by Hope White
He shot her a look.
“You really want to hear this?” she said.
“I really do.”
She took a long, deep breath as if finding the courage to tell him her story. “I had finished Restorative Justice, written letters of apology, gone to group therapy sessions, etcetera. By doing these things my record would be expunged. My parents liked that, mostly because having a kid with a record would reflect poorly on them.”
“If you did everything required of you, and your record was expunged, why did they send you to live with your aunt?”
“My parents said I needed to get out of town because I had a target on my back, that local police would be gunning for me.”
“Uh...that’s not how it works.”
“My parents can be very—” she paused “—convincing. Mom said she’d send for me in a few months. Never did. I hitchhiked back home. She was angry and took out a restraining order to keep me away from Greta.”
“On what grounds?”
“She claimed she wanted to prevent my delinquent influence on my sister. It was another way to control me. She promised to withdraw the order if I went back to live with Aunt Vicky. I think Mom was afraid I’d eventually convince authorities of what my parents were into. She wanted me out of their lives.”
The car went silent for a few minutes.
“That’s awfully harsh,” Whit said.
“I’ve accepted the fact that some people are, well, not good people. Like my parents. They threw me under the bus in order to protect their fraudulent business activities. No one listens to a juvenile delinquent.”
“By the way, I found out your parents are currently serving time in Kansas.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. They swindled people out of thousands of dollars, all while maintaining their loving suburban couple image. Dad owned a marketing company and Mom was a housewife, although she barely took care of her house or her children.”
“But there had to be a credible threat to get a restraining order.”
“Well...” She hesitated. “I was arrested for felony menacing after threatening police officers with a knife.”
It was Whit’s turn to glance sideways at Carly.
“I would do anything to protect my baby sister.” Her voice hitched. “First from my mom, who was teaching her how to steal, then from police, who were going to take Greta away from us.”
“Police knew about your parents’ illegal activities?”
“Nope.”
“Then why would they take Greta away?”
“I’m not sure they would have. You’ve got to understand, Mom had been brainwashing me for years. ‘Don’t talk to police. Ever. About anything.’ It didn’t help that I’d been picked up a few times for shoplifting and brought home by local cops. Stealing was one talent I did not inherit from my parents, thank the Lord.”
Whit felt terrible about this woman’s history. What kind of parents would brainwash their kids into being afraid of cops?
“What compelled you to threaten cops with a knife? Can you...are you comfortable talking about it?”
She leaned back in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “I caught Mom working with Greta, teaching her how to snatch something out of a purse. She was only seven. I lost it and said Greta shouldn’t be doing that. I locked myself and my sister in my bedroom. Mom shouted and pounded on the door. Greta was crying but wanted to stay with me. Then it got super quiet. A few minutes later Mom said through the door that neighbors had called police because they heard us yelling at each other, and heard Greta crying. ‘Don’t let them take Greta!’ she pleaded with me, and apologized for our fight. Oh, man, she had laid it on thick and knew how to push my buttons. When the cops broke down the door, I held on to Greta with one hand and waved a kitchen knife with the other.”
“You kept a knife in your room?”
“Mom conveniently slid it under the door after telling me the police were coming to take Greta away.”
The car grew oddly quiet.
“Now that I’m retelling the story I can hardly believe it myself. That’s how it happened, or at least how my thirteen-year-old mind remembers it.”
“Did you explain this to police?”
“I was brainwashed, remember? Besides, they did in fact take Greta away from me. I was so scared, convinced they would destroy our family.” She sighed. “A nice social worker persuaded me to tell her the truth. It still didn’t convince police. After all, I had a record of petty theft and truancies, and I was telling stories about my successful father and supposedly loving mother.”
“If your dad had a successful business, why commit fraud?”
“The adrenaline rush? I don’t know. He was gone a lot so I didn’t have much of a relationship with him.”
“So you went back to live with your aunt.”
“I did. She taught me how to believe in myself, to believe in God. She was so different from my mom. Aunt Vicky said Mom had been coerced by my father into criminal behavior. My aunt praised me for having such a strong character and fighting for Greta like that, for being my own person. That’s the history of Carly Anna Winslow, formerly Garber.”
“Thank you,” Whit said.
“For what?”
“For trusting me with your story, even though I’m a cop.”
“You’re also Mia’s uncle so you can’t be all bad.”
“Well, thanks.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
This easy conversation was new for Whit. It felt natural to communicate this way, which was saying a lot considering the topic of conversation: Carly’s tumultuous past.
“Now I get why you’re so protective of Mia,” he said.
“Let’s hope I don’t mess it up this time.”
“I don’t think you messed anything up, Carly. You were a kid.”
“I was a teenager who wasn’t able to protect her little sister.”
“How old would she be now?”
“Twenty-one. I went back to see her when I was eighteen and my family was gone. Not in the house, not even in the same city. It’s like they never existed. I suspected they were close to being caught for something illegal and decided to start over in another town. I never saw my sister again.”
