Gone (15 page)

“That’s right, hon.” Joe crouched down beside Howard and shook his shoulder. “Howard. Where are your keys?”

“Need doctor,” Howard whispered. “Hurting bad.”

“Come on, Howard. Do I need to pat you down? I’ll do it.”

The only sound from Howard was a long groan.

Joe patted Howard’s pockets and came up with a set of keys. “Here we go,” he said, holding up the keys. “Marcie, think you can drive?”

“I guess so, if I have to. Why?”

Joe held out his hands, which were about half-covered in clear blisters now. She looked at them, made a small, low sound in distress, then took the keys. “Are we ready to go?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We can come back and get this stuff later. Our first priority is to find Rhoda and call the police.”

Marcie drove the pickup. Despite its creakiness and filth, the engine was surprisingly peppy. The starter groaned, as did the transmission when she shifted gears, but she didn’t have any trouble driving it. She didn’t speak on the drive and neither did Joe. Her head was filled with worry about Joshua and anger at Joe for not warning her that Howard didn’t have her baby.

But then, a question wormed its way into her consciousness. If she’d known Joshua wasn’t there, could she have been as convincing as a mother desperate to see and hold her child? She pushed away the argument that Joe had done the best thing for the situation. She wanted to wallow in her grief and anger a little while longer.

As they approached Rhoda’s house, Marcie said shortly, “I was about here when Howard called me yesterday.”

Joe looked at his phone. “I’ve got two bars,” he said. He dialed the number Ethan Delancey had given him.

“Detective Delancey?” he asked when someone answered.

“Joe Powers,” Ethan said on an audible sigh. “I’m glad to hear from you. Are you and your wife all right?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” There was a lot unsaid in that terse comment, and Joe knew that eventually both he and Marcie would have to go through it all in excruciating detail, but for now— “Fine,” he repeated. “We’re in Howard’s truck, almost to Rhoda’s house.”

“I know you don’t have your son,” Ethan said without preamble. “I’ve been trying to call you, but your phone kept going to voice mail.”

“That’s right. There’s no cell service in the middle of Bayou DeChez,” Joe said wryly. “We’re hoping Rhoda’s at her house with Joshua.”

“I ordered surveillance on Rhoda Sumner’s house yesterday morning, as soon as I left your house. There was no activity at all at the house until this morning, when one of my officers reported that she and a toddler were brought to the house in an old green pickup that I’m assuming is Howard Lelievre’s. Just about twenty minutes ago, she put two suitcases in her car, then she and the toddler got into the car and headed north on I-55. My officer stopped her and took her into custody.”

Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s great. Where are they now?”

“They’re at the Hammond Police Department, right off I-55. You know how to get there?”

“Thomas Street, right? I can get there. Who should we ask for?”

“I tell you what. I’ll be at the front desk. If something comes up and I’m not there, call me on my cell.”

“Detective,” Joe said, “thank you for stopping Rhoda. I can’t tell you how grateful we are. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He started to wipe a hand across his face, then saw the tissues wrapped around his palms. “I know where Howard is. He’s in a stilt house on Bayou DeChez, a few miles west of Rhoda’s house. He’s tied up with bungee cords and his face and neck and upper back have been burned. He’s the kidnapper who was demanding a ransom for Joshua. I’m sure the police are going to have a lot of questions for me. Please tell them I’m available anytime. I’m willing to do whatever I need to. I’m the one who burned him and left him there, tied up.”

“I see,” Ethan said. “I’ll call the Killian P.D. and have them get somebody out there. They’ll be calling you for a statement.”

“Thanks, Detective.”

“How’s your wife?”

Joe glanced at Marcie, who hadn’t taken her eyes off the road. Her hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “We’re both hanging in there, I guess.”

“I need to let you know that the police chief in Hammond has ordered that the Department of Protective Child Services be brought in to take care of the boy.”

“What? Why?” Joe blurted before he was able to control himself.

Marcie glanced over at him, disturbed by his tone. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’m sure you know why. You must have had experience with this type of situation at your job. Your son was nine months old when he was taken. He’s thirty-three months old now. Obviously he’s not going to remember you.”

This time Joe was successful at controlling his outburst. He swallowed the anguished protest he wanted to make. “I don’t think I agree with that,” he said carefully.

Marcie sent him a sidelong glance. “Joe!” she said. “What’s wrong?”

He just shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to give you a heads-up so you could prepare Marcie.” Ethan sighed.

“Yeah,” Joe said wryly. “Thanks.”

“What’s the matter?” Marcie said as soon as he hung up. “What did he say?”

Joe pocketed the phone, trying to figure out if there was any way to tell her about Child Services without sending her over the edge. He could feel her brittle control and he knew from past experience just how fragile that control was.

Chapter Fourteen

“Joe? What did Detective Delancey say? Is it something about Joshua?” Marcie asked, tugging at Joe’s arm.

