by Pamela Tracy
“Thanks for your help,” Shelley said, gathering her purse and taking her son from Oscar’s arms. His left foot accidentally bumped against her side, and the pain came, but the weight of carrying a three-year-old didn’t bother Shelley at all. She needed her son’s touch. She just made sure to carry him on the side that didn’t hurt.
Walking out the door and down the hallway, Shelley nodded at a few parents. They were getting used to seeing Oscar, but most seemed to sense that something was different, and they moved out of the way.
“Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?” Shelley hissed once they were away from prying ears.
“Riley’s orders.”
“But—”
“Please don’t ask me.” His voice cracked. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Shelley stopped. She absolutely did not want to take another step. “Oscar, tell me.”
“The only thing I will tell you is that whatever you need, I will be there. Just please come to the station, and even if I have to quit my job, I will be there for you.”
“Oscar,” she whispered, but he simply shook his head.
Anger roared, deep, heavy and hurting. She hustled Ryan to the car and had him in the backseat and buckled in under a minute. Oscar drove up in the squad car. He looked angry, too. Well, that made two of them.
When they finally got to the station, Lucas Stillwater was at the desk. “They’re waiting in back,” he said.
“Who? Who’s here?” Shelley asked.
“Three state troopers as well as...as well as representatives from other government agencies,” Lucas said, his eyes sliding to Oscar.
“State troopers? Other government agencies? Does this have something to do with Larry?”
Lucas moved aside, and Shelley, carrying Ryan, entered a hallway she knew too well and grew to hate more every time she walked it. Voices echoed down the corridor.
“Ma’am.” A man wearing a gray suit and red tie stepped from the interrogation room she’d been in most often. “You must be Shelley Wagner?”
“It’s Brubaker. I’ve gone back to my maiden name.”
“I did, too,” came a voice from inside the room. “I did the same thing the minute Henry left. I wanted everything to do with him gone except for Billy.”
The man in the gray suit held out his hand. “My name is Warren Trimble. I work for the Office of Children’s Issues in the Department of State’s Bureau of Consular Affairs.”
“You work for who? And who’s Billy?”
The man didn’t so much as smile. “I work for the Office of Children’s Issues, meaning I work for a government agency that deals with child abduction or wrongful retention.”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with me?”
Leann Bailey knocked on the door. Everyone quieted. She gave Shelley a sympathetic look and said, “I’m so sorry. I’m here to watch over Ryan. I...” Her words tapered off and tears formed.
“No,” Shelley said, but she wasn’t really talking to Leann. She was coming to a horrible, horrible realization.
“It’s best for Ryan,” Oscar said in a low voice. “Leann’s driven here on her day off because she wanted to help.”
“Help with what?”
“Shelley, if you’ll come in here, we can get to the bottom of this quicker.” For the first time, Shelley felt relief at hearing Riley’s voice. He wasn’t on her side, but he, at least, spoke so she understood him.
Oscar was still beside her, so close she could feel the scratchiness of his uniform. “Come on, Shelley. Let’s figure this out.”
“Figure out what?” Panic peppered her voice.
“Ma’am.” A second man, this one in a black suit and matching tie, stood up. “I’m Karl Culpepper, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Please sit down.”
Shelley’s eyes landed on the other female in the room. A woman with straight brown hair and pale skin.
“When can I see Billy?” she asked Culpepper.
“Who’s Billy?” Shelley asked, not sitting down and not liking this one bit.
“I’ve some pictures and paperwork to show you,” Culpepper said. “But first a few questions.” The brown-haired woman looked vaguely familiar, something about her eyes, how they were spaced, and the shape of the eyebrows.
“Do I know you?” Shelley asked.
“No,” the woman replied. Tears streaked her cheeks.
“Shelley, sit down.” For once, Riley’s words were soft, kind, and that scared Shelley even more. Oscar moved up next to her, taking her elbow, and guided her to her seat.
Sucking in a breath, Shelley asked, “Do I need a lawyer?”
Oscar answered, “You’re not under arrest.”
Culpepper and Mr. Trimble took seats across from her, next to the brown-haired woman. Shelley felt outnumbered. Only Oscar sitting next to her seemed even remotely on her side.
And he’d brought her here.
The man she trusted most had brought her here.
“We’re here because the child you’ve been raising for the last year is Billy Williams.”
“I don’t know any Billy Williams.” Shelley stood, partly because she wanted to get out of there and partly because the pain in her side had kicked in, literally. Every instinct she owned was telling her to get out of there. Grab Ryan, run. But she had a cop on both sides of her—one she was half in love with—and two other men—both in suits, not good—crowding the small room. Shelley glanced at the brown-haired woman and realized she looked like Shelley felt: shell-shocked and ready to throw up.
“Ma’am,” said Culpepper, “we need to hear the story of how you came to have Billy.”
“Ryan. My son’s name is Ryan. Larry had custody papers. I can show them to you.”
Oscar ever so gently guided her back to a sitting position.
She asked, “Does Larry taking custody of his son from an unfit mother and bringing him home to me have to do with his crimes and disappearance or with Candace’s murder?”
