Broken Vows Mystery 02-For Richer, for Danger Page 9

  “You read the paper.”

  He sidled around the Jolly Jumper. Noelle stirred but didn’t awaken. He sat. “No. I went to the diner this morning for breakfast. Everybody else in town has read the paper.”

  “If anybody asks, especially reporters, I have no comment about anything.”

  Cory grinned. “Where have I heard that before?”

  Last year when I found a dead man in the Ferrari. I hoped the newspapers didn’t see fit to remind everyone of that, poisoning the minds of this summer’s flock of tourists against the Ferrari and possibly my shop. But worse, I hoped everyone didn’t make the connection to Noelle. I didn’t want her to grow up suffering stares from the townspeople who knew about her birth parents. They’d stared at me for years after my mother killed herself and now they looked questioningly at Erica. No child should have to grow up like that.

  For one fleeting moment, I thought Noelle might be better off being adopted by a couple who didn’t live in Wachobe, where everyone knew her story. Then I pushed the thought out of my mind. She was mine. Ours.

  The blond television newscaster caught my attention. “At the top of the hour, a woman was arraigned this morning in Canandaigua in the stabbing death of Theodore Tibble of Wachobe, New York. The woman remains unidentified at this time.

  “The stabbing took place outside the racetrack in Canandaigua yesterday afternoon. Police have released a statement that the woman in custody had assumed the stolen identity of a Canandaigua teen killed in a hit-and-run accident last year. Police are asking anyone who might be able to identify this woman”—Noelle’s birthmother’s mug shot flashed—“to call them at the Crime Fighters hotline number below on your screen.

  “After the woman’s arraignment in city court, her attorney had this to say—”

  A picture of the crowd on the courthouse steps appeared. I looked, expecting to see our family lawyer, Greg Doran, speaking to reporters.

  Instead, I saw Ray’s ex-girlfriend, Catherine Thomas.

  Noelle was already in bed when Ray arrived home. I’d spent two hours trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject of Catherine Thomas with him. I’d planned to be mature and calm. Then I saw the guilty look on his face.

  “Why the heck did you hire Catherine, Ray? I would have welcomed anybody else but Cat.” I spat out her nickname like a hairball.

  “I knew you were going to say that, but Greg Doran said she’s one of the best. And she’s doing it for free.”

  The word free bothered me. Nothing in life was free. “What do you mean for free?”

  Ray eased into his recliner and leaned back. “Her firm wanted her to do more pro bono work. She’s delighted to find something with this much meat to it.”

  So she took the case to make a name for herself. “But this case isn’t even in her hometown.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It could be a pretty high-profile case. You know, young woman refuses to identify herself, refuses to help her lawyer defend her. Great stuff.”

  I wanted to scream but kept my voice carefully modulated. “Even better when you throw in her abandoned child, now cared for by a foster family, and, oddly enough, the foster mother was at the murder scene and chased the victim and the girl from the racetrack.” I dropped onto the couch and took a deep breath. “What are you thinking, Ray? Making this a high-profile case only hurts us. And Noelle. Everyone will talk about it for years. Noelle will be tainted by it forever.”

  Ray snapped the footrest closed on his recliner and leaned forward to grab my hand. “Noelle won’t be tainted by this. She’s a baby. She has nothing to do with it. No one will hold it against her.”

  He pulled me off the couch and onto his lap, hugging me tight. “You worry too much. You were the one who said we had to help this girl. I asked Catherine because she’s the best available criminal attorney.”

  I didn’t bother to argue with Ray about Noelle. He would never understand stigma. His fireman father died of a heart attack on the job, in every way a hero. Ray never had to deal with people whispering about him behind their hands—until he hooked up with me, the daughter of a suicide and the sister of a bipolar with suicidal tendencies, not to mention my father, the eccentric. Even then, Ray didn’t seem to notice. I guessed Ray was made of Teflon, like a hero’s son should be. Maybe that was one of the reasons I found him so attractive.

