Gathering Shadows (19 page)

“I agree with you,” Reuben said. “He says he has some papers that somehow tie Wynter to August. I can't imagine what he's talking about.”

“Me either.”

I pointed to the couch. “Do you have a few minutes, Rae? I'd like to ask you a couple of questions, if you don't mind.”

She nodded. “A little diversion would be welcome right now.”

“First of all, I want you to know how sorry I am for your loss. I understand you and August were close.”

She lowered her thick body down onto the couch. “He was a little different. Hard to get to know, but underneath that aloof exterior was a good heart.” She wiped away a tear that escaped her eye. “We talked about getting married, but I'm just too independent. Couldn't see myself living with a man tellin' me what to do. Being single, I could take or leave August's advice. But once we said ‘I do,' it would be a different story.” She sniffed. “Now I wish I'd made a different choice. Somehow, it would make everything a little easier.”

Reuben sat down. “Rae, do you have any idea at all what Paul's talking about? What kind of papers would he have that could incriminate Wynter?”

She clasped her work-worn hands together and stared at them, shaking her head. When she looked up, her expression was pensive. “August was a good man,” she began, “but he was a conspiracy nut, always seeing demons behind doorways.”

“Did he believe someone in Sanctuary was involved in kidnapping babies from hospitals?”

“Oh, dear.” She bit her lip and hesitated. “Look,” she said finally, “August had friends, people who cared for him. But sometimes I think he felt . . . unimportant. He loved to read up on stories about unsolved crimes. Always had an opinion about them. He ate up those crime shows on TV. Fancied himself an amateur detective. He was constantly calling the police about something. You know that tip line in St. Louis?”

“Crime Stoppers?” I asked.

“Yes, that's it. Well, one of his special cases had to do with babies being taken from Missouri hospitals. He decided someone in Sanctuary was involved.”

“Did he say who?” Reuben asked.

Rae shook her head. “No. I told him I had no intention of listening to him accuse one of our friends or neighbors of something so awful, so he kept that information to himself.” She gave Reuben a sad smile. “August was abandoned as a baby, you see. His great-aunt raised him only because she felt she had to. It wasn't a happy home. He never got over it. I think the story about stolen babies touched something deep inside him.”

Reuben glanced over at me. It was obvious that if my father hadn't taken me from the hospital on the night I was born, I might have suffered August's fate—being raised by someone who didn't really love me. Suddenly I felt a connection to August.

“Why are you asking me about this?” Rae said. “How did you hear about August's obsession with that story?”

I told her about the newspaper articles sent to me, and I mentioned that my father also received a troubling note in the mail, although I didn't tell her what the note said.

“I can see why he gave you those stories,” she said slowly. “You're a reporter. I'm sure he planned to contact you about them after you had a chance to look them over. But how would he know your father? I doubt August had anything to do with that.”

“You might be right. It was just odd that both things happened right around the same time.”

“When did your father get his letter?”

“About a week ago.”

“Before you came to town? That doesn't make sense.”

“Actually, we contacted Martha over at the library two weeks before we arrived. There was certainly time to send the note to my dad.”

Rae shook her head. “But as I said, August didn't know your father.”

“Paul said he had both of my names in his billfold. It wouldn't have been difficult to find out who my father was if you had my real name.”

Rae's eyebrows shot up. “Your real name?”

I nodded. “I use a different name in my job.”

Before Rae had a chance to respond, Zac came into the room.

“I thought you were helping Esther,” Reuben said.

“I've been summarily dismissed. Although Esther is too nice to say it, I think she concluded I'm hopeless in the kitchen.”

Realizing that Rae and Zac hadn't met, I quickly introduced them.

“Nice to meet you, young man,” she said. “I heard you had a pretty bad case of food poisoning. I'm glad to see you're on the road to recovery.”

Zac nodded. “I'm still not sure what I'm recovering from. The sickness or the cure.”

Rae looked confused, and Reuben told her about Esther's remedy.

Rae laughed. “My mother used the same thing on my sister and me whenever we got sick. Sure keeps you from faking illness to stay home from school.”

“I hear you,” Zac said with a sigh. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, not at all,” I said. “We were just talking about August.”

Zac sat down in the chair near the couch. “I heard you were close,” he said to Rae. “I'm sorry.”

She waved her hand at him. “Thank you, Zac. I appreciate that.”

“So you don't think August sent that note to Wynter's father?” Reuben asked, steering us back to our previous conversation.

