by Debra Webb
One thing was certain, Kate had seen this child.
That’s when it began.
“That’s not my boy,” Mrs. Long denied, shaking her head at the photo. “I never had a picture like that taken. I don’t know who you are, but that’s not my kid. This” she held her son more tightly “is my boy.”
“Ma’am,” Officer Dunn implored, passing the picture back to Jill, “I can understand the reason you’re upset. But even if I didn’t know these folks and believed for a second that this boy was your nephew, how do you explain the fact that he won’t even look at you?”
Jill’s defiant posture wilted, tears welled in her eyes. “I... I haven’t been to visit for a long time. He...”
Her pained words trailed off. Paul couldn’t take anymore. “Officer Dunn, if we can’t resolve this to the satisfaction of both Miss Ellington and Mrs. Long, we’ll need to call in the FBI. There’s an Amber Alert for Cody Manning,” he reminded the officer. This was getting them nowhere. Whatever was going on here, Jill needed satisfactory answers. Mostly, he just couldn’t watch her suffer any more of this uncertainty.
Mrs. Long’s eyes widened in fear. Her son squirmed in her arms. “Ellis, what’s he talking about?”
Officer Dunn looked a little flustered and a lot irritated. He held up his hands stop sign fashion. “There’s no need to call the feds. How about we follow Mrs. Long home and the two of you look at her family photo albums. She’s probably got pictures all the way back to the day she brought that child home from the hospital.” He glanced at the other woman for approval, then looked proud of himself for coming up with such an easy solution. “Will that clear up this mix-up for you?”
“Sounds reasonable,” Paul agreed. Jill said nothing.
Tension thickened between them during the brief ride from the market to Sarah Long’s modest frame home. When he parked at the curb and shut off the engine, he turned to Jill. “I don’t understand this anymore than you do, but we both know this child is not your nephew.”
She shook her head, fear and uncertainty making the move jerky. “He isn’t my nephew, I realize that. But somehow he’s connected to why Cody is missing. This has to be what Kate meant.”
Paul relaxed. He’d known she would find her way to the logical explanation. “Let’s play this out. See what we can learn.”
Photo album after photo album of little Brady Long’s life history from birth to present, proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sarah Long had brought this child home from the hospital with her.
The father, Jill noticed from the photos, had the same dark hair and eyes as his wife. Sarah Long insisted her son got his coloring from one of his grandmother’s. It wasn’t like the occurrence was genetically impossible. Recessive genes did occasionally pop up in the least expected situations. But there had to be a connection to Cody. There was no pretending otherwise, and still she did for the sake of this worried mother.
“I’m so sorry,” Jill offered. “It’s just that, he looks so much like my nephew.”
The heart-wrenching details about Cody’s disappearance had brought tears to Sarah’s eyes. “I can’t imagine what y’all are going through,” she said with an understanding nod. “I would’ve done the same thing.” She patted her son’s head as he raced past, a plastic airplane held high, the sound of its engine rumbling from his active imagination. “I’d surely remember if I’d ever met your sister and her boy.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Jill looked to Phillips for her cue. Her head was still spinning. Forming a logical thought much less the next step was out of the question. Officer Dunn stood by as if he’d feared the need to intervene if Jill grew unreasonable again.
God, she was so tired. She’d checked her phone a dozen times. No calls from her mother. Certainly nothing from the chief.
“Would you mind answering a couple of personal questions?” Phillips asked. “Any information could potentially be helpful in our search for Cody.”
Sarah looked from him to Dunn and back. “Guess not.” She shrugged. “Anything I can do to help.”
Jill felt herself leaning forward in anticipation of what he intended to ask.
“Is there any chance that you and Cody’s mother, Kate, may have run into each other at the same doctor’s office or clinic?”
Sarah frowned. “Can I see her picture again?”
Jill dug for Kate’s photo and passed it to her.
Taking her time, Sarah studied it carefully before shaking her head. “I don’t remember ever seeing her.”
“You and your husband had your son without any assistance from tests or fertility medications?” Phillips flared his hands. “Any invitro procedures?”
“Nothing like that.” Sarah shook her head. “Never been to the doctor for anything related to having babies before I got pregnant with Brady. Except my yearly check-ups.”
Phillips pushed to his feet. “We appreciate your help, Mrs. Long.”
Air rushed into Jill’s lungs. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he stood. She joined him, feeling bone tired. “Thank you. It was most generous of you to go through this with us.”
Another wave of emotion hit her and Jill could not wait to get out of this house. She couldn’t bear to look at that sweet child another second.
“Miss Ellington?”
Heart aching, Jill hesitated at the door and turned back. “Yes.”
“When you find you nephew, bring him to see my boy.” Sarah’s smile was a little shaky. “I’d like to see him for myself.”
Jill nodded stiffly.
No matter that it was at least ninety-five degrees outside, Jill felt as cold as ice.
Officer Dunn walked them to the Land Rover.
“I hope you find your nephew safe and sound real soon,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “There’s nothing more heartbreaking than a missing child.”
