Beside Still Waters (32 page)

             
“A police officer did inform us of the unfortunate...mix up with the DNA analysis for the body of a child they discovered.  I want to reassure you, Mr. Walters, that whoever that was, it was not our son.  Our son was a police detective and he died a hero just a few weeks ago.  Whoever that other child was I wish they would figure it out so that his mother can have her mind put to rest, but trust me, it was not our boy.”

             
Denise Dryer had a southern accent, the only one in her family that did, and she was one of the only people in Pine Springs who sported an accent from the other side of the country.  She had an imperiousness to her that said that she had always had money.  She knew how to command a room.

             
Mark cleared his throat.  He had worked hard to get this interview.  He shouldn’t even be there, harassing the family.  He was sure the only reason he had made it through the front door was that he had been Paul’s partner.  Rather, he had been Not Paul’s partner, but he could sense that he wasn’t going to convince Denise of that.

             
On some level he guessed she had the right to believe what she wanted.  He, however, had an obligation to the truth, and to both Pauls to find out what had really happened to each of them and who Not Paul really was.

             
“I understand that this is difficult, but perhaps if you can just humor me for a moment on this, I have a few questions.”

             
“I’m sorry, Mr. Walters, but you’re five minutes are up.  I let you in to this house because you were a friend to my boy.  But we’re done here and you can leave now,” Denise Dryer said as she rose gracefully to her feet.

             
He stood slowly, struggling not to let his impatience and his frustration show.  The last thing he needed was for her to report his visit, especially since he wasn’t there in any official capacity.

             
He pulled a business card out of his pocket and put it down on the coffee table.  “Thank you for your time.  If anyone has anything to say,” he said, sweeping the room with his eyes, “I can be reached at this number.”

             
The older woman didn’t even acknowledge that he had spoken, just stared fixedly at the space above his head.  He set his jaw and turned to go.  “I’ll see myself out.”

             
As he passed through the massive marble foyer he couldn’t help but think about Joseph, the parishioner from First Shepherd he’d had the occasion to run into now several times.  He had to move in the same circles as the Dryers, but you’d never guess it from his attitude.

             
Joseph was a few years Paul’s junior, so they wouldn’t have probably known each other growing up.  It was worth asking, though.  If nothing else maybe Joseph knew something about the family that could help.  Sometimes gossip provided just the right lead that would otherwise go undiscovered.

             
He was down the long walkway and halfway to his car when he heard running steps behind him.

             
“Wait!”

             
Mark turned around and saw Gretchen running toward him.  He stopped and she reached him in a moment and put a hand on his arm.  “Did you mean it?  Paul’s really not my, wasn’t, I mean, my brother?”

             
Her eyes were soft and pleading and it killed him to nod his head.

             
“I’m afraid he wasn’t,” he said, trying to say it as gently as he could even though he knew that would do nothing to ease the pain of her loss or her sense of confusion and betrayal that must surely follow.

             
She nodded her head slowly and bit her lip.

             
“You knew that already, didn’t you?” he asked with a flash of insight.

             
“I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

             
“Gretchen, you have to tell me what you know.  I mean, who knows?  Maybe he had family, a real sister out there somewhere who never knew what happened to him, just like you never knew what happened to your real brother.”

             
Tears filled her eyes.  “You have to understand.  Paul, whoever he was, I’ll always love him, think of him as if
he
were really my brother.”

             
“That’s understandable,” Mark said, sensing that she was wavering, at a crossroads.  He needed her to choose a path and he needed it to be the one that gave him information.  “But he was a detective, unsolved crimes drove him crazy.  Someone killed your real brother and for some reason the man we knew as Paul took his place.  For all we know he didn’t even realize that he wasn’t your brother.  We owe it to both of them to find out what happened.”

             
She took a deep breath.  “You’re right, I guess.  I do owe them both.”

             
“Yes.  So, please, tell me what you know.”

             
“When we were little Paul was kidnapped by our nanny.  I was five.  He was eight.  The police searched everywhere but eventually they gave up.  Almost two years later we got a call.  Police had picked him up wandering on the side of a road.  He was injured and he had these terrible scars on his face and a broken nose.  But he knew who he was, his address and phone number and the police brought him home.  He said that the nanny had been holding him in a cabin by a lake, but she was never found.”

             
Gretchen dropped her eyes to the ground.  “My parents were overjoyed.  A few weeks later they had a plastic surgeon fix his face up.  Paul was so happy to be home and he knew everything about everyone, the house.  No one even questioned that it might not be him.”

             
“Except for you.”

             
“Except for me.  He looked similar and two years and all those scars and who could tell if he really was the same kid.  We had a fort in a tree in the backyard that was our special place.  Three days after he came home he came out to the fort where I was and he didn’t know our secret password to get in.”

             
Mark frowned.  It wasn’t the game changing piece of information he was hoping for.  “It had been almost two years and as you pointed out there was so much trauma.”

