The Stage is Set
Because we couldn’t make up our minds, we bought enough ingredients for four cakes, all different flavors – chocolate, marble, vanilla, and Fun-fetti, as well as icings to match. When we got back, we opted to work out of my house because of its larger kitchen. After much debate on the car ride home, we decided to start with the chocolate cake, thinking it was Joshua’s favorite. I had a great recipe, one of my specialties to bring to neighborhood events that called for coffee, oil, and milk, so I dug through my card file until I found it. Even though it was only 3:00 in the afternoon when we started, the wine glasses came out shortly into the preparations. If I couldn’t put my mind to rest, at least I’d try to sedate it a bit.
Because we enjoyed the experience of our first efforts, and I didn’t want Dawn to leave, as soon as we finished making the batter for the chocolate cake and putting the pans into the oven, I suggested we clean up our mess and get to work on the vanilla cake, adding if everything turned out well we could create a four-tier concoction. Being the friend that she is, Dawn agreed. It just felt so right – and necessary – to have Dawn there, an umbrella to protect me from my storm of emotions. I told her a woman couldn’t ask for a better friend.
Once all of the cakes finished baking, we left them to cool on the racks. Each layer had its own issues regarding lopsidedness, but we figured with enough turning each would compensate for what the other lacked.
“It’s not like we’re entering them into any contest; what’s most important is that the cake tastes good, and unless we forgot an ingredient or mismeausred, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Dawn said. “Besides, you can cover up just about any blemish with frosting, and that’s what kids love most anyway!”
“True.” We both leaned on the counter, Dawn on one side and me on the other, sipping the remainder of our wine. “You know, I’m not going to make it until 7:30. It’s only five o’clock now, and I’m done with making cakes.”
“You could just call the museum, what time do they close?”
“I think it’s 5:30.”
“What’s so wrong about you asking Lela when the portrait’s being moved? You have a vested interest in the project; it’s only natural you’d want to keep track of its progress. In fact, we could even drive over there if you really wanted to.”
“No. I’ll call, less awkward. Let me go look up the number.” I went into my room, did a quick search on the Internet, found the number and dialed. Lela sounded perturbed that someone might call so near to closing time, but when she realized it was me, she changed her tone. I taught her a few years back, and developed a good rapport with her at the time. We didn’t have too many occasions to interact since then, but the respect still remained. Not surprisingly though, when I asked her if she knew when Mr. West intended to transfer the portrait into the foyer, she said she did not, but offered to put me on hold so that she could go ask Hank. At least she knew of the intention because she said she typed an announcement and submitted it to the local paper earlier in the afternoon. She also said she arranged to have one of the newspaper’s photographers come first thing in the morning.
I came back into the kitchen while I waited for Lela’s return to find Dawn carefully removing the cakes from their pans. I listened to Lela’s response, thanked her for her help, and then hung-up.
“According to Hank, by way of Lela,” I told Dawn, “Mr. West arranged for several of the board members to help with the set up right after closing. He expected everything to be in place before supper.”
“So, that means you just need to find a way to get into the museum after that?”
“Yes, and it also means Ethan’s going to know he’s an impostor. With all those people talking while they’re setting up the new arrangement, he can’t help but learn his new identity. Please dear God let it be enough for him to get the attention he’s been craving, regardless of who people think he is.
“Whatever. I need to get in there and talk to him, keeping in mind that he has about six hundred words left in his life bank. But what can I say to the chief to get him to let me in?”
“That you have a lead that you need to follow up on?”
“And, what if he asks what that lead is?”
“Just tell him you’ll let him know by morning, if not sooner. You could even have him wait outside the museum for you. If Ethan plays fair, which as a gentleman he should, then won’t you have the information you need tonight?”
“I’m trying not to think that optimistically; I’m more of the Murphy’s Law philosophy. Disappointments occur less frequently that way, but you’re right. And I should have the chief wait for me so he can act on whatever I learn, as long as I don’t have to explain to him how I came about the information. I can just see me telling him, ‘Oh, this two-hundred year old man in the portrait witnessed the whole affair and told me what he saw.’”
“You know, though. If your intelligence results in finding Joshua, somehow someday you’re going to have to explain how you came by it.”
Maybe I’ll blame it on you and your sixth sense!”
“And that’s the thanks I get?”
“Of course I’m kidding. If my only concern is explaining how I knew what I knew, then so be it. We’ll figure it out. Now, after I make a date with the chief, let’s say we ice those cakes, just in case old Murphy’s wrong this time.”