Jill couldn’t respond to that. She climbed into the passenger seat. How could any of this be real? Her sister was gone, for all intents and purposes. Her brother-in-law was lying on a slab and Cody was missing. And now this! A child, a carbon copy of Cody, who was somehow connected to how this all began.
She closed her eyes, vaguely aware of Phillips thanking the officer for his assistance.
“There’s just one thing,” the cop said.
Whether it was the sound of his voice or some internal instinct, Jill opened her eyes and listened up. Thankfully she hadn’t closed the door yet.
Dunn scratched his head. “While y’all were talking to Sarah, I checked in with dispatch. Funny thing is,” he said, thinking for a second or two before he went on, “she couldn’t locate an Amber Alert on your boy. Doesn’t make much sense that your chief of police would fall down on the job like that.”
Strangely, it made a great deal of sense to Jill.
Chapter 9
The moment Jill walked through the door of her mother’s house she found the most recent picture of Cody on display. Pictures Kate had taken herself. Jill stared at the photograph and shook her head slowly from side to side. “This just isn’t possible.”
Phillips came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. He hadn’t said much on the trip back to Paradise. Jill assumed he was processing. She certainly had been. The only question about the Long child that remained in her mind was how he came to be since his mother insisted she had not been involved in any fertility procedures.
“We need to discuss this with your mother.”
Jill plunked the brass frame onto the table. “Oh, that’ll just be the perfect finale for this day, Phillips. Shall we pay a visit to the chief as well?” She continued to use his surname for distance. As weak and unsteady as she felt as this point, she didn’t trust herself to be familiar with him in any shape, form or fashion. If last night hadn’t been blatant enough, today had certainly done the deed. She was the typical desperate female in need of a man’s strong arms.
Dear God, what was happening to her?
“I have a theory.”
She did need to check in with the chief for the good it would do. Particularly when she demanded to know what happened with the Amber Alert. How the hell had that happened? She rubbed her tried eyes, needed to erase the images of Brady Long from her head. “If your theory involves my mother I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
“We need to find out if your sister experienced any fertility issues.”
Jill was on that same page though she doubted she would get any answers from her mother. She hadn’t so far. Images of that little boy in Lynchburg plowed their way back into her thoughts. What had her sister discovered?
New outrage kindled deep in her belly. What was her mother hiding? “Mother!” Jill stormed through the house. Phillips was right—as usual. They needed answers and it was way past time Claire Ellington broke her silence. “Mother!”
“In here, Jillian,” she called from the kitchen.
When Jill entered the kitchen, Claire Ellington was fussing over the stove. Taken aback, a moment or two passed before Jill could comprehend that the heavenly smell she’d just encountered was coming from whatever her mother was cooking. Her mother never cooked anymore unless she counted the microwave meals.
“Is there any news about Cody?”
Claire glanced at Jill, then beyond her to Phillips, not bothering to hide her distaste before shifting her attention back to the stovetop. “Nothing new. Arvel—the chief—assured me they’re not giving up.”
What was with her tone? She answered the question as if she’d just relayed the day’s weather forecast. The idea of Stepford Wives flitted through Jill’s head again. “I have a question about Kate?”
“The doctor said she’s doing better. He called not an hour ago.” Claire turned off the oven and peeked inside. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”
Jill braced for the backlash. “Did Kate have any problems conceiving?”
The wooden spoon Claire had just picked up clattered to the counter. “What kind of question is that?” she demanded, taking immediate offense. “You know your sister has never been sick a day in her life.”
Yes, Jill did know that. Something else Kate was better at. “Be that as it may, did she use LifeCycle or some other fertility clinic when she wanted to get pregnant?”
Claire retrieved the spoon, rinsed it, then started to stir once more. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” She flicked a glance in Phillips’ direction. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such a personal matter.”
Jill’s temper ruptured the thin membrane of control she’d managed to retain. “I’m an attorney and Dr. Phillips is a forensics psychologist. This point could be extremely important to Kate’s case. So let’s not argue about it, just answer the question.” Jill bit her lips together to prevent adding a few dozen expletives. She was so damned tired of the runaround from her mother.
“If it makes you feel better to humiliate your sister in front of a stranger, then fine.” She glowered at Jill. “Yes, Kate had trouble conceiving so she used the LifeCycle Center for help.”
Another skeleton from the family closet. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Jill hadn’t meant to voice the hurt, but she did. She was always the last one to know anything. This was just another prime example of how the whole family had punished her for leaving in the first place. She was the outsider. The black sheep. But then, that was her fault, wasn’t it?
“Would you have cared?” Claire looked away, her lids fluttering rapidly to hold back her tears. “You left here all those years ago to have your own life. What did you expect? We gave you what you wanted.” Her gaze settled heavily onto Jill’s, it was impossible to miss the pain there. “We let you go.” Claire turned her attention back to the stovetop. “I don’t want to discuss this any further.”
Jill reminded herself that she had asked. Her mother’s words were nothing she didn’t already know and still they hurt.
