“What did you tell him?” Gabe crossed his fingers and prayed.
After a long silence, Papi said, “Although it was completely against my principles, I corroborated your story. I said the baby kept you up most of the night and you were running late.”
Gabe resumed breathing. “Thanks, Papi. I owe you one. Boomer didn’t show up at school so I went to his house. His wife was killed last night at Sea-Tac.”
Papi inhaled sharply. “Oh, the poor man. May God rest her soul. Take care, son. These people are playing for keeps. Trust nobody. We’ll talk tonight.”
Gabe was a few minutes late collecting Birdie at lunchtime. Mrs. Wachsmith looked up from her paperback book, scowled, and pointed at her wristwatch. Gabe mumbled an apology and plucked the baby from her crib. By the time he reached the crowded cafeteria, he’d lost the small window of opportunity to grab a quick lunch and split. Instead, he stood at the back of a long line inching its way slowly toward the serving area. His stomach growled with hunger, providing amusement for his daughter who giggled and patted his face.
The girl standing in line ahead of him turned, checked out Gabe, and smiled at the baby. “She’s sooo cute! Can I hold her?”
Gabe, tired, hungry, and dispirited, was sorely tempted to hand the baby over. Surely this girl—a sweet-faced redhead—was no threat to Birdie’s safety. Then, the warning voice in his head that sounded a lot like Papi kicked in. Trust nobody.
The girl held out her arms and cooed, “We’ve got the same red hair, don’t we, Sweetie?”
Gabe gave her a weak smile. “Hey, thanks but she gets freaked out when a stranger holds her.”
The girl narrowed her eyes in suspicion as her gaze darted between Gabe and Birdie. The baby was smiling and pushing away from Gabe in an effort to dive into the girl’s arms.
“Whatever,” the girl huffed and turned her back to Gabe.
Gabe lifted Birdie up until they were nose to nose. “Thanks for making me look like a big fat liar, kid.”
He looked around the room and spotted Abby sitting with the weird blond kid she’d been talking to earlier. He was slumped over the table, his chin in his hands. Abby reached across the table and gripped his arm, speaking to him urgently.
A nasty streak of jealousy flashed through Gabe’s consciousness. Who the hell was this guy? Why was Abby spending time with him? Gabe grimaced in frustration as he tried to reason with himself. You don’t own her, dumb shit. She’s your babysitter. If you want it to be more, tell her!
“Yeah,” Gabe whispered to Birdie. “I’ll do that right after I figure out who wants to kill us and take you away.”
The redhead looked over her shoulder. “Are you talking to me?”
Embarrassed, Gabe ducked his head. “No, sorry. Just talking to myself.”
By the time Gabe got his lunch, he had a scant five minutes to gulp it down and return the baby to the childcare building. His cell phone buzzed as he entered the infant room. Missed call from Papi. It would have to wait. He grabbed his backpack, charged through the door and discovered he was face to face with Detective Ross Paulson.
Gabe stifled a groan.
Paulson put a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk, Gabe. If you’d like your father present, that can be arranged.”
Gabe shook his head. “No, that’s okay.”
“What about a counselor or some other adult?”
“No.”
“In here?” Paulson pointed to the childcare building.
Gabe thought it over briefly. Probably better here than strolling across the courtyard accompanied by an officer of the law. He’d already provided enough entertainment for his classmates. He didn’t need the walk of shame.
“Yeah,” Gabe said, leading the detective into the empty parenting classroom. Ms. Newcomb was nowhere in sight. Recalling Patti Sifuentes’ comment, Gabe quickly checked the closet to make sure the teacher wasn’t inside, weeping.
Paulson rested his left bun on the teacher’s desk, folded his arms across his chest, and studied Gabe’s face with his keen gray eyes. “Maybe we’d better start from the beginning. Seems like a few things were left unsaid this morning. I talked to the ticket agent at the Alaska gate. She told me Lacey Woodard and another woman, also now deceased, had possession of your child. Is that correct?”
