by Style, Linda
“I’ll keep you in mind.” He cut her off, anxious to find the entries for the two stillborns Macy had mentioned. Within 24 hours of each other.
“Oh,” Mary Beth said before she went back to her desk, “if you don’t find what you’re looking for, you might want to check with the Department of Health’s agency that licenses Haven’s Gate. They have incident reports about everything that happens in licensed facilities.”
“That’s a good idea, M.B. Thanks.”
After three hours sorting through the records, he picked up the phone and called Macy again. He wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get, but he hoped she’d understand.
Her secretary, Cheryl, answered and told him Macy wouldn’t be back for several hours. “This is important. She wanted this information as soon as possible. If you give me her cell number, I’ll call her directly.”
Cheryl paused. He remembered how young she’d seemed. Inexperienced. “I can try to get in touch and have her call you.”
Young and inexperienced, maybe, but protective. “Thanks. I appreciate the effort.” Macy was going to have to give him some kind of information on her client. If she didn’t, he had nothing to go on. He could question all the parties at Haven’s Gate again, but he didn’t want to do that just yet. Macy was right. It might alert them that the facility and its staff were being scrutinized.
***
MACY WALKED WITH Karen Creighton back to their cars after leaving Cody with his new foster parents, her heart wrenching at the forlorn look in Cody’s eyes when she left him with his new foster parents.
“He’ll be fine,” Karen said. “This family is top-notch.”
Maybe so, but Macy couldn’t forget how sad he’d sounded after she gave him a hug and said she’d be back soon. “Tomorrow?” he’d asked quickly. She felt another pang of guilt for leaving him with total strangers. He’d been discharged from the hospital and there hadn’t been any time for him to get to know the foster parents first. She only hoped she’d made the right choice.
Both families she’d interviewed were experienced at foster care and she’d finally agreed that this placement seemed a positive one. Nancy and Joe Appleton were cheerful and responsible; they had two other foster children and one child of their own. So why did she feel so uneasy?
“He’ll get friendly with the other kids and in no time he’ll be right at home,” Karen said. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
She gave Karen a puzzled look. “You know I’ll also be checking up on him. My job doesn’t end with his placement.”
An exasperated sigh was Karen’s response. “Well, apparently you have a lot more time than I do.”
Right then, Macy realized the difference between her and Karen. Macy didn’t see Cody as a case she needed to handle. He was a lost little boy who needed love and affection — and someone who cared about his well-being. He needed more than custodial care, and she wasn’t sure he was going to get it with the Appletons. She didn’t know why, but her gut feelings were usually on target.
Macy’s cell phone chirped, bringing her to attention. She fished the unit from her pocket. “Yes, Cheryl, what’s up?”
Karen waved goodbye as Macy listened to her assistant and continued to her car.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but Detective Santini called and he wants you to contact him right away. He said it’s important.”
Macy’s stomach drew tight. Did he have some information on Haven’s Gate or Dr. Dixon? Or was he calling about last night?
“Was I wrong to call you?”
“No, it’s fine Cheryl. You did the right thing.” The poor girl was barely out of high school and didn’t know how to operate in a world that wasn’t filled with drugs and violence. For a kid who’d been in jail for car theft six months ago and had no viable skills, she was picking up the job remarkably well.
Macy slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine and headed downtown. She punched in Rico’s number.
“Santini here.”
“Hi, Rico. It’s Macy. What’s up?”
“Can you meet me somewhere? I need to talk to you.”
“Personal or business?”
“Both.”
Business was easy, personal stuff hard. “I’m in my car heading to my office.”
“How about Pershing Square in an hour? That’s close to your place and I have to go to the courthouse first.”
When she didn’t respond right away he added, “It’s way too nice today to be inside.”
Macy looked out the tinted car window. She’d hadn’t even noticed the sun was shining and wondered when she’d stopped paying attention to her surroundings. “You’re right,” she said as she pulled into the parking garage. “It is too nice to be inside. See you in an hour then.”
Pershing Square. The oldest park in the city was smack in the middle of downtown L.A. — practically next door to her office and she couldn’t remember ever going there. Certainly not on purpose.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked her car, rode the elevator to the seventh floor and headed for her office where she was bombarded with messages to return. Karen Creighton — when did she have time to call? — Macy’s mother, Marilyn Joffrey, Mother…again, Mark Weston, an attorney in her building who couldn’t take no for an answer and Mother two more times.
She slipped off her suit jacket, opened the collar of her blouse one more button, then sat at her desk and prioritized. Her mother…file C; Mark, file C; Marilyn and Karen — both in the A file. She picked up the phone to call Karen first.
“Cody’s locked himself in the bedroom and won’t come out,” Karen said without any greeting. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing that we know of.”
“Precisely why Cody needs therapy as soon as possible,” Macy reiterated her plea from the last time they’d talked. “Since we don’t know his history, we don’t know what’s bothering him. He might not remember who he is, but he does know he’s been abandoned — and he knows no one has claimed him. What kinds of issues might that create in a child? His therapy should’ve began before he left the hospi—”
“The Appletons will be making appointments for all of his needs, medical and otherwise. That’s their job,” Karen said, her voice sharp and obviously not liking Macy’s interference.
