The Truth About Comfort Cove

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Ramsey saw her into his car like she was an invalid. She felt sick. Not physically, but she felt the way she did after having had the flu. Completely out of sync and weak.

  “I thought we’d drive out to the ocean. Sit for a while.”

  He was pulling out of the station.

  “I’m not going to hold you to your promise to see me through this, Ramsey. From what Dr. Zimmerman just said, it could be a long haul.”

  “You got someone else in mind to fill my shoes?”

  She looked over at him. He was giving her his “don’t mess with me” stare. “No.”

  “Then how about you let me do it?”

  “Okay. And I’d like to drive out to the ocean. Thank you.” They turned into the street, and then around a corner.

  Everything looked exactly the same to her as it had that morning. She saw it all as Lucy Hayes would. Not as Claire Sanderson would.

  “Ramsey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could we please drive by Rose Sanderson’s house?”

  Maybe she’d see that as Claire Sanderson would.

  He glanced her way, but didn’t hesitate when he said, “Of course.”

  Ramsey wasn’t big on emotion. His job required compartmentalizing—putting things, emotional things, in boxes and keeping them there. He couldn’t get shook up over every dead body. Every loss. Or weep over the injustices.

  But he couldn’t get his heart away from Lucy Hayes. He ached for her. All over. She sat beside him, straight and determined, and he could sense how close she was to falling apart.

  He didn’t know how she was coping well enough to look out the window. To talk rationally. If he’d just found out that he wasn’t Ramsey Miller…

  And not only had she just found out that her whole life was a lie, she also had to somehow accept the fact that she was a woman she’d just spent months looking for.

  Most of the ramifications of the news hadn’t hit her yet. Dr. Zimmerman had had a talk with him while Lucy had used the restroom before they left the station house. He’d added the doctor’s number to his speed dial in case there was a problem.

  But as long as Lucy could deal with the shock herself, the better off she was.

  “You want to stop and get that prescription filled?” he asked. Dr. Zimmerman had advised her to take sleeping pills for the next couple of nights.

  “No. I’m not going to risk…” She stopped and he glanced over to see her wide-eyed, lost look.

  “What?”

  “I’m not Sandy’s daughter.”

  It was starting already. “Not biologically.”

  “I don’t have her propensity to addiction.”

  A good thing. He waited a minute, and then asked, “Do you want me to stop for the prescription, then?”

  Tapping her thumb against the door jamb, Lucy said, “No.” And added, “I don’t want to take them, Ramsey. I don’t like that foggy feeling in my head. And I especially don’t want it right now. This is hard enough, finding any sort of clarity, without making the struggle worse.”

  He wasn’t sure, but it seemed to him that what was happening was that Lucy was already starting to sort through what she thought about herself, and what she knew, deep down, was herself.

  And somehow, no matter what her name was, she’d come out the other side of this ordeal a whole person.

  If ever he’d been amazed at another human being, it was in that moment. And if ever he’d fallen in love, it was then, too.

  H er foot started to tap. In tandem with the finger still strumming a beat on the passenger door handle.

  They turned a corner. “Stop!” She shouted the word. Ramsey slowly pulled over to the side of the quiet street.

  He put the car in Park, but left it running. “You recognize something?” “I’ve been here before,” she said, her stomach roiling, her breath coming in spurts. “I’ve been here before, Ramsey. I don’t know where I am, but I’ve been here.” She was babbling. Looking around frantically. Crying.

  “Where am I?” Her gaze landed on him and she sounded like a lost little girl.

  “You’re around the corner from Rose Sanderson’s house.”

  She sniffed. Gathered her composure. “I don’t like this corner.”

  He knew the statement mattered. Knew, too, that he’d have to call Bill and get him to start checking out Jack’s route, Frank’s route on the way to the school, against the corner he was parked at. He’d already made arrangements for the other man to take over the Sanderson case. Ramsey could no longer be impartial enough, removed enough, to bring this one home in a way that would convince the D.A. and secure the conviction they all needed.

