Bingham unrolled his sleeves and removed his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “I understand.” He handed Scottie a business card with a long list of numbers and email addresses on it. “Call me anytime, night or day.”
Scottie waited in the dining room while her father showed his partner to the door. “You heard him yourself, Daddy,” she said when Stuart returned. “Your attorney thinks I’m guilty. He started to use the word abduction but caught himself. I don’t stand a chance if I stay in Richmond. They’ll trace my credit cards if I try to use them. Please, can you just loan me some money until I get settled?”
“Let’s see what your mother has to say.” Stuart wrapped an arm around Scottie’s shoulder and ushered her into the family room where her mother was flipping through the December issue of Virginia Living magazine and sneaking peeks every few seconds at the baby lying on the sofa next to her.
“Scottie and I need to talk to you,” Stuart said.
“Talk to me about what?” Barbara said, looking up from her magazine.
“About Scottie leaving town.” Stuart faced his daughter, holding her at arm’s length. “I’m not opposed to lending you the money, honey. I’m just worried you’re making the wrong decision.”
Her chin set in determination, Scottie said, “If you don’t loan me the money, Dad, I’ll find someone else who will.”
“When are you planning to leave?” Barbara asked.
“A lot depends on what the police discovered today.” Scottie retrieved the remote from the coffee table and clicked on the early edition news. A few minutes into the broadcast, Joyce Jackson announced that no further developments had taken place in the case of the missing baby.
Barbara’s shoulders relaxed as the tension seemed to drain from her body. “So there’s no urgency in you leaving.”
Scottie shook her head. “Not necessarily. I still think it’s best if we leave tonight, after I feed Mary her bedtime bottle. Traveling after dark gives us an advantage.”
Stuart removed his wallet and counted six, crisp hundred-dollar bills out on the counter. “That’s all I have in my wallet. If you wait until the morning, I can get more.”
Scottie’s mother emptied her wallet of five twenties. “You can’t get far on seven hundred dollars, Scottie.”
No kidding, Scottie thought. The fake documents alone will cost more than a thousand bucks.
“I’ll borrow some from Will. You guys have already done enough, paying for the attorney and all.” Scottie picked the baby up off the sofa. “I’m going upstairs to rest and wait for Will. He should be here any minute. You can see yourselves out, can’t you?”
“Please don’t do this, Scottie.” Barbara’s eyes filled with tears. “I beg you to stay. You can hide out at the farm until this all blows over.”
“And make you guys accomplices? No way. Besides, they don’t have hair stylists and nail technicians in prison.” Scottie smiled at her mother, then hugged her tight, squeezing the baby between them. She turned to her father. “Or golf courses and duck blinds for you.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
Taking a step back from her parents, she tried to memorize their faces. Who knew when she’d see them again, if she’d see them again? They weren’t getting any younger.
“Please don’t worry about me. You taught me well. I’m a fighter.”
14
From the nursery upstairs, Scottie heard her parents’ muffled voices mixed in with sounds from the television in the family room beneath her. She thought she’d made it clear she wanted them to leave. Were they waiting for Will to arrive, the changing of the guard from the wardens to the night watchman, to make certain she didn’t leave town?
Her phone vibrated in her pocket with a text from Brad: Can you pack some clothes for me and leave the bag beside the front door?
Did this mean he was leaving her, abandoning her in her moment of need?
She responded: Whatever.
Leaving Mary to play in her crib, she located another duffle bag at the back of her closet and crammed some of his clothes and his toiletries inside. Ignoring the blast of cold air that penetrated the room, she opened their bedroom window and dropped the duffle bag to the sidewalk below.
She gathered Mary in her arms and returned to the rocking chair. A few minutes later, the sound of her parents talking with Will in the foyer drifted up the stairs. She heard the front door close, followed by the pounding of feet on the stairs. Will appeared in the doorway of the nursery with a Chipotle bag in one hand and a pint of Jack Daniels in the other. “Whose duffle bag is that on your sidewalk?”