The Last Meeting?
At 8:00 P.M I met Chief Michaels in front of the museum. He just shook his head as he let me in. “If it were anyone else Mattie, I’d still be sitting at home watching television with Brenda.”
“I know Frank, and I appreciate it.” I rarely called him by his first name, out of respect, but tonight’s gesture gave testament to a relationship that extended beyond the professional. “Just give me thirty minutes, okay.”
He looked at his watch, “The clock is running. I’ll be in my car, reading.”
I thanked him again and then walked in. There Ethan stood, in his green velvet coat, for all to admire – like a lord overseeing his minions. He towered over his “great, great grandson” both because of his painting’s size and the fact that John’s portrait was painted while he sat in an armchair and Ethan’s while he stood.
“Looking quite dapper there, Mr. Walters.”
“Don’t you mean, Mr. Winthrop, Madam?”
The disdain in his voice put me on edge. I sighed, and prepared for battle. “You said you wanted to be placed in a more prominent location, and here you are. It’s not the Met, but you couldn’t be any more visible to the public.”
“Yes, but you lied.”
“Because I had to.” I didn’t want to tell him no one cared about Ethan Walters, that if I tried to convince Mr. West to move the portrait because it was the son of a merchant trader from two hundred years back that had absolutely no connection to anyone in this town, or possibly even country, he’d still be hanging in the portrait gallery. “Nothing in our agreement mentioned anything about the truth, or maintaining your identity. I kept my end of the bargain, and now Mr. Walters, it is your turn to keep yours.”
He hung there in silence for at least five minutes. I took out my pen and paper preparing to take notes and then just waited; as the minutes wore on I felt my stomach tightening. If he decided to renege on his word, what recourse did I have? To tell Malcolm West that I lied? Sure, if I confessed before the morning shoot, I’d spare myself some embarrassment, but not much. And we’d be no closer to finding Joshua. I wanted to grab that pompous figure in the portrait by the shoulders and tell him to man up, but there was nothing to grab. For all I knew, as the silence wore on, his spirit left the building. But I held out hope that his conscience would eventually overrule his pride. And thank God, it did. Although when he finally spoke, with my anxiety building to near heart-attack proportions, I literally jumped off the ground.
“Alright Madam. I do not condone your methods, but I rather like this new view. So, as promised, I will tell you what happened.”
I whispered “Thank God” to myself, and then said aloud, “And please refrain from adding any extra commentary; as you said you become mute after 1,000 words, so I want to be sure I hear the entire story. Oh, and please talk slowly, so that I don’t have to ask you to repeat anything.”
“As you wish. Shall I begin?”
I readied my pen, and said, “Please do.”
“First thing that morning, an elderly woman – about your age – came into the portrait wing with a tour group. If it were not for those dreadful tour groups being herded in and out, most likely no one would ever enter that wing.”
I cleared my throat to remind him to keep on track.
“Yes, well. The tour group left and the woman remained in the portrait gallery. No one noticed or seemed to care that she stayed behind, so I suspect she merely latched onto the group to remain inconspicuous. If she heard voices in the adjacent room she focused her attention on a particular painting to feign interest in it. As soon as the voices faded, she simply paced back and forth in the room. At one point she opened the exit door, apparently relieved that no alarm sounded.”
“From what Hank told me, that door’s been broken for a while.”
“Ah Hank,” he said with disgust. “‘Tis a wonder more crimes have not been committed under his watch.”
“Please, Mr. Walters, can you just continue with the story?” Try as I might to keep track of his words, the combination of taking notes and counting proved more of a challenge than I could handle. If I estimated correctly, we had about four hundred words left, but I could be off. I needed him to get to the point.
“Madam, your manners leave something to be desired.”
“And I’m okay with that. Just tell me…” I paused to take a breath and lower my voice, “where to find Joshua.”
“After thirty minutes or so, when she heard a child’s voice and what I guessed from the conversation would be his mother’s, the elderly woman stood near the entrance to the gallery. Shortly thereafter a young lad, the boy you call Joshua wandered into my wing. He gave the woman a hug, and they whispered to each other. While she held his hand, she pointed and walked toward the door, doubtless expecting him to follow. At first he hesitated, but then she whispered to him again, and this time he followed her out the exit door.”
“That’s it? Do you know what they said?”
