by C. J. Box
Jane Dickenson chuckled in the back seat. “It does look like that downtown, honey. We’re a long way from the Loop.”
“This just looks like houses,” Lucy said, disappointed.
“Where do you think people in big cities live?” Sheridan asked her sister, annoyed.
Lucy shrugged. “I thought they all lived in apartments a hundred floors up. You know, cool places, like on TV.”
Joe thought, What if April hated the sight of him? What if she refused to come back because of what she thought he’d done? What if she was so damaged by what had happened that they didn’t even know her?
STARTING OUT WITH the photograph, library card, stubs for the “El,” and a middle school girls basketball schedule, the FBI had been able to pinpoint the likely location of April Keeley Voricek within a day and a half. Joe had been suitably impressed at what the Bureau could do with their technology, manpower, and a competent leader running the investigation: Special Agent Chuck Coon. Portenson, Coon said, was happy to turn over the case and get out of the way since he had bigger fish to fry: press conferences, conference calls filled with accolades from Governor Rulon, the acting head of U.S. Homeland Security, his superiors in Washington.
Coon said Portenson had already listed his home in Cheyenne for sale.
JANE DICKENSON talked over the heads of the Picketts to Agent Coon.
Dickenson said, “We’re finding out all sorts of things about the Sovereign network. There are a lot more of them out there scattered across the country than we thought. And since they completely distrust the government, they’ve been operating their own child placement operation for years. To be honest, most of the kids seem to be doing pretty well. But in some instances, they’ve shuffled kids from family to family across the country. And because it’s all privately funded—secretly funded, to be more accurate—the kids are under our radar. They’re out of the social welfare system, so we simply don’t know how many there are or where they are. We’re learning a lot, though.”
Coon asked, “How much do you know about Ed and Mary Ann Voricek?”
Joe and Marybeth followed the exchange in silence.
“We have a file on them,” Dickenson said. “But until yesterday it wasn’t high priority. A few years ago a neighbor made a call saying it seemed like there were a lot of children coming and going in that house. A caseworker visited them and saw no signs of neglect or abuse. Since our workload is massive and some of the things we have to deal with are horrendous, we concentrate on the high-priority cases. We just don’t have the manpower to snoop around a house when everything seems in order and the children seem to be on the right track.”
Leslie Doran opened a folder. “The Voriceks seem to take in these kids solely for the money. That’s my take on them, anyway. Neither Ed nor Mary Ann seems to be very committed to the Sovereign movement or survivalist cause. Ed might have had some peripheral contacts with them, but I doubt they’re true believers. If Ed sold Vicki to a brothel like you people say he did, he must have been in a desperate situation because we don’t have any record of similar allegations on him in the file.”
Donnell said, “Ed’s a gambler. He’s got debts to cover. And from what I’ve heard, he’s scared to death of Mary Ann finding out he’s still gambling. That may have been his motivation, the slimeball.”
Coon nodded. “What do we know about Vicki Burgess?”
“Not much. But we think she was in that campground six years ago. We think she might have known April Keeley then. The fact that they apparently reunited here in Chicago is providence.”
Joe closed his eyes.
COON TURNED TO MARYBETH. “What’s Vicki’s condition?”
“More hopeful,” she said, managing a smile. “There has been some brain activity, which is encouraging. The doctors are being cautious but they’ve upped her odds to sixty-forty for a full recovery. But there will no doubt be psychological issues to deal with if she comes out of her coma. And thanks to the Bureau, Vicki’s grandparents were located and have agreed to take her in.”
Coon whistled. “That’s fantastic. She’s still in Rapid City?”
Marybeth shook her head. “She’s been transferred to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. She’s got the very best care.”
Coon looked puzzled. Joe smiled inwardly.
“My mother,” Marybeth explained. “She recently came into quite a bit of money. I asked her to step up and help with the medical expenses.”
Coon looked to Joe and said, “Your mother-in-law is a very generous woman.”
Sheridan stifled a laugh and covered her mouth with her hand. Marybeth shot her a look.
