Mercy Street

by Mariah Stewart

  “She wants to thank you in person. It’s the polite thing to do.” She turned and scowled. “Honestly, Robert, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve turned into a curmudgeony old recluse and I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

  “I’m not a recluse. I talk to you, to Kevin, to Suse—”

  “You avoid people like the plague.” Her voice softened. “That’s no way to live, son. And you have a lot to live for.”

  “Had,” he corrected her. “I had a lot to live for.”

  “If Beth could hear you, she’d…well, I don’t know what she’d do, but I know she wouldn’t like it one bit. And tell me this: If you had been the one to have gone missing, would you want Beth to throw away the rest of her life, the way you’re doing? Or would you want her to live, to find some good to do, to find someone else to—?”

  Before she could finish, a horn blew outside the kitchen window. They both turned toward the sound. Kevin had pulled up behind the house and was helping Mary Corcoran out of the car.

  “Swell,” he grumbled.

  “And don’t even think about slipping off to your office,” Trula said as she opened the back door. “Father Kevin, Mrs. Corcoran. Please come in…”

  Mary Corcoran’s eyes were rimmed with red, but her smile lit her face.

  “Mr. Magellan.” She crossed the room to Robert, both hands out reaching for his.

  He’d started to flinch, to pull back, but behind Mary, Trula stood like a sentinel. Mary squeezed his hands before letting go, her eyes welling with tears, and she touched his face.

  “There are no words to thank you for what you’ve done,” she whispered, her mouth quivering, her voice charged with quiet emotion. “Because of you—your kindness, your generosity—my grandson is alive. Courtney—her sister—home with their mother, where they belong. There are no words, Mr. Magellan…”

  He patted her awkwardly.

  “Robert,” he said. “I’d rather you called me Robert.”

  “I’d all but given up hope,” Mary went on. “Before you sent Mallory…”

  “Actually, it was Kevin and Susanna who…”

  “I was so afraid I’d never see him again. I know you know that pain, Mr. Magellan. I know your heartache. The not knowing is the worst, isn’t it?” She dabbed at her face with a tissue. “Fear the last thing you feel at night, the first thing you feel in the morning? There were days these past few weeks when the pain was so great, I felt I couldn’t contain it. How you have been able to hang on for so long…over a year now, I think.”

  “Fifteen months,” he told her. “Since February 11, 2007.”

  “My heart breaks for you. It’s so hard to carry that pain alone. Sometimes that hole inside feels so big, you know if you fall into it, you’ll never stop. Never reach the bottom.” She nodded in Kevin’s direction. “Through Father Burch, I found a support group. Parents of missing children. They helped me so much. Despite their own terrible losses, they reached out to me. Maybe they could help you, too, with your pain.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not much of a joiner, Mrs. Corcoran, but thank you.”

  “They’re a wonderful group. They’re all still waiting for their miracles, you know. I pray for them every day. Just as I pray for you, Mr. Magellan.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He wasn’t sure prayers would help at this late date, but her sincerity all but broke his heart.

  “You know, I was going to take out a second mortgage on my house—a bank loan—whatever it would have taken to have put together enough money to hire someone to find Ryan. I knew the police were not going to find him, Mr. Magellan. Not alive, anyway. Because of you, I still have my grandson. May God show you the same mercy you’ve shown me, Mr. Magellan. May he bless you with a miracle of your own.”

  Mary turned and nodded to Kevin, who took her arm and wordlessly led her back to the car. Trula and Robert watched in silence as the car made a circle around the drive and continued on toward the front gate. After it had disappeared from sight, Robert put his mug down on the counter and left the kitchen, seeking the solace of the den at the end of the hall.

  He sat by the window and stared out at the garden Trula had designed over the winter and worked on all spring. She’d been out there every day since the end of March, directing the gardeners where to plant what, where to lay the path she had in mind. She hadn’t asked his permission, but neither had she required it. She wanted a garden, she planted one. His house was her house, pretty much. It was a promise he’d made to an old woman he’d loved deeply, one he’d never go back on, and never regretted.