“Yes, but someone needs to monitor the situation. Isn’t that your job?” It was Macy’s job, too, but Karen had to take some responsibility.
A long silence ensued. Then Karen said, “It is. But there just isn’t enough time in the day to give extra to any one child.” Macy thought she heard sincere regret in the woman’s voice. “I have a list of several reputable therapists I can give you,” Macy said.
Karen cleared her throat. “I gave Nancy Appleton a list of physicians, but you’re welcome to give her yours, too. She can only use those on the list of county-approved clinicians. I’ll fax you the list so you can check.”
“Fine. So what’s the situation right now? What’s being done about Cody?”
“Nancy said she’s had this happen before. It’s best to leave him alone. He’ll come out when he’s hungry.”
Macy didn’t think it was the best solution. She remembered how sad Cody looked when she’d left him. It would be natural for him to feel abandoned again. Some children lashed out, some tried to do better, be better. Others hurt themselves. God, she hoped the Appletons had kid-proofed his bedroom.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Macy said, then clicked off and punched in the Appleton’s number. “Nancy, it’s Macy Capshaw. I understand you’re having a problem with Cody.”
“No problem, except he won’t come out of the bathroom.”
The bathroom. Karen had said it was the bedroom. Macy’s pulse jumped. “Is there anything in the room he could use to hurt himself?”
The woman hesitated. “Uhm…I don’t think so.”
She didn’t think so? “Are you saying it’s not child-proofed?�
�� Before the woman had a chance to answer, Macy asked, “Do you keep any medications in the bathroom?”
“Anything that’s there is way up out of reach.”
“So you do have medications in the bathroom?”
“Just some prescriptions.”
“What kind of prescriptions?”
Nancy was silent for a beat. “Meds for the other children…and a couple others.”
Whatever medications Nancy was taking, she didn’t want the foster care system to know about it. Great. Just great.
“Can you tell Cody I’m on the phone and I’d like to talk to him.”
“You think he’ll come out for that?”
Maybe, maybe not. “I’m hope he will.”
“I’ll check and be right back.”
Though it was only minutes, it felt as if an hour had passed before Nancy finally came back. “He wouldn’t answer me, and—” Macy heard what sounded like a muffled curse. “Sorry about that,” Nancy said. “He won’t come out.”
“What kind of lock is on the door?”
“It’s on the doorknob and you push it in.”
“Why don’t you get a screwdriver and take the doorknob off?”
“Oh, I don’t — wait. I hear something… Okay, it’s Cody and he’s out.”
“Please let me talk to him.”
The other end of the line went silent and then, finally, a small voice said, “Hello.”
“Cody. It’s Macy Capshaw.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why did you lock yourself in the bathroom?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You had lots of people worried about you.”
“Nuh-uh. Nobody wants me.”
Oh, Cody. The child didn’t think anyone cared about him…and why would he? He’d been abandoned and then abandoned again. “Well, I was worried. And I know Mrs. Appleton is very worried. We care very much about you, so please don’t do that anymore. All right?”
Another silence.
“The Appletons are really nice people and they want you to stay with them.”
“I—I want to go home.” His voice quivered, his pain almost palpable.
“Where is that Cody?”
Now she heard a sniffle. “I—I don’t know.”
Her throat cramped. She took a breath, wishing she knew of some way to make him feel good, but anything she could come up with would be temporary. He was going to have to get used to being where he was sooner or later. “Look. I’m going to come over tomorrow and take you out for some ice cream. Would you like that?”
“O-kay,” he said through another sniff.
Before Macy had a chance to say anything more, Nancy Appleton was on the phone again. “I think he’ll be fine now. It’s normal for him to feel some apprehension at being in a strange place. I’ll do what I can to make him feel right at home.”
“Good. And if he gets out of sorts again, remind him that I’ll be there tomorrow to take him out for ice cream.”
“What time?”
Macy quickly scanned her DayTimer for appointments. “Three o’clock.”
“That’ll work.”
Listening to the drone of the dial tone after Nancy hung up, Macy felt as sad as Cody had sounded. She’d had difficult cases before, but none that tugged at her heartstrings as much as this one.
She tried to shuck off the thoughts. It was a case. Nothing more. An attorney, a court-appointed advocate couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved. She couldn’t afford to. It could color her ability to do her job. But with Cody, remaining detached was almost impossible and she didn’t know why. From the moment he’d locked his little hand in hers and looked up at her, as if she was his savior, she was hooked.
She took a breath and regrouped. Tomorrow she’d see Cody and also give Mrs. Appleton the names of the clinicians to make sure the woman would get the child’s therapy in motion, if she hadn’t already.
The intercom buzzed. “It’s two forty-five.”
