by Leslie Gould
Six rings. Seven. Eight. Tommy’s voicemail came on.
The woman said, “Wanda Miller?”
The voicemail beeped and started recording. Numbly, I held the phone in my hand without speaking.
“Jah, that’s me.”
“I’m Cheryl Johnson, a case manager with Indiana Children’s Protective Services.” The woman stepped into the living room and closed the door behind her as we all stared. “I have a court order to take Mason Miller into protective custody.”
MAMMI HAD THE presence of mind to offer the woman a cup of tea. “And then let’s all sit down so you can explain what’s going on,” she said.
I slipped back down the hall to the back bedroom and ended the call to Tommy. If he wasn’t in jail, he’d have the weirdest message ever. I immediately called Deputy Rogers, although I didn’t expect he’d answer. But he did.
I blurted out, “Did you arrest Tommy Miller this morning?”
“Affirmative,” he answered.
I suspected Catherine knew what she was talking about, but it still shook me to hear it from Deputy Rogers. “Listen,” I said, “I’m at Wanda Miller’s house and there’s a CPS case manager here trying to take Mason.”
“I know,” he said. “With your information about the boy, I got a court order yesterday, but it was late. Last evening, I spent quite a bit of time questioning Kenny and Miriam too. In the meantime, Tommy had already dropped the boy off at . . .” He paused. “At Wanda Miller’s. We had to reroute the CPS manager.”
I guessed Kenny must have facilitated the deputy’s conversation with Miriam the evening before. My thoughts quickly turned to Mason.
I cleared my throat and then said, “Mason should stay here with Wanda. You’re going to traumatize him by taking him away from her.”
Deputy Rogers snorted. “I’m going to traumatize him? That’s on Tommy,” he said. “He’s the one who involved an innocent child in all of this.”
“No, that’s on Kenny. Tommy’s trying to help.”
“So he says.”
I exhaled and then asked, “What do you mean?”
“Do we know for sure that the child isn’t Tommy’s son?” Deputy Rogers voice grew louder. “Maybe he just told you the boy is Kenny’s.”
I flinched. I hadn’t thought of that. Had Tommy lied to me?
I managed to keep my composure. “Regardless,” I said, “there’s no reason Mason can’t stay with Wanda. She’s been caring for him since September.” I concentrated on lowering my frantic pitch. “He’s attached to her.”
“She could be a flight risk.”
“She’s an Amish grandmother,” I said, exasperated. “She’s not going anywhere.”
When he didn’t answer, I asked, “Do you have children? Grandchildren?”
There was a long pause and then he said, “Is the case worker still there? Could I speak with her?”
“Yes and yes.” I quickly jogged down the hall.
As I entered the living room, I extended my phone to Cheryl, saying, “Deputy Rogers would like to speak with you.”
A puzzled expression settled on her face as she took the phone. She listened for a moment and then stepped to the front door and opened it. “I’d need to take a closer look around, of course. And you would need to get the court order reversed. . . .” She stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her.
Wanda pulled Mason from her lap and into a hug while I began to pray. Hopefully God was appealing to Deputy Rogers’s paternal side, if he had one. Finally, Cheryl returned, handed me my phone—the call was over—and sat back down. Mammi quickly appeared with cups of tea, and then Cheryl turned toward Wanda. “Could I ask you some questions to see if perhaps this would be the right place for Mason to stay, at least for the time being?”
Wanda nodded.
Cheryl took a clipboard with a piece of paper on it from her briefcase. “I’ll also need to take a look around.”
“All right,” Wanda said. Mason began to squirm and then wiggled down to the floor. Mammi motioned to him, and he followed her into the kitchen.
Cheryl asked Wanda about accommodations in the house for a child.
“I’ve babyproofed it,” Wanda answered. “All of the cleaners are on the top shelf in the kitchen. I don’t take any medications, so there are none in the house. The toilet seat has a lock on it. There’s a barrier around the wood stove, and I’ve draped all of the cords to the window coverings over the rods. Tommy did all of it for me.”
