Pineapple Turtles

by Amy Vansant

  This is all his fault.

  She would have never traded her baby for another if she hadn’t been so terrified of Josh finding out his precious sports-star son was blind.

  What now?

  Josh looked at her as if he’d felt her hate burning into the side of his face. “Can you shut him up or take him—” His frown deepened. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

  “Nothin’,” she muttered. She headed toward the bedroom.

  “I swear, you’re like a crazy woman lately,” she heard him call as she left.

  She flipped the door shut behind her and sat on the edge of the bed to bounce the baby on her knee. She stared at him as if he were an alien, her teeth clamped so tight her jaw began to hurt.

  I want my baby back.

  Chapter Thirty

  Hunter made a looping arc to head the opposite way on her paddleboard. She saw the young woman at the end of the dock, apparently still on her phone call.

  Here we go.

  She knew when she saw Angelina gather the girl from jail, she’d have to talk to her. How did this girl know Angelina? What were the chances someone staying at the Loggerhead Inn would be involved in the case she came to solve?

  Life was starting to get pushy. It’d felt like a sign when she saw the missing baby case happened in Jupiter Beach. Or, maybe she forced herself to believe it was the universe sending her a message. Swapped babies wasn’t quite the sort of case she usually sank her teeth into.

  But now, to have someone from the hotel involved...

  The universe was getting a little heavy-handed.

  She looked up at the blue sky.

  I’ll go home when I’m ready, dammit—

  The girl lowered her phone, but remained sitting on the edge of the dock, her legs kicking back and forth over the water. Head tilted back and eyes closed, she stayed there until Hunter cruised within twenty feet. Although she’d tried hard not to make a sound, the girl sensed her. Her eyes popped open and her face pointed in Hunter’s direction as if an alarm had gone off.

  “Hi again,” said the girl.

  Behind her glasses Hunter glanced at the Inn behind the girl, the shape of it so familiar it felt like an old friend.

  It’s weird to see you again.

  She tried to say hi but the word stuck in her throat. She cleared it and tried again.

  “Hi.”

  The girl motioned to the paddleboard. “Is that hard? I’ve never tried it.”

  Hunter glided to the dock’s piling, resting her hand on it for balance and to anchor herself in the moving water.

  “Just a matter of balance and practice. Are you staying here? Is it nice?”

  The girl chuckled. “Little strange, but nice.”

  Hunter watched a great blue heron pick its way along the opposite bank, chewing at her lip as she tried to decide how she wanted to initiate her interaction with the stranger. She could coax information out of her, revealing nothing about herself, or she could come at her head on, asking what she most wanted to know and maybe reveal a little about herself in the process.

  What she revealed would be lies, of course. She might have to throw in a few half-truths.

  Ah, what the heck.

  “I guess they must be nice people. I can’t remember the last time a hotel manager got me out of jail.”

  The girl’s smile dropped so fast Hunter thought she heard it splash into the water.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Hunter.” She held out a hand and the girl paused before shaking it.

  “Charlotte. How did you—”

  “How do you know Angelina?” Hunter asked, and then looked away to hide her wince. She was only two sentences into her conversation and she’d already made it clear she knew Angelina.

  Sound a little eager, why don’t you?

  Angelina’s name felt funny in her mouth.

  Slow down. You’re revealing too much.

  Charlotte shut her mouth and seemed to come to terms with the fact her own question had been deflected. She glanced back at the Loggerhead Inn as if it would tell her the answer Hunter needed. “I don’t know her. Not really. We just met yesterday.”

  Hunter frowned, unsure if she believed the girl. “Why would she get you out of jail if you don’t know each other?”

  Charlotte leaned forward on the dock, squinting at her. Studying her.

  She’s no shrinking violet.

  “How do you know I was in jail today? And how do you know Angelina?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I’ve known her longer than you so I get to ask the questions.”

  She forced a chuckle. She’d said the words to avoid the question in a light, humorous way, but to her ear, the phrase sounded as if she were a petulant four-year-old making up rules to her own game. She had to be nicer or she wouldn’t find out what this stranger knew about the baby case or the people at Loggerhead. She had to know something, or the cops wouldn’t have taken her away in a squad car and Angelina wouldn’t have broken her out of jail.

  Be nice.

  Hunter grinned. “Just kidding. When the police took you away, I followed. I’m a private detective working for the parents of the kidnapped child.”

  There you go. Nice. Helpful. See how easy that was?

  “You are?” Charlotte’s eyes opened wide. “So am I.”

  “You’re working with the parents?”

  “No. Sorry. I’m a detective and I was hoping to help the parents, but the police decided they wanted to take me away for questioning before I had a chance to make my case, so to speak.”

  Hunter glanced at the hotel hoping to see movement. It looked the same as the last time she’d been there. Maybe the landscaping was a little different; she didn’t remember all the crotons. She scanned the spots where she’d installed cameras and saw similar, though updated, technology still occupying the locations she could see. One camera was still trained on the dock. She tucked herself behind the piling to avoid its gaze.

  Hunter rocked side-to-side on the paddleboard trying to appear as loose and easy-breezy as possible as she refocused on Charlotte.

