"It won't be the first time."
When their gazes met, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, ready to get up. "Shara and I will have to go down to the police station tomorrow so we can be questioned again."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"They arrested Courtney. I don't know all the details. I think they have a warrant out on Justin. My guess is, they'll try to round up Courtney's roommates and begin questioning them, too."
"Do you think there'll be a trial?"
"I think there will be plea deals. That's the way the system works now."
And Max would know all about the system. "We still have a phone call to make tonight."
"It's getting late in Pennsylvania," he said, checking his watch.
"Shara had a long conversation with Clare on the phone."
"And?"
"I don't know. Shara was crying when she ended the call. They have a lot to patch up, just like we do with Clare."
Max didn't say anything to that.
"Do you think we should reserve another motel room?" she asked.
Max considered the idea. "We're going to be here another night. You and Shara can have the suite. I can get a single."
A single. Maybe they were going to go back to the way things used to be—separate beds, separate lives, a wall between them neither of them could climb. They both had a lot to think about. Maybe her more so than Max because she wasn't going to let Shara give up her baby for adoption. She'd made that decision already.
Just then, however, a nurse bustled into Max's cubicle, a sheaf of papers in her hand. "You're set to go as soon as we go over the instructions."
Amanda wished she had a set of instructions for what was going to happen when she returned to her life in Pine Hill. More than that, she wished she had a script for this phone call tonight with Amy Fields. Would she know her own daughter when she talked to her?
****
An hour later, in their suite at the hotel, Max felt as if he'd been ripped straight down the middle. It had nothing to do with the pain in his shoulder, though the wound was throbbing and hot and probably wouldn't let him sleep tonight. Not as if he'd get any sleep anyway. They had Amy Fields on the other end of the line while he and Amanda shared the speaker phone. Shara was in the other room, probably listening. They'd reserved another room but decided to make the phone call here. Amanda really didn't want to let Shara out of her sight, and he understood that too well.
"Did you feel anything when you were talking to Clare today?" Amanda asked Amy.
Max didn't roll his eyes as he usually did—at least inwardly—after Amanda asked the question. She was all about feelings. She always had been and always would be. He was about shutting them out while she wanted to let them all in. He'd let a few in last night and he almost regretted that. He'd seen the hope in Amanda's eyes this morning and hadn't known what to do about it. He was used to a life alone now. Wasn't that what was best for him? He still had nights when at midnight, he made a call to his sponsor. He still had days when the best thing he could do was attend a meeting. Amanda didn't know his life now.
He heard Amy say what he knew Amanda wouldn't want to hear. "Clare's very nice, but I didn't feel anything. I just met her. Or at least I think I just met her. Mrs. Thaddeus, you must understand, I live in the present, each and every day."
He saw Amanda wince at the Mrs.Thaddeus. If Amy was their daughter—
"Call me Amanda," she swiftly said, though he could hear from the thickness in her voice that she'd been affected by the title. "We know you're driving back to Pittsburgh tomorrow, but Max and I would really like to talk to you once we get back. If you can't come to us, we'll come to you."
"You mean after the DNA results?"
"We don't know exactly when those will be ready, and I'd like to see you, face-to-face."
"When you're back," Amy said reasonably, "then we can decide."
Max cleared his throat. "Amy, we don't want to pressure you into anything, but Amanda and I have been searching for our daughter for twenty-seven years. You might be her. We'd at least like the chance to talk to you in person. We understand we're a disruption in your life, but a face-to-face meeting over coffee shouldn't be too much of a disruption, should it?"
There was silence. Finally, Amy responded, "No, I guess not. You have my cell number. When you get back, call me. And Mr. Thaddeus, I'm glad you found your granddaughter."
They all said their good-byes. Then Max turned off the speaker phone, and the call was over.
Amanda turned away from him and he knew what that meant. She was trying to control her emotions and couldn't. She was afraid to let him see them. Had she always been afraid? Had he always denied them? Last night he hadn't and look what happened. Right now he could do nothing about them because Shara was in the next room.
He didn't put his arms around Amanda, but he did the next best thing. He clasped her shoulder.
She shook her head.
"We'll see her when we get back."
Amanda still didn't turn around. "I couldn't tell. I couldn't tell anything. She was so distant, so removed, and I didn't feel as if I broke through even just a little bit."
Amanda's voice shuddered. His fingers tightened, telling her he understood.
Shara sat on the sofa, glancing at them, obviously not knowing what to do. That was the problem. None of them knew what to do, and hadn't for many, many years. He couldn't tell Amanda everything would be all right. He'd done that at the beginning and he'd been all wrong. He'd been wrong about so many things.
After he released her shoulder, he took action like he always did when he didn't want to face the emotions of the moment, when someone he cared about was hurting. "I'm going to move my things to my room. There's someplace I have to go and I'm going to have my phone turned off for a while."
At those words, Amanda did turn around to face him. There were tears on her cheeks, but she swiped them away and looked at him with huge, questioning eyes that reminded him so much of that day he'd kissed her for the first time.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To a meeting."