Gabe’s heart stuttered in alarm. Would this guy believe anything he said after his earlier silence? Should he spill his guts? Or make the detective pull it out of him? If he spilled his guts, he might say more than he needed to. He decided on the latter even though his face felt hot with guilty knowledge. There was no way he was going to come out of this looking like anything but a complete idiot.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” Paulson said. “Here’s what bothers me. If this were a custody issue like you told the agent, why would Lacey Woodard be involved? She’s not the mother of your child. Right?”
Gabe’s face grew warmer. “No way. Of course not.”
“So, how exactly is it a custody issue?”
“I do have custody of the baby,” Gabe said. “I’ve got proof if you want to see it. Her birth certificate is on file here at school.”
Paulson waved a dismissive hand. “Not necessary. I just got off the phone with your father. I know you have custody. Yet you told the agent it was a custody issue. But that doesn’t tell me why Ms. Woodard would have your baby and a ticket to Sacramento. So maybe you can tell me the real reason.”
He stopped talking and stared at Gabe, awaiting his answer.
Gabe felt beads of perspiration popping out on his forehead. Could he look any guiltier? Think fast, Gabe.
“Well, um,” Gabe stammered. “I don’t have any proof but I’m thinking maybe Lacey, um, Ms. Woodard, was involved in a baby-selling thing. Coach said she’d been running up bills all over town, that they needed money.”
Actually, his explanation made a lot of sense. After all, people would pay a bunch of money to get a kid. Wouldn’t they? Yeah, he’d stick to that story.
His cell phone buzzed again. Text message from Papi. Wait until I arrive before talking to Detective Paulson.
Swamped with relief, Gabe sank onto a chair. “My dad’s on his way. He wants to be here after all.”
By the time the interview was over, school was out. Gabe had missed the rest of his classes. Papi had convinced the detective that he and Gabe were equally baffled about Lacey’s motivation for kidnapping the baby, but believed the baby-selling scheme was worth looking into.
Paulson mulled it over for a while, hoisted himself off the desk, and said he was heading back to Boomer’s house. Gabe was pretty sure they hadn’t seen the last of him.
A little while later, he dropped the baby off at Abby’s and suited up for an easy practice led by Boomer’s assistant coach. Later, Gabe dragged his weary body to the parking lot.
Security officer Lee Bradburn was pulling out of the lot. He stopped next to Gabe and zipped down his window. “You look shot, buddy. Bad day?”
“Not one of my best.”
Bradburn offered his fist to bump. “Hang in there, guy. It’ll get better.”
Grateful for the older man’s concern, Gabe touched his fist to Bradburn’s. “Thanks.”
After dumping his gear in the house, Gabe walked through the gate connecting his back yard to Abby’s. He lifted a hand to knock at the sliding glass door and froze. Abby sat on the couch holding Birdie. Sitting just inches from her, and more importantly, his baby, was the kid with the nose ring and Mohawk. Fury shot through Gabe. He threw the door open and crossed to the couch.
“What the hell, Abby?”
Still clinging to Birdie, Abby shot up. The baby, startled by the sudden movement, screeched in protest. The Mohawk kid rose to a half-crouch and scuttled backward, away from Gabe.
“Gabe, just listen for a minute,” Abby said. “This is Trevor West. He needs my help. He . . .”
Gabe ripped the squalling baby from Abby’s arms and plopped her into her car seat. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “After what happened last night, you let this guy into your house.” He looked around for the diaper bag and spotted it sitting on the kitchen counter.
“It’s not like that,” Abby said.
Gabe grabbed the diaper bag. “So, what is it like? A new boyfriend? What?”
Abby shouted to be heard over Birdie’s wails. “You’re being ridiculous. You won’t even listen. Trust me, Trevor isn’t a threat. He just needs a friend. Someone to talk to.”
Gabe picked up the car seat and stomped toward the door. “I’d appreciate it if you’d spend time with your new friend after you’re done babysitting.”
“Hey, man, wait a sec.”
Gabe turned to find Trevor West a few steps behind him. After checking Gabe’s expression, Trevor took a step back, out of reach. The kid’s scared shitless, Gabe thought. That’s a good thing.
