Baby Gone Bye

by Marilee Brothers

  Gabe pressed against the fence whispering, “Birdie? Baby, where are you? I’m here. Please . . .”

  “I found her!” A man’s voice rang out. “Just around the corner against the side of the house in the shadows.”

  “Damn,” Gabe muttered. “Bad timing.”

  “Bring her to me,” Worthington ordered.

  With his face pressed against the fence, Gabe watched a guard trot to the front of the house, Birdie dangling from his outstretched hands as if he were holding a rabid animal. The baby screamed and struggled in the man’s grip. Gabe’s heart constricted in fear. He had to do something. Fast.

  Abby returned and pressed Loopy, the stuffed bunny, into his hands.

  When the guard reached the bottom of the stairs to hand off the baby, Gabe said, “Birdie, come to Daddy. You want to go home? I do. I know you’re tired, but you can do it. Please, baby. Try. Do it now.”

  Worthington extended her hands. The guard thrust the baby toward her. In the middle of the transfer, poof!

  “God damn it!” Worthington swore. “The little shit did it again. Spread out. Find her.”

  “Well, looky here,” Simon said. His voice held a smile. “Hey Birdie. It’s your Uncle Simon.”

  “No way!” Gabe said, creeping down the fence line.

  Birdie was on her back, lying beneath the bush on the inside of the fence, silent and unmoving. Her tear-streaked face had a bluish tinge. When she spotted Gabe, she smiled. Then her eyelids fluttered and closed.

  “We’ve got to get her out quickly,’ Landman said. “The poor little thing’s exhausted. It takes a lot of energy to vanish, and she’s out of juice.”

  Worthington’s security guards fanned out across the yard, flashlights illuminating the scrubby grass and shrubbery. Gabe looked at the pitifully small hole Simon had created with the wire cutters and gasped in shock. “Go faster! We’ve gotta get her out before they check that bush.”

  Simon panted, “Working as fast as I can. Not gonna make it. Time for plan B.”

  One of the guards was working his way toward the bush concealing the baby. It was only a matter of seconds before he spotted her. Perspiration poured down Simon’s forehead and into his eyes. He snipped wire as fast as humanly possible. Gabe’s heart plunged to his shoe tops.

  That hole is still way too small. Gotta do something else. So what if they hear me yell? If I don’t get her out, who cares?

  Gabe squatted in the dirt and pressed the stuffed bunny against the fence. “Birdie!” he called. “I’ve got Loopy. Wake up, sweetie. Loopy needs you.” Choked with emotion, he swallowed hard, took a shaky breath and whispered, “I need you.”

  At the sound of Gabe’s voice, the security guard froze. He stepped closer to the bush and shined his flashlight into Gabe’s face. “What the hell?”

  “Eeep!”

  Temporarily blinded, Gabe reached for Loopy. But, instead of the stuffed bunny, he touched the warm, wet face of his child. Weak with joy, he grabbed Birdie and thrust her into Papi’s arms. “You and Jacob take her to the van. Hurry!”

  The guard yelled, “Over here! Come quick!”

  Papi hesitated. “What about you?”

  Gabe shoved the Mayan bracelet into Papi’s hand. “Right behind you. Don’t worry. Just keep her safe. Now, go.”

  Papi, followed by Landman, ran clumsily down the gravel road toward the van.

  Gabe grabbed Abby’s hand and glanced over at Simon. “Grab your stuff. Time to boogie.”

  The flashlight’s beam swung over to Simon crouching next to the fence, wire cutters in hand. The guard pulled the gun from his holster and pointed it at Simon’s head, his finger on the trigger.

  Simon froze.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “NO!” GABE YELLED at the guard. “Don’t do it, man. Your boss is going down. You want to go with her? On a murder charge?”

  Two other guards ran to the fence. In the background, Gabe heard Samantha Worthington screaming orders. “Stop them! Go after baby! Johnson, get my car. Now!”