  Don’t be suspicious, Charlotte. I’m like a goofy, friendly Labrador. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

  “So you didn’t say why Angelina bailed you out?”

  A bit of a blush rose to Charlotte’s cheeks. “Oh, she didn’t have to bail me out. I wasn’t officially arrested. They just wanted to make sure I wasn’t up to anything. You know.”

  “Why would they jump to that conclusion?”

  “I knew the baby was blind.”

  Hunter tilted her head. “Did you? That wasn’t shared with the press.”

  I know that now.

  Charlotte nodded. “The neighbor spilled the beans about two seconds before I knocked on the door.”

  “Ah.”

  Charlotte shielded her eyes from the setting sun to watch the blue heron stab at a fish.

  “So how did you know they arrested me?”

  Hunter smiled.

  She’s trying to look casual, too.

  I like this girl.

  “I saw Angelina at the police station with you. I was talking to them about the case.”

  “Oh.”

  Charlotte swung her legs back and forth, looking wistful. “I meant well. I suggested they find the doctor who diagnosed the blind baby and trace him or her back to the parents.”

  Hunter, who had been watching the water flow along the sides of her board, looked up.

  Hey, that was my idea.

  “There has to be an official criminal inquiry and they need a court order to make the doctors break confidentiality,” she said. It was true. She’d already looked into it.

  Charlotte nodded. “I know. Though—”

  Hunter looked at her expectantly.

  She’s wondering if she should share her ideas with me.

  “Why don’t we work together?” Hunter blurted.

  Why did I say that?

  She
looked at the hotel again.

  That’s why. She’s my key to the Loggerhead. My inside man.

  Hunter released a sigh. Just once she wished she could have a little patience instead of pushing for information as fast as she decided she wanted it.

  Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t want to step on your toes.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t be. My, uh, assistant is sick and I could use the help.”

  “Really? That’s a shame. Nothing serious, I hope?”

  Hunter was still staring at the Loggerhead and said the first thing that came to mind. “Shingles.”

  “Yikes. I hear that’s painful.”

  Hunter blinked at her. She had no idea what shingles was exactly, she’d just been staring at the side of the hotel when Charlotte asked. Something to do with chickenpox? She decided to nod her head grimly.

  “Right. So I’ll split the money with you, since you’re a full-blown detective already.”

  “Really? You don’t have to—”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  Half of nothing is nothing.

  Hunter continued, feeling better about her decision. Her plan to bring Charlotte into her fake employ would also keep the girl from meddling in her case. “So what were you thinking about the doctors?”

  “Oh, I was thinking I could maybe work the nurses. One of them might cough up information about tragic diagnoses without realizing—”

  “Especially if they heard it was about this case.”

  Charlotte perked and pointed at her. “Right. It’s all over the news.”

  “But where would you start? There are multiple hospitals and private practices—assuming the kidnapper even lives in this area.”

  “I think she does. It didn’t seem planned. I think she did it on a whim.”

  Hunter nodded. Agreed. “I think I can narrow things down a little.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mason was wearing a Burberry jumper. The swapped baby returned wearing a brand much more affordable.”

  “So they didn’t even try to sell the new baby by putting him in the original’s clothes? They kept the expensive jumper.”

  “Yep. I don’t think our baby-napper has much money.”

  “No. So maybe not a private practice. A hospital. Maybe even an emergency room.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. I’m also thinking she might be regretting the kidnapping by now.”

  Charlotte nodded. “You’d think so. Unless this is some kind of messed up adoption scam.”

  Hunter nodded. “Maybe one of us could stake out the home to see if the napper drives by mulling a swap-back. The other can try the doctor idea.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I’m game.”

  “Great.” Hunter fished her phone from the waterproof case strapped on her arm and then shook her head. “Give me your phone. I’ll put in my number.”

  Charlotte hesitated and then handed Hunter her phone. Hunter pretended to be fascinated by something on her own phone while she sent a request to Charlotte’s phone to allow herself access to find location. Then she shifted to Charlotte’s phone, accepted the request, and saved herself as a contact.

  “Here you go. I’m a contact now. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning?”

  Charlotte took the phone and shrugged. “Sure. Great.”

  Hunter picked a splinter from the piling and dropped it into the water. “So, you just met Angelina? Is she still dating that guy at the hotel?”

  Charlotte scowled. “I don’t know. Who?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I don’t remember his name.”

  Shea. Mick. Dad.

  Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t know. Like I said, I just met her.”

  “Right. No biggie.”

  Aaaand…subject change.

  “So you’re a local detective?” asked Hunter.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No. Other side of the state.”

  “But you love working on kidnapped baby cases so much you came over here?”

  Charlotte laughed. “No. It was a family thing. Long story. Turns out my grandfather owns the hotel.” Charlotte hooked a thumb back at the building.

  Hunter felt her face grow tingly.

  What?

  “Last I heard, Mick McQueen still owned this place,” she said, her words barely audible to herself.

  Charlotte heard. “Yep. That’s him.”

  Hunter swallowed. “Mick’s your grandfather?”