Joe grimaced. “Why don’t we get some coffee? There’s a diner in Killian and we’re almost there. Maybe even some breakfast?”

“No! I don’t want anything except my baby. What. Did. He. Tell. You?”

Joe saw Marcie’s fingers tighten even more on the steering wheel. “They did find Rhoda,” he said, choosing his words very carefully, “and she had Joshua with her.”

Marcie threw her head back. “Ahh.” She sighed. “Thank God. He’s all right? He’s good?”

“Apparently he’s fine. They’ve taken them to Hammond, to the police station.”

“We have to go. We have to get there now! How far is it to Hammond?”

“Marcie,” Joe said, laying his hand lightly on her arm. “Pull over. You’re nervous as a cat and you shouldn’t be driving.”

“No, Joe. That’ll just waste time. We’ve got to get there. It’s our son. My baby!”

“Pull over!” Joe shouted. “Now!”

Marcie jumped and shot him an alarmed look, but she stopped the truck and folded her arms. “Okay, Joe,” she said, biting off each word. “I’ve stopped. What are you going to do? You can’t drive. Your palms are covered with blisters. I don’t know why you’re being so mean. I’m perfectly capable of driving. I’m fine. I’m—” Her voice cracked.

Tears formed in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Joe wanted to apologize to her for yelling. He’d never raised his voice to her. Never needed to. But right now he was just as anxious as she was to see Joshua. He wanted to hold him, to kiss and hug his son. He wanted to be able to hand Marcie their child, to see her face when she got to hold her little boy for the first time in almost two years. And he knew that’s what Marcie wanted, too.

But he knew it was going to be a long, painful time before either one of them could touch their child, or kiss him or hold him. It was going to be a long time—if ever—before the three of them were a family again.

What kind of coward was he that he couldn’t tell her what Detective Delancey had told him? He couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her that she couldn’t talk to or touch her child. He was that much of a coward.

“Change seats,” he growled, opening the passenger door. His hand burned and he felt blisters pop. “I’m going to drive.”

“This ought to be good,” she snapped. “Look at you. Your hands are covered with blisters. How do you think you’re going to drive?”

“Pretty damn carefully,” he stormed at her.

With a sniff of frustration, she put the pickup in Neutral and engaged the emergency brake. Climbing out of the driver’s seat, she walked around the front of the pickup as Joe walked around the back and got behind the wheel. He carefully released the brake, then shifted into first. He gritted his teeth as more blisters popped on his palms.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the Hammond Police Department. By the time they were parked, Marcie had handed Joe about a dozen tissues to wrap his hands in. He parked the truck and stepped on the emergency brake, and for a moment, he just sat, staring at his tissue-wrapped hands on the steering wheel.

“Joe?”

He clenched his teeth, took a long breath, then turned to Marcie. “I have to tell you something before we go in there.”

She turned pale. “No, Joe. You said he was all right.”

“He is all right, hon. Just listen to me. You need to know that...there are procedures for this kind of thing.”

“No, Joe. No procedures. I need my baby. I need to hold him.”

Joe swallowed hard. “I know, hon. I understand. But like I said, there are procedures for dealing with a child who’s been stolen from his parents. Joshua was so young, and he’s been gone for a long time.”

“No,” Marcie whispered brokenly. “No, Joe, please.” Her eyes were red, her cheeks chapped from the tears and the rain and the cool air. “Please. I need my baby.”

Joe’s heart ripped in two as he spoke the next few words. “Child Services is going to take him.”

“No!” Marcie cried. “I won’t let them. Child Services can’t take my baby.” She fumbled for the door latch and threw herself out of the truck. As soon as her feet hit the ground she was running toward the big front door of the station.

Joe jumped out and ran after her. He caught up with her about three steps from the door. He caught her arm and turned her around to face him. “Marcie, don’t. You’ve got to handle this rationally. You have
got
to calm down. If you act irrationally, the Child Services people will wonder if you’re capable of taking care of Joshua. You know they’ll have access to the police’s records of complaints against you for those previous incidents.”

“Capable of taking—?” She choked and had to cough. “I am his
mother.
There is no one more capable.”

“Hon, I know that,” he said, feeling tears sting his own eyes. “But we have to convince them.”

“Why, Joe?” The question sounded as if it were ripped from her throat. “Why would they keep him from me?” She almost collapsed in his arms.
Almost.

But from somewhere, she drew on a reservoir of strength that he didn’t realize she had left in her. She drew herself up to her full height, wiped her eyes, then pinned him with a glare.

“This is your fault,” she whispered. “All of it. I have been through hell these past two years, and so has my child. I would be happy if I never had to see you again.”

Joe’s eyes stung. “Marcie, come on. You’re upset.”