  But Catherine Thomas found him attractive, too. And now she would have plenty of time to spend with him, which didn’t bode well for our marriage.

  “Were you in a bar with Catherine on Friday night?”

  I could tell from the twitch in his arms that I had startled him. Clearly, he didn’t think I would find out. He must have been so into his conversation with Catherine that he didn’t notice Cory. Very unobservant for a cop.

  “Yes. I stopped for a drink and she was there. We chatted. That’s all.”

  “What about Saturday night?”

  He sounded genuinely puzzled. “What about Saturday night?”

  I pulled back from his chest and gazed into his eyes. “You said you got a call, but you didn’t put your uniform on before you left. You came home in the middle of the night and put it on. So where did you go on Saturday?”

  Ray’s eyes held what appeared to be pity when he looked back at me. “I went to the office to get the faxes about Theo and the girl. That’s how I found out about the racetrack, remember? Then there was a fire around midnight that I picked up.”

  I felt foolish. Jealousy and mistrust are dangerous emotions. They had led me astray before. Still, they were hard to ignore. “You can understand why I don’t want your old girlfriend around, can’t you?”

  He held my gaze and spoke to me with exaggerated patience. “Yes, but she’s here to help us, both of us, and Noelle. She’s not here to try to win me back. She’s here to try to win this case. And she’s going to need your help.”

  “My help?”

  Ray nodded. “Pro bono doesn’t include an investigator. Catherine’s going to have a whole list of questions, and someone is going to have to go around digging up the answers. Catherine has other cases to work on. She doesn’t have time to do it herself. It can’t be me. I have to work. I was hoping it would be you.”

  I put aside my immediate reaction, which was that I didn’t want to work for Catherine, and struggled to visualize this new plan. Cory could handle the shop, and my attempt to obtain the Datsun Z was most likely doomed from the start. No one else was calling me for cars. “What about Noelle?”

  “I can drop off Noelle at Jeff and Marcia’s house. Marcia is home all day with the baby anyway. She said it would be no trouble at all.”

  Jeff was another deputy sheriff, and his wife, Marcia, was a school teacher. I’d met her before. She was bubbly and sweet. Noelle would be safe with her.

  I was kind of impressed Ray had made those arrangements. “Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

  Ray pulled me close and hugged me again. “I do. So what do you say?”

  What else could I do but agree.

  ____

  On Wednesday, I hugged and kissed Noelle goodbye, then did the same to Ray. I got him directly on the lips. He smiled and came back for another. I felt better about everything.

  While they drove off in the direction of Marcia’s house, I headed toward Canandaigua again, armed with pictures of Noelle. Her birthmother still refused to speak, and Catherine wanted me to spend some time with the girl, talking about the baby to see if she would crack.

  Never having been in a jail before, I didn’t really know what to expect, but the facility turned out to be like new. The patterned brick exterior was accented with picture windows, and inside, the lobby seemed welcoming enough with bright lights and plants.

  Catherine had made an appointment for me to see the girl, so the desk clerk expected me. I signed in and a woman officer patted me down. They allowed me to take the pictures I’d brought into the visitors’ room, but nothing else.

&nb
sp; I sat on one stainless steel stool in a long row of stools facing windows that reached all the way to the ceiling. The window panels were separated by light blue metal framework into little booths. The walls were gold and the floor, cream-colored vinyl flooring, had been polished until it shone. I’d expected the jail to smell like old sweat and urine and just plain fear, but the place had an aroma more of floor wax and other cleaning products, not altogether unpleasant.

  A door opened at the far end of the row, and a female guard led the girl into the room. Orange prison garb hung off her small frame, her face shiny clean, and her hair held back in a ponytail, emphasizing her youth. The girl blinked as though the lights were brighter here than where she had arrived from, then she started to walk down the row of windows, looking for me in each one. She found me at the eighth window, hesitated, then sat on the stool opposite mine.