“Yeah, whaddaya want?” Gabe snarled.
Trevor’s long pale fingers fluttered like frightened birds as he searched for the right words. “It’s just that, well, I’ve been freaking out because, well, I got adopted when I was little, and I . . .”
With a hiss of impatience, Gabe said, “Hey, I’m real sorry about your tragic childhood but I’ve got problems of my own.”
Gabe slid the door open. Before he could step through, Abby shouted, “Gabe, Trevor and I have something in common. Something only a few people know about.”
Staring into Abby’s back yard, Gabe’s exhausted mind tried to connect the dots. Did she mean . . . could it be . . .
He looked over his shoulder at Abby. “So, you’re trying to tell me that Trevor is . . .”
Abby nodded. “Yeah, Gabe. Trevor’s a witch.”
Gabe rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, wow. That makes it all better.” He stepped through the door. “Can’t deal with it right now, Abby.”
Lugging Birdie and her paraphernalia, Gabe trudged across Abby’s yard, aware that she was watching him through the glass, her face streaked with tears. One foot in front of the other. Tomorrow’s another day. Darkest hour just before dawn. Maybe if he filled his mind with trite sayings, he wouldn’t have to think about what to do next.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
GABE YAWNED AND looked at the clock. 6:20 p.m. He willed his eyes to stay open until Papi was done with the family meeting on safety. Shouldn’t be much longer. The national news came on at 6:30 and Papi watched it religiously. On the up side, Gabe had no homework since he hadn’t attended a single class. On the down side, Birdie was wide-awake, having spent most of the day napping. Gabe considered bribing one of his brothers to watch her while he caught a few z’s.
“In closing,” Papi said, “If you’re home alone, you will let no one into the house, even if the baby is elsewhere. If a stranger approaches you and asks questions, you will play dumb.”
“That’ll be easy for you guys.” Simon shot a glance at Gabe and Henry before checking the display on his cell phone.
Gabe ignored the jibe and studied his brother. Simon was acting weird. He wore a gooney grin and kept looking at his phone like he was expecting a call, maybe from the president or someone of equal importance. Surely it couldn’t be a girl. Not Simon. But wait! Miracles do happen.
Papi wound down at precisely 6:30 p.m. and dismissed the boys with a wave of his hand. He settled in his recliner and turned on the news.
Gabe picked up a throw pillow from the couch and launched it at Simon’s head. Why not? They were called throw pillows for a reason. Simon caught it and threw it at Henry who drop kicked it back where it belonged.
“Hey, brainiac,” Gabe said. “Expecting a call?”
Simon stared at the floor. Was he blushing?
“A girl?” Gabe said. “I don’t believe it.”
A brief smile tugged at the corner of Simon’s mouth. “Believe it.”
“Engineering student?” Gabe asked, picturing a girl with thick glasses and thicker ankles.
Simon lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Nah, she’s a recruiter for some software company in San Francisco. And, trust me, she’s hot.”
“How hot?”
Simon grinned and fanned his face. “Smokin’ hot.”
“So, when do we get to meet this hot chick?”
Simon glanced at Papi. “Guess I better not bring her to the house or Papi will stroke out. I’m meeting her for coffee tomorrow.”
“No way!”
“Oh, yeah.”
Gabe punched his brother in the shoulder. “Good luck, man. I mean it.”
After a brief nod of thanks, Simon returned to staring at his phone. Gabe stood, stretched, and stifled another yawn. He gathered up the bright-eyed baby and headed for his room. As he trudged up the stairs, he thought about the ugly scene with Abby. Call her or not? Definitely not. After all, he was right. She was wrong. She should be calling him. She should be apologizing for bringing a stranger into contact with his child. Not just a stranger, for God’s sake, but a male witch! What the hell was she thinking? No doubt about it, Gabe decided. He was the one standing on high moral ground.