“I have no problem believing August sent you the stories about those kidnappings, but I don't believe he sent that note. My guess is that someone who knows you well enough to know your real name sent it.”

I nodded. When Ryan disappeared, there were a lot of letters sent to my family. Most of them were kind, people showing compassion and telling us they were praying for us, but many weren't nice at all. My parents didn't show me the letters at the time, but my mother told me about them years later. Several were written by people who accused my parents of child abuse, believing that if they'd kept a closer eye on my brother, he wouldn't have been kidnapped. A few were sent by religious nuts claiming we were being punished for our sins. There were quite a few with supposed tips as to who had taken Ryan. The FBI checked them all out, but none of them yielded results. Maybe this new note was from someone trying to stir up the past for their own twisted enjoyment.
Like Rae said, some nut that recognized my father's name and decided to torment him.

“Well, at least this explains the newspaper clippings,” Reuben said. “But why does Paul think Wynter had some kind of connection with his death?”

“Again, just conjecture,” Rae said, her forehead wrinkled with thought, “but maybe Paul found something in August's apartment with your name on it, Wynter. Along with notes about some of his other theories. August had a hard time keeping his thoughts in order. He could have written something that sounded ominous when it wasn't meant that way at all.” She shrugged. “That's my best guess. Honestly, I wouldn't worry about it. There's no way they can tie you into what happened to August. I'm just sorry you have to deal with this. You and your family have been through enough.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate your taking the time to come and talk to me. I know you're trying to cope with your own grief. I'm praying they'll find the real person responsible.”

“Me too,” Rae said, shaking her head.

“You're staying for dinner, aren't you?”

“Better tell Esther we'll have two extra,” Reuben said. “Your father will probably be hungry when he gets here.”

“I don't know where he called from. Not sure when he'll get in.”

“Thank you for asking,” Rae said, “but to be honest, I need to be alone right now. Maybe some other time.”

I doubted there would be any other time, since I planned to leave town as soon as possible, but I smiled and nodded. We said our good-byes and Rae left. Just as she closed the door behind her, Esther came out of the kitchen.

“Dinner's almost ready,” she said. “Was that Rae leaving?”

“She's not really in a social mood right now, I guess.”

“Poor thing,” Esther said with a sigh.

“Something smells great,” Reuben said.

“Trust me. It looks even better than it smells,” Zac said. “I'm starving.”

Reuben smiled at him. “I'm glad to hear you're hungry. You really are feeling better.”

Zac flashed him a crooked grin. “No human being can resist Esther's cooking.”

“Help me get the dishes to the table, Zac,” Esther said, “and we'll get started.”

“So I've been reduced from chef to waiter?”

She nodded. “Guess I wasn't a good enough teacher.”

“Don't give up on me. You might make a cook out of me yet.”

She gave him a quick hug, and I was surprised to see her eyes flush with tears. “Wish I could, but soon you'll be far away, living in the big city. You'll forget Sanctuary . . . and me.”

Zac caught her by the arm as she turned to go back to the kitchen.

“No, Esther. I won't. If you'll let me, I'll come to visit. Maybe even stay the weekend sometimes, if that's okay.”

The look on Esther's face tore at my heart. “I would love that, Zac. I get lonely rattling around in this old house.”

“I'll be back,” he said. “You have my word.”

She dabbed at her eyes with her apron and nodded. “We'd better get that food on the table before it's cold.”

I caught Zac's eye before he left the room and smiled. The change in him was like night and day. It was amazing. This town had changed me too. I just wasn't sure how. It seemed I'd come to Sanctuary sure of myself and who I was. But now I wasn't certain of anything.

We all gathered in the dining room. Esther had made chicken fried steaks with mashed potatoes and gravy. Fresh green beans, a mixed-fruit salad, and biscuits hot from the oven rounded out our meal. I split a steak with Esther. It was delicious, but I wasn't really hungry and chose to concentrate on the fruit. When I got back to St. Louis, it was back to salads, fruit, and yogurt. Sanctuary wasn't having a good effect on my waistline. My jeans definitely felt tighter.

We finished the meal with strawberry shortcake, one of my very favorite desserts. After helping her clean up the kitchen, Reuben and I decided to carry our coffee out to the front porch so we could wait for my dad. Esther went to her room to knit for a while and then go to bed. Zac also retired to his room. He was definitely on the mend, but I could see the weariness in his face. Food poisoning obviously took a heavy toll on a body.