“Brad’s. I guess he’s leaving me.”
“Fuck Brad.” He held out his arms. “I brought provisions. Brain food for you, and brain booze for me. Let’s go downstairs.” He used his right elbow to wave her on. “We need to put our heads together and figure this thing out.”
She dragged herself to her feet and followed him downstairs. “I don’t know what makes you think you’re smarter than the best criminal attorney in the city.” She dropped to a barstool at the island. “If Len Bingham can’t come up with a solution…”
“That’s because he’s trying to defend you.” He removed the lid from her burrito bowl and placed it in front of her. “I’m trying to find a way out of your mistake.” He poured bourbon over ice cubes in a tumbler.
“I made a colossal one this time for sure,” she said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the Alka-Seltzer commercial on TV. She waved her hand at the television. “Will you please turn that thing down? Dad gets harder of hearing every day.”
Will found the remote and turned the volume down.
With the baby sleeping peacefully in the crook of her arm, Scottie picked at her burrito bowl, and Will sipped on his bourbon, while they explored the situation from every angle imaginable. When they’d exhausted the topic, Scottie said, “See, I told you it’s hopeless. I have no choice but to leave town.”
“I’m not giving up that easily. There’s gotta be something we’re missing.” Will drained the rest of his bourbon and sucked on a cube of ice while he contemplated her problem. When his eyes caught sight of something on the television, he scrambled for the remote.
He punched the volume up and Joyce Jackson’s voice filled the room. “I’m here this evening with Judith and Michael Sabin, the parents of the young woman found dead in Monroe Park just six days ago.”
Joyce was standing in front of a nondescript building, presumably downtown, with a young-looking, middle-aged couple. Scottie got up and went to stand in front of the television.
Abusive alcoholics? I don’t think so.
Average in size and shape, with sad expressions, they appeared to be honest, hard-working Americans, perhaps a kindergarten teacher and an insurance salesman.
“Have there been any recent developments in the case of your missing granddaughter?” Joyce held the microphone out to Judith.
“The police have asked us not to comment on the case. We’re here today to appeal to the person who has our grandchild, the mysterious camera lady. We’ve lost our only child, our runaway daughter who we haven’t seen in years. Please, we beg you to give us a chance to know our grandbaby. She’s all we have left of our family.” Judith began to cry and Michael put his arm around her to comfort her.
The camera panned back to Joyce. “If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of the mysterious camera lady or the Sabins’s missing grandchild, please contact the police immediately. That’s all for now, Wally. Back to the studio.”
Scottie dropped to the sofa. “Oh God, Will. What have I done?”
Her brother jumped to his feet and began pacing around the kitchen island. “Maybe… just maybe.”
Scottie could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “Maybe what, already?”
He stopped pacing. “I’ve got an idea.” His chocolate eyes bounced back and forth between Scottie and the baby in her arms. “But I’m not sure it’ll work.
”
“Tell me, damn it.”
He hesitated, a faraway look crossing his face, as though he was struggling with an inner conflict. “Let me ask you this. If you had a chance to give the baby back and walk away scot-free—pardon the pun— would you take it?”
Scottie looked at the baby in her arms, who stared back up at her with such adoration it made her heart do somersaults. Gripping her tighter, she kissed the top of Mary’s head. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she said, letting out a deep breath.
Will came to sit beside her on the sofa. “Think about it, Scottie. Are you really the kind of person who would knowingly keep a baby from her biological family? If you are, then you’re not the Scottie I know.”
“A week ago, I never would have considered doing something so despicable, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve never experienced this kind of close bond before. I don’t know how to describe it. I only know I can’t walk away from her.”
Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen for Mary. Even if she carried the baby in her womb to term, she would always have to share her or him with Brad. But Mary, she felt, belonged solely to her, her very own special someone.
