“I know you’re not petty, but I’m being practical. I may never be a cop again, and I want to give you the chance to think about that long and hard before we commit to anything.”
“So now I only love you because you’re a cop?”
“That’s not what I said. Come on, don’t make this harder than it is.”
“Harder than it is? How much harder can it be?” Carly’s hurt meshed with anger, suffocating her. She needed to get away and get some air, clear her head. “If you want to wall yourself in, I guess that’s your prerogative. If you think you don’t need anybody and nobody needs you, go for it. But I love you, hip or no, cop or no. I don’t want to be on a roller coaster with you, sure you care one minute and tossed away the next. But the problem is with you. So once you get it straight, call me.” She stood.
Glaring at him, she stayed silent for a moment, not trusting herself to speak. But the stinging hurt she felt would not let her stay silent. “You know, we were married for eight years, for better or worse, and you threw it away for a waitress. But I believed you’d changed. I believed you were now a man I could trust again, a man who would go the distance. But you can’t or you won’t, and you’re just choosing a different out this time.”
Nick recoiled as if slapped. Reacting in slow motion, he tried to stop her as she moved to leave. “Wait.”
She jerked away from his hand.
“I drove. How are you getting back to the station?”
“Right now I don’t care if I have to walk.” Carly stormed away from Kelly’s and made a beeline for the jetty, hoping the sight and sound of the water and seagulls would drown out the pounding in her head. It had taken her so long to overcome the hurt from their divorce and forgive Nick. Falling in love with him all over again, walking out on a limb, trusting again—only to have him, in one instant, saw the limb off. Long, irritated strides carried her to the end of the jetty, a place called Seaside Point. She stopped because there was simply nowhere else to go. Carly was sweating, and her eyes stung with tears.
Lord, I don’t know much, but the Bible says you give believers the desires of their heart. Nick is the desire of my heart. He’s been my example, my strength for four months. How can he do this now?
It was a struggle for Carly not to give in to old feelings of anger and resentment toward God. Trust—that’s all I hear: trust God. I’m trying, so help me, I’m trying, but this is hard. It feels like I’ve trusted the wrong jury to return the right verdict. Standing on the jetty in the afternoon heat, Carly wanted the verdict to be her and Nick, remarried and together forever.
But what if all the people who doubted her decision to forgive Nick were right? They’d both changed; she was certain her commitment to God had changed her. Yes, she’d found God, and that was something she’d never regret. But had she somehow tied God and Nick together so getting one meant getting the other? What if Nick wasn’t her future?
11
CARLY LOST TRACK OF TIME while standing out on the jetty, but her tears eventually quit. She ignored the sun beating down on her head and stood for a very long while staring at the water, vaguely aware of some fishermen to her right. Their laughter and conversation, mingled with the sound of waves slapping the jetty wall and the occasional cast and splash of a weight in the water, kept her connected. The smell of the ocean air was stale and salty and far from refreshing. But Carly could breathe now, and her mind cleared. Part of her regretted storming out. Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum, but I don’t want to let you go, Nick; I don’t.
Everything boomeranged back to trust. I have to trust God for Nick. And I have to trust that if Nick isn’t for me, God will give me peace and ease the hurt. Carly shivered in spite of the heat and fought down the internal rebellion. I don’t want to trust. I want to scream and yell and make Nick know what a jerk he’s being! But I won’t. As hard as it is, I’ll wait, trust, and pray. This Christian stuff is hard, God.
Footsteps approached from behind, too even and quick to be Nick’s. Carly turned.
“Hey, I hope I didn’t scare you.”
She shielded her eyes and took in the form of Alex Trejo. “You didn’t scare me, but I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Were you expecting Nick?”
“I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
Trejo smiled. “I’m not psychic or anything. I ran into him over there by Kelly’s. He was watching you, and he kind of explained you were a little upset with him. Anyway, I told him maybe you needed some time to yourself and that I would give you a ride back to the station.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here, you might want this.”
Carly self-consciously touched her cheek with one hand, taking the offered handkerchief with the other. There was dried tear residue to be wiped off, and she was suddenly embarrassed about what Nick might have told Alex.
“Thank you. What, uh . . . what was it Nick told you?”
“Don’t worry, Edwards. No dark secrets were revealed. He just said he’d made you mad and he didn’t think you wanted to get back in the same car with him.” Alex kept smiling, shoved his hands into his pockets.
“He’s right about that, and . . . well, it’s a long story.” Carly finished wiping her face, then looked up at Alex. “Look better?”
“You always look great to me.”
“Thank you for the hankie and the ride.” His scrutiny made Carly uncomfortable, and she turned to walk back toward the marina. Trejo fell into step next to her.
“So, you want to tell me the long story?”
“Not really. Right now I don’t want to talk about Nick. I want to find A.J.”
“Okay. But if you change your mind, I’m a good listener.”
For a couple of minutes only the sound of the waves and the crunching of their feet on the jetty sand filled the walk. Alex broke the silence. “How’s Joe? I haven’t heard anything new on that front.”