Reuben and I sipped our coffee and rocked back and forth in the semidarkness, the only light coming from inside the house. We left the porch light off because it would draw bugs. Cicadas sang in the dark. Some people found their songs annoying. They reminded me of summer nights sitting on my grandmother's front porch, and the sound soothed me.

“You haven't told Zac what we found out at Samuel's,” Reuben said.

“I know. I couldn't find an appropriate moment. I'll fill him in tomorrow.” I sighed. “To be honest, I don't really want to tell him. Saying the words out loud makes it too real. I was so hopeful I'd finally found Ryan.”

“I know, Wynter. I'm sorry. I really am.”

“I can't imagine what my dad thinks is so important I have to wait up for him,” I said. “I'm so tired. What could he have
learned in Jamesport that would make any difference? I'm ready to let this go. Why isn't—”

Approaching lights from a car cut off the rest of my sentence. My dad pulled up in front of us and got out of the car.

“Thanks for waiting up for me,” he said as he approached the porch. Even in the dim light I could make out the concern on his face.

“Sure,” I said, “but as I told you, we know Elijah isn't Ryan.”

He came up and stood in front of us. “And how do you know that?”

“We actually saw his birth certificate,” Reuben said. “That leaves little doubt.”

Dad leaned against the porch railing. “Well, you might be right under normal circumstances.”

“What are you talking about, Dad?”

“I talked to a lot of people in Jamesport. For the most part they were pretty closemouthed. Couldn't find out much. But as I was getting ready to leave town, a woman sought me out. Wanted to know if I was the man asking questions about the Fishers. When I told her I was, she asked to speak to me privately.”

“How did she know them?” I said.

“This woman, Ruth Yoder, lived next door to the Fishers while they were in Jamesport.”

“You asked her about Elijah?”

My dad grunted. “Didn't really have to. She was desperate to share something that had been bothering her for years.”

I couldn't see that what this woman had to say would change anything. Elijah was the Fishers' son. Birth certificates don't lie.

“So what did she have to say?” Reuben asked. I could hear confusion in his voice. It was clear he was thinking the same thing I was.

“Ruth told me that the Fishers suddenly left Jamesport after suffering a tragedy. Ruth wanted to stay in touch, but she couldn't find them. About three years after they took off, she ran into someone who had seen them. With their son, Elijah.”

“So?” I was beginning to get a little impatient with my father. Tomorrow promised to be stressful, and I wanted nothing more than to get some sleep.

“What was the tragedy?” Reuben asked.

My father took a deep breath before saying, “The death of their only child. Elijah.”

I stared at my father, not certain I'd heard him correctly. “Did you say—?”

“Yes, Emily. The death of their son. Seems Elijah Fisher was walking home from school and some drunk hit him, killed him.”

I was trying to process my father's words, but my mind had gone blank. What did this mean?

“The Fishers lied to us,” Reuben said.

“If all they did was show you Elijah's birth certificate, they didn't lie,” Dad said. “They just didn't tell you the whole story.”

“What does this mean?” I asked. “Does it mean . . . ?”

“Yes, Emily,” Dad said, his voice breaking. “It means that Elijah is probably Ryan. It's possible you've found your brother.”

I couldn't stop the tears that cascaded down my cheeks. After all these years, we'd found Ryan? “Wait a minute,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I'll bet Nathan's told his brother that we're looking for them.”

“But I'm certain they also assured them they had nothing to worry about,” Reuben said. “That they'd convinced you Elijah was their natural child.”

“What will they do?” I asked. “Will they run farther away, or do you think they might come home?”

“Hard to say,” Dad said, his voice heavy with emotion, “but I don't want to take any chances. We need to contact the authorities now. It's time.”

“We don't need any kind of massive manhunt,” I said. “That would send them somewhere we'd never find them.”

“What are you thinking?” Reuben asked.

“Let's talk to Paul. Lay everything out and ask him to help us search for the Fishers quietly. We'll have a better chance of finding them that way.”

“Who is Paul?”

“Sorry. He's a deputy sheriff. A friend of Reuben's.”

“I don't know, Emily,” Dad said. “You want to bring in one deputy sheriff? Don't we need as much help as we can get?”

I shook my head. “I've been around this kind of stuff for a few years now, Dad. Reported on missing person cases. Abducted children. Many times the police don't put information out right away because they need an advantage.”

“Maybe that's what they'll do this time.”

“Can't count on it. I've seen it go the other way too, and sometimes it ends badly.”

