“Sheila ain’t here,” he said, talking loud over the sound of the baby’s cries. “She’s in jail.”
“Oh,” Cade said. “And where is she being held?”
He gave him the name of the prison. “So is this about Sadie?”
“Yes. We’re checking on her truancy,” he said.
“I didn’t know they came after tenth graders. I thought you could drop out any time you wanted to.”
“We like to have our paperwork in order,” Cade said.
The man stepped out on the porch and spat. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his hairy chest covered a tattoo that was indiscernible. “Well, I ain’t signing nothing,” he said. “That girl’s nothing but trouble. I ain’t even related to her except through that kid in there.” He nodded toward the door.
The baby kept screaming, anguished, gut-wrenching cries. “Do you need to go get the baby?”
“Naw, he squawks whether I’m holding him or not,” he said.
“Where is Sadie?” he asked. “I need to talk to her.”
“She ain’t here right now,” he said. “Girl runs wild.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Got me.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
The man squinted at him, as if he’d asked one question too many. “What difference does that make to you?”
“Just trying to get a clue where I might find her.”
The man studied him through his bloodshot eyes for a moment, then shook his head. “I got a baby to tend to,” he said.
Before Cade could answer, the man slammed the door. He heard him bounding back across the house as the baby continued to scream.
Cade’s heart was heavy as he headed back out to his car. Something had to be done about that child. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the man was an unfit parent. But first he needed to talk to the mother.
That would shed a lot of light on Sadie’s and Caleb’s situations.
C H A P T E R
67
Sadie’s mother, Sheila Caruso, was in the jail in downtown Atlanta. Cade found it easily.
She came to the visiting room wearing a baggy brown jumpsuit. Her brownish-blonde hair was pulled back in a rubber band. He could see Sadie in her face and knew she had once been pretty.
She eyed him suspiciously through the glass, then picked up the telephone that opened their communication.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Mrs. Caruso, I’m Matthew Cade,” he said. “I’m police chief in Cape Refuge, and I wanted to ask you some questions about your daughter, Sadie.”
The woman burst into tears and leaned forward, her eyes fixed on his. “Leave her alone, won’t you?” she said. “I know she’s run away, but please let her go. Wherever she is, she’s better off.”
Cade hadn’t expected that. He waited for more.
“She wasn’t safe in Atlanta,” she cried. “And neither is Caleb. If you’re concerned about any laws being broken, then go get my baby out of that house, get him away from Jack. He’d be better off with almost anybody. Just, please, don’t leave him with him.”
“Mrs. Caruso, if he’s his father, then—”
Her eyes grew hard, more determined. Though she looked young—no more than thirty-five, perhaps—her skin was lined and tired. “You take children away from parents all the time. You can do this. I’m telling you, he’ll hurt the baby. He may even kill him like he tried to kill Sadie.”
“Mrs. Caruso, if he’s abusive, why hasn’t anyone reported him to Human Services?”
“I have, but nothing’s been done,” she said. “They think I’m saying it for spite, but I told them Sadie’d had a broken jaw and a concussion and two broken ribs. There are doctors who can vouch for it, X-rays, but they won’t do anything. Sadie came here with her arm all bashed in and her face swollen, and I told her to get on a bus and go as far as it would take her. That’s why she left. So you might as well not be looking for her. She’s going to be all right. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and she’s been through tough times. She practically raised herself, when I was doing drugs, and she took care of me—”
She collapsed in sobs, and Cade felt as though he had intruded on her private sorrow. All he could do was hold that phone and avert his eyes. He looked at a spot on the ledge of the glass until she could speak again.
“She’s run away before, but he goes after her, chases her down, and drags her back. I’m going to be in here for five years, at least. I want both my kids in one piece when I get out. ‘Til then, there’s nothing I can do except beg. Please, I don’t know why you’re here, but please get my baby out of that house.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said. “Meanwhile, I can tell you that Sadie’s safe, her arm’s in a cast, and she just started a new job. She has a nice place to live and people watching over her.
Her face twisted, and she touched the glass. “Thank you,” she said.
Cade could only nod, for his throat was too tight to say another word.
The best Cade could do was report possible abuses to Human Services before he left Atlanta. It was clear that they were overworked and understaffed and had a long list of abuses to look into. He tried to convince them to move little Caleb to the top of their list, but he wasn’t sure that they would.
As he drove back to Cape Refuge, everything kept running through his mind. He hoped the baby would survive the father’s abuse, and he didn’t know what to do about Sadie. No missing-persons report had ever been filed, and technically, she wasn’t a runaway since her mother had sent her away. He needed to pray over this a while before he took any action. And while he was at it, he would pray for little Caleb, and for the mother who seemed so remorseful and helpless as she sat in prison.
C H A P T E R
68
Cade went straight to Hanover House as soon as he got back to Cape Refuge. He found Morgan, Jonathan, and Blair in their parents’ office, trying to figure out how they could hold onto the house if the city forced them to evict their tenants.