“Madam, I’m a spirit, not a lip reader.”
“What did she look like?”
“Your sister.”
“What? I don’t even have a sister!” Mindful of the word limit, I warned myself to think carefully before asking my next questions. Obviously Joshua knew this woman because he shied away from strangers; he would never hug someone he didn’t know. But how many elderly women, other than myself, Dawn, and Sarah had Joshua met? Of course I didn’t know every single person with whom Jackie associated. For goodness sake, I only met Mark, the father of her children, a couple of days ago. And even though she never mentioned her to me, Jackie had to have a mother. Had Jackie kept her relationship with her mother and therefore, the boys with their grandmother, a secret, meeting with her in private? Was it possible the woman who took Joshua that day was Jackie’s mom?
In order to answer that question I decided to get as much detail as possible from Ethan regarding a description of the “kidnapper,” and then go to Jackie with that information. “Mr. Walters,…”
“Ah, you’re back Madam.”
“Yes, could you please try to picture the woman you saw that day and describe her as precisely as possible.”
“I shall try. The lighting in the room was a bit dim, and she never stood directly in front of my portrait – a testament to her poor taste, no doubt, but nevertheless, I estimate her height to be just over five feet, of medium weight – ten pounds or so more than you. The hair was brownish and short, above the shoulders. If I had to guess an age, I’d conjecture between fifty and sixty, but as I only glimpsed her face, I could be mistaken. That is all I recall, Madam.”
As I finished writing down his description, relieved I hadn’t used up all of his words yet, I tried to think if there were something else I needed to ask him. But nothing came to mind, and I knew the chief would be checking his watch about now, so I said to Ethan, “I appreciate all of your help, and I will see you at your unveiling tomorrow morning.”
“And so you shall. Good-night Madam; may you find the young lad anon.”
“Thanks.” I refrained from adding the clichéd, “It’s been a pleasure” because we both would know it wasn’t the truth, so I simply left.
Getting Closer to the Truth
Fortunately the chief never even asked what came of my visit inside the museum. I wasn’t sure whether he didn’t expect any results from the start – just a silly old woman whom he had to indulge because her husband and he forged an eternal bond - or if he was waiting for me to offer information. In either case, I managed to keep the details to myself. After we said goodbye, I drove straight home, parked the car, and crossed the street to Jackie’s house, making note that Mark’s blue sedan remained parked out front.
Thank goodness Jackie answered the door because I wanted to speak to her alone, and didn’t want to have to explain anything to Mark. After exchanging greetings I asked her, “Do you mind coming out and sitting with me on the front steps? I have a few questions for you.”
She raised her eyebrows, “Um, sure. Let me go tell Mark.”
I sat down on the top step and waited. I tried to think of the best way to introduce the subject of her mother, but nothing sounded sensitive enough, so I finally decided on the direct approach.
She came back out with a couple of glasses of water. I took mine from her as she sat down beside me, and I said. “Thanks. Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I have a rough idea of what the person – the woman who took Joshua looked like.”
She turned to face me, “Oh Mattie, are you serious? How do you know? Where can we find her?”
I put down my glass, and then took hers and placed it next to mine. She didn’t react at all, simply sat there, eagerly awaiting my response. I took hold of her hands and said, “As to the first question, it’s complicated. Someday after this is all over, I’ll tell you about it; I promise. And as to the other, Jackie dear, I’m working on it, and, in part, it’s the reason I’m here.”
“What do you mean?”
Time to put my plan into action. “Jackie, I need to know about your mother.”
She tried to pull her hands away, but I maintained my grip. “What does my mother have to do with any of this?”
I softened my tone hoping the contrast to Jackie’s high-pitched response might calm her down. “My source tells me Joshua knew the woman who escorted him out of the museum last Thursday; he actually hugged her when he first saw her and didn’t offer much resistance when she asked him to follow her.”
Since I had relaxed my grip, this time she managed to free her hands and get away. She walked to the bottom of the stairs and stared at me. “But Mattie, there’s no possible way that woman was my mother; the only time she saw Joshua was the day he was born, when she told me how foolish I was for choosing to raise a child on my own. After that she never came back. Joshua wouldn’t know her from Grandma Moses! Mattie, I swear to God it’s not my mother; it has to be someone else, but someone he knew? Who could it be? Where is my son? Where is he?”
