After a pause I asked, “So, your sister wasn’t killed in a car crash?”
She took in a deep breath and visibly gathered herself before continuing. “Yes, actually, she was. However, it wasn’t an accident. She deliberately drove her car onto a railroad crossing, and waited.”
“How can you know she did it on purpose?”
“Trust me, Rowan, she did.”
“Was your sister being treated for depression?” Helen asked, obviously picking up on something in my mother-in-law’s tone that I had missed.
Maggie nodded affirmation then added, “Not that it was doing any good, obviously. Her prescriptions more or less kept her from functioning normally. She couldn’t think clearly, and all she ever wanted to do was sleep. She hated it. Caitlin just reached a point where she simply refused to take them.”
“Given that it was nineteen seventy-two, they were most likely tranquilizers,” Helen said as she jotted a note and then looked up. “Was she ever hospitalized?”
“Briefly. That made for its own embarrassment in the family.”
“Mm-hmm,” Helen hummed with a nod.
“Why would that be embarrassing?” I asked.
“The culture,” she answered with a shrug. “Our generation, the way we were raised. Our parents were not particularly supportive of her for a number of reasons. They felt she had brought the depression on herself, and that she had disgraced the family.”
“Because she suffered from depression?” I asked, unable to fathom such insensitivity from family.
“There were other reasons, Rowan.”
Though I was still managing to keep my growing impatience at bay, I couldn’t help but express my confusion. “Maggie, I’m very sorry to hear this, but I have to be honest, I’m a bit lost. I don’t mean to sound callous myself, but I’m not sure what your sister committing suicide has to do with Felicity having a sister.”
“Caitlin was dealing with a very specific type of depression, Rowan,” she replied.
“Severe postpartum,” Helen offered, already doing math that was escaping me.
“Yes,” Maggie answered.
“And, your sister was unmarried,” she added.
“Correct.”
“Okay,” I replied with a nod. “Maybe I’m just slow because I’m tired, but the way I remember the branches on a family tree, wouldn’t her daughter be Felicity’s cousin?”
She remained quiet and continued to fiddle with her rings. I watched as she repeatedly pulled the bands from her finger, silently inspected them, and then slowly slid them back on.
“Maggie?” I prodded.
She looked up at me and instantly apologized. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“I said Caitlin’s daughter would have been Felicity’s cousin, not her sister.”
“Yes, of course, you would be correct were it not for the fact that Shamus was the father.”
CHAPTER 31:
“So, lemme get this straight,” Ben replied. “Felicity’s old man took a tumble with his sister-in-law and forgot to glove up, so nine months later, oops?”
“Yeah, trust me, Ben, I’m as floored as anyone,” I said into my cell phone. “He’s the last person I would have expected to do something like that.”
“Yeah, well, it’s always the holier ‘n thou loudmouths that got somethin’ ta’ hide, Row.”
“I suppose so.”
I had already filled my friend in on where I was calling from and the highlights of the previous evening that had brought us here. He was already up to speed to some extent, as Helen had contacted him to cancel their plans for Thanksgiving dinner but had, of course, left it up to me to fill in some of the blanks as I saw fit. As it was, I had already managed to put a damper on the holiday for the both of them by calling Helen, and I was feeling a little guilty about it. Not so much so, however, that I was going to even think about hesitating to call Ben. At this point he was one of the few people I trusted, even though he wasn’t actually assigned to the investigation. We would both just have to get over the intrusion.
After quietly mulling over the conversation thus far, he asked, “An’ so you’re sayin’ the sis-in-law was your mother-in-law’s identical twin?”
“It’s not just me saying it, Ben. It’s a fact.”
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that.”
“The lab guys are gonna love this ‘cause identical twins got identical DNA.”
“I figured they’d be close, but they’re identical?”
“Yeah, definitely. Fraternal twins, no. Identical, oh yeah. Can’t fuckin’ tell ‘em apart with a DNA test. You didn’t know that?”
“No. Like I said the other night, genetics really isn’t my forte.”
“Damn, I know somethin’ you don’t. Gotta love that.”
“Go ahead and write it on the calendar, Ben.”
“I keep tellin’ ya’ I ain’t stupid, white man. Besides, they teach us this crap so we can do cop type work. You know, catch bad guys and shit like that.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
“So,” he continued his speculation. “With the identical DNA making it more or less the same mother from a genetics standpoint, and with exactly the same father, the match is gonna be close. Just like siblings.”
“That was my thought.”
“So Firehair’s half-sister is prob’ly a serial killer. Man, that’s fucked up.”
“Uh-huh. I had that thought too.”
He paused for a second then suddenly switched gears. “An’ he’s got the balls ta’ jump in your shit and throw the Bible in your face after him screwin’ around?”
“Yeah, well, we all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we.” I was commenting, not asking.
He was answering anyway. “Maybe so, but most of us try not ta’ be hypocrites about ‘em.”
“I don’t know about that, Ben.”
“Yeah, well I ain’t one.”
“That’s not really my point here,” I returned with a mild note of exasperation.