****
Chapter Twelve
If Clare thought her troubles would be over once Shara was home, she was sadly mistaken. From the moment Clare met her at the airport and hugged her, Shara had been quiet and brooding. Not hostile, but brooding.
The day after Shara had flown home with her grandparents, Clare had cooked a dinner Shara liked best—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, cauliflower au gratin and even chocolate cake with fluffy white icing. But Shara had just picked at it. Clare didn't know what to do—not about her daughter...or about Joe. She and Shara had just finished dinner when he came to the door.
After a hello and a weak smile, Shara had excused herself and gone to her room.
Joe glanced at the table and the food. "Did I interrupt?"
"No, we were finished. Neither of us was hungry, and neither of us had much to say."
"She has big decisions weighing on her. Maybe you just have to let her think them through."
"And just how much do I influence her, when I don't know what's best for either of us? I made an appointment at the Planned Parenthood Center. She needs to talk to a counselor. Maybe we both do."
He came closer. "What do you really want?"
"I want none of this to have happened," she answered honestly.
He gave her one of those Joe-looks that brought her back to reality, and he kept silent with no judgment and a lot of understanding.
She sighed and picked up the dish of mashed potatoes, carrying it to the counter. "As I said, I don't know what I want. Do I want Shara to have an abortion? No, everything in me screams in protest at that solution. Do I want her to give the baby up for adoption? How would any of us feel knowing that a child who belonged to our family was out there somewhere, and we weren't the ones to protect it, to raise it, to nurture it? Do I want her to keep the baby and learn what's it's like to be a mothe
r at sixteen, to worry about food and shelter and daycare? Do I want to raise this baby and let Shara pretend to be its big sister?"
He was about to wrap his arms around her when she stepped back and wouldn't let him. "Joe," she said in a whisper. "We can't, not with Shara here."
"Clare, really? Come on now. Maybe it would do her a world of good to watch a caring relationship develop."
Clare could see that pulling away from Joe had hurt him and she didn't want to pull away. But what choice did she have? She was about to say This isn't going to work when the phone rang.
A sign maybe? A sign that she shouldn't burn this bridge? That she should let Joe into her messed-up family?
Joe was closest to the phone and could see the Caller ID. "Tessa Kahill Winthrop. I think that area code is a Connecticut number."
Tessa Kahill Winthrop. The name sounded familiar but Clare couldn't pinpoint where she'd heard it. "Connecticut?" Not knowing what was going to happen next these days, she held out her hand for the phone.
Joe took it from its base and put it in her hand.
"Hello?"
"Clare Thaddeus?"
The voice was pleasant enough, and again sounded almost recognizable though Clare couldn't figure out why. "This is Clare. If you're selling something—"
"Not exactly," the woman answered. "I'm a journalist and I have a cable news show out of New Haven—NEWS NOW. I used to stick mainly to foreign affairs, but we've broadened the scope of the show."
Tessa Kahill Winthrop. Now Clare recognized the name. When she'd had a sick day or was home on holiday, she often watched Tessa's show and admired her. Before this program, the journalist had done a lot of specials. Clare remembered one in particular. Tessa had interviewed a woman whose sister had gone missing. It had been poignant and in good taste, not at all sensational.
"I'm familiar with your program."
"Well, that's good. At least you know I'm legitimate because I have a feeling you're going to be getting quite a few calls now that the story has broken."
"The story?" Was she talking about Lynnie?
"The story about your daughter, and Justin Davis, and Courtney Waters. It's gone public, or didn't you know."
"No, I didn't know. We're dealing with some things here and…"
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Joe nodded toward the living room. "I'll get it," he said in a low voice.
When Joe opened the door, Clare heard her parents there.
"What do you mean the story's broken?" she asked the journalist.
"It's all over cable news—what the police found, all the computers, the webcams, the ring of girls who are underage and working for Justin Davis."
"Oh, my gosh."
"As I said, you're going to be receiving a lot of calls. I wanted to be one of the first to ask you to tell me your story. You see, I've researched you and your family. I discovered the story about your sister being kidnapped twenty-seven years ago."
"I haven't received any other calls."
"That's because our network is on top of every story that could be a good one. Sorry, I meant in a journalistic sense. Your news story is just hitting social media. And somebody's cell phone video of the shooting in Albuquerque is being uploaded as we speak. In half an hour, everyone will know about Justin Davis's ring. You know how things go these days, right?"
Oh, yes, she did. "So good journalists are going to dig until they eventually go back to my sister's kidnapping. Is that what you're saying?"
"Exactly. We try to make as many connections as we can. Unfortunately, this story has a lot of them."
As well as one Tessa Kahill Winthrop probably didn't even know about—Amy Fields and the DNA results they were waiting for.
"Clare, may I call you Clare?"
"Yes, you can."
If this had been a strange reporter, or a journalist Clare had never heard of, maybe she wouldn't have given her permission. But Tessa was giving her a heads-up and there had to be a reason why.
