probably scared out of her mind and being held against her will. My guess is there’s one lowly guard on her, who’s likely not even a Fed. They probably have the hospital security posted outside her door. If we can get her out of that hospital, she may be the key to finding Dutch. What if we were able to get into her room, and asked her if she wanted us to help her get out of there?’’
‘‘It wouldn’t be kidnapping,’’ Cat said with a note of optimism. ‘‘I’m sure my lawyer could get us off if she agreed to come with us of her own free will.’’
‘‘Are you both crazy?’’ I said. ‘‘May I remind you that Jane Doe doesn’t remember anything about the night she went off the road?’’
‘‘She doesn’t have to,’’ Candice said. ‘‘She just needs to be in the same room with you while you turn on that radar and give her a reading.’’
My mouth dropped open and I stared at Candice for a full minute. ‘‘That won’t work!’’ I said.
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘Because, Candice, when I do a reading with someone, I need them to help me with the information. If Jane isn’t able to confirm what I’m seeing, then the calibration will be off and nothing much will make sense!’’
‘‘Have you ever had a session with a client who refused to help you?’’ Candice said, her face the perfect reflection of reason and good sense.
I sneered at her. ‘‘Of course I have, and you damn well know it. I complain about it to you every time it happens.’’
‘‘Then how is this any different?’’
‘‘Abby,’’ Cat said, tugging at my sleeve. ‘‘I really think Candice may be on to something here. I mean, what if all Jane needed to bring her memory back was a few recognizable clues to who she is and where she’s from? I mean, maybe all she needs is a hint about who she is, and her full memory will come back!’’
‘‘This is ludicrous,’’ I said. ‘‘It’s risky, it’s breaking the law, and it could mean that you two end up in prison for helping me.’’
‘‘You’re worth it,’’ Cat said, squeezing my arm. ‘‘You’re my sister, and I love Dutch like a brother. Candice, I’m in!’’
Candice shrugged her shoulders at me. ‘‘Looks like we’re both okay with it, Abs. Besides, it’s the only thing we haven’t tried, and judging by that dream of yours, we’re running out of time. I recommend we try everything we can while we still feel we have time.’’
I slumped down in my seat, my heart feeling the pressure of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. ‘‘Fine,’’ I said after a moment. ‘‘But, Candice, please come up with a plan that doesn’t land us in federal prison, okay?’’
Candice smiled. ‘‘I’ve managed to avoid it so far, Abs. Maybe the lucky streak will continue.’’
* * *
Several hours later we had a plan, but it was a bit sketchy and it involved someone I really didn’t want to include. ‘‘Ask her,’’ Cat said for the third time. ‘‘Abby, if she says no, then we tried, and if she says yes, then she should fully understand the risks.’’
‘‘I hate this,’’ I said as I pulled out my phone and looked at the display. ‘‘Ah, crap,’’ I said. ‘‘The battery died.’’
‘‘Do you have the charger?’’
‘‘Doesn’t come with one,’’ I said. ‘‘You just get another AAA battery and you’re good to go. Candice, can I borrow your cell?’’
Candice handed me her phone and I punched in the number I’d jotted down in my notepad. ‘‘Hello, Brosseau residence,’’ said Nora.
‘‘Hi, Nora, it’s me, Abby Cooper.’’
‘‘Abby!’’ she said. ‘‘Ohmigod! Are you okay?’’
‘‘I’m fine,’’ I reassured her. ‘‘But, listen, there’s something that I need to trust you with.’’
‘‘Absolutely,’’ she said. ‘‘What’s up?’’
I explained to her that we were desperate and running out of options and that the only way we knew of to find out what had happened to Dutch the night he went missing was to spend some time with Jane Doe so that I could give her a reading. ‘‘That sounds like a pretty good plan to me,’’ she said. ‘‘And who knows? Maybe something you say will trigger her memory.’’
‘‘That’s what my sister thinks,’’ I said. ‘‘The tricky thing is, as I know you’re aware, I don’t see how we’re going to get to spend any quality time with Jane at the hospital. The FBI might actually frown on her having visitors.’’
Nora snorted a laugh. ‘‘Those guys are all full of themselves,’’ she said. ‘‘From what my friend Trina’s been telling me, that poor woman’s civil rights are being abused.’’
‘‘Really?’’ I said.
‘‘Yeah. Trina said that Robillard took Jane to one of the hospital conference rooms and interrogated her for three hours. When she came out, there was a red mark on her cheek and Trina swears Robillard hit Jane.’’
‘‘No way!’’
‘‘Way,’’ said Nora. ‘‘As far as anyone can tell, they haven’t charged her with anything, but they won’t let her leave the hospital. They’ve got poor Charlie guarding her room.’’
‘‘Who’s Charlie?’’
‘‘One of the security guards. He’s a sweet guy, about two months away from retiring, and they’re making him stand there next to her room for eight hours a day.’’
‘‘Sounds like everyone’s getting a raw deal,’’ I commented.
‘‘So let’s do something about it,’’ Nora said. ‘‘What we need is to get Jane out of her room. That hospital is a maze—a patient could get lost anywhere.’’
‘‘I’m open to ideas,’’ I said.
‘‘Well, since she’s pregnant, we could—’’
‘‘I’m sorry, what?’’
‘‘Oh, maybe I forgot to mention that. According to Trina, she’s about two months along.’’
My radar was humming, and my mind filled with coconuts. I shook my head. I couldn’t focus on the plan if my radar kept sending me signals that made no sense. ‘‘It’s amazing her baby
survived the crash,’’ I said.
‘‘It is indeed,’’ Nora agreed. ‘‘But that gives us an excuse to run some tests and get Jane out of that room.’’
‘‘Won’t Charlie need to follow her?’’
‘‘Yep, but he’ll only go as far as the waiting room in obstetrics. Charlie’s a little old-fashioned when it comes to a woman’s anatomy. He won’t be itching to stick too close to her once the elevator opens on the third floor. If you bring some street clothes for Jane, maybe a hat and some sunglasses, we can give her a good disguise out of Charlie’s view.’’
‘‘How do we get Jane out of there without taking her back by Charlie?’’
‘‘We’ll need a distraction,’’ Nora said.
My eyes wandered to Cat as an idea hit me. ‘‘Leave that to me.’’
‘‘Great. I’ll call Trina and make sure she’s on board.’’
‘‘Do you think she’ll be okay with this?’’
‘‘Oh, if I know Trina, I know that she will definitely be okay with this. She was absolutely livid when Jane was slapped around by that bastard Robillard. Plus, she’s got a soft spot for pregnant women.’’
‘‘Will anyone get in trouble?’’
Nora sighed. ‘‘Charlie might get reprimanded, but as I said, he’s two months away from retirement. The very worst that could happen would be that they’d have him take retirement early, and trust me, that’s not going to bother Charlie one bit.’’
‘‘Trina won’t get in trouble?’’
Nora laughed. ‘‘That place couldn’t run without her. They’ll ask her what happened. She’ll say that she went to answer a page and when she turned around, Jane was gone. It’s not her job to police the patients, after all.’’
‘‘Nora, I so owe you for this,’’ I said.
‘‘Don’t sweat it, Abby. This is the most fun I’ve had in years!’’
Several hours later we arrived at the hospital. We wanted to blend in as much as possible, so Candice had come up with the brilliant idea to stop at a medical-supply company and purchase a set of nursing scrubs for me, and a white lab coat and stethoscope for her. Cat was the only one of us going as a civilian, but we’d found a terrific way of disguising her. She had a round little pillow secured under a baggy shirt and she looked about five months along. ‘‘I think I still remember how to waddle,’’ she said as she patted her belly.
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