  “You want to head to the ocean now?”

  She shook her head. “No. I want to see Rose Sanderson’s home.”

  Dr. Zimmerman had told him that Lucy was the boss. With trepidation, he put the car in Drive and rounded the corner.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  S he’d never seen the house on the corner before. She’d swear it. “Are you sure this is the street?” Lucy asked Ramsey as he turned the car onto the street he’d indicated as Rose Sanderson’s.

  “I’m sure.” It looked…old. Her earliest recollections were of the house she and Sandy had lived in before they’d bought their bungalows across the street from each other when Lucy graduated from the academy. It was old, too. But not in a neighborhood as run-down as this one.

  “You said Rose Sanderson is a principal in a high school.” “That’s right.”

  “And she was a teacher before that?” The woman was a

  name to her. A job. Lucy had never met her.

  “Yes.”

  “And she can’t afford anything nicer than this?” “She won’t leave this neighborhood.”

  Understanding dawned instantly to the cop Lucy was. The

  mother of a missing child was still living with the hope that the child would come home. And she had to be there if she did. And then she remembered that she might have already known that about Rose. She couldn’t remember for sure.

  “She has the same kitchen table in her kitchen, too,” Ramsey said. “It’s where the family had their last breakfast together, the morning Claire disappeared.”

  Her back itched. And her arms, too. She looked at Ramsey. “You mean, me, right? Before I disappeared?” The words rang so loudly in the car, they made her ears hurt.

  She stared at Ramsey.

  Slowing the car, he stared back at her.

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

  He’d stopped. They were at a curb in front of a house. She

  didn’t feel anything at all. They could have been in front of any house in any neighborhood she’d ever been in. “This is it?” “No. I didn’t want to take a chance on Rose being home from school so I didn’t park out front. That one’s it.”

  She followed the direction of his finger to a white house across the street and kitty-corner from the one in front of which they sat. With newish paint, nicely done landscaping and front steps that weren’t crumbling, the house was inarguably the most attractive one on the block.

  Lucy studied it. As a cop. Looking for clues. She went inside the case, just as she always did. Thought of the reports she’d read. The interviews.

  Tried to picture witnesses and suspects and…

  “Ramsey?” Her voice wavered.

  “Yeah, Luce, I’m right here.”

  “Emma Sanderson. She’s my sister, Ramsey. She’s my big

  sister.” She was looking at him, but couldn’t really see him through the big pools of tears in her eyes. She couldn’t see him in her mind’s eye, either. “It wasn’t Allie who was calling to me all these years. It was Emma!”

  R amsey got a call from Bill Mendholson shortly after he and Lucy arrived at the seashore. They were sitting in a roadside park just outside of Comfort Cove. During the tourist season, the park, with its cliffside location, was a popular lookout point. Today, in spite of the glorious ocean sunset, they ha
d the place to themselves.

  “It’s Bill, I have to take this,” he told Lucy, who hadn’t said ten words since they’d left Rose Sanderson’s home. She’d cried a little. Softly. But otherwise she’d sat quietly beside him. He was about ready to call Dr. Zimmerman.

  “Miller.” He picked up the call, getting out of the car so that he could speak openly without risking upsetting Lucy.

  When he heard the passenger door open, he knew that he’d sold her short. She came up beside him as Bill said, “We got a hit on Colton. He’s in Aurora. Just paid for gas with his debit card.”

  Ramsey quickly told his mentor about the UC interviews. He told him to get uniforms out to watch Brown and Professor Beck. And to cover the Buckley place. “He knows we’re on to him.”

  “We’ve got someone in Boston, meeting Whittier’s plane. It was delayed.”

  Ramsey would have liked to have been there for that one. But the end result could have gotten the case thrown out of court. He wouldn’t have made a good arrest.