“Thanks.” Time for her to meet Detective Santini. She was on schedule. Almost. She still had to call Marilyn Joffrey.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AVOIDING ANOTHER LOOK at his watch, Rico paced in front of the park bench and drummed his fingers against his thigh. Being late seemed to be a way of life with Macy. Or maybe she was only late when she had an appointment with him.
The thought irked him, but in truth, he felt more apprehensive about the meeting than annoyed at her. He rarely ever thought about how he approached someone on a case anymore. He’d been doing his job long enough that it came as second nature to him. But he’d started to think of Macy as a friend and he didn’t want to hurt her.
He didn’t know if Macy knew her father had worked for Haven’s Gate, and he didn’t know what she’d do with the information if he told her. She may have already screwed things up by mentioning Rico was investigating Haven’s Gate.
“There you are.” Macy’s voice came from behind. He turned. The sun reflected off her hair, a bright halo of light that made it look like spun gold.
He tapped his watch. “For a while now.”
“I had some business to take care of.”
“You also had an appointment with me.”
She gave him a surprised look. “Is that a reprimand?”
Yeah. It was a reprimand. But he didn’t want to start their conversation that way. “No, it’s merely a reminder that my time is as valuable as yours.” He motioned for her to sit on the bench.
A slight breeze ruffled her hair and she reached to brush a strand from her eyes. “I should’ve called. I’m sorry.”
They sat together and he handed her one of two coffees. “It’s probably cold by now.”
Looking at the Starbucks label, she smiled. “Now I’m really sorry I was late.” Her fingers brushed his as she took the cup. She brought it to her lips and sipped. “No, it’s not cold. Thank you very much.”
He polished his off to the soft strains of guitar music coming from another part of the park. The Square also served as a respite for a few homeless people catching naps on the grass and he wondered how Macy felt about that.
“I’ve never been here before. It’s very nice.”
He pulled back, surprised. “Your office is practically around the corner and you’ve never been here?”
“I work a lot. Remember? And speaking of which, I don’t have a whole lot of time right now. What’s up? You said it’s both personal and business.”
“I said that?”
She nodded. “Succinctly. Why don’t we start with the business.”
He leaned against the wooden bench slats. “I’ve been scouring the records from Haven’s Gate that we had on file from the Ray investigation.”
“You have the Gate’s records? I didn’t see them in the file.” She shifted, fidgeted with her cup.
“They were filed separately. The data is old and names are redacted, of course.”
“What period do they cover?”
“A couple of years before and after the abduction.”
She relaxed and leaned back against the seat with him.
After a moment, she asked, “Can you get the earlier records?”
“I’d have to have a good reason to get a search warrant. But I could get information from other sources that might be just as good if I had the specific date your client’s baby died. And it would be even better if I had the name of your client.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Frankly, without some kind of personal information, I’m stymied.”
Macy took a long deep breath. Could she tell him the truth? If she did, would he keep it quiet?
He looked over at her. “Can you at least ask your client if she’d consent to give me that information?”
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Her palms felt clammy and her heart rate doubled, as if she was about to go into a courtroom. She looked at Rico. “Everything confidential?”
“Totally.”
She focused o
n her hands in her lap. “It was me. My baby was stillborn. Twelve years ago. March 21.” She brought her gaze back to his.
The surprise she saw in Rico’s eyes lasted only a millisecond. Still holding her gaze, he said, “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” she said. “But when I learned, just recently, that my friend’s child had been stillborn the day before, I was dumbfounded. Twelve years ago I’d been told her baby had been fine, had been adopted. The physician and all the nurses told me that.”
“Did you two talk about it?”
“Not at the time, because she’d already gone home. I’d had a Cesarean birth and was under deep sedation. I wasn’t really with it for a day or so.”
“How did you find out her baby hadn’t been adopted?”
“I talked to her last week. When I saw the name Haven’s Gate on the back of the Ray baby’s photo, I wondered if they’d taken a photo of my baby, as well, because … I’d never seen him. Then when I saw Dr. Dixon’s name on the photo, I was shocked. I’d been told by my father that Dr. Dixon was only there for the birth of my child, and that I was lucky because he was one of the best.”
“You think that has some significance?”
She moistened her lips. Paused briefly. “Yes.”
“Maybe Dixon simply decided to stay on at Haven’s Gate after your child was born?”
“That’s what my father said.”
Rico blinked. “And you don’t think that’s the whole story?”
“No. Because they lied about my friend’s baby. My father lied, too.”
“Maybe your father thought he was saving you from more bad news.”
She’d thought of that. But her gut told her differently.
“You were very young,” Rico said.
She nodded. “Barely seventeen.” She looked at her hands, saw they were trembling.
Rico must’ve noticed, too, because he placed his hands over hers, his expression sympathetic, yet puzzled, as if he was quickly processing all the information she’d just laid on him. “And you told me the other story because no one knows about the child you had twelve years ago.”
The moment he uttered the words, something snapped inside Macy and she realized she’d wanted to tell him the truth all along. “Great powers of deduction, Sherlock.”
