A Son's Tale

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “What’s up?”

  “I need to see you.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Absolutely. When?”

  “Now?”

  He had a student meeting. He’d cancel it.

  “Okay.” He was already on his feet, throwing away the rest of his lunch. “Where?”

  “Your office?” He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but something was very wrong. And she’d called him.

  “You’re on campus?”

  “Yeah. In the parking lot.”

  Whatever it was, he’d fix it. Somehow, some way, he’d help her. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Thank you.”

  He was sure she was crying as she hung up. Cal needed to hold her, to make her world happy once and for all.

  He’d do it, too. No matter the cost.

  The feeling was new to him.

  * * *

  STANDING IN HIS OFFICE doorway, Cal listened for Morgan’s footsteps on the stairs. With his arms waiting to take her in, he met her halfway down the hall.

  She slipped past him.

  “You’re going to want to close the door,” she said over her shoulder as she walked into his office.

  Her gaze was hard and there was no sign of tears. No sign of the warm, loving woman he knew he was going to marry. As soon as she’d have him.

  Closing the door, he approached her again, but she held him off with one arm up in front of her.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t come near me.” He hardly recognized her voice.

  “What happened?”

  He’d missed the folder she had with her until she opened it and threw it on the floor at his feet.

  And then he knew.

  “Your father had me investigated.”

  But it wasn’t the investigation that bothered him. It was Morgan’s reaction. “You can’t possibly believe any of the things he’s telling you,” he said.

  The idea that Lowen might look at him had occurred to him, certainly. He’d thought about it in terms of the danger to Frank. It had never occurred to him that, if the truth came out, Morgan would choose her father’s side over him.

  “How can I not? You lied to me. You said you hardly knew that little girl who went missing.”

  He’d forgotten that he’d told her that. He’d been so vague that night, their relationship still so new… .

  “Morgan…” He reached out a hand to her, trying to look her in the eye. He’d lost a lifetime of opportunities for a crime his father didn’t commit. He couldn’t lose Morgan. “I should have told you. I admit, I deliberately chose not to. But Sammie—and you—were perfectly safe at all times, I swear. The suspicions, they’re all lies, Morgan. But no one has ever believed us. My silence was due to a lifetime of being on the run, of protecting my father from the lies and suspicions that have all but killed him. And me. This detective in Comfort Cove, he’s found another suspect. I’m waiting to hear from him and then this will all be cleared up.”

  Her expression hadn’t changed. It was like she was completely closed off to him. Unable to hear him.

  “Don’t you see? For the first time in my adult life, I had a chance at a life. With you…”

  “Did he do it?” she interrupted, her voice shaking.

  “No.”

  “There’s proof that little girl was in his car.”

  “I know. I’m the one who saw her there. I’m the one who told the police.” He took a small step forward. She backed up immediately.

  “Her bear was there. After she went missing. Can you explain that?”

  “No.” He’d never been able to explain that. “She had it at breakfast that morning. And then I left for school. Except I didn’t go to school. I’d told my father that I didn’t want to go, and why, but he was making me go anyway. I left and then made my way back home cutting through backyards. I was watching my father’s car so I’d know when the coast was clear and I could go into the house again. That’s when I saw Claire standing on the back seat.”

  “Tell me one thing.”

  “Anything.” He loved her. Couldn’t she see that? Didn’t it count?

  “Are you 100 percent certain that your father is innocent in Claire Sanderson’s disappearance?”

  “Yes.” He wanted to be.

  “Certain enough that you’re willing to risk my son’s life?”

  He’d never left Frank alone at the house during the basketball practices. Because he had to drive Sammie there? Because he worried that his father might have a breakdown?

  Or because, in the farthest recesses of his mind…

  He took too long to answer. Before he found his voice, Morgan was gone.

  * * *

  MORGAN MADE THE WALK back to her car, opened the door, put on her seat belt, all automatically. Her body took over because her heart and mind were frozen.

  She couldn’t believe that Cal was covering for a predator. That he was an accessory to God knew what horrible atrocities.

  A two-year-old girl.

  She just couldn’t fathom it.

  Sitting in her car, she stared out at the sea of cars, the students that arrived and left.

  She couldn’t believe in herself.

  Just last week Cal had told her about believing in herself. About his student who’d believed he could graduate even after so many failures. That student had believed in himself even when his father had stopped believing.

  Had Cal made that student story up just to manipulate her? To get her to believe in him? To turn her away from her father?

  She couldn’t believe that, either.

  How did you live with a mind that played tricks on you? A heart that wasn’t discerning enough?

  Dizzy and sick to her stomach, Morgan didn’t turn the key in the ignition. Her glen called to her. She needed to lie in the grass and just go to sleep. She needed that so badly.

