I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Dawn Stewardson

  “Yes, anything,” Ali murmured, thinking how much she’d do to save her son’s life. “So, if Celeste’s the more likely one, where do we go from here?”

  “I think you should pay her a visit.”

  “Me? You mean alone?”

  “Uh-huh. She’d be less open if you brought a stranger along. But you think she’s home now?”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “Then you should just drop in unannounced and see what reactions you get—one-on-one, face-to-face.”

  “But what if I don’t get any further with her than we did with Vinny?”

  “Then we’ll try Nancy. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Ali.”

  She gazed at him, desperately wanting to believe what he was saying.

  “And we’re going to do it fast,” he added firmly. “While you’re seeing Celeste, I’ll check around and find out what I can about Kent.”

  “But he’s out of town, remember? Nancy mentioned that last night.”

  “Well, I can find out a lot about him regardless of where he is. And if it turns out he really isn’t out of town, after Nancy said he was...”

  “You think she was lying?”

  “Who knows. But we can’t chance taking anything we’re told at face value.”

  “I hate this,” Ali said, as much to herself as to Logan. “I hate that somebody has my son and I hate not knowing how to get him back. I hate that this is like a big puzzle with a bunch of the pieces missing. And I hate that I’m suspecting my friends of doing something so unspeakably awful. I just...oh, I just want this to be over and Robbie to be home. Is that wanting too terribly much?” Her eyes began swimming with tears and she tried to blink them away.

  Logan draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s going to be over,” he murmured against her hair. “And Robbie’s going to be home. But right this minute, we don’t know who or what we can believe. So we’re just going to have to poke around until we hit pay dirt. You can handle that, Ali.”

  She took a deep breath and told herself he was right. She could handle it. And she would. In just a minute or two, she’d go upstairs and get ready to visit Celeste.

  But she was so frightened for Robbie. Just so frightened. And it felt so warm and safe in Logan’s embrace that she wished she could stay right where she was forever.

  Then she guiltily thought about how alone Robbie must feel. There was no one holding him close. No one making him feel warm and safe—not even for a minute.

  The image of the little boy she loved, all on his own, brought fresh tears to her eyes.

  * * *

  ALI PULLED INTO Celeste’s driveway, cut the engine, then simply sat staring at the house. A rambling ranch-style, it was far too big for one person. But Celeste hadn’t sold it after Bob’s father had died, almost ten years ago, and now she lived here with only her memories.

  Inside, framed photographs were everywhere. They covered the top of the baby grand she still played, the dressers in the bedrooms, and every other likely surface. Most were pictures of her husband, of Bob and of Robbie.

  “I just can’t bear to think about selling,” she always said, and Ali could understand why. It was a welcoming sort of house.

  Right now, though, it was one of the last places on earth she’d be if she had a choice. She’d spent the entire drive over trying to think of what she should say, but she still hadn’t even come up with a good opening line.

  “Play it by ear,” Logan had said—far from the most helpful advice he’d ever given her.

  She made herself get out of the car and start for the front door, her thoughts spinning. It would be one thing if she was certain Bob had asked his mother for help. Certain that Celeste knew he was alive. But it was entirely possible she didn’t.

  As far as Ali knew, Celeste had never suspected her son was anything but an upstanding citizen. She’d thought the sun rose and set on Bob, and he’d always relished that. So, given the way his mind worked, the last thing he’d want to do was tarnish his mother’s image of him. And telling her he’d faked his death and was holding Robbie for ransom would certainly have done that.

  Which meant Bob would have been pretty desperate before he’d have contacted Celeste. Of course, he was desperate, so maybe he had turned to her for help. And if he had, maybe Celeste had been persuaded to go along with his scheme. As Logan had said, helping save her child’s life would motivate a mother to do just about anything.

  Ali hesitated at the door, unable to make herself ring the bell. She wasn’t a detective and she didn’t have any idea how to go about this. If there wasn’t so much at stake, she’d turn and run. Then the door opened and it was too late to do anything but proceed.