“That’s the thing, Scott. You’re too close to the situation, too emotionally involved, to think objectively. Trust me when I tell you this is not the right choice for you. What kind of life will you have on the run, always having to look over your shoulder? You won’t be able to hold a steady job or give Mary a proper education. And think about your baby. How will you pay for the medical bills? The police will be watching Mom and Dad, and me, which will make it difficult for us to send you money.”
Scottie hadn’t considered how her actions might affect her family. Aside from the public humiliation, they would be forced to live in their own prison, constantly watched by the police. She’d miss her parents, of course. Her mother’s good cooking and her father’s warm smile. Her mother’s zest for life and her father’s gentle ways. But a life without Will was unimaginable. No more late-night gossip sessions over a large pepperoni pizza from Chanello’s. No more spur-of-the-moment day trips to Virginia Beach. No more lingering Saturday lunches on the porch at The Continental. No more Christmas Eve dinners at their parents’ farm or New Year’s Eve parties at the Homestead. No, a life without Will would not do at all.
“What’re you thinking, Will?”
He got to his feet. “Let me figure a few things out before I tell you.” He slipped on his coat and turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute. Where are you going?” she asked following him to the front door.
“To find a solution to your problem.” He opened the door.
“If you’re not back by ten, I’m leaving, Will, one way or another.”
He glanced at his watch. Seven fifteen. “I’ll be back way before then. If not, I’ll call you. Promise me, Scottie, whatever you do, don’t leave until you hear from me.” He kissed her cheek. “In the meantime, go eat your burrito bowl. You need to keep up your strength for both babies.” He jabbed his index finger at her chest. “And think about what I said. I know Mary means a lot to you, but she will have a good life with her grandparents, and you have much to look forward to in yours.”
15
Scottie felt too nauseous to eat. She placed Mary in the playpen, brewed a cup of tea, and curled up on the sofa.
While the baby dozed, she relived the events of the past six days, from the discovery of Melissa Sabin’s dead body to her game-changing conversation with Will.
When she discovered the body, her primary goal, her only goal, had been to get the baby warm and fed and in the hands of someone who would protect her from a lifetime of abuse and neglect in the foster system. Mabel, with her tales of woe about Melissa’s past home life, had cleared the way for Scottie’s emotions, granting her permission to love the baby. And Scottie, an investigative journalist trained to search out the clues and scrutinize the facts, had never questioned one word.
She’d been prepared to vanish into the night with Mary, but her brother, always the sensible Will, had helped her see that her choices of late had been based on emotion rather than logic. She glanced over at the stack of hundred-dollar bills on the counter. Realistically, how far would seven hundred dollars get her? As a photographer or a journalist or as a combination of the two, she had talents to offer the world, skills that would, under normal circumstances, earn her a decent keep. But no one would hire her without a resume. All her hard work in high school, college, and beyond would be washed down the drain. She could very well end up delivering her baby in a park—just like Melissa Sabin had done.
While the baby slept, Scottie wandered around the house, admiring her shabby chic decor. She’d spent afternoons combing antique malls and yard sales searching for just the right walnut chest for the living room and mahogany sideboard for the dining room. She’d chosen the colors and painted all the rooms herself—soft grays downstairs with an accented wall of aqua in the kitchen, a cheerful yellow for the nursery and calming lavender for the master bedroom upstairs. The house itself deserved praise—the ten-foot ceilings and intricate woodwork around the fireplaces, the random-width oak floors and handblown glass windowpanes.
Her father had given her the money for a down payment on the house, along with the stipulation that Scottie’s name be the only one on the mortgage. She was, after all, the primary breadwinner. Brad had seemed fine with the arrangement, a little too much for Scottie’s liking if truth be told. She thought she’d married a man who could pull his own weight but discovered, instead, she’d married a freeloader.
What would happen to the house if she left town? Brad would default on the loan and the bank would foreclose. All of her precious belongings would be sold at a yard sale.