"Clare, if you've watched my program, you know I delve into women's issues. The interview I want to do with you isn't so much about the shooting, but what happened to your daughter. It's not so much about Justin Davis, as it is about run-aways and what can happen to them. I'd like to think by putting this story out there—your story—we can help some girls...help some young women."
"You realize I can't give you an answer right now. I have to talk to my daughter about this, and to my parents. We're all involved."
"Of course, you are. This is a family story. I definitely want to concentrate on that angle. Maybe it's because I'm pregnant right now—"
"You're pregnant?"
Tessa gave a little laugh. "Not showing much yet. Not officially announced. But, yes, I am...and over-the-moon happy about it, too. I might cover foreign affairs, but my family is my world. So let me give you some other numbers where you can reach me besides the one you have on Caller ID. Call me after you've discussed this with your family. I'd like this to happen soon. This week if we can manage it. And Clare, as I've said, if it's possible, I'd like to interview your whole family, not just you and your daughter. But I'll take whoever I can get."
After Clare ended the call and went into the living room, she saw Joe trying to make conversation, her mother trying to oblige, but her father was looking like the last thing he wanted to do was make small talk.
That was a certainty when he said, "We need to prepare you for something, Clare. I got a call from someone in the Albuquerque police department, the detective who handled most of my questioning. There's cell phone footage of the shooting and it's going to go public. They'll blank Shara out, of course, because she's underage, but there's going to be questions and digging by reporters. They're going to find us."
"I know. I just had a phone call from a journalist." She went on to explain about the call, and about what Tessa Kahill Winthrop wanted.
When she was finished, her father shook his head. "She can't expect us to lay our lives out like that. If we get into why Shara ran away, if we get into when Lynnie was taken, my God, there's the divorce and Amy Fields appearing. I won't be a part of any interview that does that."
"Dad, did you listen to me? This is about helping other girls. The focus will be on Shara and why she ran away, and what almost happened when she did."
"Oh, sure, this reporter says that now," her dad muttered.
"I believe she means it."
"You had one conversation with her, and you think she's going to be honest with you? That's naive Clare."
"And just what would you prefer? You think having reporters dig up all the grimy details themselves will help anybody?"
His brows were furrowed, his eyes stormy. "This is one blip on the news cycle. It will pass quickly if we don't feed it."
But Clare didn't believe that. There was plenty of damage that could be done if her family didn't have input. "Mom, what do you think?"
Her mother had been strangely quiet since her return, too. Very introspective. That scared Clare. Her mom had been detached that way after Lynnie disappeared. But then in the past few years, especially, she'd seemed to find herself again. She'd seemed to find what made her happy.
"I watch Tessa's program almost every day," her mom responded. "Her show carries a lot of weight. I think that's because she's genuinely interested every time she does an interview. She just finished up a series about parents who adopt. It was quite moving."
"So you would want to do this?" Clare asked her mother.
"I would be willing if there was a greater good. Heaven knows some good should come from all this, don't you think?"
Her father was still scowling, and Clare turned to Joe. "What do you think?"
"Are we taking a vote?" her father asked acerbically.
To Clare's surprise, her mother reached over, took her dad's hand and squeezed it. That was a gesture she wouldn't have seen a week ago.
"I don't get a vote, Mr. Thaddeus," Joe responded. "At least not yet." He glanced at Cla
re, gave her a small smile that made her stomach flip flop, even in spite of the circumstances. Then he went on. "What any of us in this room think doesn't really matter though, does it? Isn't it Shara who's going to have to make this decision?"
Joe was right.
"We can't put this on her shoulders," Amanda said with determination. "She has enough she's thinking about, and that's why we're here tonight. Clare, have you talked about forgetting the idea of an abortion?"
"I made her an appointment at Planned Parenthood."
"To have it done?" Amanda's voice rose and Clare realized her mother was a lot more upset than she was letting on.
"No, for a counseling session. I'm hoping if someone objective talks to her, it will make it easier for her."
"Objective?" her mother protested. "That's the whole point. We don't want someone objective. We have to show her the right route to take."
"And how do we know that adoption isn't the right route for her, if not abortion?"
"You can't give my grandchild away. How could you even think about doing that?"
"How can I think about giving a child away? The same way you and Dad practically forgot I existed while you were looking and longing for Lynnie. You want Amy to be the daughter you lost. What happens if she is? Will you forget about me and Shara, and try to make up for all those years you lost? I was a second-class citizen before, and I won't be again. I won't let Shara be."
This time Max took her mother's hand and he squeezed it hard. Then he released it and stood. Crossing to Clare, he did something he hadn't done since she was a little girl. He put his thumb under her chin and tipped it up so her gaze met his.
"Your mom and I are driving to Pittsburgh tomorrow to meet with Amy. But whatever happens with her, your mother and I know we didn't appreciate you when we had the chance. We're trying to do that now. If we found Lynnie again, if Amy is Lynnie, we wouldn't just have lost years with her to catch up on. We have lost years with you to catch up on."
Shara had come out of her room and was standing in the hall listening.
Max motioned her to come closer. "We have a lot to discuss with you, Shara. Come on, sit down and talk with us."
Her Sister (Search For Love series) Page 13
