Chris’s head tilted to the right. Her gaze focused somewhere only she could see. “Charlie was two years older than me.” She dropped her head into her hands. “How could my mother and father have been so cruel as to split us up? Why?”
“The answer may stay buried with your adoptive parents,” Marcus said. Chris’s tortured expression ripped at his soul.
“Oh my God. The killer looked a lot like an older version of Charlie.”
Pieces of the puzzle had started to drop into place. “Your description of the blond, blue-eyed killer brings a lot of answers to light.”
Dr. Stern stood and glanced at her watch. “I’m expecting a patient in a few minutes, but if you’d like to dig deeper into your past, we can schedule an appointment.”
“I’d like that, but let me call back with a time,” Chris said.
Marcus helped Chris to her feet. He put his arm around her waist to steady her. Together, they followed Dr. Stern back down the hall to her office, where she checked her computer.
“I’m free between ten and twelve tomorrow. Call my assistant if you decide to come in.”
“Thank you,” Chris said. “I appreciate your help. I can’t believe I’d blanked out that period of my life.”
“You’re welcome. One other thing you should be aware of, now that you remember your brother, more of the blanks in your past may come back on their own.”
Marcus shook the doc’s hand and then followed Chris to the elevator and outside. He called Nate while they walked to the car and quickly filled him in on everything she’d remembered. He slid behind the steering wheel. “Nate says our attorney has your adoption records. Kay’s gone after them. They will be at the office by the time we get there.”
“I’d rather go to the Miriam Waters Home for Children in Fort Worth. Maybe somebody there can tell us something. Surely, they keep records forever.”
“We can try. Maybe they’ll share information without you asking for a court order.”
“Only one way to find out.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
“That’s my girl. I told you before that your strength is amazing. I meant it.”
“Why do I feel as if I’ve just run a marathon?”
“This is just a wild guess, but maybe it’s because you just relived years of your life?” She smiled, and the weight of a brick house lifted off his shoulders.
“Can we make it to Fort Worth before the children’s home closes?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not.”
“I have to know more about Charlie.” Her fingers gripped Marcus’s arm. “He’s a monster. But why? He was a sweet little boy. What happened to him?”
“We’ll find out. I’ll let Nate know where we’re going.” Marcus fired off a text, started the rental car, and drove out of the parking lot. A few seconds later, his cell vibrated. “Nate must have questions.” Marcus accepted the call. “What’s up?”
“Dalton’s with me,” Nate said. “He has some questions for Chris about her brother.”
“You got it,” Marcus said. “Hang on.” Marcus handed the cell to Chris. “Nate and Dalton. Go ahead.”
“What was your last name before you were adopted?” Dalton asked.
“Shelby.”
“And Charlie is two years older than you, right?” Marcus added.
“Yes. He’d be thirty-four now.”
“You hear that?” Marcus asked Nate.
“Yeah. While you’re in Fort Worth, Dalton and I will shake the bushes. See what we can learn about Charles Shelby.”
“Good. How’s my dog?”
“He gets petted more than I do. What does that tell you?”
“He’s easier to love?”
“Could be.” Nate laughed. “Kaycie just took him out back. Do you want to speak to him?”
“Cute.” Marcus disconnected the call. “You getting thirsty or hungry?”
“No. I don’t think I can eat.” Chris wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to hold food down. Charlie had butchered his own sister and tried to choke Chris. She could almost feel his hands on her throat.
“Hey,” Marcus said. “You’re going to get through this. I’m going to make sure you do.”
“I could’ve saved Chelsea.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I wasn’t very nice to her the last time we spoke. Chelsea had been kicked out of another rehab center. She’d come home and was staying with our mother. I stopped by there one day and caught her berating our mother, trying to get money from her. I lost it. Accused her of being a selfish brat. She left and never came back.”
“That wasn’t your sister you were talking to. It was the drugs. The narcotics had taken over her every waking thought.”
Marcus had been watching a van behind them. It had changed lanes with him twice. There had to be hundreds of white vans registered in Dallas County, but he wasn’t taking any chances with Chris’s safety.
Chapter 22
Chris grabbed the armrest to steady herself as Marcus crossed two lanes of freeway and shot down the off-ramp. She fought the urge to turn and look behind them. “Is someone following us?”
“I’ll know for sure in just a minute.” Marcus made a U-turn, swerving around the tight curve at a high speed. Just as the car leveled off, he pushed the gas pedal to the floor, slinging her back against the seat. Every nerve in her body tensed. Thank God, he hadn’t let down his guard.
He glanced at the rearview mirror. “The white van came with us. Hang on.”
With the skill of a race car driver, he wove in and out of traffic. This time she did turn to check behind them. She held her tongue, hoping he had shaken their tail.
“Nobody is behind us now,” he said.
Chris’s heart pounded against her rib cage. She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was desert dry. “That was a wild ride.”
“Son of a bitch must have picked us up when we left the office. I don’t know how, because I watched carefully.”