Blair noticed the somber look on Cade’s face. “Cade, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”
He shook his head. “No, I was just in Atlanta for the past couple of days trying to find some leads on Rick.”
“And?” she asked.
“Didn’t find anything. But I came here to talk to Sadie. She home?”
Morgan looked up at him. “Upstairs. Want me to get her?”
“If you don’t mind.”
Blair got up and came closer, searching his face. “Cade, what is it? Has she done something wrong?”
“No. I just . . . I found out where she’s from.” As Sadie came down the stairs, he stepped out of the office into the living room. Blair followed.
Sadie stopped at the bottom and stared at him with big, worried eyes. It was clear she thought she had been found out, that she would be arrested and sent back to Jack.
“It’s okay, Sadie,” Morgan said. She took her hand and pulled her down to the couch, sat next to her with her arm around her. Blair sat on the other side, staring at Cade as she waited. Jonathan kept standing.
Cade sat down and fixed his eyes on the girl. “I was in Atlanta today, Sadie.”
She leaned back hard on the couch, as if she knew what was coming.
“I met your stepfather.”
“He’s not my stepfather,” she said. “He was my mother’s boyfriend. That’s all.” Her face twisted as she started to cry. “Why’d you go there? I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been getting along with people, and I’ve got a job. I’m earning money. I’m going to be able to support myself and take care of everything.”
“Sadie, you’re sixteen,” Cade said.
Morgan didn’t look surprised.
“You don’t understand,” Sadie said.
“I understand more than you think,” Cade cut in. “I told you, I met Jack. I saw what kind of man he is, and I can see what drove y
ou away.”
She sprang up off of the couch and cut across the room. “He’s the devil himself, that’s what kind of man he is,” she said. “My mama let him move in because she was lonely and he gave her drugs. That’s not the first dumb thing she’s ever done.”
Morgan went to her. “But isn’t she worried about you?” she asked. “I mean, your mother must be crazy wondering where you are.”
“My mother’s in jail.”
Morgan caught her breath and looked at Cade.
“I met her too,” Cade said.
Sadie’s face changed, and she stepped toward him. “You met my mom? You went to the jail?”
“Yes,” he said, “and the fact is, she begged me not to tell where you are. She said to let you stay here, that you were better off.”
“She’s right,” Sadie said. “I may be sixteen, but I’m old enough to know when I’m in danger.” She took another step toward him and breathed in a sob. “Did you see Caleb, my baby brother? Is he all right?”
“I talked to his day-care teacher,” Cade said. “She said he seemed all right.”
“But did you see him?”
“No,” he said. “I heard him crying in the house, though.”
“I’ve got to get him out of there,” Sadie said. “He won’t be safe. Jack’s a crazy man. He has a methamphetamine lab, and he’s a drug dealer. He gets high and comes home with all these lunatics for friends. And when Caleb cries, he just goes berserk.”
She knelt beside Cade’s chair, looking up at him with beseeching eyes. “Please. Isn’t there something you can do to get him out of there?”
“Your mother asked me the same thing.” He touched her shoulder and looked into those big eyes. “I’ll do what I can, Sadie,” he said. “I can’t promise anything. This is way out of my jurisdiction. But I do think you’re all right staying here. No missing-persons report has been filed. Your mother knows where you are, and she gave her permission—so technically, you’re not a runaway.”
Her face twisted. “You didn’t tell him where I am, did you?”
“No,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“He’s smart. A lot smarter than he looks. Every other time I’ve run away, he’s found me.”
“You don’t have to worry,” Cade said.
Sadie stood back up, and Morgan touched her face. “Honey, is he the one who beat you up?”
She nodded. “I should have brought Caleb with me. He beat me and threw me out of the house, and I slept in a car that night. The next morning I hitchhiked to visit my mom, and she told me to get on a bus, not to go back home for anything. But I shouldn’t have left Caleb that way. He doesn’t have anybody to protect him.”
“How old is he?” Blair asked.
“Nine months. That’s all. He’s so little, so helpless. He cries all the time unless I’m there. He misses Mom. And now he misses me.”
“We’ll get him out of there, won’t we, Cade?” Blair asked.
Cade nodded. “I reported him to HRS before I left town. Hopefully, they’ll remove the child.” He looked at the broken girl. “I’ll follow up on it, Sadie. I won’t let you or your brother fall through the cracks.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
As he left the house, his heart broke for the desperate girl and for the baby whose cries would haunt him tonight.
C H A P T E R
69
That night, Morgan lay curled up next to Jonathan, her head on his chest. She could tell he had something on his mind, but these days so many things weighed both of them down. “What’s wrong, Jonathan?” she asked quietly.
“Nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking.” His voice was a deep, thoughtful rumble. “The other day when I went to the dock to check my rig, I went into the warehouse. I just sat there and thought what a shame to let the church fold, and all those people who would have to go somewhere else to worship.”