  Well, most of the time, anyway.

  He heard her footsteps coming down the hall and braced himself for an interrogation, thinking wryly that this might be one of those times.

  She knocked once—a quick knuckle rap—before opening the door and coming in. She balanced a tray, which she placed on the table in front of him.

  “Can’t let the scones go to waste,” she told him. “Might as well have them with our morning tea.”

  “Trula, you’re the only one who regularly has morning tea,” he reminded her.

  “Well, everyone should. It’s civilized. Gives you a few minutes to sit back, take stock. It’s a more relaxing drink than coffee. Tea is a dreamer’s drink, I suppose.”

  “What’s coffee?”

  “A doer’s drink.” She leaned over to pour the tea. “These were your grandmother’s cups. She had a lovely collection. Picked them up wherever she went. Most are antiques, you know.”

  “I know. And then there are all those mugs with those pithy sayings.”

  “Mine, as you well know.” Trula laughed. “My favorite is that one with the X-Files saying on it.”

  “About the truth being out there somewhere.”

  “It certainly is.” Trula handed him one of the cups. “She’d have been proud of you, of what you did.”

  “All I did was write a check.” He hesitated, then added, “And I haven’t even done that yet. All I did was agree to pay the bill.”

  “But that’s the point, don’t you see?” She sat down in the chair opposite him. “Most people—everyday people—can’t afford to hire private detectives when something like this happens. Most people just have to sit and wait for the police to find their missing person—or not. How many of those people—the ones Mary spoke of, the ones in her support group—how many of them do you think can afford to hire people to track down their loved ones, especially those who have been gone for a long time? Most people simply do not have the resources.”

  “I have the resources, Trula. Fat lot of good it did me. In real life, every story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

  “Sometimes money isn’t enough, of course it isn’t. But sometimes, it turns out to be the difference between finding and not finding. Between a happy ending, and none.”

  “Maybe Mallory just got lucky.”

  “Maybe. I certainly don’t discount luck.”

  “Was there a point to this conversation?”

  Trula smiled at his impatience. “Just that it was a good thing that you did. Your grandmother would have been pleased—proud—that you used your wealth in such a way.”

  “I give money to a lot of charities,” he reminded her.

  “Ah, but it isn’t the same as doing good for one person, face-to-face, is it?” She smiled in triumph.

  He was still trying to think of a response when they heard Kevin calling his name in the hall.

  “We’re in here, Father,” Trula called back. “Come join us. I’ll get you some tea.”

  Kevin came into the room carrying a bottle of springwater.

  “No need, Trula. I brought along my beverage of choice. I’ve been thinking I should drink more water. I hear it’s healthier.”

  “Healthier than what?” Robert asked.

  “Healthier than drinking other stuff all the time.”

  “Sit and have a scone.” She rose and patted him on the shoulder. “I have some things
to tend to.”

  “Thanks. I think I will.” Kevin slid into the seat she vacated. He inspected the tray of scones. “Are those strawberry?” He picked one up and sniffed. “And pecans, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I think I’ll go see if there are any more of those late tulips blooming that I can cut for the breakfast room. I feel like a little color in there this morning.” Trula took her cup and drifted from the room.

  “Mary’s right, you know,” Kevin said as he reached for a napkin. “Those kids would most likely be dead if not for you.”

  “I’m getting a little tired of saying this, but all I did was agree to pay the bill.”

  “That’s what it took, Rob. Someone who cared enough to pay the bill.”

  “Mallory did a good job putting the pieces together. She and that new detective the city hired—I saw him on the news last night and again this morning. No mention of Mallory’s part in it, though.”

  “Isn’t that the way you wanted it? No publicity?”

  “I guess. Just seems a shame, she isn’t getting any credit.”