  “Why, Ali,” Celeste said, “what a surprise.” She smiled to show it was a welcome one, and pushed back a wisp of white hair that had escaped her usually perfect French knot.

  Ali eyed her closely, but Celeste looked exactly as she always did. She could easily have been on her way to audition for a modeling job with a seniors fashion magazine.

  “I heard the car,” she went on, her smile deepening the little lines around her blue eyes. “And I’ve been waiting for a delivery so I thought that’s what it was. But you’re alone, dear?” she asked, peering out toward the driveway. “Robbie’s not with you? He still has school this week?”

  “Yes...yes, the break doesn’t start until Thursday.”

  “Oh, well, come in out of the cold. I’m afraid the living room’s a mess. I’m just in the midst of wrapping presents and...oh, now that you’re here I can show you the darling Blue Jays uniform I got Robbie. He’s going to look exactly like a little ball player in it.”

  Ali tried to smile but couldn’t. It had taken all of sixty seconds for instinct to tell her Celeste hadn’t heard from Bob. The desire to turn and run came back full force. But yesterday, she’d been positive that Vinny was their man. So she couldn’t trust her instincts. Like it or not, she was going to have to make absolutely certain that Celeste wasn’t their woman.

  She followed along into the living room, and when Celeste began rummaging through the pile of unwrapped presents she took the opportunity to glance around—hoping something strange would leap out at her. Nothing did.

  She could see only two things that were different. A Christmas tree was standing in front of the baby grand, its branches hiding that particular collection of photographs. And, as Celeste had said, the living room was a mess—according to her standards, at least. Normally there wasn’t a thing out of place. Today, the carpet was littered with wrapping paper and ribbon.

  “Here it is,” Celeste said, holding up a little Blue Jays uniform. “Isn’t this the sweetest thing you ever saw?”

  Ali forced a smile. “Robbie will love it.”

  “And look,” Celeste said, turning it back to front. “Number twelve.

  “That’s Robbie Alomar’s number,” she elaborated when Ali stared blankly. “Robbie Alomar...Robbie Weyden.”

  “He’ll really love it.”

  “I know. The salesclerk told me she gave one to her grandson for his birthday and he wants to wear it all the time. He even tried to wear it to bed one night. They didn’t have such darling things when Bob was a little boy. The only cute outfit I can remember...” Celeste paused, her eyes glistening.

  “Sorry,” she said, quickly wiping them. “I know it’s been a long time now but...they say losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a woman, and I think they’re right. Even when it’s an adult child. And—Ali, I know I don’t say things like this very often—not often enough, I’m sure. But I’m so glad Robbie’s still in my life. Robbie and you, dear.”

  Ali’s throat was suddenly tight and her own eyes filled with tears. Why didn’t she just turn around and walk out of here without saying a word about either Bob or Robbie? Celeste hadn’t played any part in Bob’s plan. That was perfectly obvious. And once Robbie was safely home, what had happened wouldn’t seem so horrific.
It would be easier on Celeste to hear about it after the fact.

  An imaginary voice whispered that Robbie might never be safely home, but Ali closed her ears to it. He would be. So what was the point in making Celeste frantic with worry now? She considered that for a moment, then reminded herself how much was at stake. She couldn’t risk even the slightest chance that what seemed perfectly obvious might not be.

  She looked back at Celeste, who was carefully refolding the little uniform, and cleared her throat.

  “Would you like some tea?” Celeste asked, glancing at her. “Or coffee?”

  “No, but there’s something I have to talk to you about. Would you mind sitting down for a minute?”

  “Oh, dear,” Celeste murmured, looking crestfallen. “There’s a problem with Christmas dinner, isn’t there. I suspected that when you didn’t call me back yesterday. But if something’s come up it’s all right. You know my friend, Margie? Next door? Well, she invites me to go there every year and—”

  “No, it isn’t about Christmas dinner.”

  Celeste hesitated, then sat down on the couch.

  Ali sank into one of the chairs that faced it, still vainly searching for the right words.