“Yeah, well, it’s a pet peeve.”
“We all have those too. So, can we get back on track?”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “So, Firehair know any of this yet?”
“Maggie is in there telling her the story right now,” I replied. “Helen thought it might be a good idea under the circumstances.”
“Why ain’t you in there too?”
“Again, Helen. She thought it would be better for me to let them do this one-on-one.”
“Well, sis knows what she’s doing. If she says do it, do it. She’ll take good care of the little woman.”
“I know she will.”
“So, anyway, like you said, back on track. What ended up happenin’ with the kid?”
“That’s the thing,” I told him. “No one is sure where she ended up. Apparently, the family pressured Caitlin to give the baby up for adoption as soon as they found out she was pregnant. The way Maggie explained it, her sister told her she saw the child for all of fifteen minutes before she was taken away.”
“Why’d they lay it all on her? Shouldn’t your father-in-law have gotten the slap down too? I mean it takes two, and, well shit, he was married to their other daughter. He sure’s hell wasn’t lily white in all that.”
“Nobody knew who the father was. Well, not the parents and the rest of the family at least. Just Maggie, her sister, and Shamus were privy to that.”
“Bet ol’ Mags was pissed.”
“Yeah, and I get the feeling she still is to an extent. Or, harboring some resentment at the very least. But she stayed with him. I don’t know why, and I didn’t ask.”
“Yeah, prob’ly a good idea ta’ leave that one alone. So, anyway, why didn’t the sister just get an abortion?”
“I asked the same thing and got a bit of a history lesson,” I explained. “This all happened in nineteen seventy-two. Roe v. Wade wasn’t decided until seventy-three, so it would have been
a back alley deal. But, even so, her parents found out before she could make those arrangements, and they wouldn’t allow it.”
“Jeezus fuckin’ christ, seventy-two…” He paused at the other end, and I heard him mumbling to himself. “Seventy-two…oh-five…” A moment later he directed himself back to me. “Shit, Row, wouldn’t she have been in like ‘er early twenties or somethin’? Couldn’t she make ‘er own goddamn decisions? I mean, the abortion thing maybe not such a good idea, but how could they force her to give up the kid?”
“Yes, she was in her twenties, but it was a different time, and her family was from a different culture, Ben. You’d be amazed at the power parents sometimes hold over their children.”
“Yeah, well someone needs ta’ tell that ta’ mine, the little shit.”
“Like I said, it was a different time.”
“Yeah, ‘pparently. So no one knows what happened to ‘er? The kid I mean.”
“All Maggie knew was what her sister told her. The baby was healthy and female.”
“What about hospital records? Where’d she give birth?”
“She wasn’t at a hospital. She gave birth at a convent or something of that sort, and the baby went straight into a Catholic orphanage. Her parents had made the arrangements and wouldn’t give any information to the rest of the family.”
“Pretty fuckin’ cold if ya’ ask me.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t help us now.”
“Any idea which convent or orphanage?”
“No, only that it was out of state.”
“Great. And, you said her sister is dead, so she can’t even give us a clue.”
“Yeah. She committed suicide something like eight months later.”
“So can ya’ like do a seance or somethin’? Twilight Zone out and have a chat with ‘er?”
“You know it doesn’t work like that.”
“Well, I gotta ask.”
“Yeah, I know. You always do.”
“Shit!” he suddenly exclaimed. “So at least tell me the old farts are still alive, so we can go knock their heads together and see if the address falls out on the table.”
“Unfortunately, her father died almost three years ago, and judging from what Maggie told me, he pretty much ruled the family, so I’m sure he’s the one who made the arrangements. Her mother is still alive, and she might know something of use, but getting to it is a different story. She’s in a nursing facility suffering from severe dementia. According to Maggie, she doesn’t even recognize her when she visits. She thinks she’s an old playmate from school back in Ireland.”
“Fuckin’ wunnerful,” he huffed. “We might have to give it a go anyway. So, any other line on where we could get some info?”
“Well, Maggie’s mom didn’t really end up completely losing it until about a year ago. According to her, they still have a lot of her stuff in storage, and she hasn’t been through all of the paperwork her father had squirreled away quite yet. She’s hoping there might be something in all of that.”
“She’s hopin’? So she’s willin’ to cooperate?”
“She is, but I don’t know what Shamus’s reaction is going to be.”
“Well, ya’know I’m gonna have ta’ take this to the lead investigator with the MCS since I’m not assigned. They might decide to jump on a warrant if they even think there’s gonna be a problem with cooperation.”
“Yeah, I know. Just try to make sure my wife’s name isn’t on it this time.”
“Ouch. You ever gonna get off my ass about that, white man?”
“Eventually, Kemosabe. But not just yet. Maybe after this is all over. Just view it as an incentive.”
“Yeah, fuckin’ great. Just what I need, the Rowan Gant incentive program.”
“Well, you know I’m not going to apologize. Right now I’m still feeling a bit desperate, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Yeah, I understand, Row. Don’t worry, we’re gonna find ‘er. I just don’t know how yet.”