Joe said, “She’s a peach, all right.”
“That she’d agree to pay for the care of a girl she didn’t even know,” Coon said, “I’d call her an angel.”
“Oh, she is,” Marybeth said, straight-faced.
Joe had been in his office and overheard Marybeth talking to her mother about Vicki at the kitchen table. When Marybeth suggested Missy step in, her mother had demurred by pointing out she’d never even met the girl. Joe thought the topic was settled when Marybeth went on to other things. Then, five minutes later, he heard his wife say:
“Is Earl aware that you’re ten years older than you told him you were and that you have four ex-husbands instead of two?”
Missy asked icily, “Why are you doing this?”
“I bet it would be a shock to him if he found out the truth,” Marybeth said conversationally. “Of course, he’d never need to find out if you and the Earl of Lexington performed a particular act of kindness.”
Joe always knew Marybeth could play hardball. She knew no bounds when her maternal instincts took over. Even Missy, who continued to surprise Joe with her ruthlessness, must have felt that she’d finally encountered a worthy opponent in her very own daughter.
THEY WATCHED from the Suburban as the liaison, Doran, Dickenson, and two uniforms knocked on the front door of 18310 Kilpatrick. Sleet had begun to fall and it smeared the windows of the SUV and made all of the dark-clad bodies near the door undulate.
The woman who opened the door was tall and wide and angry. She yelled, “Ed!” over her shoulder.
Ed appeared behind her. He was overweight with a perfectly round bald head and a comb-over that started just above his ear. He wore an open flannel shirt over a black wife-beater, and when he saw the police he went still and turned white.
Joe could see Mary Ann yell at him to do something. Ed didn’t do anything. He looked down at his slippers and stood aside for them to enter. Mary Ann continued to harangue him, but Ed looked beaten.
“That was easy,” Coon said to no one in particular.
In a few minutes, Jane Dickenson stepped back out of the front door and gestured a thumbs-up to the SUV.
“She’s here,” Marybeth whispered. “Are you girls still okay with this?”
Sheridan nodded grimly.
Joe said, “Your mother can go in there with you to talk to her. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“We want to do it alone,” Sheridan said. “If she’s going to talk to anybody, it’ll be us.”
Lucy said, “Do you think they’ll let me use their bathroom?”
IT WAS A LONG HALF HOUR for Joe and Marybeth. While they waited, Dickenson and Doran organized a team of their colleagues to lead children from the house into waiting cars. Joe noted that the children looked well fed and well clothed and normal, and he felt sorry for them. It wasn’t their fault their parents or guardians were Sovereigns and had opted to place them within their network of survivalists rather than government-sponsored foster programs. He hoped they would do as well or better wherever they wound up.
Mary Ann Voricek was brought out with her hands cuffed behind her and stuffed into the back seat of a cruiser. Her face was red and angry. Ed came out more passively. When the police officers led him toward the car Mary Ann was in, Ed stopped and gestured to another one. The officers exchanged smirks and complied.
When Sheridan finally came out the door and made her way toward the SUV, Marybeth sat up straight in her seat.
Coon said, “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I’ll give you folks some privacy.”
“Thank you,” Joe said.
Sheridan climbed in and shut the door. “I can’t believe it’s her, but it is,” she said, flashing a grin. “She’s April, all right.”
“Thank God,” Marybeth said.
Joe felt as if something inside of him had been released.
“Lucy and April are sitting in there catching up,” Sheridan said. “She’s got lots of questions.”
“So do we,” Marybeth said.
Sheridan nodded. “She’s really worried about Vicki, though. She wants to go see her if she can. She said Vicki called her last week and told her what she’d done and that it would be just a couple of days before we’d all be together—April, Vicki, Lucy, and me. She told April we could all be sisters together.”
Marybeth shook her head. There was moisture in her eyes.