  Even though Celeste was in good health, she was seventy-three years old. Hearing that her dead son wasn’t actually dead might be enough to give her a stroke all by itself, without the added news that he’d taken Robbie.

  “What is it, Ali?” Celeste asked, concern creeping into her voice. “What’s wrong? Is it Robbie? Is he ill?”

  “No...no, he’s not ill but...someone took him. On Sunday. While we were at that Christmas party I told you we were going to.”

  “Took him?” Celeste whispered, her face growing whiter than her hair. “You mean kidnapped him?”

  “Well, it was sort of a kidnapping, but not exactly. It was someone I know.”

  “Ali, I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  “Celeste, this is going to shock you, but...Bob isn’t actually dead. He faked his death because—because he was in trouble. And he couldn’t let anyone know he was really alive. Not even you.” Celest of folks got emble, so Ali quickly moved to the couch beside her and took her hands.

  “That can’t be true,” Celeste finally whispered.

  “It is. I’ve talked to him. He phoned me.”

  “Alive,” Celeste murmured. “But...no. No, that isn’t right. If Bob was alive, he’d have phoned me, Ali.”

  Her heart began aching for Celeste. Seeing the woman’s reaction made her even more certain she’d known nothing. But now that she’d started explaining, she had to finish.

  “Celeste, it was Bob. But because of this trouble he’s in, he’s going to have to disappear again. And he thought it would be better if everyone just went on believing he’s dead. That’s why he didn’t phone you. He’s never going to be able to see you again, so he thought— He’s doing what he felt was best for you.”

  “He felt it was best for me not to know he’s alive? To go on thinking my only son is dead?”

  Celeste’s pain was palpable, and the tears trickling down her cheeks almost started Ali crying as well.

  “But why, Ali?” she whispered. “If he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s alive, why did he tell you? If he contacted someone, why wasn’t it me?”

  “Because he was the one who took Robbie,” Ali made herself say. “He wants the insurance money from me, and he took Robbie to make me give it to him.”

  “No,” Celeste whispered. “Oh, no, Bob would never do anything like that. Ali, you must be wrong. Somebody else phoned you, pretending to be Bob. Somebody else took Robbie. Somebody else wants the money from you. That has to be it. But what’s going to happen? What’s going to happen to Robbie?”

  Celeste’s voice had taken on a sharp edge of hysteria, so Ali squeezed her hands tightly and said, “Just listen to me. Listen to what I’m saying. It wasn’t somebody else. I spoke to him three separate times, and it was definitely Bob. And because it was, I’m going along with what he wants and just praying Robbie will be fine.

  “I...Celeste, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I had to tell you this. But it’s not all bad, is it? Your son is alive. So even though you won’t be able to see him, doesn’t knowing that he isn’t dead...” Her words trailed off as Celeste pulled her hands free and furiously waved her away—tears streaming down her face now.

  Ali edged off the couch and backed across the room, not knowing what to do. Turning to the window, she glanced past her car to the house next door. That was where Celeste’s friend, Margie, lived. So maybe she should run over there and...

  Her gaze came to rest on the baby grand. Now that she was standing beside the tree its branches weren’t blocking her view of the piano.

  Sensing there was something different about it, she mentally inventoried the photographs on display and realized one was missing.

  The school picture of Robbie she’d given Celeste only a month ago.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU POSITIVE? ”Logan demanded, grabbing a couple of mugs from Ali’s cupboard—so fiercely she thought he’d pull the handles off. “You’re positive she hadn’t realized the picture was gone?”

  Ali made a helpless little gesture with her hand. She was positive, but it was clear that Logan didn’t want to believe her, didn’t want to eliminate Celeste as a possibility.

  “I’m as positive as I can be,” she finally said. “Logan, by the time I noticed that picture was missing, the poor woman was practically hysterical. She swore she had no idea what had happened to it, and I believed her. I think Bob just went in and took it.”

  “Without leaving any sign of a break-in?”