“Do you think Constance could help? The FBI might have some more pull.”
“Yeah, well she’s already on ‘er way here. We were gonna see what we could scrounge up since dinner got cancelled. Prob’ly gonna hit the Chinese place down on the corner. They never close.”
“Sorry. I will apologize for screwing up your holiday.”
“Don’t worry about it. Helen’s dressin’ is always too dry anyway. But, don’t tell ‘er I said that.”
“I’ll keep it between us.”
“So listen, I’ll fill Constance in on everything and see what she says. But, if it’s a convent, who the fuck knows? Might make it even harder gettin’ what we need by havin’ the feebs in the middle of it.”
“Well, I’ll leave that up to you.”
“‘Bout time. I been tryin’ to get ya’ ta’ let us handle the shit for a while now.”
“Well, you’re in luck this time because I’ve got something else to take care of at this point.”
“Yeah, your wife.”
“Her too.”
He was quiet for a moment as he digested my answer then finally said, “Row, what are you plannin’?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Row…”
“Trust me, Ben,” I said. “You worry about this side of the veil, I’ll deal with the other.”
“Jeezus…” he mumbled. “This got somethin’ ta’ do with that Voodoo stuff?”
“Like I said, you don’t want to know.”
“Dammit, Row, you also said ‘trust me’, and I learned a long time ago that when that’s the first thing outta someone’s mouth, then don’t.”
“Yeah, well I think you’re going to have to make an exception to that rule this go around.”
“Don’t go doin’ anything stupid, white man.”
“You know me better than that.”
“Yeah, I do, and that’s ‘zactly why I said it.”
Tuesday, November 29
11:17 A.M.
Saint Louis, Missouri
CHAPTER 32:
“Good morning, Judy,” I called out as I came through the doors and started across the lobby toward the main desk at the hospital. I was trying to remain pleasant, which was a struggle considering where I was and why I was here.
“Good morning,” she answered, giving me a wave.
Helen had quashed my original plan of more or less camping out and working from the hospital before it had even been put into action. I wasn’t happy about it and had even argued with her for the better part of a day. In the end, however, she had convinced me that it would be in my wife’s best interest if she could concentrate on herself and not fret about me worrying myself sick. After a bit of negotiation, we finally settled on a visiting schedule that worked out to one hour in the morning and two in the evening, each day.
The staff had quickly become accustomed to my face since I was in and out, twice daily, like clockwork, so it didn’t take long before I was on a first name basis with most of them. Of course, I had my own ulterior motives for getting to know everyone here that I could. They were the people responsible for the care and well being of my wife during her stay. I needed to be sure that I trusted them with that task, so studying their faces, shaking their hands, and learning their names was just my way of convincing myself it would be all right.
I’m sure I was simply being paranoid, but I’d had plenty of things happen over the past month that had endeavored to make me that way.
“So, how was your evening?” I asked, drawing up to the desk and picking up an ink pen from the countertop. “Did you manage to get out of here on time for a change?”
I was just preparing to sign in on the visitor log when she reached out and put her hand over mine, stopping me from scrawling my name on the page.
“Just a second, Mister Gant,” she said. “Doctor Storm asked to see you as soon as you arrived.”
I was instantly alarmed. “Is something wrong?”
“Honestly,
I don’t know. She just left a message with the desk to call her as soon as you arrived and have you wait in the lobby for her.”
I could tell she was lying, but making that accusation wasn’t going to get me anywhere. However, she didn’t seem to be trying to hide any excessive concern, so I struggled to swallow my sudden rush of panic and dropped the pen back onto the counter.
“Yeah, okay,” I replied. “I guess you’d better let her know I’m here then.”
“If you’d like to take a seat,” she offered with a somewhat forced smile, pointing to the side of the lobby.
I nodded and trudged over to the waiting area, but I didn’t sit. My initial reaction had been that something was wrong with Felicity, but I started trying to discount that because if it were true I would certainly have received a call. I quickly managed to talk myself into believing that rationalization then the next thing reached out and slapped me on the back of the head. It was entirely possible that Helen was going to try to convince me to lessen the frequency of my visits. She had grudgingly given in to the twice per day schedule as it was.
If that ended up being the case, I immediately decided that she was going to need an overabundance of evidence that could prove to me why I should listen. Of course, this entire line of thought easily replaced any lingering sense of trepidation with annoyance, not that trading one anxious emotion for another was any better. However, it didn’t get a chance to grow much beyond that, as I only had to pace for a few moments before a ruffled looking Helen Storm rounded the corner, already shrugging into her coat.
“Let’s talk outside if you don’t mind, Rowan,” she said, not even bothering to slow down as she strode past.
The first thing that struck me wasn’t what she said, but how she said it. While her tone didn’t seem completely off-key, it was harried. However, even more glaring was her choice of words. Helen was very exacting and deliberate in her speech. I had never known her to use two contractions in the same sentence if she could help it, so I instantly knew something had her rattled. Of course, that realization only served to shift me back to my original fear.
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