Culpepper opened his mouth to answer, but Oscar stopped him and spoke instead. “It appears we have a new crime to add to Larry’s rap sheet.”
The pain in Shelley’s side moved to her back. She straightened, resisting the urge to scream. But the pain wasn’t only physical, and Oscar’s next words didn’t surprise her. “If what the state troopers say is correct, then Larry’s a kidnapper.”
“He kidnapped my son,” the brown-haired woman said softly. “I never stopped looking for Billy. And I was never an unfit mother. If you only knew... If you only knew.”
Shelley wanted to say how sorry she was, but deep down she recognized the truth and knew she’d be even sorrier. Oscar’s arm went around her. She saw Riley shake his head no.
Oscar didn’t remove his arm and said, “Shelley, this is Maureen—”
Culpepper interrupted, “You’ve gotten in way over your head, Guzman, way too involved. Let me take charge. See how it’s done.”
Oscar took his badge off and set it on the table. “I know how it’s done. I’ve handled delicate situations in environments that make your biggest nightmare look like a kindergarten romp. The badge represents my promise to serve and protect. You might remember that.”
Culpepper nodded. He turned to Shelley. “Ryan’s real name is Billy Williams. He went missing on September twelfth.”
“We know that Larry Wagner took him,” Oscar said.
“Henry Williams,” the brown-haired woman said. “My ex-husband Henry took him. Right from his preschool.” She glared at Shelley. “Didn’t you see the Amber Alert or the news? Don’t you know how worried I’ve been?”
Her dad had been sick, and Shelley had been busy caring for him. She’d also been helping Larry inventory goods from an estate sale, the profits
of which he pocketed. Shelley still remembered roaming the internet and looking for comparison prices. If she’d seen a missing-child photo of Billy, she’d have done something.
She never would have let some other mother feel the heartbreak she was feeling now.
“Why would Larry steal a child?” Shelley asked Oscar. “He has no interest in being a father.”
His jaw went tense. “We’re not one hundred percent sure. Anything I said would be speculation.”
“Did he take Ryan to hurt you?” Shelley asked the broken woman sitting across from her.
Ryan’s mother nodded, and Oscar tightened his grip, his hand reassuring.
“Where are you from?” Shelley asked.
“Small town of Belin, Utah.”
Larry’d received some mail from Belin. She’d seen it, but knew better than to open it. Early on she’d felt his wrath when she encroached on what he considered private.
“I’m so sorry.” The pain in Shelley’s back exploded, and she quickly took a couple of deep breaths. “Larry came home with Ryan on September thirteenth, talking about an unfit ex-wife and taking over parental rights.”
“And just like that you believed him?” the woman asked.
“He was my husband. Of course I believed him.”
Shelley had questioned. Larry had photos, documents and even a copy of the arrest of one Angela Wagner, his ex-wife, who Shelley had never heard of. Apparently no such person existed. Across from Shelley was Maureen, who’d been married to Larry, only then his name had been Henry Williams.
Another pain, a warm rush. Worst time for labor.
She nudged Oscar and whispered, “My water just broke.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“HOW LONG HAVE you been in labor?” Oscar asked, helping her stand.
Shelley didn’t answer. Instead she said, “Wait. I need to protect Ryan—”
Oscar didn’t hesitate. “You need to protect both the baby you’re about to have and yourself.”
“This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.” Tears started rolling down her face.
He turned and addressed the people in the room. “Look, do the DNA swab at the hospital. We have to go.”
Looking at Maureen Peterson, he said, “Ma’am, it’s very likely that you and Shelley have a lot in common. You can work together or you can fight. But you’ve spent the last year searching relentlessly for your son. That makes you a hero in my eyes. I also know and love Shelley Brubaker, who went back to her maiden name, and who has been taking excellent care of—” he paused “—a three-year-old who came into her life unexpectedly. I assure you, the boy has enough Legos to build the Statue of Liberty, enough trains to make it from here to California, every DVD of Curious George, and has been hugged enough to know what it means to be safe.”
“It’s true,” Riley said. “Ryan’s had the best of care.”
Teary-eyed, Maureen got choked up.
Shelley gripped Oscar’s arm tightly.
Oscar didn’t waste another minute. He led Shelley from the room and said, “Culpepper, get your car and bring it around front. Riley, you contact Shelley’s doctor and tell him we’re on our way. Everyone else, this conversation will have to take place at a later date.”
Culpepper, shaking his head and muttering something about “never happened before,” hurried from the room.
“Larry did it,” Shelley told Oscar, leaning into him. He felt her weight but it didn’t bother him. If he had to, he’d carry her to the Sarasota Falls Hospital.
“Larry’s capable of anything,” she said. “You can’t stop him.”
Oscar felt his heart break. Shelley’d trusted him. He’d let her down.
“I can walk on my own now,” Shelley protested.
“Believe me, helping you to the car is the easiest burden I’m dealing with.” He marched out the door, waiting only for Lucas to hold it open, and then deposited Shelley in Culpepper’s backseat. He followed her in, holding her hand and saying, “Go ahead—squeeze.”
She looked away from him, shuddering and moaning.