  “She’ll get paid, that’s what she agreed to. And she has the satisfaction of knowing what she did mattered. I think that would be important to someone like her.” Kevin took a bite of scone. “Chief Drabyak was right about her, though. She has good instincts. Have you thought about hiring her to look for Beth and Ian?”

  “What do you think she could do that no one else has done?”

  Kevin shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s worth a try, though.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think about it before someone else decides to hire her. Mary was right about there being a lot of missing persons out there.” He finished the scone and took a long drink of water. “There are a lot of folks, still waiting for their miracles.”

  Robert made a face.

  “You could make it happen, you know,” Kevin said quietly.

  “Make what happen?”

  “The miracles.”

  “I haven’t done much in the way of miracles for myself. Mallory just got lucky.” He repeated his earlier statement.

  “Do you ever think about your purpose in life, Rob?”

  “Not recently.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Maybe you should shut up.”

  “Show some respect for a man of the cloth, will you? Lightning could come down from the sky and strike you for that.”

  “If lightning was going to strike me, it would have a long time ago. Maybe it already has.” Robert studied his cousin’s face. “I know this is all leading up to something. I’m just not sure what it is.”

  “After I dropped Mary off at the hospital—Ryan is going to be fine, by the way—I started thinking about what she said.”

  “I guess it’s too much to hope for that you’d keep it to yourself.”

  Kevin smiled. “I was thinking about all the others, the people who don’t have the connections that Mary had. Who don’t have the resources that you have.”

  “And…?” Robert gestured for Kevin to continue.

  “And I was thinking that it shouldn’t come down to money. It all too often does, but it shouldn’t. Whether or not you get your miracle shouldn’t depend on whether or not you can afford it.”

  “All the money in the world can’t guarantee a miracle, Kevin.”

  “No, but sometimes, like I said, it can make the difference.” Kevin drained the water bottle and sat it on the table. “Your money could make a difference for some of those people, Rob. Just like it made a difference for Ryan and Courtney.”

  “Are you asking me to keep a PI on call?” Robert mimicked a late-night TV pitch man. “Loved one missing? Call Rob’s Miracles to Go…”

  Robert stood, his hands on his hips.

  “Is that what you’re asking me to do? Start a missing persons bureau? Because last I heard, the FBI has one of those already.”

  “I’m thinking more along the lines of a facilitator,” Kevin replied.

  “A facilitator,” Robert repeated flatly. “And what might we be facilitating?”

  “Hope. Mercy…”

  Robert cut him off.

  “Hope is an empty word, Kev, and mercy comes from God.”

  “Think about it before you write it off. What else do you have to do with your money? Sit and watch it grow? Isn’t that a nice life.”

  “I did have a nice life….”

  “And now it’s gone, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life mourning your loss, just staring out that window, your heart growing smaller and smaller and you getting more and more lonely and depressed until you can’t take it anymore.” Kevin grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s been going through your mind, Rob. And don’t think I’m going to stand for it. I will do anything—say anything—to make you understand that there’s still a life worth living. That maybe God has other plans for you. I will not sit by and let you take your life.”

  Robert looked away.

  “Robert, do something that would make Beth proud.”

  “I don’t think she’s coming back,” Robert whispered. “I don’t feel her anymore.”

  “If she’s moved on from this world, do something worthy of her memory. Give her something to smile about when she looks back.”

  Kevin tucked the empty water bottle under his arm and patted his cousin on the back.

  “You have a very rare opportunity to change people’s lives the way you’ve changed the lives of Ryan and Courtney. There are others who could use your help. Think it over, Rob. Maybe there’s something better to do with all that money besides watching it grow…”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was midafternoon when Trula came into the den and pulled the window shades halfway down.

  “The sun is going to fade out those nice brown leather chairs,” she told him. “It comes in at such an angle back here this time of the day.”

  She fussed with some dead leaves on a massive philodendron that sat on the sill and spilled over the sides of its pot. “Mallory Russo is here,” she added. “I sent her to Susanna’s office.”