  Thrusting Abby behind him, Gabe took a step toward the fence. “One of you named Johnson? Worthington wants her car. You know what that means? She’s gonna run and leave you guys holding the bag.”

  The gun wavered in the guard’s hand.

  Simon stepped up next to Gabe. “The FBI is on their way. When they find out you have people locked up so Worthington can do her experiments, you think she’ll be here? If so, you deserve what you get.”

  The guard holstered his gun. He shot a glance at the other two men. “She treats us like shit.”

  “Yeah,” one of the men agreed. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The three men turned and trotted away. Shaky with relief, Gabe leaned forward, braced his hands on his knees and gulped air.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Simon said.

  “You okay, Gabe?” Abby tugged on his hand.

  “Yeah,” Gabe said. “Just felt a little woozy for a second.”

  The sound of an engine revving up floated on the night air. Simon peered through the fence. “She’s getting ready to run. In a Porsche 911 no less.”

  “Somebody open the damn gate!” Worthington yelled.

  Gabe slung his arm around Abby and stepped away from the fence. “Let’s go.”

  Abby stopped suddenly. “No. We’ve got to stop her.”

  “How do you propose to stop a Porsche?” Simon said.

  She pushed away from Gabe and took off running toward the driveway. “The same way I stopped a bullet.”

  “Wait!” Gabe said. “I’m coming, too.”

  Simon trailed behind, calling, “You know what? You’re both nuts!”

  Abby ran to the middle of the driveway. She extended her right arm, pointed her index finger downward and began inscribing a circle. Gabe stood next to her.

  “In or out, Simon?” Gabe said. “Decide now.”

  “Oh, what the hell,” Simon muttered and crowded up next to his brother.

  Abby’s face was a study in concentration as she finished the circle that extended across the width of the driveway and encompassed the three of them. As she’d done before, she turned to face all four directions and chanted, “Magic circle, I conjure thee. Mother Earth and Father Sky, protect this sacred place and keep us from harm. Evil may not enter. And so it is.”

  The silver Porsche rolled up to the gate. Since all of her employees were running for their own vehicles, Worthington was forced to climb out of the car and open it herself. Muttering and cursing, she unlocked the gate and pulled it open. She jumped back in the car, slammed the door, and revved the engine again.

  Simon’s face was a sickly shade of gray. He gripped Gabe’s arm. “You sure this will work?”

  Gabe opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak. His heart thundered in his ears.

  Abby squeezed Simon’s hand. Speaking calmly, she said, “Look at me and believe. That’s your only job. I’ve just done mine.”

  “Maybe she’ll go off the driveway to avoid hitting us,” Simon said.

  “No way,” Gabe said. “She’ll want to take us out.”

  The Porsche’s headlights flicked on. Worthington punched the gas. The low-slung car spit gravel and leaped forward like a panther released into the wild.

  Simon closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer.

  Gabe stared into Abby’s eyes. “I love you and I believe.”

  At his words, a warm wind rose around them. It touched down on each of the four directions blessed by Abby before swirling around the perimeter of the circle like a mini tornado, kicking up dust and debris.

  Worthington pointed the Porsche directly at them and stomped on the accelerator.

  Abby, her hair blowing in the wind, turned to face the spee
ding car, palms extended outward. She screamed, “Evil may not enter!”

  Gabe and Simon stepped up next to her, one on each side. They gripped hands and watched as the headlights grew increasingly bright.

  “Get ready!” Abby screamed.

  Gabe held his breath.

  The Porsche slammed into the invisible barrier with a deafening crash of screeching metal and broken glass. On impact, the rear end of the powerful car swung around in a whiplash effect, the passenger side coming to rest just inches from Abby. The only sound was the tick, tick, tick of the dying engine.

  With a cry of relief, Simon’s knees buckled, and he sank to the ground.

  Gabe offered up a prayer of thanks while Abby lowered the circle.