“I haven’t talked to him today. I’ll check in with Harris when I get back to the station.” Carly was glad for the subject change and tried to overrun her thoughts of Nick with thoughts about Joe and A.J. She glanced at Trejo, surprised she could feel so normal in his company. At the moment it was good to call him a friend. I can’t believe I think of him as a friend. He’s a reporter. Can I really trust him?
Alex caught her looking, and she turned away. “Why did you look at me that way?” He smiled a dazzling smile.
“Sorry, a thought just crossed my mind. It wasn’t pretty.” She hoped he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks.
“About me?”
“Yeah.” When they stopped at his car, Carly faced him with a question. “All this sudden interest—is it me, or are you just after a story?”
Alex was silent for several long seconds. She wondered if the question hurt his feelings.
Suddenly he laughed. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You don’t play games or indulge in subterfuge. I don’t meet many women who tell it like it is.” He took her hand in his and held it to his chest. “Edwards, I’ll return the favor; I’ll be boldly honest. Four months ago, you burst into my life and turned things upside down. I’ve always hated cops; I looked at them as racist storm troopers. They covered for one another.” At her raised eyebrows, he laughed again. “Sorry, I did. But you were different. When Mayor Burke was murdered, it was truth you were after even if it meant a cop would go to jail. On top of that, you saved my life, no matter that I printed stuff that hurt you.”
“Alex . . .” Emotions still churning, she tried to pull her hand away. He held it tighter.
“No, let me finish. I want this out in the open. I’ve been bonkers for you for months. The only reason I looked forward to court was the chance to cross paths with you there. All I think about is you, but I had no idea how to get close. How do you get close in the hallway of the court building?” He paused and threw his hands up before continuing.
“This tragedy happened, and I asked to cover it because I
really want to help Joe—and in doing that, I knew I could see you as well. Now you ask me if it’s a story I’m after, and yeah, I guess I am. It’s my job, after all. But I want you first, and to help Joe any way I can. I’m trying to be here for you and prove I care. Anything you tell me in confidence stays in confidence, okay?” He pinned her with a steady gaze. One hand held hers to his chest while the other stroked her forearm.
He wants to give me everything Nick just took away. She took a deep breath and firmly pulled her hand away.
“Thanks for being honest. And thanks for being a friend, but that’s as far as we can go. I don’t know what’s going on with Nick, but I still love him. That wouldn’t be fair to you, would it?”
He shrugged. “I guess I’m not thinking fair right now. Just don’t close the door on me, and remember, I’m a good listener.” He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets again. For a minute he just looked at her with a goofy expression on his face.
“Okay, thanks, Alex. You think we can head back to the station now?”
Trejo rolled his eyes and laughed sheepishly, quickly unlocking the car.
• • •
Fortifying herself with some station coffee that had been cooking all day, Carly stayed at the phone lines until she felt herself dozing. Fatigue was closing her eyes, and she knew she was useless. Nick had not come back to work the phones, and she didn’t want to ask if he was helping somewhere else. It was disappointing that none of the calls were promising. But tomorrow was the beginning of a new week. All the local morning news shows planned to air A.J.’s information first thing in the morning and throughout the day. Anticipating a blitz of new information, she’d decided to go home when her phone buzzed. It was Pete.
“Carly, can you come up to the homicide office? Agent Wiley, our FBI liaison, is going to share a profile of the kidnapper.”
“I’ll be right up.” Though tired, Carly was glad the FBI was helping as much as it was and prayed she’d hear something encouraging in the profile. Carly had read a lot about FBI profilers and profiles, and she believed they were useful tools for most investigations.
Nelson waved her into the office when she reached the door. “Have a seat. This is Agent Wiley, and he’s got a possible profile worked up of our kidnapper.”
Carly sat and gave the agent her attention. He looked so much like an agent in his dark suit and tie, Carly felt that his picture could appear in the dictionary under the definition of FBI agent.
Wiley dove right in. “I’ll start with a little history. Between 1983 and 2010, there were 271 cases of infant abductions reported to the authorities. Of these, 47 percent occurred in hospitals—with almost 60 percent of those babies being taken from the mother’s hospital room—compared to 40 percent taken once the baby reached home; the remaining cases occurred in various other places. This may sound like a lot and it may scare you, but statistics also show that 95 percent of the children abducted were rescued safely.
“In infant kidnappings, the suspect is usually a woman—many times an overweight woman. This allows for a fake pregnancy. The suspect may have impersonated a nurse or some other health care employee, and she may have visited Memorial on a prior occasion.”
Pete groaned. “That means reviewing more hospital security recordings.”
Wiley went on. “We find that the motives for an infant kidnap can be divided into two main camps. The most common is to replace a baby the woman recently lost. The second is the need in the woman’s life to validate a lie. By that I mean there are women who will lie about being pregnant to keep a hold on a significant other. When their nine months are up, they need to produce a child and often seek to take a child from a hospital or private setting to prove they were pregnant.”
“I have a problem with that one,” Nelson said. “A.J. is an older child; it would be impossible to pass him off as a newborn.”
“Yes, I’ve noted that. We don’t have enough information to say with certainty the motive behind this abduction. A profile is a guide, not a hard-and-fast rule. We’ve not received a ransom request or any indication there will be one, so it’s safe to consider other motives.