And as soon as she said Grandma Moses, I knew. Of course Ethan’s description of the woman sounded familiar to me; now it all made sense. I knew who had Joshua; what I didn’t know was where they were. Stupid me! Why didn’t I figure this out before?
“Mattie! Mattie! What’s going on?” Jackie’s fretful pitch pierced my thoughts.
I stood up and hugged her, “Jackie, it’s all going to be fine. Once again, I need you to trust me: Josh is safe. Let’s go back into the house and Mark will look after you.”
She pushed away, a flow of tears washing her face, “I don’t want anyone looking after me! I want my son! And there’s something you’re not telling me Mattie. What do you know?”
“I know everything will be alright. As hard as it is, you have to believe me and let me go.”
With a little force I ushered her back into the house. When Mark heard us enter, he came to meet us. Together we escorted Jackie over to the sofa where she folded into a heap, sobbing. I motioned Mark away from the sofa and whispered to him, “I need you to watch Jackie, and make sure she stays here.”
In a hushed, but harsh tone he barked back, “What, for God’s sake, did you say to her?”
“That I had a description of the kidnapper, and I thought it might be her mother.”
“Well obviously it’s not,” he snapped back.
Not wanting to match tones I paused and then said, “I know that now, but as I told Jackie, I am certain Joshua is fine. And the only way I can prove that to you is for you to let me go. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“Well, I don’t see as I have much choice, but I’ll tell you, if I don’t hear from you by 9:00 tomorrow morning, I’m calling the police. If it were up to me, I’d be dialing 911 now, but I’ll wait – only because Jackie trusts you.”
With that he moved back to the sofa, sat down next to Jackie and put his arms around her slumped shoulders. With the clock ticking, I quietly took my leave and headed straight over to Dawn’s house.
Hide-and-Seek
I pounded on her door non-stop, so that when she opened the door my fist swung into the air.
“What the…” Dawn’s contorted face softened when she saw me.
“It’s Sarah,” I said, pushing past her into the house and closing the door behind me.
She stood there as if frozen for a few seconds, and as the thaw came she asked, “What’s Sarah? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Sarah has Joshua.”
“But Sarah’s in Maryland.”
“Apparently not – at least she wasn’t on Thursday, and we have until 9:00 tomorrow morning to find her before Mark calls in the police.”
Dawn shook her head as if trying to force all her thoughts to fall into place. Unsatisfied with the results she said, “Okay. Let’s start this again, this time from the beginning.”
And so I did, beginning with what I learned from Ethan to the events at Jackie’s house, all eventually leading to my revelation about the kidnapper being Dawn. As I spoke I watched Dawn’s reactions, and knew that by the end, she agreed with me. Of course neither one of us wanted it to be true, but she fit the description, knew Joshua since birth, and had a motive.
“Mattie, that’s incredible. I remember the last time we visited her, how distant she seemed, how unlike herself, but to do this?”
“I know. As much as we pretended, I guess we never truly appreciated how devastated she was after the accident. How can you unless you’ve been through it yourself?” We both sat in silence for several minutes, and I thought about the Sarah of old – a candidate for mother/grandmother of the year if such an honor existed. Even after her divorce, when we all worried about her state of mind, she constantly claimed she could live without that no-good husband of hers, but not without her children and grandchildren.
Dawn interrupted the silence saying, “Now, what do we do?”
“We find Sarah. Better us than the police. Eventually she’ll have to deal with them, but if we find her first, it’ll be with her friends by her side. The question is where to start, and I figure it’s with a phone call to her sister in Maryland.”
“Have you checked her house lately?”
“You mean the one three doors down?” I asked.
“Why not? It seems logical to me. She was in town on Thursday, and she had to go somewhere. Why not her own house?”
“But what about food…and lights? Wouldn’t we notice the lights on at night?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she stocked up on food ahead of time, and they’re living in the basement, or in the dark? It is summer, and by the time Joshua goes to bed, it’s still somewhat light.”
“But how does she explain it to Joshua? He’s four houses down from his mother and he can’t see her?”
“I don’t know Mattie. Once we find her she can answer all of those questions for you. I agree with your original suggestion, let’s call Betsy in Maryland. I have a pretty strong feeling Sarah’s not with her, and that it’s been more than a few days since she last saw her.”