  Eyes closed, Worthington sat motionless, slumped over the steering wheel.

  Gabe took a cautious step toward the Porsche.

  Worthington’s eyes flew open. She yelled, “Screw you, Delgado,” and bailed out of the car.

  Stunned by her sudden recovery, Gabe lost a few vital seconds before giving chase.

  Worthington ran back toward the gate where a pickup truck driven by one of the security guards was passing through. She threw open the driver’s side door, yanked the surprised man from the pickup, jumped in, slammed the door, and punched the accelerator.

  “No!” Gabe yelled, jumping out of the way as the truck bore down on him. Before she reached the wrecked Porsche, Worthington cranked the steering wheel to the right. The pickup tore through sagebrush and creosote bushes, shimmying from side to side until the tires gained purchase. Once back on the driveway, the engine roared and gravel sprayed as she accelerated.

  “Well, damn,” Gabe muttered, watching the taillights disappear.

  Abby walked up to Gabe and wrapped her arms around his waist. He could feel her body trembling. He pulled her close and murmured into her hair, “Good job, Witchy Woman. You saved my ass again.”

  She smiled up at him. “Don’t worry about Worthington. The FBI will find her. Really, how far can she go?”

  AS IT TURNED out, Abby was wrong. The FBI did arrive at the scene, breaking down each locked door in the farmhouse. Not that Gabe was there to witness the action. Pumped with adrenaline, joy, and relief, the group opted to head for home. After dropping Ricky the security guard at a rest stop, they pointed the van north.

  Two days later, Papi was in the family room watching the national news when he called, “Hurry, they just had the teaser. Maybe we’ll find out what happened to Worthington.”

  Gabe, Simon, Henry, Jacob Landman, and Papi huddled in front of the television. Birdie was on the floor, trying, in vain, to catch Rosie’s thumping tail.

  “An incredible story out of central California,” the anchorman began. “Acting on an anonymous tip, federal agents raided a farmhouse east of Sacramento. Inside, they found more than a dozen people locked in secure rooms. Apparently, the farmhouse is connected to philanthropist Samantha Worthington, owner and CEO of the renowned Scientific Academy of Merit. Although authorities have been less than forthcoming, several former employees told us Worthington was conducting experiments on her captives in an effort to create a more perfect human being.

  “Worthington has eluded capture. On the night of the raid, a security guard reported seeing her enter the laboratory at the Scientific Academy of Merit where DNA samples are stored. When she didn’t re-appear, the guard entered the lab and found it empty. Worthington has seemingly disappeared. Now, here’s Al with the weather.”

  Papi turned the TV off and shook his head. “She’s in the wind.”

  “How’d she do it?” Simon said. “Inject herself with Birdie’s DNA? Does that mean she can vanish whenever she wants?”

  Landman looked grim. “There’s dozens of samples in that lab. God only knows what she’s become.”

  “Does this mean it’s not over?” Henry asked. His voice held a quiver of fear.

  Gabe looked at his daughter playing on the floor. Instead of fear and disappointment, he was filled with power and resolve. Samantha Worthington had given it her best shot. She’d thrown everything she had at Gabe, and he’d handled it. He’d prevailed and she’d snuck off like a thief in the night.

  He threw an arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, little man. We’re Delgados. That blue rose on your butt? It means we’re descended from Spanish royalty. Right, Papi?”

  Simon and Henry groaned.

  “Damn straight,” Papi said.

  “Mess with a Delgado and there will be hell to pay,” Gabe said. “And that goes for Samantha Worthington. End of story.”

  Later that evening, Gabe tucked Birdie into her crib and approached his father who was dozing in his recliner. “Papi? I need a favor.”

  Papi opened one eye. “What?”

  “I need to borrow money from my college fund.”

  Papi’s other eye flew open. “Gabriel, your college fund is sacrosanct. It must not be touched. It is for your future and . . .”