“Drive!” Oscar ordered.
Culpepper floored it.
The Sarasota Falls Hospital was a ten-minute drive on a good day. Culpepper made it in five and pulled up in front of the main doors. Oscar jumped out, shouting, “I’ll get a wheelchair.”
There wasn’t one, not that he could find.
By the time Oscar got back to the car, Culpepper was helping Shelley out of the backseat, and a nurse was hurrying past him, saying to Shelley, “You’ll be fine. Your doctor’s on the way. Let’s prep you.”
Shelley said a four-letter word. The nurse didn’t so much as blink, but Oscar and Culpepper shared a look and followed the nurse, who’d amazingly found a wheelchair and was already in the lobby.
“Should we follow?” Culpepper asked.
“I don’t think so.”
There were no other visitors, and the woman manning the front desk waved them over. “There’s a waiting room down the hall, room twelve. If Shelley wants either of you—” she gave Culpepper a who-are-you? once-over “—that’s where they’ll look.”
“You don’t need to stay,” Oscar told Culpepper. “It’s not like Shelley’s gonna leave without our knowing it.”
“You staying?”
“Until it’s over.” Oscar didn’t just mean the birth. He meant until they caught Larry, and until Shelley didn’t need him anymore.
He hoped he never had to leave.
He’d let her down.
“I’m heading back to the station, then,” Culpepper said. “It’s only right that Ms. Peterson be reunited with Billy. It’s been about a year since he was taken.”
Oscar closed his eyes. As an officer of the law, he had to do what was right, even if it felt all wrong. “And you’re one hundred percent sure that Ryan and Billy are the same child? One hundred percent?”
“I’m so sure that I’d lay my badge on the table if anyone argued.”
Oscar looked down at his chest, where his badge once more hung.
“Townley’s talked a lot about you,” Culpepper said. “He said you were one of the bravest men he’d served with. You tell me, honestly. You’ve seen the photo. Is Ryan Billy?”
Oscar slowly nodded, glad that Shelley wasn’t here.
“We’ll do the swab to confirm, but—” Culpepper’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, checked the number and took the call. Oscar listened to the back-and-forth, even more glad that Shelley wasn’t hearing this.
Ryan had been introduced to Maureen Peterson and remembered her. He’d said, “Mommy, lap” before jumping into it.
“Can’t even imagine all that’s going through your girl’s mind,” Culpepper said, showing he did have a soft side. “I’ve got three boys of my own. The minute they grab hold of your heart, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. I’m also raising a girl from my wife’s first marriage.” Culpepper raised his left hand so that only the baby finger showed. “See this? She’s got me wrapped around hers. Doesn’t matter blood. What matters is the heart. I hope we can get Shelley and Maureen working together. It will make it a whole lot easier on Billy.”
“Ryan,” Oscar corrected him, despite knowing it was wrong.
Culpepper shook his head as he turned and exited the hospital, leaving Oscar alone to walk toward the waiting room.
He was the only one there.
Spotting a chair in the farthest corner, he sat and took out his cell phone, calling Townley, who didn’t answer.
Next he called his aunt Bianca, who said she’d be there after she finished checking a family in.
Minutes passed. Oscar skimmed three magazines. Finally a nurse came in, asked if he was here for Shelley and volunteered to tell
Shelley he was there.
“She knows I’m here.”
“Really? Hmm.”
Oscar wasn’t sure what the interchange meant except that Shelley wasn’t asking for him.
Finally his cell sounded, and he saw Townley’s name on his screen. Oscar took the call and asked, “Have you heard of Billy Williams?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was nothing to tell until today. Culpepper took the call from Maureen Peterson just hours ago.”
“How did she trace Ryan to Sarasota Falls?”
“Your girl’s been on the television quite a bit. One time, the shot included Ryan—er, Billy. It’s a funny thing. As far as we can tell, Larry Wagner didn’t defraud anyone in connection to Maureen. He married her, got her pregnant, and a couple of months after the baby was born, he took off. She tried to find him, but no luck. Then, a year ago, Billy disappeared from his preschool. All we had was that a smallish man had been seen in the neighborhood, very little description. We didn’t know the whole story until Maureen started unraveling it this morning. She’d seen Ryan on television, Googled Shelley, and found a photo of Shelley and Larry.”
“So, why did Larry take Ryan?”
“We’re going to find out,” Townley promised. “Tell me what’s going on down there.”
Quickly Oscar filled Townley in on the day’s events, ending with the fact that he was at the Sarasota Falls Hospital, waiting for Shelley to have her baby.
“And there’s no sign of Larry, LeRoy, Henry, whatever he goes by?” Townley spit.
“No, but the doctor who Shelley uses had an office broken into last night.”
“Anything taken?” Townley asked.
“Not a thing, but the computer was messed with.”
“I keep trying to find a connection. What brought LeRoy to Sarasota Falls, of all places? It’s not a hot spot. He didn’t come looking for a woman with an expensive Victorian to sell.”
“I agree, and I also agree that his every move has something to do with money.”
“It has something to do with Candace,” Townley surmised. “I think from even before Shelley met him.”