  “Thanks, Trula.”

  “Are you all right, Robert?” Her voice held gentle concern. “Son?”

  “I’m good, Trula. Thanks.” He got up and kissed her cheek. “I’m good.”

  He walked across the hall and knocked on the open door.

  “May I join you?” he asked from the doorway.

  “Sure. I was just going to come looking for you.” Susanna smiled.

  “Nice job, Mallory,” Robert said as he entered the room.

  “I had a lot of help.” Mallory turned to look over her shoulder at him.

  “The new Conroy detective, yes, I heard. What was his name?”

  “Charlie Wanamaker,” Mallory told him.

  “Wanamaker, right. There used to be a department store in Philadelphia, Wanamaker’s.”

  Neither Mallory nor Susanna commented, but Robert could feel Suse’s eyes on him. He sat next to Mallory and asked, “So, what’s next for you?”

  Mallory shrugged. “I guess I’ll go back to working on the book I was writing when I took this job.”

  “Iffy business, I would think.” He stretched his legs out in front. “Writing books. Unless it’s sold already.” He turned to her. “Have you sold your book yet?”

  “No.”

  Robert looked across the desk at Susanna and asked, “Have you settled up with her?”

  Susanna shook her head. “We were just discussing that.”

  He reached for the checkbook lying open in front of Susanna and took the pen from her hand.

  “Two l’s?” he asked.

  “What?” Susanna frowned.

  “Two l’s in Mallory?”

  “Yes,” Susanna told him.

  He wrote on the check, tore it from the book, and handed it to Mallory.

  “That should cover it, I would think,” he said.

  Mallory looke
d at the check, her eyebrows rising almost to her hairline.

  “Mr. Magellan…”

  “Robert.”

  “This is way too much. Susanna and I were just discussing my hours, which expenses were reimbursable…”

  He waved her away. “You found the kids alive, you got them home. You’re entitled to the reward.”

  “What reward?” Susanna frowned.

  “Didn’t I mention I was putting up a reward for the safe return of the kids?”

  “No. This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

  “Well, there was a reward, and I just paid it.”

  “Really, Robert, I’m not entitled to all this.” Mallory appeared to be still in shock. “I didn’t work this alone, I didn’t—”

  “Wanamaker.” Robert nodded. “Is he very good? Your opinion?”

  “Yes, he’s very good, he’s—”

  “Does he like being a detective?”

  “I suppose he does,” Mallory replied.

  “Did you like being a detective?” Robert asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I did. Very much.”

  “I’m not going to ask you why you quit—that’s your business. What I’d like to know is, would you be interested in doing more of this type of work?”

  “Looking for missing kids?”

  “Missing kids, missing adults.” He glanced over at Susanna, who appeared totally baffled. The thought made him smile. He realized he liked throwing her a curve once in a while. He hadn’t done enough of that lately. He wondered why she’d stuck with him all this time, boring and moody as he was. “I suppose we shouldn’t restrict our efforts to just children. What do you think, Suse?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Robert,” she said flatly.

  “What if I were to offer you a job, Mallory? Would you be interested?”

  “You mean, looking for your wife and son?”

  “My wife, my son…and others.”

  “What others?” Susanna and Mallory both asked at the same time.

  “Others who are missing.”

  “Robert, may I speak with you in private?” Susanna pushed her chair back from her desk.

  “It’s like Mary Corcoran said this morning,” he continued, ignoring Susanna. “That she was lucky because someone was willing to help her—that most people don’t have the means necessary to pick up where law enforcement leaves off. It started me thinking. The police did the best they could to find Beth and Ian—I really believe they worked tirelessly to find them. And if no one else had been killed or gone missing after my family did, I believe the police would still be looking for them. Maybe they still are. But something Chief Drabyak told me last year keeps coming back to me. There are only so many man-hours, only so much time that can be devoted to any one case before the next one comes in.”