  But she had something else to do. She had an hour left before she had to get Sammie and tell him that he was going to be staying with his grandparents.

  He’d want to know why.

  She had to figure out what to tell him.

  That Frank, his new hero, was a very bad man? He wouldn’t believe that. And maybe Cal was telling the truth. Maybe Frank had been erroneously accused.

  But could she take that chance?

  What if Cal’s belief in his father stemmed from the guilt of having turned the police on to him in the first place?

  One thing was certain. She was not going to tell Sammie what Frank was suspected of doing. Sammie was only ten. There were things he didn’t need to know. Besides, Frank hadn’t been formally charged. Sammie would be all over that.

  Her head hurt. So badly.

  Lying back against the seat, she closed her eyes. Tears trickled out of the corners. All she’d ever wanted was to love and be loved. Was that so bad?

  And Cal. He’d been so sweet when she’d called. Right there for her. And he’d looked so stricken.

  But he was protecting a man he wasn’t certain was innocent.

  And he’d introduced Sammie to Frank, not knowing if his father was a child abductor or not… .

  Her phone rang. Morgan almost ignored the call. She didn’t want to talk to Cal. Or even her parents. But it could be Sammie. She grabbed her phone out of her purse.

  And didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Whittier? This is Coach Safford. You nee
d to come right away, ma’am. Sammie is missing…”

  She went cold.

  “…already called the police…”

  Like a robot, Morgan started her car, put it in gear and drove out onto the street. She knew the school. Sammie had played Little League there. She knew the way and she drove.

  But she also dialed the phone.

  “Detective Martin, please.”

  Hands shaking, heart breaking, she waited. Turned a corner. And sped in between cars, crossing lines illegally, breaking the speed limit. A cop stopping her would be a blessing. He’d be able to get her there more quickly.

  “This is Detective Martin.”

  “Detective? I’m Morgan Lowen. I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

  “Of course I remember you! How’s Sammie?”

  “He’s missing… .” Her voice broke. She tried to speak again, but choked.

  “Calm down, Morgan. I need you to talk to me.” The detective’s voice was commanding, just short of sharp. “Tell me what’s happened. Where are you?”

  “In my car. Driving to Sammie’s basketball tryouts.”

  “You shouldn’t be driving, Morgan. Can you pull over?”

  She shook her head. She had to get there.

  “Are you pulled over? Morgan? Tell me what happened.”

  She was only a couple of miles away now. Clear road ahead. Blinking rapidly to keep the tears out of her way, she pushed farther down on the gas.

  “I just got a call from Sammie’s basketball coach. He asked to use the restroom during tryouts and never came back.”

  “He ran away again.”

  “No!” She missed a stop sign. “Please! Sammie was at basketball tryouts, which is right where he wanted most to be. He doesn’t have any reason at this point to run away. He just told me that he told his counselor he wants to live with me. You have to listen. We can’t waste any time!”

  The school was right ahead. And by the time she pulled into the parking lot she’d told Detective Martin about Frank Whittier and his association with Sammie.

  “You said you’re at the school now?”

  “Yes.” She climbed out of her car and ran toward the police cars gathered by the back door of the gymnasium with her phone still to her ear.

  “Tell Detective Sanchez to call me. I’m going to have someone bring you in.”

  “Okay. And…” She saw the detectives through the crowd gathered around them. “Can someone please deal with my dad? I don’t want him showing up here.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  WITH HIS MEETING canceled, Cal locked up his office and went home. He’d had a dozen women break up with him. He’d never left work for them.

  “What’s wrong?” Frank asked, the second he walked in the door. His father appeared to be waiting for him.

  “Nothing.”

  Frank studied Cal, leaving him feeling as though he was a little kid again, answering to a man who could read his mind. “I heard the Durango pull in.”

  “End of the semester, no meetings.” Cal shrugged. “I’ve got papers to grade and no interruptions here.” His gaze bounced off his father’s and he opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water he didn’t want.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” Frank stood in the way of Cal leaving the kitchen.

  Stepping to the side, Cal made to move around his father. The older man blocked him.

  “I pissed Morgan off, okay?” he said, irritation covering for the cold fear piercing through him. He’d deal with this. He always did.

  “Pissed her off, how? Seems to take an awful lot to rattle that girl. But that might have something to do with the call I had from her saying she didn’t need me to take Sammie to tryouts. She said she had the day off. What did you do?”

  He glared at the man, surprised to see that they were at eye level again. Frank was standing taller these days. “I don’t know how, okay?” he lied. “She didn’t give me a lot to go on.”

  “Then you need to go to her, son. Don’t just let her walk out of your life. Not this time. She’s the one.”

  “No, Dad, she’s not.”

  “You can’t just walk away every single time you get hurt.”