“Once you tell Paul what's going on, it will be out of your hands, you know. He may not be willing to do things your way.”

“I think he'll listen,” Reuben said. “First of all, he's a good man who will see this is the right way to go. Besides, I doubt he'll accept our word about Elijah immediately. That should keep him from sounding an alarm for no reason.”

Reuben's logic made sense. I prayed he was right. We were so close. Losing Ryan now was something I couldn't allow.

“Do you really think this deputy sheriff has what it takes to find them?” My father sounded skeptical.

“You can trust Paul,” Reuben said. “He's like a dog with a bone when it comes to solving cases. Everyone expects him to be the next sheriff of Madison County.”

Dad was silent as he mulled over our suggestions. “Okay,” he said finally, “but I'm still a little reluctant to do it this way.”

“Look, if Paul doesn't find them by tomorrow evening, we'll call out the cavalry,” I said. “But stealth is our friend right now.”

“All right. Will he come to us or do we need to go to him?”

“I'll call him right now,” Reuben said, rising from his rocking chair. “Let me see what he wants to do.”

I sighed. “He'll probably think I'm making this up to get out from being under suspicion.”

As Reuben walked a few feet away from the porch to get good reception on his phone, Dad took his place in the rocking chair next to me. “Why are you under suspicion?”

I told him about Paul's earlier visit and his concerns about my involvement in August's death.

“That's ridiculous,” Dad fumed. “Are you sure you want this man to help us? He doesn't sound very intelligent to me.”

“I think he's our best bet,” I said quietly. “I don't want to blow this. We can't alert the Fishers that we're on to them.” I smiled in the dark. “Good work, by the way. If it wasn't for your tenacity, I'd have given up and gone home.”

“I want Ryan back as much as you do, Emmie. Maybe more.”

“Can you imagine what this would do to Mom? If we brought Ryan home?”

“If this boy is your brother, he won't be the Ryan you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he's lived with the Fishers longer than he lived
with us. His personality won't be the same. He won't be . . . our Ryan.” Dad sighed. “At least it seems the Fishers are good people. That makes me feel better.”

“They may be victims too. Just like Ryan.”

“I know. We need to get all the facts before we accuse anyone of kidnapping.”

“But if they're completely innocent, why did they leave?” I asked. “They know
this
Elijah isn't their son. Maybe they
think
they love him, but keeping a child that doesn't belong to you isn't love.”

My father was silent.

“I'm not talking about you, Dad. Let's stay focused on Ryan.”

“All I'm saying is that we should reserve judgment until we have the truth. Right now all I want to do is find my son.” Dad rubbed his eyes. “I need to tell him how sorry I am for failing him. For not being the father I should have been. And I need to apologize for the last words I said to him.” He dropped his hand and looked over at me. “I guess I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing. To Ryan, to you, to your mother.”

“God forgave you a long time ago, Dad. We will too. All you can do is try to make amends and move on. Our reactions belong to us—not to you. I just listened to a sermon that meant a great deal to me. The pastor pointed out that we can't move forward with our lives by looking behind us at the past.”

My father didn't respond. We sat in silence until Reuben stepped back up onto the porch.

“Paul's on his way. He wasn't too happy about my call. I think he was already in bed.”

“Speaking of being in bed, I wonder if I should wake up Zac,” I said. “He doesn't like to be left out of the loop.”

Reuben smiled. “You talk about Zac as if
he
were your brother.”

I chuckled. “On the way up here, I was ready to strangle him. Now he really does feel like family. Weird.”

“He seems like a good kid,” Dad said. “I like him.”

“Let him sleep,” Reuben said. “We'll catch him up in the morning. He's been through a lot.”

“Okay, but you can take the blame for it if he gets upset.”

“I'll take that responsibility.” Reuben yawned widely. “I think we should put some coffee on. We may be up for a while.”

“I'll do it,” I said. “Won't take long.”

I got up and went to the kitchen. After watching Esther prepare coffee in her old percolator, I was pretty sure I could handle it. My coffeemaker at home was certainly easier to deal with, but I actually preferred the taste of the coffee brewed in the ancient pot. I rinsed it out, filled it with water, put the metal basket inside, and added two scoops of coffee to it. Then I put on the lid, set it on the stove, and lit the burner. Just to be sure, I waited around a few minutes until it began to percolate.

By the time I left the kitchen, Reuben and Dad had come inside and were sitting in the living room. Dad was talking about the official investigation into Ryan's abduction.