“You’re damned right I’m upset. But I need to appear calm and collected. I’m going in there and I’m going to make sure those people know that I can take care of my child. You can go in there with me if you want, but—” She lifted a finger and pointed it at him. “Do not talk. Do not contradict me. Do not touch my child. I will do this on my own. Joshua and I don’t need you.” The whole time she talked, tears streamed down her face. She pulled a tissue from her purse and dried them, then straightened her back and walked into the station as if she were the police chief.

Joe wiped his wet cheeks with the cuff of his shirt. She was right. It all was his fault. All she’d ever done was try to deal with the devastation and grief he’d caused. For one ridiculous moment, he considered leaving the station. But he knew, even if she didn’t, that both of them were in for hours and hours of questions, explanations and interrogations. He had to be here. Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to draw breath if they didn’t allow him a glimpse of his son—and soon.

* * *

M
ARCIE
STOPPED
AT
the door to the Hammond Police Department. She blotted the last of the tears from her cheeks, smoothed back her hair, then pushed the door open and stepped into the air-conditioned station.

Standing at the desk was the detective who’d come to see Joe the other day. Her brain registered again how much he and Joe looked alike, as he held out his hand to her.

“Mrs. Powers,” he said. “I’m so glad to see you. Are you injured at all? We can have emergency medical technicians here within a few minutes.”

She shook her head.

“What about some coffee or a glass of water?”

She shook her head again. “I’m ready to see my child,” she said evenly.

Detective Delancey looked toward the door. “Where’s your husband?”

She shrugged as the door pushed inward and Joe came in. Marcie tried not to look at him, but she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t really taken in his appearance once Howard was immobilized. In the sunlight that poured in through the glass doors, she saw that his hair was full of dust and dirt, his shirt was wrinkled and stained and his hands dripped with ragged facial tissues that were dotted with blood.

“Joe!” Delancey said. “What happened to your hands?”

“They’re burned,” Joe said, looking at them as if they didn’t belong to him. “I guess I need to clean them up and bandage them.”

Ethan was already turning to the desk sergeant. “Call for an EMT to treat—” He looked at Joe with a questioning glance.

“Blisters,” Joe said ruefully.

“Second-degree burns on hands and forearms.” Delancey turned to Joe again. “Anywhere else?”

Joe shook his head.

Marcie allowed herself to be irritated and impatient with the detective, who seemed far more concerned about Joe’s burned hands than he did about her child. She caught his sleeve. “I want to see my baby now!” she said. “Where is he?”

Detective Delancey sent her an odd look. He glanced sidelong at Joe then back at her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Powers, but the child is being questioned by a representative from the Department of Children and Family Services right now.”

“You’re sorry? You’re
sorry?
” she said loudly. “That is
my
child in there—” she gestured vaguely “—and I want to see him right this minute. I have not seen him in two years. That is twenty-four months, sir.”

A female police officer stepped up. Marcie didn’t know where the woman had come from but she looked grim and determined, with one hand in her pocket and the other hand reaching for Marcie’s arm. Marcie glared at her.

“Ma’am, why don’t you come with me and we’ll get a cup of coffee,” the officer said, pausing just shy of touching Marcie’s arm.

“I don’t
want
a cup of coffee,” Marcie snapped. “I want my child.”

“Marcie, hon, they’re going to help you,” Joe said, stepping close to her and bending his head to speak quietly. “But first they have to follow the law. Everything’s going to be fine, if you’ll just—”

“Everything is
not
going to be fine. Just leave me alone,” she said, her voice breaking. “Go get your hands fixed.”

At that moment an EMT came through the glass doors with a medical kit in his hand. He stopped when he saw Joe. “Hi there,” he said. “You must be my patient.”

“Ethan,” Joe said to the detective. “I really don’t want to leave her.”

Marcie sniffed. “Leave me, please,” she said archly. Deep inside her she knew she was being irrational and mean, but she was afraid if she didn’t hold on to this tremendous anger she felt toward Joe right now, she’d break down and start sobbing. She wasn’t sure which would be worse in the critical eyes of Child Services as they ruled whether she could take care of her child.
Her child.
And right now she didn’t care. She was doing the only thing she could do to stay in control. Anger was all she had right now.

As Joe went off with the EMT to get his hands treated, Detective Delancey laid a hand on Marcie’s arm. She flinched, but quelled her initial urge to pull away. That would probably be resisting arrest, she thought with a wry, inward chuckle.

Delancey looked at her oddly for an instant, then composed his face. “Mrs. Powers, if you’ll go with Officer Hatcher, I’ll check with the official from Child Services and see what we can do about letting you see your son.”

Suddenly, she was at a loss for words. She couldn’t speak, could barely think. Had he really said she could see her son? Or she might be able to see her son? Momentarily confused, she allowed the officer to guide her to a kitchen and pour her a cup of coffee.

“It’s fairly fresh,” the officer said kindly.

Marcie burst into tears.