  I smiled at her. She didn’t smile back, but I thought I caught a hint of relief in her eyes, the wide blue eyes so much like Noelle’s. Three freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, which no longer held a nose ring, only the tiniest pink spot where it must have been. I grabbed the tan phone off the wall and waited for her to do the same.

  “Hi …” Normally, this was where I would insert her name, but I didn’t have one for her. “I’m Jolene Asdale Parker … Erica’s sister.” I figured she would remember Erica since Erica had arranged the adoption.

  The girl nodded, and I thought I saw that glint in her eye again at the mention of Erica. She seemed to study my face and like what she found. Or maybe I was imagining things.

  “How are you doing? Are they treating you okay?”

  She gave a half-nod, half-shrug, and waited with expectant eyes.

  I fumbled for a second. I hadn’t realized carrying the whole conversation would be so tough. For a chatterbox like Erica, it would be no challenge at all, but I wasn’t exactly known for my ability to make small talk. I decided to get right to the point.

  “My husband, Ray, and I are the couple who want to adopt Noelle. We’ve been taking care of her for the last seven months. She’s very happy and healthy and sweet, and she loves cats and going for walks in her stroller and swinging in the park and playing in water and jumping in her Jolly Jumper and eating … well, just about everything. I brought pictures.”

  With the glass between us, the best I could do was hold them up one at a time against it and wait until the girl looked the picture over carefully and nodded that she was ready for the next. I explained each picture in great detail: all about our trip to the zoo where Noelle got to touch a parrot, our picnic lunch at the park where Noelle got her first dip in the lake, and her visit to the Easter bunny at the mall where Noelle cried when we put her on his lap. I got a little choked up, but the girl never took her eyes off the pictures. She didn’t smile either, which disappointed me.

  The last picture Ray had taken at Gumby’s wedding: Noelle in her white eyelet dress with pink ribbons, reaching for a cookie in my hand. It was a close-up with Noelle’s hand in the forefront. The girl lifted her hand and pressed it to the window as though she were touching Noelle’s fingers. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  Her lips moved, but I didn’t hear anything. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  She dropped her hand and looked directly into my eyes. “She’s beautiful.”

  She spoke! Score one for the defense team. “Yes, she is. She looks just like you.” I hated to admit it, but it was true.

  The girl blushed. The slightest hint of a smile tinged her lips.

  Now it occurred to me that coming here with pictures of Noelle was not such a great idea. What if the girl decided she wanted Noelle back? Where would that leave Ray and me? Of course, first she’d have to admit her name, then prove she wasn’t a killer.

  I pushed those thoughts out of my head. Catherine had given me a list of questions, designed to trick the girl into giving us a clue as to her identity. I had memorized and practiced them in an attempt to keep the conversation seeming as casual as possible.

  “When I took Noelle to our pediatrician’s office, he asked me about her family’s medical history. You know, allergies, heart disease, cancer, stuff like that. Does your family have any history of those things?”

  Her head jerked as though the question startled her. “Not that I know of.”

  “So your parents are still alive and healthy?”

  “No, they’re dead.” She looked down at the counter.

  I tried to hide my excitement, both at the fact she’d answered this question but also at the news Ray and I would not have to compete with grandparents for custody of Noelle. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re very young to have lost both your parents already.”

  She shrugged, continuing to stare at the counter.

  “How did they die, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  After a moment, she met my gaze. “Car crash.”

  “I’m sorry. Recently?”

  She looked at me without blinking. After a few seconds, I decided to move on to another question.

  “So, were you an only child?”

  Her expression told me nothing. I waited again for her to answer, then moved on.

  “You and Theo signed all the paperwork for Ray and me to adopt Noelle, but our lawyer wanted to make sure your families didn’t want to adopt Noelle. Theo’s family is fine with the adoption, but we couldn’t find your family to ask them.” Because you didn’t give your real name.