  “Put someone on Cal Whittier, too,” Ramsey said. “I’m fairly certain he’s innocent, but he’s also loyal to his father. He’s staying at the Coastside.”

  “We sent someone over while Lucy…I’m sorry, Claire… was still unconscious.”

  “Her name’s Lucy,” Ramsey said, taking his cue from Dr. Zimmerman.

  When he hung up from the other detective, Ramsey could not avoid the look in Lucy’s eye. She wanted to know everything.

  And so he told her.

  Her face went blank. She was looking at him, but not seeing him. Ramsey’s stomach started to burn.

  “You said Jack’s girlfriend at UC was Haley Sanders.”

  “That’s right.” And then he knew, too.

  “Sandy Hayes. My…not mother. Haley Sanders. Sandy Hayes. He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t name her. But he couldn’t desert her, either. Haley Sanders is Sandy Hayes. He transposed her names—and came up with a variation of Sanderson. Even then, his guilt was coming through. Haley Sanders. Sandy Hayes.”

  “Jack Colton’s weakness.”

  “Why didn’t we get it sooner?”

  “Because we were too close to the case.”

  “My mom…Sandy…she got me from Jack. All this time… she knew I was stolen, that another woman was grieving for me just as she grieved for Allie. I should have gotten that before now, huh?”

  She stumbled and he held her up, bringing her body up against his. “Or…” he said, leading her back to the car. “It’s as we thought and he found out about Gladys Buckley, sold you to her, who gave you to Sandy.” He didn’t know what to do except bring her focus to the case. “You said that Gladys was rocked by the story of your mother’s rape. The loss of her daughter. And that your mother later contacted her. Maybe she didn’t contact her looking for Allie, but was in contact with her to get you. Maybe when Frank called with a toddler, instead of a baby, she thought of Sandy and made a quick pass-off.”

  “So my mom…Sandy…doesn’t know that I was abducted?”

  This wasn’t just theory. Wasn’t just a case. “I don’t know, Luce.”

  But he was going to find out.

  “D o we have to go just yet?” They were in Ramsey’s car, still at the ocean. “There’s nothing we can do and Bill’s obviously going to keep you updated to the minute.” Ramsey had spoken to the other detective again, filling him in on the possible Haley Sanders/Sandy Hayes connection.

  “You come before the case, Luce. We’ll stay here all night if that’s what we need to do.”

  She had no idea what she needed. She couldn’t access herself deep enough to find out. She just wasn’t ready to go back to town.

  The clock in the car said it was four-thirty. “Is that right?” She pointed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Lori’s call was just three hours ago?”

  He nodded, his arm draped over the back of his seat, letting his hand rest on the back of hers. He played with a piece of her hair. It felt good.

  “Legally, am I Claire Sanderson or Lucy Hayes?”

  “I’m not sure. Your Lucy Hayes birth certificate is obviously false, but you’ve got a social-security number and driver’s license as Lucy. That might stand as an official name change. If not, you can always have it legally changed.”

  She was glad.

  “Remember what Dr. Zimmerman said, Luce. Take things one step at a time. You have no idea how you’re going to feel about your name, or any of this, in the coming days. Your feelings will probably change a lot.”

  “I know. The roller coaster she talked about. I’m just supposed to ride it for a while.” She’d always hated roller coasters. Saw no sense in scaring herself silly when there was plenty to get scared about just by being at home.

  “I want you to stay with me.”

  She wanted to go to sleep. But knew better than that, too. She wouldn’t even rest her head against the back of the seat. Oblivion was too tempting, and all she had was herself now. For the first time in her life she had to come through for her.

  “I am staying with you.”

  “I mean, for the next little bit. While you ride the ride.” He sounded like he was prepared for a fight. “Dr. Zimmerman said that you shouldn’t be alone. She also said that you were going to have to take a bit of time off from work. She plans to write a report to Lionel.”

  If she’d thought about it, she’d have been expecting as much.