“Great.” Cheryl marked the sheet of paper. “How about outlets?”
Wanda grinned. “Those aren’t a problem either.”
“Covered?”
“No. I don’t have any,” Wanda said.
“Oh.” Cheryl smiled and shook her head. “Forgive me. I knew that—I just forgot. What kind of lamps do you have?”
“All battery operated. Tommy insisted.”
Cheryl kept asking questions, eventually landing on the topic of discipline, corporal punishment in particular.
“That’s never been my style,” Wanda answered.
Cheryl asked about nutrition next. “What sort of meals do you serve?”
“All home cooked.” She nodded to the kitchen where Mason sat at the table with a bowl of apple slices in front of him. “Mason is a good eater.”
Cheryl continued with the questions, asking if Wanda would cooperate with authorities and any permanent plan for the child. Wanda hesitated and then said, “Jah.”
“Can you keep all information that may be relayed to you private?”
“Definitely.”
“All right,” Cheryl said. “I need to look around.”
Wanda showed her the kitchen, where Mason still sat at the table, now eating peanut butter on homemade bread. Then Wanda led Cheryl down the hall to Mason’s room. I didn’t follow them, but when they returned, Cheryl asked, “Does anyone else live here with you?”
Wanda shook her head. “Just Mason, during the days. And sometimes he spends the night.”
“Do you travel much?” Cheryl asked.
Wanda shook her head. “I don’t travel at all. I haven’t left Elkhart County in nearly a decade.”
Cheryl jotted that answer down and then looked up at Wanda. “Thank you for your time and for providing a good home for Mason.” Then she said, “Excuse me just a minute. I need to make a phone call.” She pulled out her phone and stepped out onto the porch again. Mason slipped down from his chair and toddled over to Wanda. She lifted him up and he settled on her hip, patting her shoulder as he did.
Wanda gave me a questioning look. I shrugged. Mammi stepped to Wanda’s side. It felt as if we were all holding our breath—except Mason, who started blowing spit bubbles. All three of us burst into laughter as Cheryl opened the front door.
Silence fell over the room. Even Mason stopped his silly behavior, seeming to comprehend the seriousness of the moment.
“I’ve talked with the judge and with my supervisor,” Cheryl said. “We’re all three okay with leaving Mason with you, at least until Monday.” She handed Wanda her card. “Call me if you have any problems. Otherwise I’ll be in touch on Monday.”
I held my breath, expecting her to ask if Wanda had a phone, fearful she’d think the phone shack inadequate. Thankfully, she didn’t and instead told all of us good-bye.
Mason shouted a hearty, “Bye-bye” and waved.
The rest of us, as soon as she closed the door, breathed a sigh of relief.
I WAITED UNTIL Cheryl had driven away and then went out to my car, leaving Mammi with Wanda and Mason. I wanted to go see Joshua. But first I needed to see Tommy at the jail, although I doubted I’d be allowed to. I decided to call Deputy Rogers again, but just as I pulled out my phone, it rang.
Ryan. I went ahead and answered it.
“Savannah, I’m working on getting my credit card stuff figured out,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to cheat you.”
Cheat me? That was an inter
esting choice of words.
He must have realized his faux pas because he said, “You know. Make you pay.”
“When do you think it will be figured out?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But soon.” There was a long pause. “I was also wondering if we could talk.”
“Aren’t we doing that now?”
“I mean in person. When are you coming home?”
I couldn’t breathe. He wanted to talk. Did he want me back? I forced myself to inhale—and come to my senses. “I have a lot going on out here.”
“Like what?”
“Spending time with my grandmother. Job interviews.”
“Interviews? But you have a job.”
“I resigned.”
He didn’t respond.
“Look,” I said. “I need to get going. I appreciate you taking care of things with the vendors. I really do. But I need to go. Bye.”
I hung up before he could say anything and didn’t accept the call when he immediately called back. Instead, I called Deputy Rogers.
When he answered, I said, “Savannah here.”