A sudden sinking feeling washed over Chris. She closed her eyes, hoping it would go away. Instead, she felt as if she were falling down a black hole. Her flesh and blood was responsible for all those murders. She’d studied the pictures and the reports. Those women had died horribly. They’d suffered because of a promise she’d made as a child?
“I can’t get past Charlie doing those horrible things.” An ache rushed through her entire body. Her seat belt seemed to get tighter, choking the breath out of her. “His voice has changed, but I should’ve recognized him on the message. ‘Promises have to be kept no matter what your age.’“
“I still believe he has a partner. Could’ve been him who called.” Marcus was no doubt trying to ease her pain. Who’d have thought that when she’d walked into the Lost and Found office, she’d meet someone like him?
He drove into a grocery store parking lot, put the car in park, and then unhooked his seat belt. His hand cupped her cheek. She knew better than to look into his eyes. She wasn’t the strong person he thought her to be. He was much tougher than she was. Much more able to rein in his emotions. Much less likely to lose control.
“Don’t be nice to me right now. I’ll fall apart.”
“Go ahead. I’ll catch you.” His thumb stroked her skin.
“I didn’t want to believe my brother would actually kill me. I guess the van following us hammered everything home.”
“He’s not the same person you remember.”
“You’re right. But I can’t help wondering what must’ve happened to him to turn him into this monster.” She turned her head in his hand and kissed his palm. “We’d better get going. The home will close for the day around five. I think we want to talk to the first shift.”
“How do you know what time they shut down?” Marcus drove to the freeway and blended in with the traffic.
“I have no idea. Maybe Dr. Stern was right about bits and pieces of my memory coming back.”
****
DaVinci dr
opped the paint brush into a container of cleaner and hurried to answer his cell.
“Yes?”
“We’ve located her and her friend,” his mentor said.
“And?” he asked.
“Her driver took evasive action and lost our lead tracker.”
He didn’t want to hear excuses. “Then why the hell did you call me?”
“I said the lead tracker lost visual contact. We have more than one car following her to prevent such occurrences.” Michelangelo went on to explain that she and her bodyguard had gone to the Palmer Building, but a confrontation there in broad daylight hadn’t been feasible.
“Where is she now?”
“On I-30, headed west toward Fort Worth.”
“Stay with her. I want to know the minute they get situated for the night. I’ll be dressed and ready.” He disconnected, not waiting for a response.
****
Chris stopped at the bottom of the steps. Standing in front of the Miriam Waters Home for Children sent her memory into hyperdrive. Tiny pieces of her past flashed like a slide-show presentation, moving too fast to fully understand. She fisted her hands against the light-headed feeling pushing its way to the surface.
“You’re not going in there alone.” Marcus wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “If you’d rather, I’ll come back by myself tomorrow. You’ll be safe with Dalton and Nate watching your back. Not to mention Kay. She can kick ass when she has to.”
Chris appreciated his offer to spare her and his attempt at humor. This visit wasn’t a job she could shift onto his shoulders. “I have to do this. I want to.”
“It could dredge up even more upsetting memories.”
“Funny, standing here in front of the place, different emotions are flooding my brain. I recall crying for my mother late at night. An overwhelming sense of loneliness had wrapped around me. Along with an irrational fear of the dark.”
“I imagine those feelings are normal for any child who’d been taken from her mother or who’d been abandoned.”
She leaned against Marcus, drawing on his strength. “My fears went away when a new mommy and daddy took me home with them. I have to know how long Charlie was here. Was he adopted? Or did he get lost in the system?”
“Hey,” Marcus said.
She turned to look at him, and his soft lips covered hers. This wasn’t passion, it was comforting and connecting. It was his way of saying, “I’m sorry for all the sad days you had.” And she loved him for it. Hopelessly loved him.
“If you’re sure.” He smiled down at her and swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. “Then let’s do this.”
“Okay.”
Walking up the steps and into the building wasn’t as daunting as she’d expected. The front desk still sat just inside the big double doors, which weren’t all that large now that she was grown. She scanned the waiting area, noticing the softness of the decor, the pale-colored walls and a couch with two chairs facing it. No doubt, the space provided a place for adults to discuss which child to adopt or not.
“Chris,” Marcus said, snapping her attention back to the front desk.
“Sorry, I was taking it all in.”
A striking brunette was heading straight toward them. She wore navy slacks and a crisp white blouse. Her thick-soled flats spoke to the many miles she probably walked every day. She smiled, and her compassionate eyes sparkled.
“I’m Joyce Waters. You look a little lost. Can I help?”
Chris introduced herself, offered her hand, and Ms. Waters clasped it tightly. Chris relaxed a little. “I lived here twenty-five years ago.”
“An alumni. Welcome back.”
“Thank you. This is Marcus Ricci. He’s helping me locate my brother.”
Marcus handed his business card to Ms. Waters. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “We’re looking for information on Charles Shelby.”
The woman picked up a pen off the front desk and wrote Charles’s name on the back of the card. “That long ago, you should speak with my mother. If you’ll wait here, I’ll see if she’s available.” Ms. Waters turned and walked down a hall.
Chris fought back the crushing feeling in her chest. “What if she refuses to help us?”