  “She keeps a spare key in the garage, and he knows where she hides it. He knows she never misses church on Sunday morning, too, so he could easily have slipped in and out then.”

  Logan ran his fingers through his hair and stared out into the gathering darkness.

  He looked so upset that Ali could tell he was thinking along the same lines she was. Another day was almost gone, and they were no further ahead than they’d been on Sunday. How were they ever going to find Robbie when Bob had thought about every single detail? Right down to getting a recent photograph, so that whoever was supposed to take Robbie would be sure to get him, not one of the other little boys at the party.

  “I really don’t think,” she finally murmured, “that there’s even the slightest chance Celeste knew Bob was alive. You didn’t see her, Logan. I felt...I just felt so awful about what I was doing to her.”

  “Hey,” he said quietly. “This whole thing’s awful, and you only did what you had to. I guess I was getting pretty short with you there, but I didn’t mean to. It’s just that when I didn’t find anything at Kent’s, I was hoping to hell you’d gotten someplace with Celeste.”

  “It’s okay. I know.”

  “Well...look, I’m going to call Cody, okay? Just check in with him before we go to Nancy’s?”

  “Sure.” Ali turned back to the coffeemaker as Logan reached for the phone, and she tried not to think how much she wished she could simply dial a number and talk to Robbie.

  “Hi, Dad,” Logan said after a minute. “Cody behaving himself?”

  Not wanting to listen, Ali stood watching the coffee trickling down through the filter and reviewing what they’d learned today. Or, rather, what they hadn’t learned.

  Kent, Logan had established, really was working out of town this week. And when Logan had “checked out” his apartment, he’d turned up nothing even slightly suspicious. Definitely nothing for them to follow up on. Absently, she wondered again how Logan had gotten in. But when she’d asked, all he’d said was that he’d picked up some useful tricks while doing research for his books—and that he’d just as soon she’d forget about his bending the law.

  Of course, it wasn’t how he’d gotten into Kent’s apartment that mattered. The important thing was that he’d found nothing helpful. Which left them with on
ly one suspect. And if they drew a blank with her...

  Ali pushed her hair back from her face, not wanting to even think about that. A few hours ago, she’d been certain Nancy couldn’t have had anything to do with taking Robbie. Now she’d reached the stage of hoping Nancy had been in it up to her eyebrows. If they were ever going to learn where Robbie was, they had to get a lead from somebody. The trickle of coffee had slowed to an irregular drip, so Ali switched off the maker, thinking that even though she wasn’t much of a drinker, she’d far prefer a gin and tonic. A very stiff one.

  But she wanted her head clear in case...well, for whatever happened next.

  Chapter Eleven

  While Nancy was taking their jackets, Logan gave Ali a thumbs-up for encouragement. It didn’t make her feel even slightly encouraged. She just hadn’t been able to convince herself they were going to learn anything more useful from Nancy than they had from either Vinny or Celeste—or from Kent’s apartment, for that matter.

  “Well, let’s go sit down,” Nancy said, turning from the closet.

  In jeans and a sweatshirt, instead of one of her social-worker-style suits, and with her hair loose, instead of pulled back the way she wore it to work, she looked very young. Very young and very innocent, Ali thought morosely. No movie director in his right mind would ever cast her as a kidnapper’s accomplice.

  When they reached the living room, Nancy gestured Ali and Logan to the couch, then sat down across from them, saying, “So, can you let me in on what’s happening yet, or is Bob still telling you not to say anything?”

  “Actually,” Ali said, “there’s not much to let you in on. Bob still has Robbie and...well, the longer this goes on, the more worried I’m getting.”

  “Of course,” Nancy murmured. “Of course you are.”

  Ali glanced unhappily at Logan. When they’d planned their strategy, they’d decided she’d do the talking and he’d concentrate on Nancy’s reactions. But now that the time had come to talk, she didn’t know if she was up to it. Nancy was an intelligent woman. She would be bound to realize they suspected her, no matter how hard Ali worked at not letting it sound that way.