“What do you want?”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “Thank you for being flexible and allowing Mason to stay with Wanda.”
“It’s just until Monday.”
“Any chance Kenny can take him by then?”
“Probably not. Mason’s mother does want him back, and CPS in Nevada approves.”
“How will he get there?”
“A caseworker from there will probably fly here and escort him back,” Deputy Rogers said.
“Is there any chance I can talk with Tommy? I’m going out to Vernon and Arleta’s to see Joshua, to see if he has an idea where Miriam might be, but I thought Tommy might be able to offer some insight first.”
“I already talked with both Tommy and Joshua.”
“Right,” I said. “But maybe Tommy will open up with me a little bit more. And Joshua too. If I ask him questions in Pennsylvania Dutch, he might be more likely to answer.”
“There’s no chance of that.”
“There might be,” I replied. “Tommy too.”
“Why would Tommy give you information he wouldn’t give me?”
“He might,” I responded. “I’ll pass on what he says.”
Deputy Rogers didn’t respond right away but finally said, “All right. Visiting hours end at two thirty. I’ll meet you at the police station.”
Ten minutes later, I drove past city hall to the police station, which also housed the Nappanee jail. At least Tommy hadn’t been transferred to the Elkhart County jail in Elkhart yet. Deputy Rogers met me at the door and led the way back to the jail.
“So where is Kenny now?” I asked.
“At his apartment,” the deputy answered. “He doesn’t have his car, so he’s not going anywhere.”
I didn’t want to push too far, considering he was letting me see Tommy, but I did say, “That seems awfully trusting on your part.”
“Everything he said has panned out. One person said Tommy sold him fentanyl, including on the night of New Year’s Eve.” Deputy Rogers stopped in front of a door. “That cell phone Tommy said was Kenny’s is actually Tommy’s.”
“Where was Kenny all this time?”
“Searching for Miriam.” Deputy Rogers crossed his arms. “When he found her, he brought her back here, but Tommy intervened and tried to send her away again. Kenny said it’s not the first time he’s done this. Kenny said Tommy was questioned in Las Vegas for the same thing, but there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest him. ”
Maybe, just maybe, Tommy could be involved in selling drugs. But I couldn’t believe he’d traffic Miriam—or anyone else. “Could you corroborate what Kenny said?”
“I’m working on it.”
I nodded toward the door to the jail. “Is Tommy in there?”
He nodded. “You need to check your purse, phone, all of your belongings and go through a metal detector. Then you can see him.”
After I’d shown my license, checked my stuff, and walked through the metal detector—with my arms crossed over my chest so the wires in my bra wouldn’t set it off—they led me into a supervised room with tables. Tommy was the only other person who wasn’t an employee in the room. Deputy Rogers stood, with a guard, at the back of the room.
I slid into the seat across from Tommy.
He met my eyes. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“But I did,” I said.
“Mason is with my mom, but I’m afraid they plan to take him. Could you check in on him?”
“I already did.” I told him about the caseworker and that his mom could have Mason until the court decided what to do. “What happened? What did Kenny tell Rogers?”
“That I’ve been selling fentanyl. And that I kidnapped Miriam on New Year’s Eve night and drove her to Chicago.”
“Not Gary?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll give them Ethel’s address.”
“I already did,” Tommy said. “Rogers tried to contact her but couldn’t reach her. And then an officer in Gary went to the house and no one was there.” He shrugged. “By then, Rogers had interrogated two people who supported Kenny’s testimony, including Miriam.”
“So then Deputy Rogers arrested you?”
He nodded. “Kenny said that I left Miriam with a trafficker and that I had plans to kidnap more Amish girls, and Englisch ones too. That my plan was to get more kids hooked on fentanyl and then steal them too. Rogers cited an Indiana code, charging me of intentionally removing another person from one place to another by threat of force.”
“Wow.”