  I didn’t say the words out loud, but I might as well have. She continued to stare at me without blinking. She knew what I was fishing for.

  “It’s just that Ray and I can’t finalize the adoption unless you tell us your real name. Even Noelle’s birth certificate is invalid, since you gave Abigail Bryce’s name, social security number, address, and birth date. And you’re not Abigail.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Were you and Abigail friends?”

  She opened them again and continued to stare at me.

  “Can you tell me your real name?”

  She frowned.

  “Erica swore you wanted Ray and me to adopt Noelle. If that’s the case, we can’t, not unless you tell us who you are.”

  She shook her head.

  “Catherine Thomas is a friend of ours”—I choked a little on that white lie but kept going—“She can’t defend you if you won’t help her. I can’t believe you killed Theo. Erica said the two of you were in love. What happened?”

  “I’m going back to my cell now. Thank you for bringing the pictures of Noelle and for taking such good care of her.” She started to rise and hang up the phone.

  I threw my hand up. “Wait.”

  She remained standing, but returned the phone to her ear.

  “If Ray and I can’t adopt Noelle, it’s possible the Department of Social Services will take her away from us and place her in a different foster home, maybe many different homes. She’s going to get lost in the system. There’s no telling how she’ll be treated. We want to raise her, but they may not let us.” To my knowledge, all this was a blatant lie, designed to torment this poor girl, but, then, who knew for sure?

  It worked. Panic danced across her face as she grasped the phone with both hands. “No! Noelle has to stay with you!”

  I stood up, too. “I can’t promise that. Ray and I are not going to be able to finalize the adoption.”

  “Ray’s a sheriff, right?”

  “A deputy sheriff.”

  “Noelle has to stay with you. You have to keep her safe with you.”

  As her agitation grew, so did my guilt. How unkind to torment her with thoughts about her baby’s safety when her own life was in question. Still, Catherine had said it would be for her greater good. Catherine’s plan was to make the girl stew in her fears for Noelle until she answered our questions. A cruel plan, but from my new mother’s point of view, potentially an effective one. However, Catherine didn’t have to sit there and listen to the girl’s pleading. In fact, Cathe
rine wasn’t a mother, either. She had no idea how this situation affected this girl and me.

  Against my better judgment, I kept going. “She’ll be safe as long as we have her, but I don’t know how long that will be. Foster homes are not permanent placements. Social Services might decide she’s better off elsewhere.”

  The girl put her hand on her chest and seemed to take a deep breath. She leaned toward the window and pointed her finger. “I left her with you. She has to stay with you. You and Ray.” She raised her eyebrows and stared at me.

  “Why?”

  “Because he won’t kill a cop’s child.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Cold sweat popped out on my brow and dampened my shirt. I clung to the counter and tried to push the swell of nausea back. “Wh … What? He who? What are you talking about?”

  “You heard me. You and Ray have to keep her safe. That’s all I’m going to say.” She hung up the phone and walked away.

  The guard took her by the arm and led her into the hallway beyond. After the door closed behind them, I lowered my head between my knees and tried to keep breathing. What the heck was she telling me? Was she just playing games? Or was Noelle really in danger? If so, why? And from whom?

  I raised my head and the room swam with gold sparks. I took a few more deep breaths before the colors disappeared. I gathered up my pictures of Noelle and pressed them to my chest as I left the visitors’ room.

  In the car, I sat with the engine off and the windows rolled up. Even though it was ninety degrees outside and the interior of the car was sweltering, I shivered.

  I’d come here to rattle this girl and get her to talk. On some levels, I’d succeeded with the plan. Now we knew her parents died in a car crash, but many couples died in car crashes every day. Catherine had told me to listen for any sign of a regional accent in the girl’s voice, but I hadn’t heard any. She could be from around here or from anywhere.

  What I had heard in her voice was fear. Fear for her baby. My baby. Catherine’s plan hadn’t anticipated that. Nor had I anticipated leaving this visit more than a little rattled myself.