Later that evening, after Birdie finally popped her thumb into her mouth and fell asleep, Gabe groaned with exhaustion and climbed into bed. But, tired as he was, sleep eluded him. Each time he closed his eyes, it was Abby’s face he saw. Her stricken, tear-streaked face framed in the sliding glass door. A glimmer of doubt darted in and out of his mind like a pesky fly he was unable to shoo away. Was it possible he’d made a huge ass of himself?
“DUDE, WHAT’S GOING on?” Kevin dashed up to Gabe between classes. His eyes danced with excitement. “First Coach’s wife gets killed, and now that weird kid with the nose ring is standing on top of C building getting ready to jump off.”
“Jesus,” Gabe muttered and took off at a run.
Kev fell in behind him and yelled, “That girl who takes care of your kid’s up there, too. Abby something.”
At Kevin’s words, Gabe stopped, a noxious mix of fear and guilt stealing away his breath. He turned to face Kevin. “Are you sure it’s Abby?”
Kevin crowded in close and said, “Yeah, I’m sure. Ya think she’s gonna jump, too?”
Rage spiraled through Gabe’s body. It was almost like Kevin was hoping Trevor and Abby would hold hands, jump off the building, and go splat for his personal entertainment. Gabe fought the urge to punch Kevin in the face. Instead, he shoved him away. “Not if I can help it.”
Kevin staggered backward, windmilling his arms to keep from falling on his butt. “What’s your problem? You get weirder every day.”
Shaking with suppressed anger, Gabe held back the words he wanted to fling at Kevin. Words like: It’s called growing up, Kevin. If you were really my friend, you’d have my back, offer to help me out. But he said nothing. He turned and sprinted toward C building, the structure that housed the library on the third floor.
Gabe pushed his way through the silent crowd gathered next to the building and looked up. Trevor stood much too close to the edge of the sloped roof, looking down. Abby was inching her way toward him, murmuring something, reaching out with her right hand.
Somebody in the crowd yelled, “Jump!”
“That wasn’t cool, man,” another voice chimed in.
“Shut the hell up!”
Several girls were crying.
The principal, Beverly Bofto, who rarely left her office, was pacing back and forth, casting nervous glances at the amassed student body.
Gabe cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Abby, back away from the edge! I’m coming up.”
He ran toward t
he exterior staircase leading to the third floor, only to find its entrance blocked by school personnel. “You can’t go up there, Gabe.” Mr. Tompkins, said. “We’ve got a crisis team on the way.”
Gabe didn’t waste his breath arguing. He muttered, “Sorry,” and straight-armed Tomkins in the chest, shoving him out of the way. He pushed past security guard Lee Bradburn and galloped up the stairs, Mr. Tompkins’ outraged threats ringing in his ears. When he reached the library, he burst through the door and came face to face with the pale, trembling librarian.
“Access to the roof,” he panted. “Where is it?”
“No students allowed,” she said, though her gaze flicked toward the conference room behind the counter.
Gabe brushed by her. She grabbed his shirtsleeve. “I said, no students allowed.”
Gabe jerked free and dashed into the conference room. A chair had been placed on the table directly beneath the hatch leading to the roof. Gabe scrambled onto the table, stood on the chair, and pushed the trap door open.
“No!” The librarian screamed. She grabbed his foot as Gabe attempted to lever his body through the opening. He muttered another, “Sorry,” and kicked free. He scrambled onto the roof, crouching low to maintain his balance. His feet slid on the pebbly surface, and he plopped down on his butt. His heart leaped in fright when he saw how close Abby was to the edge. The sound of sirens grew louder. A sudden gust of wind flattened Abby’s jeans against her body.
“Abby,” he called softly, his voice shaky with fear. “Step back. Please.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Even from a distance, Gabe could see the mosaic of freckles scattered across her pale cheeks, the terror in her eyes. Her expression changed quickly and she raked him with a furious glance. “Why are you here?”
“Because I was wrong yesterday. Totally wrong. If I caused this, I need to fix it. Let me talk to Trevor. Please, Abby, let me try.”
She glanced back and forth between Trevor and Gabe. Finally she murmured something to Trevor and took a step toward Gabe, slipping a little on the treacherous surface.
Baby Gone Bye Page 17