“Then we’ll find another way. I don’t know Texas law when it comes to situations like this. We may need a court order.”
Ms. Waters didn’t return quickly. Chris’s nerves got the best of her and she paced, hoping to learn more about the past.
“Here she comes. Are you ready?” Marcus asked.
“Yes.”
Ms. Waters motioned Chris and Marcus to follow. “If you’ll come with me.”
She ushered them into a small office and introduced them. The woman who rose and shook their hands didn’t look familiar to Chris. She tried to remember something, anything, but failed. Once they had been seated in plain but functional office chairs, she stopped trying.
“Forgive the wait. I wanted to pull up your files. My daughter said your name is Christine Shelby and you’re searching for your brother Charles?”
“That’s correct. My sister, Chelsea, was here with us, also.”
“You’re trying to locate both of your siblings?” The older Ms. Waters brushed a hand over her salt and pepper hair. Maybe in her late fifties, she was attractive, but her eyes held a sadness.
“Just my brother.” For a second, Chris debated whether telling the truth would help or not. “My sister and I were adopted, but for some reason our adoptive parents didn’t take him. It’s important that I learn everything about him that I can.”
“I pulled up the archives. Some things came back to me as I read. I’m happy to share those memories.” Her fingers moved to the collar of her blouse, patting it as if it had suddenly become askew. “Unfortunately, I can’t be a lot of help.”
“I’m going to excuse myself,” the younger Ms. Waters said. “You’re in good hands.”
Marcus stood, shook her hand, and then returned to his chair. He leaned forward. “It’s really important we locate Charles Shelby.”
Ms. Waters leaned back in her chair, her friendly demeanor shifting to that of sympathy. “Charles is in trouble, isn’t he?”
“We think so,” Chris said, deciding lying would serve no purpose. “Do you remember him?”
“I do. And I wish I had better news.”
“Can you tell us what happened to him?”
“I can share some personal memories. After you girls were adopted, Charles became destructive and disruptive. We thought if we quickly relocated him with a family, he’d settle down. More than one set of foster parents returned him because he was too unruly. One couple said he was downright cruel.”
“I don’t remember him being mean.”
“He was an angry little boy when you children arrived.” Ms. Waters stared at her computer screen for a minute. “Another family tried to channel his anger. They got him interested in oil painting. According to their statement, your brother had an extraordinary talent.”
“So they kept him?” Chris took a second to absorb that fact. Even though raised apart, they both painted.
“No. The mother got pregnant, and they felt Charles’s behavioral problems would be a risk to the baby.”
Abandoned again, Chris thought while Ms. Waters scanned and scrolled. How could any child be expected to understand being dumped and rejected over and over? Chris ached for all the times he’d been rejected.
Ms. Waters opened her mouth then closed it. Color flooded her cheeks.
“Please don’t hold back. I have to know,” Chris pushed.
“Charles ran away a few times, but he was always found and returned to us. He vanished from his last foster home. No one ever heard from him again.”
“How old was he?”
“Fifteen.” Ms. Waters chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. “I can share this information with you because it’s an open case with the Fort Worth Police Department. They came here looking for Charles. They w
anted to question him regarding a murder and mutilation. The foster parents’ son was found dead the same day your brother disappeared from their home.”
Dots swam in front of Chris’s eyes. Marcus reached over and squeezed her hand as if he understood she was struggling with such horrible news.
“So the police never located Charles, and he never turned up here?” Marcus asked.
“I can’t tell you more than what I have.” Ms. Watered folded her hands and rested them on her desk. “Names, addresses, that kind of information is kept private. Check with the police. They can tell you if he was ever arrested.”
“Something horrible must’ve happened to my brother.”
Ms. Waters moved to the chair next to Chris. “I’ve probably told you more than I should’ve. I’m sorry I can’t give you the names of the foster homes your brother was in. That order would have to come from the court.”
“You’ve told us what we needed to know. I appreciate your time and help.” Chris stood. “We’ll show ourselves out. Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. Come again. The children love it when alumni stop by and spend time with them.”
Chris and Marcus walked outside and down the stairs without speaking. She turned and studied the home one last time. “Maybe I will come back. This is the perfect place to offer financial assistance.”
“I think you’re right.”
The wind picked up, and a chill raced along her arms. “When I think about the wonderful life I had as a kid and then consider what Charlie must have endured, it makes me ill. I don’t remember him being destructive or mean. The little boy who keeps surfacing in my memory was an almost too-sweet, innocent child.”
Marcus guided her to the car. Once she’d buckled her seat belt, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. He closed her door, walked around the car, and got in. “I’ll grant that he went through hell. I hate to sound harsh, but your brother is a grown man, and he’s responsible for some heinous crimes. Every second of the day, you have to remember that he killed six women that we know of, one of them being one of his sisters. He’s committed to seeing you dead.”
“I understand. Nothing justifies his actions.” A quick blast of exhaustion hit Chris. How long could she keep hiding from Charlie when he seemed so determined to make her pay?
No Chance in Hell Page 21