She felt a jabbing pain in her chest, as though her heart was being torn into two pieces, with Mary on the one side, while on the other, the life she’d work so hard to create—her family, her career, the baby growing inside of her.
After hours of agonizing deliberation, Scottie had resigned herself to leaving town, and was feeding the baby her bedtime bottle when Will finally returned a few minutes before ten. He was wearing a huge grin and carrying a big brown shopping bag.
“What’s this?” she asked, pulling out a wig with long brown dreadlocks and a trench coat streaked with dirt and grime.
“Your disguise.”
“And where am I supposed to wear this disguise, in the car on my way out of town?”
“Not exactly what I had in mind.” He handed her a folded slip of paper.
She opened the note. Omni Room 365 was scrawled across the paper. She looked up at her brother. “I don’t get it. Who’s staying at the Omni?”
“Melissa Sabin’s parents.”
She looked at him, incredulous. “And you expect me to just waltz in there and hand Mary over to them.”
“Not waltz, no. Hence the disguise. I’ve scouted out the place. It’s nearly deserted. I guess no businessmen are traveling this close to Christmas.”
“I don’t know, Will. It sounds risky. What about security cameras?”
“I’ve got it all figured out, if you’ll just listen to me.” He sat down on the sofa next to her. “I truly believe this is your best chance to walk away from this situation.”
She listened as he described his plan in detail. He’d considered everything, and responded to all her questions with reasonable answers. While his plan wasn’t risk-free, she agreed it was her best chance, her only chance, to walk away.
“And what if I get caught?” Scottie asked.
“You’ll text me a 911 message. I’ll call Dad, who will contact his attorney, and the three of us will meet you at police headquarters. I’ll make sure you don’t go through this alone, sis. The judge is more likely to go lenient on you if you’re caught trying to give the baby back rather than sneaking her out of town under the cloak of darkness.”
“True.” Scottie sat back on the sofa with the baby on her knees. “I guess this i
s it, little one, my Merry Mary. It’s time for you to meet your nana Judith and granddaddy Michael.”
16
Scottie stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. She hardly recognized herself in dreadlocks, which was exactly the point. “I look like one of the Five. Where’d you get this stuff anyway?”
Will was standing next to her, holding the baby. “I wore the wig to a Halloween party several years back, but I bought the coat at Target. I drove over it a few times with my truck to get the tattered look.” He flashed his naughty boy grin at her in the mirror. His eyes zeroed in on her bare feet. “What shoes are you gonna wear?”
“Boots, I guess.” She walked over to her closet and dug through the dozens of pairs of shoes littering the floor. “I guess these will have to do.” She tugged on a pair of Hunter wellies.
“I don’t know many homeless people who wear designer boots, but I guess they’ll have to do.”
Scottie wrapped two ratty-looking scarves around her neck and the bottom part of her face. “I need to cover my eyes. Maybe I should wear my sunglasses.”
She dug through her purse for her Ray-Bans. “What’d you think?” she asked, meeting Will’s eyes in the mirror.
He shook his head. “Too preppy. Keep your head bent and you’ll be fine.”
Scottie tossed the sunglasses back into her bag.
“Are we ready?” he asked.
“I just need to pack some supplies for the baby,” Scottie said, already on her way to the nursery. She gathered diapers, wipes, and two clean sleepers from the nursery, then went to the kitchen downstairs and stuffed them in a plastic grocery bag along with formula and bottles.
She took the baby from her brother.”Give me a minute, please, Will?” She walked the baby over to the Christmas tree. “We did a good job on the decorations, you and me. We made a good team.” She planted a kiss on the baby’s forehead. “I’ll never forget you, Merry Mary. I will always be thinking about you—wondering about your first steps, your first tricycle, your first date.” She held the baby high over her head, then brought her back down and twirled her around in circles. “You were never meant to be mine. I know that now. You’ve taught me so much and I’ve cherished every minute of my time with you.” Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision.
Merry Mary Page 7