“Thank you, Mother.” She walked out. Refused to cry again today. Her mother had told the truth. She was right on all counts. Jill had gotten what she asked for.
When she was out of earshot of the kitchen, she turned to the man keeping step with her and demanded, “Now what?”
To his credit, if he felt any pity for her, he kept it to himself. “Since the locals won’t let us in on the official investigation, we’re going to the library.”
“What’re we doing at the library?” She snagged her purse from the table in the entry hall where she’d left it only minutes ago. She really didn’t care about the what as long as they were out of here.
“Digging for anything we can find on LifeCycle where anyone who cares to look will see us.”
She paused at the door. “We want them to know what we’re doing.”
A rare grin stretched across his face. The impact disrupted the rhythm of her heart. “We do. On the way, why don’t you give the chief a call and ask him about the Amber Alert.”
“Lucky me.” It sucked being second chair.
~*~
Paul rubbed his bleary eyes and glanced at his watch. They’d been here three hours already. According to the posted hours of operation, the library closed at ten. They hadn’t found anything to speak of yet and had only half an hour until closing. The librarian had strolled past at least once every half hour, shooting daggers at them, evidently hoping to garner intelligence for the chief. Worked for Paul. He wanted the chief to sweat.
Mostly he wanted him to react.
In the back issues of the local paper there were the usual announcements and headlines about LifeCycle. The ribbon cutting ceremony from just over thirty years ago, employees of the month and the introduction of new doctors being brought onboard. The occasional milestone released to the press, but those were few and far between and didn’t pique his interest. The Paradise Gazette was the only local newspaper.
Paul wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He would know it when he saw it. That’s just the way it worked.
More out of curiosity than anything, he went back a couple of years before LifeCycle’s arrival in Paradise. MedTech had moved in around the same time as The LifeCycle Center. He recalled Jill saying the primary source of employment before that had been the old Benford plant. He wanted to know more.
Charles Benford Found Murdered.
Paul scrolled back and read the article. Charles Bedford, owner and operator of Benford Chemical of Paradise, had been found murdered in his home. The newspaper was dated February fifth, thirty-three years ago. His instincts starting to vibrate, he scanned the article more closely. There were no suspects in the case. In light of the recent startling discovery that Benford had been allowing pollutants with Endocrine-disrupting effects to seep into Paradise’s ground water a number of theories were rampant.
Anticipation burning through him, Paul went back further, scanning for related articles.
Bingo. Among other things, all of which were legal, Benford Chemical had been producing Dioxins, furans, and PCBs. The grimmest news of all, according to an EPA spokesperson, was that the pollutants had been allowed to contaminate the local ground water. The entire town was up in arms. Two days after the EPA’s announcement, Charles Benford was dead.
Murdered.
A knowing chill settled deep in Paul’s bones.
Endocrine-disrupting pollutants.
He needed more details.
A few taps of the keys later and he was inside a classified government database, one of many to which he was still allowed access. He typed Dioxin in the search box. Characters, words spilled onto the screen. He read quickly, knowing he would print the material for later, more in-depth perusal.
The next paragraph had him leaning forward. With Endocrine-disrupting organohalogens, the most common adverse side effect in humans was sterility.
His heart pounding, Paul printed the article. The Benford murder still nagged at him. He reviewed the Paradise Gazette for three years after the murder. The only related article was a brie
f blurb that mentioned the case and indicated that, as of that date, nearly thirty years ago, the murder was still unsolved.
Vigilantism was Paul’s initial impression.
He kicked the idea around in his head until it solidified. Someone had gotten even with Benford for his inhumane activities. Of course, there was always the chance it had to do with money or payoffs of government officials. But every instinct told Paul that it was a lot more personal than that.
It was about as personal as a matter could get.
Like Manning’s murder, the law enforcement officials of Paradise had swept it under the rug. No one seemed worried at all that there might be a killer running around their quiet little town. Maybe two, considering Benford’s killer could still be alive.
He watched Jill for a moment before he moved close enough to make her aware of his presence. She tucked a handful of hair behind her ear. He’d seen the desire in her eyes today. Nice to know the attraction was mutual. He’d damned sure done some lusting after her.
But clearing the air and putting thought into action were two entirely different things with vastly different consequences. He needed her to be strong because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist the temptation of working this closely.
The librarian walked past, tapped the watch on her wrist.
Jill looked up. “I’m ready if you are,” he let her know.
She stretched and made a soft sound of fatigue. He had to look away. His body just didn’t want to follow instructions.
When she’d gathered her purse, he followed her to the door. “Would you hit a drive-thru before we go back to your mother’s?”
“Mother cooked.” She flashed him a fake smile. “The least we can do is eat.”
“Works for me.”
Outside the library entrance, Jill stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, causing him to brush up against her.
“Miss Jill, I’ve been looking for you.”
Chief Dotson waited near the Land Rover. His expression openly suspicious.
“Have you found him?” Jill’s hands went immediately to her lips. She trembled.