I used Dawn’s house phone to call, and put it on speakerphone so that Dawn heard the entire conversation, not just my half of it. According to Betsy, Sarah left for a trip to Florida a week ago, allegedly with a guy friend whom Betsy had never met. She offered that Sarah still struggled to get out of bed in the morning and that put a strain on her and her sister’s relationship. So, as surprised as she was that Sarah planned or simply agreed to this trip, Betsy thought it might be the best for the both of them. When I asked when she expected Sarah back and whether she had talked to her, as to the first she said the following Sunday, but, no, she hadn’t heard from her since she left. Then she asked me if anything was wrong, and of course I said no, I just hadn’t talked to her in a while and wanted to touch base. Finally after telling me she’d let her know I called, we exchanged good-byes and hung up.
“I’m guessing Sarah won’t be home on Sunday,” Dawn said.
“And I’m pretty certain you’re not going to find her in Florida either. Are you up for a neighborhood stroll?” I asked.
“What? We just go knock on her door?”
“What other choice do we have? Call the police and have them break down the door?”
“Mattie, she’s not the same person we knew a year ago; the Sarah of old would never take a woman’s child from her, especially not Jackie’s. What if she doesn’t even recognize us? What if she panics? Maybe we should call the police.”
“Dawn, thirty years of friendship should count for something no matter how out of her mind she is. I feel, as her closest friends – at least once upon a time, we owe it to her to try to help her through this and protect her from as much embarrassment as possible.”
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
The Reenforcements
Sarah only lived three houses down from Dawn, on the opposite side of mine and Jackie’s. As far as we knew, no one had lived in it since Sarah moved to Maryland, and a landscape business maintained the outside on a weekly basis so it didn’t look abandoned. Additionally, on occasion we’d see one of Sarah’s other two children stopping by for a few hours or so. Tonight as we approached the house, no lights shone, and as we peeked through the closed windows – hoping no other neighbors noticed us, we saw no movement whatsoever.
Now that we stood in front of the house I reconsidered my suggestion to simply knock on the door. Seriously, did I really expect Sarah just to come open the door and say, “Heh, it’s been a long time”? I motioned Dawn to follow me and we walked in silence back over into her yard. As the evening temperature settled in around 70 degrees these days we decided to sit at the patio, using the citronella candles to dissuade any bugs from joining us. “Okay,” I said, “I admit; we need a change of plans, but still not one that involves the chief just yet.”
“Well, breaking in’s not an option. We’d scare them both to death, and to be honest Mattie, I’m still afraid of what Sarah’s going to do when confronted.”
“I say we find a key to her house, which means contacting Rosie and Jonathan.”
“And actually telling them our suspicions? What if we’re wrong? And even worse, what if she’s not in there?”
“First of all Dawn, you and I both know we’re not wrong. Everything we learned points to Sarah. If she’s not there, we look somewhere else, but this time with the insights of her own children. If Sarah’s fallen off the deep end, I think she’s more likely to grab a lifeline from Jonny or Rosie than either of us.”
“I agree, but which one do we contact?”
“I say both because I don’t know which of them will be of the most help. I’ll call Jonny and you can call Rosie. Let’s tell them we’ll meet them at the diner; let’s shoot for around ten. We’ll try not to alarm them, but of course it can’t be entirely avoided. We wait to tell then about letting us into the house until we meet them face to face; they’ll be suspicious enough as it is and there’s no reason to raise their blood pressure even more any sooner than we have to.”
“But, my captain, what do we tell them? We felt like having a late night snack and thought they might want to join us?”
“Um, no, but I appreciate the levity.” I smiled. “We tell them that we need to talk to them about their mom?”
Ever the voice of reason, Dawn responded, “And if they ask why?”
“We say… I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “What do we say?” I looked to Dawn for some wisdom.
“That…we…that we believe their mom needs all of our help, but it’s something that can’t be discussed over the phone.”
“Yes, that would put my mind at ease!” We both laughed. “Okay, let’s just get this done.” We went into the house to look up the respective phone numbers. Dawn made her call from the kitchen and I went back out onto the patio to make mine. Despite the somewhat early hour, from his raspy voice I worried I awoke Jonathan from a deep sleep, but he said he’d been battling a cold for a few days. He agreed to meet us at 10, and thank goodness, didn’t ask too many questions.”
On the other line Dawn met with more resistance. Rosie refused to accept the simple explanation we discussed; she demanded to know more, but Dawn held her ground and insisted the details had to wait until we were all together at the diner. Like two established oak trees rooted firmly in their ground, initially neither woman budged from her position. Tiring of the stalemate, Dawn ended the conversation by telling Rosie if she wanted to help her mother she’d meet her at the diner in thirty minutes. Otherwise we’d deal solely with her brother. Then she hung up the phone, barely stopping herself before slamming the receiver onto its cradle.