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll stay?”

  “Yes.” She gazed out at the ocean. It was inviting her to sail away to a place where she could just be who she was inside, all by herself, and not have anyone need to know anything about her. “I’m not stupid. I know that I shouldn’t be alone—and most particularly not alone near Sandy. Whether she knows about the Sandersons or not, I am not her biological daughter and she knew that much. I need some time to assimilate that information.”

  She sounded like an automaton—even to herself. And that scared her as much as anything else.

  And then she said, “If she doesn’t know…if she thinks I was legitimately adopted, this is going to kill her.” Her throat closed. And she looked at Ramsey. “I love her… .”

  This time she was in Ramsey’s arms before she started to cry. “I know, sweetie. It’s a mess. But you’re strong. And smart. And it’s for the best that you know the truth. I really believe that.”

  She heard him. She wanted to believe him. Mostly she just wanted him to go on talking so she wouldn’t be able to think.

  I f asked, Ramsey would have said, hands down, that he would never be able to offer emotional support to someone in Lucy’s position. No one asked him. And he found himself doing what had to be done.

  He sat quietly with Lucy when she needed silence. He talked with her when she needed to talk. When she needed movement to divert her from the panic, he drove. And when she needed to be held, he held her.

  And somehow, in the doing, in helping Lucy stay with him while she found her grounding point, he started to find a piece of himself again.

  She wasn’t Diane. Or Marsha. Or anyone else he’d known. And he wasn’t the old Ramsey Miller who would act without forethought to those around him. That Friday, as he experienced hell with the woman who’d broken the barriers around his heart so gently he hadn’t even felt the break, he wasn’t putting himself first. And didn’t think he could have if he wanted to.

  Which knocked him off the selfish-bastard pedestal he’d put himself on. Not that it mattered.

  The thought just occurred to him as he drove, Lucy sitting quietly beside him. And by early evening, when they were nearing Comfort Cove city limits, he had another random thought. He was his father’s son.

  And just as Earl Miller was there for his wife, no matter what the future held, Ramsey Miller might be able to come through for Lucy, too.

  At the moment, there was no other choice. She might be a woman with two families, but for now, she shouldn’t live with either one
of them. Which meant that he was all she had. According to Dr. Zimmerman, her best shot was to take both relationships slowly—the separation from Sandy, and any reunion with Rose and Emma—to work on being comfortable with herself first, and then open herself up to the needs of others around her.

  So he would do what he had to do.

  “I read a poem once.” Lucy broke the silence in the car. Darkness had fallen and he was beginning to worry about her. Nights were always harder in times of fear and stress. And he knew that, for her in particular, they were much worse.

  “Tell me about it,” he said, slowing down to thirty-five miles an hour as he entered the city. Tourist district first, he figured. To let her reacquaint herself with people in a more jovial setting.

  “I can’t remember the poet, or the poem. I just remember one line. It said something about being someone who could go through hell the night before and still have what it took to get up in the morning and feed the children.”

  He slowed as he came abreast the bar where Chris Talbot usually played on Friday nights. They hadn’t talked about the wedding yet. He figured he was going to call someone in the morning and say that Lucy had the flu. Or something else that would get them out of appearing, or being visited.

  “I’ve always wanted to be that person,” she said. “I think I’m one of those people who can go through hell and still be able to get up and feed the children.”

  He smiled. And knew in that moment that the woman beside him was an angel.

  And that she was going to be just fine.

  Dinner time had come and gone. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast at Ramsey’s house. He had to be starving. “You want to get something to eat?” she asked, wondering how on earth she was going to keep anything down, but knowing she had to if she was going to have the strength to feed the children.

  “I can grill some steaks back at the house, put some potatoes in the oven. There’s stuff for a salad.”

  She actually felt a grin coming on. And when it surfaced, her face was so stiff it felt like it cracked. “Sounds like you were prepared for a visitor,” she said.