  Gabe held up a hand and explained why he needed the money.

  Papi listened. When Gabe finished, Papi’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Yes, Gabriel, I agree. It must be done.”

  Epilogue

  THE CHANCES FOR a rain-free day in Maple Grove, Washington, in late autumn are slim to none. However, it appeared that Gabe, despite past transgressions, had not offended the weather gods. As his extended family, along with Luanne and Abby Templeton, gathered at Elizabeth Perham’s gravesite, the sun peeked out from behind a dark cloud. The slashing rain subsided to a gentle shower and a rainbow appeared overhead.

  Gabe, holding Birdie in his arms, pointed at the sky. He whispered, “Look, Baby Girl. A rainbow for your mommy.”

  Every person in the group held a blue rose. They formed a semi-circle around the intricately engraved stone, paid in full by Gabriel Delgado.

  Gabe handed the baby to Papi and turned to face the others. “We’re here today to honor Elizabeth Perham, beloved granddaughter of Jacob Landman and mother of Angel Gabriela Perham Delgado. Elizabeth made the ultimate sacrifice, bravely facing death so that her daughter might live. Her life was cut short. She was only sixteen years old when she was brutally murdered, an age when most girls care only about the latest fashion and their social life. I know she loved her little girl. She loved her so much, she gave her up.”

  Gabe’s voice broke. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m still just a kid myself. I’m only eighteen. But, as long as rainbows appear in the sky, as long as there’s a God in heaven, as long as I have breath in my body, I swear I will keep my child safe.”

  Gabe reached out his arms for Birdie. Together, they placed a blue rose on Elizabeth Perham’s gravestone. Each person stepped forward and did the same, covering the stone that featured an angel cradling an infant in her wings and the words, “Elizabeth Perham, 1997-2013. Happy is the heart that believes in angels. Rest in Peace, Lizzie.”

  When the group began drifting back to their cars, Gabe said, “Papi, I need a few more minutes.”

  His father squeezed his shoulder and nodded.

  Gabe squatted next to the gravesite, Birdie in his arms. “Lizzie,” he whispered. “Detective Mackey called me. They used luminal inside the shed where the Hodges had you locked up. He found traces of your blood and questioned Donnie and Sheila separately. He told Sheila that Donnie said she did it. Sheila got ticked off and spilled her guts. You were incredibly brave, Lizzie. They hurt you so bad but you wouldn’t tell them where the baby was. They’re both in jail now, awaiting trial. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  Birdie reached out with both hands and patted the stone. “Eeep!” She looked over her shoulder at Gabe and grinned, displaying two shiny white teeth.

  “Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “What she said. I promise we won’t forget you, Li
zzie. I’ll bring the baby here every week, so you can, you know, keep up.” He choked back tears. “Oh, yeah, one more thing, and then we’ll go. Remember, even though we call her Birdie, she’ll always be your Angel.”

  Gabe stood, bowed his head, and said a silent prayer for the mother of his child. When he turned away and looked toward the parking lot, he saw the others had gone.

  Only his car remained. And standing next to the car . . .

  Abby.

  (Please continue reading to learn more about Marilee Brothers)

  Acknowledgements

  “Nothing happens unless first a dream.”

  —Carl Sandburg.

  My heartfelt thanks to the fabulous women of BelleBooks and Bell Bridge Books for making my dreams come true.

  About Marilee Brothers

  Marilee is either reading and completely oblivious to the world around her, or staring at her computer screen, waiting for inspiration to strike. (She calls it writing.) Every now and then, she can be found upside-down. Praying she won’t pop a vein in the process, she believes the inverted position increases blood flow to the brain. Sometimes, it just makes her dizzy.

  Marilee and her husband, Merl, live in Central Washington State also known as “The Fruit Bowl of the Nation.” Unofficial motto: “We never met a fruit we didn’t like.”

  Having survived teaching high school students and raising three sons, Marilee is now working hard on her next book.