             
“There was no way he would have forgotten,” she insisted, crossing her arms.  “He remembered all kinds of stupid things, like what presents I got at my birthday party the month before he was kidnapped.  But he didn’t know the one secret that we had.  Not only did he not know the password, but he also didn’t even know there was a password.  Even weirder when I finally told him what it was it seemed to freak him out.”

             
“The word itself freaked him out?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“What did you do?” Mark prompted.

             
“I told Mom and Dad.”

             
“But they didn’t believe you,” Mark guessed.

             
“No.  They told me what you did just now.  And when I insisted they thought that I was just jealous because he was getting so much attention.”

             
The tears that she had been holding back began to roll down her cheeks.  “It was terrible, unfair.  They didn’t get that I wanted him to be home as much as they did.”

             
“Thank you for telling me that,” Mark said.

             
She nodded.

             
“Was there anything else unusual, different about him?”

             
“He used to be a fussy eater when we were little, but after he came back he ate everything.  We always thought it was because he was just grateful to be home and to have enough food.  He was super skinny when he came home.  And he didn’t want to ever go to church again.  He said he spent two years praying that someone would rescue him and no one ever did.  Mom and Dad made him go but after a few weeks they just let him stay home.”

             
He turned and walked the few remaining feet to his car.  “Before I go can you just answer one more question?”

             
“I’ll try.”

             
“What was your secret password?”

             
She smiled.  “We picked it one day after Sunday School because of the way the teacher kept using the word.  She had this really funny accent and it made us laugh.  Our password was
Righteousness
.”

~

             
Jeremiah returned to the house after running some errands.  He was wired, keyed up still.  And there were still so many questions about the future that he wasn’t ready to face.  Captain was overjoyed to have him home and he took the dog for a short walk.  They had just made it back to the house when his phone rang.

             
“Hi, Mark,” Jeremiah said.  “Thanks again for everything,” he said.

             
“I wish I could have done more,” the detective said.  “I’m so very sorry.”

             
“Thank you.”

             
The detective cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry to call, but I wanted to let you know that I found out some more information about what it was like when Not Paul was found as a kid.  The sister opened up and talked to me.”

             
“That’s great.  Speaking of Not Paul, we should get back to our sessions.”

             
Mark hesitated.  “I didn’t want to push you.”

             
“It’s important.  I need to regain some normalcy and you need to keep progressing so you can get cleared to work again.”

             
There was another hesitation and then Mark asked quietly, “Do you think that will ever happen again?”

             
Jeremiah rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  Mark was in a bad place and he needed reassurance.  As a counselor, that wasn’t Jeremiah’s place.  It was his place to listen and evaluate.  As a friend, though, he owed him something more.

             
He cleared his
throat.  “You asked me once if I thought you did the right thing.”

             
“Yes?” Mark asked,
and from the tone of his voice Jeremiah could tell the other man wasn’t
sure
if
he wanted to hear the answer.

             
“I think you did.”

             
The relief in Mark’s voice was painfully apparent
.  “So, in my shoes you would have done the same thing?”

             
Jeremiah
took a deep breath
.  “No, in your shoes, I would have killed him.”

             
There was silence for a long time and then Mark finally said, “Thank you.”

             
“You’re welcome,” Jeremiah said.  “I’ll see you Thursday.”  He hung up before the detective could say anything.

             
He made a mental note to tell Marie to put it on his schedule.  He had called her briefly the night before and learned that the only thing he had really missed when he had been gone had been an ant infestation.  Otto, it seemed, had never shown up for his Wednesday appointment and neither of them knew even his last name or contact info.  Jeremiah wasn’t sure what had happened to change the old man’s mind about keeping the appointment, but when Otto decided to talk, maybe he’d pop up again.  Until then, he had far more pressing things to take care of.

~

             
After breakfast Cindy didn’t know what to do with herself.  She’d already talked to her parents the night before and even her brother, Kyle.  She’d been so grateful to be alive and to hear their voices that she hadn’t even thrown any darts at the dartboard that had Kyle’s face on it on the back of her door.  She had kept up the practice although since having to throw darts at actual people on St. Patrick’s Day it seemed much more gruesome than it used to.  Now, though, she was determined not to let the skill go rusty, just in case.

             
As soon as the breakfast dishes had been cleared away Geanie had gone into full wedding preparation mode.  She and Joseph were going out to look at a few places where they might be able to hold a reception.  They invited her along, but Cindy wasn’t in the mood.

             
Once she was home alone, though, she realized that the last thing she wanted was to be alone.  It just reminded her of slowly starving alone in the house her captors had stuck her in.  By the time it was noon she was climbing the walls.

             
She finally drove over to Jeremiah’s house.  She wanted to see how he was.  When she got there she realized he might actually be at the synagogue but to her relief he opened his door.