“Coffee's brewing,” I said. “Shouldn't be long.”

Reuben nodded distractedly. “Lyndon,” he said, “can I ask you something else?”

Dad straightened up in his chair. “Sure. What is it?”

“Tell me again about the man who was blackmailing you.”

He took a deep breath, trying to pull up painful memories. I could tell the past was still raw and tender. “He told me he knew the nurse who helped me switch babies that night. Before
she died, she told him what she'd done. I guess she felt guilty about it.” He shrugged. “At the time, she sure didn't seem to have a problem. In fact, she said she was happy to send Emily to a good home instead of into foster care. I guess over the years, she changed her attitude.”

Reuben frowned. “Something about that story bothers me.”

“What is it, Reuben?” I asked.

“What kind of a friend is at your bedside as you're dying? Who is the person you share your deepest secret with?”

His question took me aback. I looked over at my father.

“I don't know,” he said. “Someone very close.”

Reuben nodded. “Like a boyfriend or a husband.”

“You might be right,” Dad said. “But what does it matter?”

“It matters,” I said, answering for Reuben, “because we might be able to discover who this man was.”

“It wouldn't change anything.”

“I know that, Dad, but if we can find—what was his name?”

“Mac,” my father said slowly. “He called himself Mac.”

“If we can find Mac, we may be able to prove the link between Ryan and the Fishers.” I held my hands out, palms up. “If they're innocent, this could prove it. And if they're not . . .”

“Going after him will definitely bring attention back to Ryan and to us,” Dad said. “Do you want to be in the national spotlight again? You saw what happened to that family in Salt Lake City.”

“Of course not,” I said gently. “But don't you think it's time for the truth?
All
of the truth? The most important person now is Ryan. Proving that the Fishers were unwilling accomplices in his abduction could keep his current family intact.”

“It's worth the risk,” Reuben said, staring at me. “You're the investigator. Investigate.”

“I haven't done a lot of actual investigating, but I'll do my best,” I said. “Dad, do you remember the name of that nurse?”

“How could I ever forget? She changed our lives. Her name was Marian. Marian Belker.”

“Okay, I'll see what I can find out about Marian. I'll look through Social Security death records. Old obituaries. Maybe I can find something that will lead us to Mac.”

“She worked as a nurse,” Dad said. “Can't you check hospitals in Illinois to see if she's listed?”

I nodded. “Sure, but I'm not certain that will tell us what we need to know, although it might at least give us her last known address.”

The smell of coffee reminded me about the pot on the stove. “Reuben, why don't you help me with the coffee?”

He stood up and stretched. “Sounds good. I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

I headed toward the kitchen, and he followed me. “Where are the cups?”

I pointed toward the cabinets. “Over there. You get cups and saucers, and I'll get sugar and cream.”

“You got it.”

I found the tray Esther used for carrying coffee and food. I put the sugar bowl on it and got the cream out of the refrigerator. Reuben brought the cups over to me.

“That was really sharp,” I said, “thinking about Mac's relationship with Marian Belker. It should have occurred to me.”

He put the cups down on the tray. “No, it shouldn't have,” he said, taking my hand. “You've been through a lot of emotional upheaval. Right now, you're just trying to hang on.” He raised my hand to his lips. “I'm really proud of you.”

“What are you talking about? I haven't done anything to be proud of.”

He kissed my hand. “You're wrong. Most people would be a basket case by now, but you're keeping yourself together. You're still kind and generous. Even with your father. After what he told you, you could have gone ballistic. Ordered him out of your life. Shut him out completely. But instead, you're trying to work through it. Understand him.”

I shook my head. “Don't get ahead of yourself. After this is over, I'll probably have a complete nervous breakdown.”

“I don't believe that. But I do believe you'll find a way to make your relationship with your father and mother stronger than ever. That's the kind of person you are. I'm also confident you'll have your brother back soon.” He kissed me gently. “You're a very strong woman, Wynter. Stronger than you realize.”

“I hope you're right.” I gazed into his eyes. “But if I decide somewhere along the way to fall into a million pieces, will you help pick me up and put me back together?”

He smiled and kissed my nose. “Always.”

We were interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. Reuben quickly grabbed another cup and saucer, picked up the tray, and we both hurried to the living room. We got there just as Paul Gleason was coming in the front door.

“I'm not sure what I'm doing here,” he said with a scowl. “Couldn't this wait until morning?”