“Add more neighborhood canvasses to your to-do list,” Wiley continued. “The suspect is likely from the area and plans to raise the child as her own. And while she may have planned the kidnapping carefully, it’s rare that such an individual targets a specific infant.”
“You mean A.J. was just the lucky one?” Carly said, unable to hide the bitterness she felt.
“Correct. But the odds are that the suspect will care for the child as if he were her own. The parents can take solace in that statistic at least.”
• • •
“Do you feel any better now?” Pete asked Carly as they walked out of the station.
“You mean because of the profile?” She shrugged. “In a way, but we already know our suspect is not overweight. That being said, I guess chances are good A.J. is being taken care of, but the longer he’s gone the colder the trail gets.”
“I know we’ll find the kid.”
“I hope you’re right. And I’ll let Joe in on the profile.”
After they said good-bye, Carly hopped in her car and headed for the hospital. Lord, I’m the one who’s supposed to have hope and stay positive. I know you’re in control. But everything seems to be going nowhere. Please keep the baby safe and give us a break somewhere.
Before heading for Christy’s room, Carly stopped to check on Andrea, see how she was doing. But her roommate was nowhere to be seen; her name wasn’t even on the duty board. Granted, Carly hadn’t checked her schedule on the fridge that morning—maybe this was one of Andi’s days off—but the uneasy feeling in her gut returned. She continued on to visit with Joe.
Carly poked her head into the room and caught Joe finishing a burger. “Hey, partner.” He was alone with his wife, and she guessed his parents had gone to get some rest.
“Hi, it’s good to see you today.” As he hugged her, she noticed he’d finally shaved and looked as though he’d gotten some sleep. She was also happy to see that Christy was in a private room away from critical care. The monitors were beeping with normal vital readings, and she appeared to simply be resting. “She’s better.” Joe seemed to read Carly’s thoughts. “All the doctors agree the worst is over and she’ll wake up soon.”
“What was the matter?”
“They think it was an allergic reaction to something. They’re still doing tests. But she was home with just A.J. before she called 911. I’ve been home and can’t figure out what she could have eaten or been exposed to. Man, I can’t help feeling like I’m in an episode of Mystery Diagnosis.” He squeezed his wife’s hand and turned to Carly. “Anything new about A.J. and the investigation?”
“The tip lines are manned by plenty of volunteers, and a lot of people have called.” She sighed, holding Joe’s tired eyes in a steady gaze. “Nothing great so far, but Harris is confident we’ll get a break soon, so I am too.”
“Have you been officially loaned to homicide?”
“Yeah, but saying okay looked about as painful to Garrison as a root canal.”
“He’ll never forgive you for showing him up and exposing all the dirt in the department he should have caught,” Joe said. He turned his focus to his wife and was silent for a moment.
Carly felt the need to talk and told him about walking neighborhoods with Harris and about how the people they visited were interested in doing what they could to help.
Joe listened, nodding occasionally. “This woman really planned this, didn’t she?” he asked, looking at Carly.
“It looks that way. I’ll bet any baby would have done. Somehow A.J. just became available.” She told him about Agent Wiley’s theory that most female abductors plan to raise the child as their own.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I agree. Look at all the trouble she went to. I refuse to believe she did all that to hurt A.J. in any way.”
�
��Thanks. I hope that helps when I tell Christy.”
12
THE ALARM JOLTED Carly back to the real world at 6 a.m. She checked her BlackBerry, and there were no messages or texts waiting. A quick call to dispatch and she learned that nothing had changed: A.J. was still missing.
Groaning, she got out of bed and dressed quickly in a bathing suit. A swim would help clear her mind for work. In order to beat the summer beach traffic, she needed to hit the sand early. And a swim would not only fit into her training schedule; it would energize her mind. The Maui Channel Swim, at 9.5 miles, would be the longest swim she’d ever competed in. She had managed to swim to safety after jumping from a speeding yacht to avoid being shot somewhere in the middle of the channel between Catalina and the Las Playas harbor, but she estimated that was only two or three miles. There was no way to be certain how far she had traveled that night.
With Nick’s encouragement and his promise to be in a support boat while she swam ringing in her ears, she’d mailed off an entry. It was meant to be a relay race, but there were twenty slots available to those who wanted to swim solo. She’d made it just in time to be number twenty. Her training had been going great until Nick’s therapy went south. Every time she was in the water, she swam with the intention of competing in the race, but now pain pierced her as she realized this was something else Nick was backing out of. Now that he wanted a break, would she do the swim without him?
I still want to, she thought, but will it be the same without Nick there? Will anything be the same without Nick there?
“Enough,” she muttered. Life goes on. Covering herself with a big T-shirt, she gathered Maddie, and together they jogged to the beach. Maddie would wait patiently on a towel while Carly completed her swim.
Carly’s mood improved immensely as she reached the sand. She loved the water and often found that the ocean soothed whatever ailed her. Today it was worry about A.J. and stinging memories of Nick’s wanting a break that caused her pain, but she vowed to think of the race and only the race once she hit the water.
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