“Did you consider hiring a private detective?”
“I did hire a PI. It’s costly and neither my aunt nor I had unlimited funds to support that for very long. My parents excelled at disappearing. Then I wondered why Greta didn’t try to find me. She knew I’d gone to live with Aunt Vicky, so she could have reached out. Perhaps she didn’t want to reconnect because my parents had filled her mind with lies.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“It’s one possibility. The other is that she resented me for disappearing on her. Either way, I’m not sure the relationship is repairable.”
Whit felt her pain. He’d be devastated if he’d never reconciled with Harry, which he was in the process of doing when all this happened.
Carly’s story intensified his determination to find his brother. Whit needed to apologize and somehow resolve their differences, even if that meant taking whatever verbal lashing Harry felt he needed to get off his chest.
“You shouldn’t give up,” he said.
“I know. I guess that makes me a coward.”
He snapped his attention to her. “You’re not a coward, Carly. Look at everything you’ve done to protect Mia.”
“It’s my job.” She gazed out the window with a wistful expression he wanted to wipe off her face.
“Hey, how can you say it and I can’t?” he teased again.
She shot him a slight smile. “I’m just an employee, you’re a family member.”
“I doubt Mia sees it that way.”
“I do love her like she’s my own. How
could you not?” She glanced over the front seat at the sleeping little girl.
“How was Susan with Mia?” he asked, wanting more information about his sister-in-law.
“She was—” Carly hesitated “—nervous, I guess? She loves Mia deeply, you can tell.”
“Why nervous?”
“I don’t know. It was almost as if she lacked confidence in her ability as a mother.”
“Tell me more about her.”
“Well, before she became a mom she was a brilliant businesswoman, so she took that experience and applied it to raising money for worthy causes. She doted on Mia when she was home, although she was gone quite a bit.”
“She is no longer working?”
“No, Mr. B. said it would be too stressful.”
Whit glanced at her in question.
“I hear things through the baby monitor,” Carly said. “I try not to listen. Sometimes you can’t help it.”
“Actually, you overhearing their conversations might be the thing that helps us find my brother. Back to my sister-in-law...”
As Carly described Harry’s wife, Whit considered why his brother had picked Susan to be his life partner. The thought of making a commitment like that made Whit uncomfortable, maybe because he’d seen how his mother’s two marriages had failed. After she’d divorced Whit’s dad, she’d married Harry’s father, and they had Harry and Beth. That marriage fell apart when Harry was fourteen and Beth eleven, leaving both kids without a consistent father figure.
No wonder Harry had gotten into trouble as a teen. Yet as an adult it seemed like Harry had turned things around. He was a successful and wealthy businessman, a husband and a father.
Who, upon their first phone conversation in years, said he didn’t need help from his older brother. Not anymore.
Now Harry did need his brother’s help and Whit would be there for him. He’d protect Harry’s child and rescue Harry from the kidnappers. They had to want something, right? After all, they’d released Susan. Whit hoped she wasn’t critically injured and prayed she’d be able to shed light on what started everything in motion.
Prayed. Yes, that was the right word.
“Where are you?” Carly said, tucking a few blond strands of hair behind her ear.
“Excuse me?”
“You suddenly went far, far away.”
“I was thinking about Susan, hoping she’s okay. And, of course—” he hesitated “—thinking about my brother.”
She touched his shoulder. “‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.’ That’s from the Bible.”
“Is my brother a religious man?”
“He is, yes.”
“Then I guess it’s worth a try.”
* * *
Detective Harper was waiting for them at the hospital where Mrs. B. was being treated. As Whit, Carly and Mia approached a side entrance designed to keep their presence a secret, Carly noted that Harper’s expression seemed softer.
“How are you guys holding up?” he asked, giving Carly a polite nod. He led them down the hallway toward an elevator.
“We’re okay, but frustrated,” Whit said. “Someone set off a smoke device at the inn, most likely to evacuate the house and kidnap the baby.”
“But they didn’t get her.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“We uncovered evidence of the baby being adopted, so the woman you encountered might have been telling the truth about being the child’s mother.”
Whit shook his head.
“What?” Carly challenged.
“I just hope the adoption was legit.”
Carly considered his words.
“Think you were followed back to Miner?” Harper asked.
“I made sure we weren’t, although if they know Susan is here they’ll assume we’ll turn up eventually. How is my sister-in-law?”
“About that.” Harper pressed the elevator button to the third floor. “She seems traumatized and isn’t talking.”
“At all?” Whit said.
“If you ask her where she is, she’ll answer the hospital, or if you ask her age, she’ll tell you,” Harper said. “If you mention her husband and the kidnapping, she completely shuts down.”
Carly read Whit’s worried expression.
“Mia will get through to her, won’t you, baby girl?” Carly said, shaking a small rattle. Mia’s fingers sprung open and she grinned. Carly placed the rattle in her hand. “When Mama sees your smiling face everything will be A-OK.”