  “Oh, no? Isn’t that we’ve always done, Dad? Run away?” He didn’t mean the words, didn’t mean to lash out.

  But loving his father had cost him so much.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I told the cops I saw Claire Sanderson in your car. And I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  He was seven again. And hurting. In twenty-five years the pain hadn’t lessened in the least. It had just been pushed far back inside of him, waiting to explode.

  “It’s okay, son,” Frank said, putting his hand on Cal’s shoulder and giving him a squeeze. “It’s me who needs to apologize. These past several years, I’d given up. You didn’t deserve that. We’ll work this out. I’ll talk to Morgan… .”

  They both heard the car pull into the driveway at the same time.

  “Maybe that’s her now.” Frank went to peer out the kitchen window.

  Cal tensed. Had she come to see him? Did he have a chance to make this right?

  And just how was he going to do that?

  Frank turned, face white, eyes wide. Looked at Cal. “It’s the cops.”

  * * *

  “MR. AND MRS. LOWEN. Hi.”

  Morgan’s parents, seated on the sofa opposite her, nodded a stilted greeting at Detective Martin as she entered the small family room at the police station where they’d been told to wait. There were three couches in the room. Morgan occupied one. Her parents another. Elaine Martin, in a light gray pantsuit, took the third.

  “Are you sure that Sammie didn’t run away again?” Grace asked the detective what she’d just asked Morgan and George. In her maroon skirt and jacket, Morgan’s mother looked like she’d just stepped from a boardroom.

  “We aren’t certain, of course, and we have a team of officers and a dog out searching your property,” Detective Martin said. “But under the circumstances, we’re treating this as an abduction just to be safe. We’re set to issue another Amber Alert and have sent bulletins to all of our precincts and cruisers.”

  She glanced at Morgan.

  “We have Frank and Caleb Whittier in custody,” she said, elbows on her thighs, hands clasped.

  Morgan’s heart leaped, whether from fear or some other indefinable thing, she didn’t know. “They’re here?”

  “Not yet, they were picked up at home. They’re on their way down. I’ll be questioning them in a bit.”

  “Has Frank said where Sammie is?” she asked.

  “Neither of them are saying anything. They’ve asked for an attorney.”

  “Is their attorney on his way, as well?” George bit out. “We can’t wait all day to get information out of these bastards.”

  George’s new security team had been fired. They had no explanation for how the boy had gotten by them.

  Morgan didn’t know what to think about anything anymore. Except that her son was missing.

  “If Frank was at home, where’s Sammie?”

  Elaine Martin’s eyes softened with compassion as they met hers. Her professionalism was easier to take. “We’ll find your son, Morgan.”

  And here they went again. They’d find him. But alive?

  “They never found Claire Sanderson.”

  “I’ve got a call into Detective Ramsey Miller. He’s w
orking the Claire Sanderson case.”

  “Still? A twenty-five-year-old case?”

  “Apparently there was some new movement in the case a couple of months ago. Miller’s been in contact with Cal Whittier. And from what I’ve been told, he also ran a check on Frank.”

  “What did he find?” Grace asked.

  “That’s what I have to find out.”

  She needed answers.

  “Coach Safford said that Sammie had a call not long before he asked to go to the bathroom,” Martin said, glancing between the three of them. “He didn’t think anything of it at the time. Sammie was on break and took the call. He didn’t seem upset. The coach assumed it was you.” She looked at Morgan. “He overheard Sammie tell another kid something about his mom. They’re going to question the kid now.”

  Her stomach tightened.

  “Did you call him?” Martin was looking at her.

  “No.” Morgan shook her head. She’d been with Cal. Telling him they were on to him. And then she’d been sitting in her car.

  “What about you two?” Elaine looked at her parents. “Did either of you call Sammie this morning?”

  “No,” they answered in unison.

  “We’re checking Cal’s phone records for recent calls,” she said next. “If Frank has a personal cell, it’s a pay-as-you-go.”

  “I told Cal that we knew who they were,” Morgan said, wondering when this would all end. She just couldn’t take any more. “He might have called Frank, who called Sammie. Maybe they were having him meet them somewhere and were just getting ready to leave when the police showed up.”

  “We’re checking on that,” Elaine said. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. In the meantime, sit tight.”

  “Wait,” George said. “What about ransom calls? Shouldn’t we have lines set up?”

  “Should I go home?” Morgan asked.

  “We’ve got a team at your house,” Elaine reminded Morgan, who’d already turned over a key and given the police permission to enter her premises. “Any calls would come to your cell phone and it’s here with you. Because of the circumstances, your relationship with the Whittiers, I’d rather you stay put, just until I can question them. I’m going to want to speak with you afterward to corroborate stories. Things are different this time since we have a suspect.”