Dawn’s flushed cheeks mirrored the frustration in her voice as she said, “I’m sorry, I tried to be patient and understanding, but the darned woman kept pushing.”
“I know; I heard. But don’t worry; I’m sure she’ll come. And even if she doesn’t, Jonathan will.” To some extent I understood why Rosie persisted with her questioning, but Dawn needed sympathy more than Rosie at the moment. “Shall we head on over and see what we’re up against?”
“As long as you go in ahead of me. If Rosie’s there I think I’ll need some protection!”
“My money’s on you Dawn.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you’re still going in first.”
The Diner
Even though it only took us fifteen minutes to get to the diner, and we arrived five minutes early, Jonathan already sat waiting for us at a table. It had probably been almost ten years since we last spent more than a few minutes with him after seeing him just about every day of his life until he turned around fourteen, but he greeted us as if it were yesterday. While in the midst of catching up on his latest partnership advances, Rosie blasted into the diner, brushed past the hostess, and started yelling before she even got to our table, “What is the meaning of this? Why did we have to come here? Why couldn’t you just talk to us over the phone?”
As soon as he saw her, Jonathan stood up and as she spoke he took her by the arm and gently coaxed her into the seat next to him. “Rosie dear, hush, it’s alright. No need to get all riled up. You know Auntie Mattie and Auntie Dawn; if they said they needed to talk to us, then there’s good reason. Why don’t you take a deep breath and let them tell us what’s on their minds.” And as if he were a hypnotist, Rosie did everything he asked her to. Funny how their roles reversed from childhood; then it was Rosie taking care of her baby brother, instead of the other way around.
Dawn and I strategized somewhat on the way over with regard to how we’d present the situation to Sarah’s children. And as usual, she nominated me as the spokesperson. Just as I opened my mouth to speak the waitress came by, probably having waited for the storm to calm before she approached. Except for Rosie we all ordered drinks, and I added a side of potato skins just so we seemed like real customers to the waitress. Then I started again, “We know how devastating the loss of Rachel and little Tommy was for all of you, especially your mother. As she said, she buried a large piece of her heart on the day of the funerals.” Rosie’s edge softened as she fought to swallow her emotions. Jonny moved closer to her chair and wrapped his bear-sized arm around her small shoulders. At the same time the waitress delivered our drinks, and Rosie bowed her head so as not to be seen. I continued, “We kept in touch with your mom for as long as she’d let us, but as you most likely know, she seemed determined to shut out all memories of her past including us.”
Jonathan agreed, “The therapist told us she needed time to grieve, but promised she’d come back to us eventually. I think Rosie’s taken this more personally than I have.” And although she said nothing in response, Rosie’s inability to control her tears any longer reinforced Jonathan’s statement. We all sat there for a few minutes, allowing Rosie time to recover.
Unable to string them along any more, I said, “We have reason to believe your mother moved back into her house on Reynolds Street.” Dawn looked at me wondering why I changed directions and our plan so abruptly. I didn’t exactly know what I expected as far as a reaction from the people sitting across the table from us, but it sure wasn’t silence. And yet, there it hung, daring someone to break it.
Dawn took the dare. “Did you guys know your mom moved back in? Rosie, is that why you reacted the way you did on the phone? You realized we figured it out?”
Jonathan spoke. “We both saw Mom on Wednesday; for the first time in nine months she came back home for a visit. She stayed with Rosie, and told us she’d only be here for the night and intended to head back to Maryland the next morning, even though we tried to persuade her to stay longer.”
“Then why are you not surprised that she’s still here?” Dawn asked.
Rosie, much subdued, surprised us all by replying, “Because I had a suspicion, and I shared it with Jonny.”
“Did it have to do with Joshua’s disappearance?”
“Yes, the timing was too perfect, and Mom seemed so distracted. I swear to God I didn’t know for certain. If I had I would’ve called someone – you, my therapist, the police – but I only suspected, and how could I turn my own mother in on a hunch, especially when Jonathan told me I was nuts?”
Jonathan added, “It’s true; I never believed it for a second. I thought the idea of Mom kidnapping a child was absurd, just Rosie being Rosie – overly sensitive and overly analytical.”