“Where did you find her?” Whit asked.
“A truck stop ten miles north of town. She was curled up in a blanket on the floor of the women’s bathroom. Someone called the police and the deputy at the scene identified her from the BOLO.”
The elevator door opened and anxiety whipped through Carly’s chest. It had nothing to do with being around an injured person. After all, she was going to be a nurse, but Mrs. B. wasn’t just any injured person. Would her broken appearance frighten Mia?
“Is she bruised or anything?” Carly asked.
“No physical injuries,” Harper said. “Maybe you should go in one at a time.”
Harper paused outside Mrs. B.’s room.
Whit motioned for Carly to go first. “She needs to see Mia. I’ll be behind you but I’ll stay out of sight.”
Carly took a deep breath and headed into the room. The first bed was empty and the curtain was pulled closed for privacy.
“Mrs. Bremerton?” Carly stepped around the curtain.
Susan Bremerton stared straight ahead as if she didn’t see or hear Carly.
Carly forced a smile and jiggled Mia’s rattle. “Look who’s here, Mrs. B. It’s your baby girl.” She approached the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, Carly saw Whit peer around the curtain.
Susan Bremerton’s expression didn’t change.
“We’re so glad you’re okay,” Carly continued. “Mia’s had quite the adventure. Here, would you like to hold her?” Carly offered Mia to her mom. When she didn’t take her, Carly sat Mia on the bed beside her, supporting her from behind. Mia giggled and waved her rattle.
No response from her mother.
Then Mia decided to play the fall-down game. She squealed and fell forward. Mrs. B. instinctively reached out to catch her. She hesitated for a second, then pulled Mia into a hug.
“Big Mama hug,” Carly said in a soft voice.
The baby squealed and kicked with delight. She loved hugs from her mama.
Mrs. B. closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Mia’s head.
Carly’s eyes misted with tears. No words could get through to Susan, but the love of her child pierced the fog.
A love Carly had never experienced with her own mother.
“Susan?” Whit said, slowly approaching.
“My baby, my baby girl,” Susan whispered against Mia, ignoring Whit.
“You should be proud, Mrs. B.,” Carly said. “Your little girl is so good, even at the doctor’s office.”
Mrs. B.’s eyes widened, and she finally focused on Carly. “Doctor?”
“Her cold turned into roseola and she developed a rash. I gave her an oatmeal bath and applied anti-itch lotion and she was a happy little princess.” Carly smiled at Mia.
“You...you always know what to do,” Susan said. “Thank you, thank you, Carly.”
She was about to say it was her job to take care of Mia and caught herself. It was more than a job for Carly. She loved this little girl.
“Susan, I’m Harry’s half brother, Whit. I’m glad you’re okay,” Whit said. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Mrs. B. acted as if she didn’t hear his question and continued to love on her little girl. “My baby girl. Such a precious girl.”
Carly and Whit shared a lo
ok. Either Mrs. B. was purposely ignoring his question because the answer was too devastating to recall, or she was mentally unstable.
Detective Harper approached the foot of her bed. “Mrs. Bremerton, where is your husband?”
Again, she didn’t react to the question.
Carly figured she’d try, since Mrs. B. was responding to Carly’s presence if not the two men standing there. “Mrs. B.?”
She looked over the top of Mia’s head at Carly.
“Where is Mr. B.? Mia misses her papa.”
“Isn’t he here?” She glanced past Whit. “Harry? Harry, where are you?”
“No, ma’am, he’s not here,” Harper said. “Do you remember what happened? Someone broke into your house.”
Mrs. B. looked at Carly for confirmation as if she’d heard Harper’s words but they didn’t register.
Carly nodded. “It’s true. Someone broke in. I was upstairs with the baby and you were downstairs with—”
“Nooo! Harry!” she howled, startling Mia. The little girl’s lips furled and she started crying. Mrs. B. motioned Carly closer, as if wanting to tell her a secret.
Carly leaned close.
“They want the baby,” Mrs. B. said with a wild look in her eye. “Don’t let them get my baby. Take her. Keep her safe.” She handed Carly the baby, who continued to cry because of her mother’s sudden outburst.
“Mrs. B.—”
“Go away!” she shouted. “All of you just go away. Harry,” she moaned, turning her back to the men and sobbing. “What have I done?”
Whit came around to the other side of the bed and sat down. “Susan, please,” he said softly. “I need to know... Is my brother alive?”
She nodded that he was.
“Is he—”
“Goooo!” She frantically punched the nurse call button. “I need the nurse, I need...I need Harry,” she sobbed.
“I do, too.” Whit placed his hand on her shoulder and she froze, looking at him with such devastation in her wide eyes.
“I need my brother.” He offered a slight nod. “Help me find him?”
Silence filled the room. Carly soothed Mia by stroking her back, and Detective Harper stood by without saying a word. Carly sensed Mrs. B. was about to speak.