“I know,” Morgan said. “It seems like all of Mama and Pop’s work was for nothing. It’s all just disappearing.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Jonathan said.
“What do you mean?”
He sat up. “Morgan, I sat there, looking at that pulpit, and had this overwhelming sense that we need to keep the church going, and that you and I are the ones who are going to do that. And since then, I’ve been praying and thinking and planning . . . and I’m just wondering how you would feel . . . about us having services starting Sunday.”
She thought about going back into that building, trying to forget the sight of her parents lying there in their own blood. . . . “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Who would preach?”
“At first I thought we should try to get a guest preacher, but I realized our members need someone familiar, someone who suffers with them, someone who grieves as they grieve. And all of a sudden, I felt as if I had a whole lot to say to them. I thought I could speak the first Sunday. After that, we could get guest preachers until we found the right person.”
She sat up and hugged her knees. “I could play piano just like Mama did. I never had the confidence to do it before, but I think I could do it now.”
“If we got the word out, let the congregation know, we could open up this Sunday,” he said. “I think I could be ready. Being in jail gave me a lot of time to think. I could make it a memorial service for your folks. I think a lot of people would come, and then I could tell them about Jesus and why Thelma and Wayne are the only ones not grieving over their deaths. I could tell them what death looks like from the other side. The celebration, the joy, the rewards . . .”
That pain that had hidden in her chest for the past several days swelled and blocked her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“They’ll come if they don’t think of me as a killer,” he said.
She swallowed back her pain. “That’s their problem. Our job is to carry on and trust God with the hearts of the people. Just like Mama and Pop always did.”
He drew her into a tight hug, and she clung to him with all her might. Those she loved were so easily snatched away.
“I’ve felt so frustrated lately,” she whispered. “About the unsolved murders, about the things I found out about Mama and Pop’s past, about Blair’s scars, about you and Gus and Rick. And Sadie’s constantly on my mind. She’s just so young. She needs an anchor. A family. People she can count on.”
“I think she’s found it,” Jonathan said. He stroked his wife’s cheek with gentle fingertips. “I see so much of your mother in you. The way you’ve taken over the care of this house. The way you’ve mothered Sadie.”
“She’s a good kid,” she whispered. “I wish I knew how to keep her from ever going back to that man.”
Jonathan stared at the air for a long moment, then finally whispered, “Maybe there is.”
“What?” Morgan asked.
“If her mother’s so adamant about her not going back there, maybe she’d sign papers to let us have legal custody.”
Morgan got up and looked down at him. “Jonathan, do you mean it?”
“Well, sure. That way, when the tenants have to move out, she won’t have to go.”
“It’d solve so many problems for her. But let’s not tell her until we know it’ll work out. She’s had enough disappointment.” She reached up to kiss him. “It’s so good to have you home,” she said. “You’re the problem solver around here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “If only I could solve the murders.”
C H A P T E R
70
Jonathan answered when East Coast Properties called the next morning. They demanded to know if Blair and Morgan had made a decision yet. “We’re keeping the place,” he said. “But we appreciate the offer.”
“Mr. Cleary, perhaps your wife didn’t convey our generous offer to you. It’s cash, full market value. We’re prepared to offer more if necessary. . . .”
“Sorry,” he said. “We’re not interested.”
The man sounded stu
nned. “Mr. Cleary, it’s come to our attention that you’re being ordered to close the place down. How do you suppose that you can afford to hold onto the house and pay the substantial taxes on the property, when you can no longer accept the donations and rents that keep it afloat?”
“That would be our problem, not yours,” Jonathan said. “Please don’t call here again.”
He took great pleasure in hanging up in the man’s ear!
A few hours later Morgan was served with papers from the city’s legal department. She scanned the document and handed it to Jonathan.
He quickly read over it. “Another threat to close us down in . . . twenty-seven days.”
“It’s not a threat, Jonathan. They’re going to do it.”
“They can’t take our property,” he said. “All they can do is tell us we can’t do business, and even that’s debatable. We’re going to see a lawyer as soon as we can get an appointment.”
Morgan grabbed the phone. “I’m calling Blair.”
When she had told her sister what had just happened, Blair wasn’t surprised that the papers had been served. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “We’re about to start a propaganda war. We’re going to change the tide of public opinion. Just leave it to me.”
Sadie had a hard time concentrating on work that day. Her conversation with Chief Cade played through her mind. He had made promises, but she didn’t know if she could trust him. He seemed kind, but others had seemed kind before. They hadn’t been able to help her or her little brother.
She sat at the computer on her desk, searching the Net for some statistics Nancy needed, when Blair burst through the door.
“Sadie, where’s Nancy?”
“Back in her office.” She got up. “I’ll get her.”
“No, I’ll get her myself.” Blair whizzed past her and reached the door before Sadie did. Nancy looked up, surprised. “I need your help, Nancy,” she said.
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