“Then, have you been over to the house?” I asked Rosie.
“No. I didn’t think she’d actually go back to the house, considering how close she lives to Jackie, but when you mentioned the possibility, especially considering Mom’s state of mind, I knew you were right.”
I told them both, “Well, we need to go over there tonight; we need to go now. If we don’t get Joshua back to his mother by 9:00 tomorrow morning Mark’s calling the police.”
“Who’s Mark?”
“It’s a long story, but in short, he’s Joshua’s father, he’s watching over Jackie right now, and he knows I know more than I’m telling them. So, how about we ride over to your mother’s house and end this ordeal for Joshua, Jackie, and your mom.”
“Only it’s never going to be over for our mother,” Rosie said.
“I know, and I’m sorry about that, but this isn’t making things better for her either. Now do you have the key?”
Jonathan pulled his keys from his pocket and singled out one. “Here it is.”
“Okay,” I paused and looked at Dawn for some direction. “What’s the best way to do this?”
Dawn replied, “How about we all go over there – safety in numbers philosophy, put the key in the door, and see what we find?”
“Considering the hour,” Jonathan said, “we may find Mom sleeping – if she even does much of that these days – as well as Joshua. That could make things easier.”
Dawn suggested, “Because you two are more familiar with the lay-out of the house than we are, Mattie and I will pair off with you.”
“That’s a good idea; and because Rosie’s so worried about her mom, she can come with me and you and Jonathan can go in search of Joshua.”
“Oh Jonny, what’s Mom going to do when she sees all of us?”
“Rosie, I don’t know, but it’s not just Mom that we need to worry about right now. Can we go?”
“Sure, let me pay and then we’ll head out,” I said.
At 10:43 our caravan left the diner with Dawn and me in the lead.
Case Resolved
We arrived at 11:01, hitting a few more lights on the way home than on the way there, or maybe just driving a little slower to postpone the inevitable. While we stood by our cars on the sidewalk, Jonathan detached the house key and handed it to me. At that moment I couldn’t help but wonder how I ever got to be in charge of this operation. With no time to contemplate a response, we walked up to the house in single file: me in front, followed by Dawn, and Rosie with Jonathan bringing up the rear to make sure Rosie stayed with us. I put the key in the door, but turned and looked to my comrades before unlocking it. Empathizing with the concern in their faces, I opened the door and we entered the house.
That’s where the first half of our search ended. No doubt because of its close proximity to the door, Sarah sat on the sofa in front of us, her blanket falling off her shoulder and her hair flattened against the right side of her head indicating, as suspected, we roused her from her sleep. Before Sarah had a chance to get up from the sofa and react, Jonathan and Dawn ran up the stairs to find Joshua sleeping soundly in Rachel’s old bedroom, a brown stuffed dog tucked under his left arm. Jonathan gently cradled and lifted Joshua, not even awakening him from his slumber, and brought him downstairs. As Jonathan carried Joshua toward the front door, his mother stood watching the event as if it were a play and she was in its audience. He looked at his mother and shook his head. “Mom, why?” was all he said.
As Dawn opened the door for Jonathan I told her, “Tell Jackie I’ll be over as soon as I can.” As much as I wanted to enjoy the emotional reunion between Joshua and Jackie – the one I imagined so many times, the one that kept me on track when I felt like derailing – I knew I’d have to settle for a secondhand account. Right now I needed to be here.
With the door about to close, Sarah started to scream, realizing she had a role as a character in this play as opposed to being merely a spectator, “Tommy, my Tommy, don’t take him away!”
Dawn quickly closed the door to shield Joshua from Sarah’s cries.
When I turned from the exit scene, I saw Rosie shaking her mother’s shoulders, tears streaming down her face saying, “Mother, mother! It’s not Tommy; Tommy’s gone, with Rachel. You need to stop this! You need to come back to us – to Jonny and me. We’re still here; we still need you!”
Rosie’s pleas penetrated the ghost that haunted Sarah, and she, for the first time since we arrived at the house, seemed to gradually come to her senses. Sarah looked at Rosie, as if trying to understand why her daughter stood in front of her with tears running down her cheeks. And then she looked around – seeming to wonder why she stood in her living room with a blanket at her feet. Finally, she looked at me and I saw Sarah, the woman I knew before Rachel died; the pain in her eyes remained, but she owned it now.
“Mattie? Rosie? What have I done?”