  “As it turns out.”

  “You’re Maddie’s kid?”

  Charlotte perked. “Yes. Did you know her?”

  Hunter shook her head and pushed off the piling. “Not really. Well, I better get going.”

  Charlotte stood and brushed off her posterior. “Do you want to come in and say hi to Angelina?”

  “Hm?”

  No. I want to run away. Now. Too much to think about.

  “No. I don’t even know if she’d remember me. I better get back to work.” She paused a moment before her paddle broke the water and lifted it to point it at the Loggerhead. “Is Mick there?”

  Charlotte nodded and pointed a finger at the top of the hotel. “Yep. He’s up there.”

  Hunter looked at the penthouse windows.

  He’s there.

  “Okay. Text me your number.”

  “Will do.”

  Hunter paddled as hard as she could without looking like a crazy person.

  How did Maddie’s kid find out about this place?

  She paddled to the waterfront home from where she’d stolen the paddleboard and dragged it onto the dock. A landscaper trimming the hedges of the multi-million dollar waterfront home glanced at her as she walked up the dock and headed for her car. He smiled and looked away. She wasn’t worried about him. He wouldn’t alert the owners to her presence, especially if she looked as if she belonged there, which she did. It helped she was older now. If she were twenty, he might think she was a kid up to no good, but no one thinks a woman in her forties is running around appropriating paddleboards. She could let herself in the backdoor and have a muffin and no one would think it was odd, even though they’d never seen her at the house before.

  Of course, when she was twenty, she had other assets with which to distract people.

  It all evened out. You lost youth, you gained wisdom.

  Hopefully.

  She wondered sometimes.

  As Hunter reached the car she’d parked out front of the waterfront mansion, she didn’t feel very wise.

  Mick was there.

  He’s up there.

  She sat in the driver’s seat without turning on the car, staring through the window at nothing but the thoughts swirling in her head.

  He’s up there.

  What did Charlotte mean by that? How would she know he was in a particular spot of the hotel at that moment? Mick wasn’t the kind of guy who held still for very long. Except for that time he had food poisoning—

  Is he sick? Is that how she knew exactly where he was?

  She turned on the car.

  Maybe I’m reading too much into it.

  Maybe.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kim tucked the baby into the car seat and sat behind the wheel. The baby screamed to be released. It reminded her of times back when her high school boyfriend practiced with his band, and she’d perch in front of the speakers to show her support.

  No way to get away from the noise.

  She twisted in her seat and raised her voice over the din.

  “Please stop. Please? We’re just going shopping and then we’ll go home and—”

  Her voice crumbled, pounded to dust by the baby’s wailing. Placing a hand over each ear, she turned and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. A tear slid down her nose and into her lap.

  This is my punishment.

  A line she’d heard in church echoed in her head.

  You reap what you sow.

  How did it go? Something about sowing your sinful nature, meant you’d rea
p destruction. She remembered asking her mother why it was bad to sew and her mother laughed.

  Kim’s stomach lurched at the thought of her mother finding out what she’d done.

  She’ll know. She’ll know he isn’t Josh Jr.

  A silence settled in the minivan and she peered up into the rearview mirror. Behind her, the baby, still red-faced from his fit, gnawed on his fist.

  Thank you.

  She turned the key and the engine roared to life.

  The baby shrieked a single note that felt like an icepick through the back of Kim’s head.

  Her knuckles turned white on the wheel.

  I’m reaping what I sowed.

  The baby wanted to go home. If she’d thought about the consequences of her kidnapping another woman’s baby at all—which she hadn’t—she would have realized the baby himself might have something to say about being torn from his mother.

  The lack of information in the paper about the baby swap ate at her night and day. Why didn’t they talk about Josh Jr.? Where was he? They’d reported the baby returned wasn’t Mason Bennett, but then nothing. Did they know he was blind? Mrs. Bennett looked rich. The clothes her baby had on were worth more than every stitch of clothing Josh Jr. owned.

  Maybe that woman could find a doctor who could fix Josh Jr.—in Sweden or something? She’d heard about rich people being cured in other countries. She’d fed herself that thought a thousand times in the last few days, trying to convince herself Josh Jr. was better off in his new home.

  Kim started driving. At the first traffic light she pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

  She’d written down the couple’s name and address. Shana and Carl Bennett. She’d done a few Internet searches and found their house easily enough. They lived on the beach. Well, not on the beach, but a heck of a lot closer than she did.

  Josh Jr. would have a better life with them.

  Oh no.

  A thought hit her so hard it felt like a knife stabbed into her belly.

  What if they didn’t keep Josh Jr.?

  What if they weren’t even allowed to keep him?

  The baby behind her found a new gear and screamed at a higher pitch.

  No, no, no...

  She’d felt a little ill when she read in the paper the Bennetts knew Josh Jr. wasn’t their baby. As long as they didn’t know, there remained a window for her to think. She’d imagined scenarios where she stole Josh Jr. back and replaced him with their awful baby. No one would even know. When that window closed, she kept from losing her mind by telling herself Josh Jr. would be better off with the rich couple.