“Kenny told Rogers the phone I said was his is really mine. And he’s kind of right—it’s on my account, but I was trying to help him out.” He put his head in his hands. “I don’t blame Rogers for believing Kenny. He’s pretty persuasive, and the phone thing convinced him I was lying about everything.”
I lowered my head, trying to meet his eyes. “But why would Kenny say all of that?”
“He’s angry with me. Mad I got involved with taking Mason back to Vegas. Mad I was going to stay there. Mad he’s been such a bad father . . .” Tommy shook his head. “Kenny has refused all of these years to get help. I don’t know what’s going to make him change.”
“Did you tell Deputy Rogers all of that?”
“I tried.”
“And he still believed Kenny?”
Tommy nodded. “Like I said, he’s convincing. Charming. Gregarious. Anything I said seemed to make Rogers believe Kenny even more. It was déjà vu.”
I leaned toward Tommy. “What do you mean?”
“Back when we were teenagers, something similar happened.” He sighed. “Deputy Rogers is even questioning who Mason’s father is. He’s sure it’s me—and Kenny didn’t correct him. But I shouldn’t go on about Kenny anymore, not now.”
I exhaled, grateful he’d brought it up. Instinctively, I didn’t think Tommy would lie about that. It didn’t make any sense. And Wanda seemed sure that Mason was Kenny’s son. I couldn’t think of any reason that Tommy would deceive his own mother.
“Deputy Rogers said Kenny’s at your apartment,” I whispered. “Should I go by?”
Tommy shook his head.
My voice was barely audible now. “What should I do?”
“Find Miriam.” I could barely hear Tommy. “She took off in Kenny’s car—and it doesn’t sound as if she went back to Gary.”
I leaned even closer to him. “Did she really steal Kenny’s car?”
“No, he said he gave her permission to take it.” He touched my wrist, sending a shiver down my spine. “See if you can find her.”
“All right,” I said. “I was going to go out to Vernon and Arleta’s and talk to Joshua. Hopefully he has an idea where she is. Or maybe she’ll contact him.”
“Yes, go. But if you find out where she is, take someone with you. We don’t know what Kenny’s
really been up to or who he’s been dealing with.”
“Like?”
He glanced toward the back of the room. This time he didn’t whisper. “How about Deputy Rogers? Maybe he’d go with you.”
CHAPTER 22
As Deputy Rogers escorted me from the jail, he asked if I’d found out anything more. “No,” I answered. “But could I speak with you in private?”
He stopped in the hallway and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You can speak to me here.”
I squared my shoulders, wishing I could match his in-charge attitude, but I knew I couldn’t. “I was wondering,” I said, “if you would go with me to Chicago to look for Miriam.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
He raised his brows and then said, “I have too much to do here—another lead to follow concerning Tommy.”
Without thinking it through, I blurted out, “Do you think your bias toward him is affecting the investigation?”
His hands dropped to his side, hovering over his gun and baton. “What did Tommy tell you?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Absolutely nothing. You just seem determined to ‘get’ him.”
He shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. “You have no idea what kind of person Tommy really is. He’s not the boy you remember and hasn’t been for the last decade.”
“Decade? I have no idea what he did that made you so mad, but the span of a person’s life from nineteen to twenty-nine involves a lot of brain development and maturity. Have you taken that into consideration?”
His expression went flat, and his eyes narrowed. “Leave this investigation to me. Do not go to Chicago. Do not go looking for Miriam. I have this under control.” Without saying good-bye, he turned on his heels and strode back toward the jail.
I cringed. Would he take out our conversation on Tommy? Perhaps Deputy Rogers was afraid I would find Miriam, that she’d contradict all of his theories.
That’s what I hoped, at least. There was still a part of me that feared Deputy Rogers might be right and Tommy was lying. But I was more determined than ever to go to Chicago and see what I could find.
But first I needed to speak with Joshua again. I went straight to Vernon’s farm, arriving just before three thirty. After I parked, I checked in the barn, hoping Joshua was there and I could speak to him privately. No such luck. It was empty except for the calves in their pens and a kitten that darted away from me.