“You gave into your grief Sarah,” I said. “I understand, and I’m pretty sure eventually Jackie will understand too, but I’m going to have to call Chief Michaels in a few minutes to let him know what’s happened.”
“Oh Mom,” Rosie cried, “What will they do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter Rosie; it just doesn’t matter. It can’t be any worse than what’s already been done to me.” She sat back down on the sofa, as if in surrender, and reached for her daughter’s hand. Rosie accepted and sat next to her.
I left them to comfort each other, and then walked outside to call the chief. Although I thought I might be waking him at this late hour, he assured me that was not the case. When I told him the abbreviated version of how and where we (meaning Dawn and I) found Joshua, I excluded the part that Ethan played in the boy’s discovery. He asked how in the world we did it, and I just said, “Women’s intuition.” Not one for showing any kind of emotion, Chief Michaels simply congratulated me on a job well done and said he’d be over within the hour.
It took him less than thirty minutes. He pulled up in his cruiser, with no sirens and no one by his side. He knew Sarah, not as a friend, but as someone who investigated the accident involving her daughter, someone who dealt with Sarah’s devastation. He’d testify to that state at her pretrial hearing and again, much later, at trial, testimony that helped the jury find Sarah not guilty by reason of insanity, albeit temporary. As a result and condition of the verdict, she spent six months in mandatory psychiatric treatment, but those were the necessary first steps that set Sarah on her path to healing.
The Homecoming
Since Chief Michaels allowed Rosie to accompany Sarah to the police station, clearly outside the realms of acceptable police procedures, that left me free to check in with the newly reunited Spencer family, as well as witness the first meeting between Joshua and his father. As I approached Jackie’s house, after having moved my car from in front of Sarah’s into my own driveway, I couldn’t help but think how drastically different the mood was inside that house now as compared to just hours earlier, like sleeping through a nightmare and waking up to find it’s Christmas.
Dawn answered the door, holding a glass of what looked like beer. She hugged me and said, “Come here. You have to see this.” Then she put her free arm through mine and walked me into the kitchen where everyone else except for Jonathan sat or stood eating ice cream, drinking, and laughing. I suspect Jonathan went to meet his mother and his sister at the police station. Jackie held Joshua in her lap, wrapping her arm around him as if not to let go, while Mark held Alex. As soon as I came in Jackie cried out, “Oh Mattie! How can I ever thank you? I can’t believe he’s home!” She started to get up, but I motioned her to stay seated and walked over to her. We embraced with Joshua in between us, and then I took the chair next to her. Joshua seemed confused by all the commotion, and I still didn’t know what Sarah said to him to keep him from running home to his mother. No doubt the police would be by in the morning to clear up some of those questions. But none of that mattered now. With mother and son reunited, life was good. Time would tell what part Mark eventually played in this family picture, but for now he seemed to content to watch the joy on his son’s and Jackie’s faces.
I shared in the celebratory ice cream and soda, but just after midnight we decided it was time for all of us to go to bed. I’d see them tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. For a while Joshua would need to get used to having his mother shadow him everywhere, and he’d have to understand – at least to some extent – the truth surrounding his disappearance, a small price to pay for having a mother who loved him so much.
Dawn, Mark and I all left together. Jackie didn’t object when Mark suggested it was time for him to go home. I felt a little sorry for him, but he had to earn his place and her trust, and that would take more than the few days he spent with her while she waited for Joshua’s return. It had to count for something, but it wouldn’t erase whatever memories kept him from being there in the first place. As we watched him get into his car he thanked us repeatedly for all we had done, and apologized for being impatient with me earlier. Of course I said it was no problem and to be understood given the circumstances.
“It’s over Dawn,” I said after Mark pulled away. “We solved our first case.”
“And hopefully our last.” She laughed.
“I don’t know; with my brains and your sixth sense, not to mention that annoying habit you have of questioning any decision I make, we could be the next Cagney and Lacey.”
“Yes, except this is Fartham, Rhode Island, not New York City and there are no crimes to investigate. Mattie, my friend, you have too much time on your hands; maybe you should think about going back to teaching.”
“Maybe I should just think about going to bed. Besides, you have a garden to build and I have an unveiling to attend in about nine hours. Good night, and thank you for all of your help.” With that I hugged my friend and headed home, looking forward to a deep, dreamless sleep, and hoping to put all worries – about Sarah, her family, Mark, Ethan, my future – on hold until tomorrow.