“It’s sad, Mom,” Sheridan said. “Vicki sort of worshipped April and April told her everything about our family, including our phone number. Vicki told April on the phone that she wanted to get us all together again—plus her. She just wanted to be a part of a real family. Isn’t that crazy? So when Stenko took her away from here, Vicki said she pretended to be April because April was the strongest girl she knew and she wanted to be strong, too. She told April that Stenko was nice to her and was going to give her money for plane tickets so we could all be together in a place without adults. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I think Vicki had had it with adults,” Sheridan said, grimly looking at Joe and Marybeth.
“My God,” Marybeth said. “I can see why she didn’t trust adults, but . . .”
Joe rubbed his eyes.
“But why didn’t April ever contact us herself ?” Marybeth asked.
Joe knew what was coming by the way Sheridan avoided his eyes.
“She said that the last thing she remembered seeing in the campground that day was Dad standing across the road with all the other cops. She said she thought he was there to save her, but he didn’t. She thought we’d all just thrown her away. You can imagine how that felt to her.”
“That’s so sad,” Marybeth said. “And did you tell her the truth?”
Sheridan nodded.
“Does she believe you?”
“I think so. It helped that it was just Lucy and I. She trusts us.”
Marybeth paused for a long time. She said, “So will she come back with us?”
“I’m not sure, but she doesn’t know where else she will go.”
After Sheridan left and went back in the Voricek house, Marybeth said to Joe, “This may turn out badly. We’ve got to prepare ourselves for that. If she comes out of that house, we’ll need to set up counseling at the very least. There will likely be some really tough days ahead. That girl has been through things we can’t imagine, both before we took her in and for sure the last six years.
“And I’m worried, Joe,” she said, turning away from him, speaking to the rain-moist window. “Can I love her again like she’s mine? Can you?”
Joe said, “I don’t know.”
“Doing the right thing is so hard sometimes.”
APRIL KEELEY and Lucy and Sheridan came out through the front door one by one. When they were all outside on the porch, they stood shoulder to shoulder. April was in the middle. Joe could see Sheridan watching April closely. Lucy, too. April looked straight ahead, toward the SUV.
Joe noticed that the cops, social workers, and Coon stopped whatever they were doing and looked at the three blond girls.
Marybeth got out first. Joe could tell by the way she jammed her hands into her coat pockets that she didn’t want anyone to see they were shaking. He got out and stood behind her.
“April,” Marybeth called, “can I see you?”
April was frozen. Joe studied her without appearing to stare. She was taller, more angular. She had sharp cheekbones and white skin and acne on her cheeks and forehead. Her face was stoic, a mask that revealed nothing, the way it was when they’d first taken her in. She’d looked older than her years then and now her body had grown into the somewhat surly, defiant attitude that had come with her. He remembered how Marybeth described it at the time as a shell of self-protection. In the months before the Sovereigns arrived, the shell had shown cracks. Now, Joe thought, it was harder than ever.
“Go ahead,” Lucy said, reaching up and tugging gently on April’s hand.
April let go and started to walk forward. Marybeth cried out and ran until the two of them embraced. They held each other for a long time.
Joe didn’t move. He waited until April finally raised her head over Marybeth’s shoulder and looked at him. For a moment their eyes locked. For Joe, it was like looking into the eyes of one of Nate’s falcons. Whatever was going on behind those blue eyes was hidden from him and unknowable.
He mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
She blinked as if momentarily touched by his words—a crack in the shell?—and buried her head in Marybeth again. Sheridan and Lucy walked up and hugged them both.
Lucy said, “Come on, let’s go. Wait until you meet Tube. He’s our new dog.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to sincerely thank those who contributed to the research and construction of this novel, including Sherry Merryman, Bill Stafford, Richard Bower, Mark and Mari Nelson, Todd Scott, and Kevin Guilfoyle. Kudos to the terrific Putnam and Berkley team, including Rachel Kahan, Ivan Held, Michael Barson, and Summer Smith. Thanks to Don Hajicek for www.cjbox.net. And my deep appreciation to Molly, Becky, and Laurie Box and Ann Rittenberg for their careful reading and invaluable suggestions.
