Indelible (45 page)

Setting down his cup, he said, “What?”

“State called,” Moser started.

Sue ran over him, saying, “They found a DNA match to that fingernail.”

Jonah raised his eyes to Moser.

“Evan Zachary McCabe. Came up in the missing and exploited children database.”

That took the wind out. With the printer clacking behind him, jerking and spitting pages into the tray, he wished he could press rewind and back them out of the room before anything more was said. “What’s the story?”

Moser passed the baton to Sue, who said, “He’s from Jackson, Mississippi. Went missing when he was six years old. Parents ran the local pharmacy—the nonlegal kind.”

He waited.

“They claimed someone took the kid out of his bed, but he’d been known to go out scrounging for food whenever they were not in the mood to cook edible stuff. Like every day.” She hardly contained her disgust.

A six-year-old wandering the streets, going through the trash, maybe knocking on doors. A regular pattern, most likely. Until the wrong door opened. Jonah clenched his jaw. “Anything else?”

Moser said, “I asked the detective on the case to fax everything they have. Evan’s still officially missing.”

Of course he was. Jonah’s stomach collapsed like the target of a wrecking ball. They’d identified him. But it didn’t feel good.

Trevor gave the code over the intercom to admit Tia and Carolyn when they came to check on Natalie. He met them at the elevator and brought them up. Sensing they wanted time alone with her, he said, “Let me know when you’re getting ready to leave. I need to go to work, but I’ll come right back when you’re done.”

Natalie followed him to the door. “If you have things to do, I’ll be fine. I’m in a fortress.”

Hardly impenetrable, but his address wasn’t in the directory, so his twisted admirer might not realize where he lived or that she was here. Might not. “Let me know before you’re all done.”

She said, “Okay.”

He held her eyes, then he left. She wouldn’t be alone, and this was important. Whit had called him in for a state-of-the-business conference, but he found the whole family in the office.

Sara flushed. “Trevor, how are you?” She pulled his cheek down for a kiss.

“I’m okay, thanks.” He squeezed her shoulder and took the baby. “Did you put more sand in this sandbag? He could hold up a dike.”

“Are you calling my baby fat?”

“He’s solid. Sturdy.” He kissed the soft head. “Why do babies smell so good?”

“Product. Hate to break it to you, but he’d smell like mustard and spit-up milk if it weren’t for baby shampoo and diaper cream.” Her eyes had a hint of tears. She was trying hard, but their last encounter hadn’t gone well. It seemed like years ago. He should have called.

Caitlyn poked her head in. “Um, Trevor …”

Leaning around her, Jonah said, “Can I have a minute?” By his expression, the news wasn’t good.

“Come in.”

Jonah opened a folder, took out the angel drawing, and laid it on the desk. Trevor shifted Braden to see the paper he set down next. A copy of … a book cover? It looked like Satan on it. Trevor looked from one picture to the other, realizing they were chillingly similar.

“What is it?”

“Paradise Lost.”

That told him nothing.

Sara said, “It’s an epic poem about the fall of man.”

Jonah glanced at her, Whit, and the baby. “Maybe we should—”

“These are my friends, Chief, and considering what happened to Natalie, I’m not keeping them in the dark.”

“Okay.” Jonah tapped the picture. “Does that book mean anything to you?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, Tia thinks he’s identifying with the fallen angel and sees you as his nemesis, perhaps Michael the archangel who threw him down from heaven.”

“What, is he nuts?”

“Possibly. The DNA we found in Natalie’s studio matches a child abducted eleven years ago. Evan McCabe.”

Dread stiffened his back.

“The abductor was a professor of medieval studies, specializing in the Dark Ages.” Jonah gave the last words the sinister tone they deserved.

For the first time, he imagined a worse fate for Ellis than falling to his death. The memory came back so hard he smelled the summer air, trees and grass, and sweaty bodies. He saw Ellis, tall for five, unwieldy like a colt, his eyes begging him to stay. The team waiting, needing their star. Whit’s eyes burning.
“Come on, Trevor. Let’s go.”

Little brothers were always there; this basketball game would establish their dominance once and for all. He remembered the stretch and agility of his body, basketball his main outlet in the years off skiing as his muscles came into their man strength. He’d felt like Superman, leaping tall buildings in a single bound.

“The kid is wanted for questioning in the professor’s murder.”

Whit said, “He killed him?”

Jonah shrugged. “He would have been twelve years old.”

“And now he’s what?” Trevor asked.

“Seventeen.”

“So it’s kidnapping. You can bring in the FBI?”

“As far as we can tell, he’s acting on his own, Trevor. There’s no coercion.”

“There was.”

“It ended five years ago.”

Trevor tipped his head back, frustrated. “So, what then?”

Jonah said, “I need to show Natalie a photo, see if she can confirm that the person who struck her—”

“Fine. Follow me over.” He turned to Whit. “Can we do this later?”

“I’ll wait.” Whit, always magnanimous.

Borne on the shoulders of his teammates, he’d gotten Conner’s message. Then the desperate search, begging God, bargaining. Give him Ellis and take anything. The rusty railing over the drainage ditch. The broken little body.

Pain, sorrow. Guilt, the awful crushing guilt.

“Trevor?” Sara’s voice penetrated.

He loosened his grip on Braden.

“I’m leaving now too,” she said. “Walk me out?”

“Okay.” Bearing Braden, he walked her to the car. The day was crisp and clear, no hint of summer anywhere. There were things to say, so he shoved the past back to the shadows and said, “Thank you for the meals.”

She unlocked and opened the door. “I hope they helped.”

“They still are.”

“That’s right. Natalie’s there.” She tossed a blanket out of the car seat. “For protection.”

This couldn’t go on. “I’ve never lied to you, Sara. I’m not starting now.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she gave him one more chance at denial. “You love her.”

“I guess the things that made it impossible before are breaking down. I want you to be happy with Whit, and I want to be happy too.”

She sniffed. “I know. I just … don’t want to lose you.”

“Nothing will stop our friendship. You matter. You always have.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She reached for the baby. “I’m sorry I said the things I did. Natalie’s …”

“It’s okay.” He transferred Braden’s wobbly weight. “When you get to know her, you can share your honest opinion.”

As she bent to load Braden, Trevor looked around at the denuded aspen branches, their trunks rubbed by mule deer antlers, the creek as low as it would be until snowmelt. Everything was winding down.

She drew her head out and spread her arms. “Hug?”

“Of course.” He held her an extra beat, remembering the stiffening grief of Ellis’s death they’d shared, the soul-breaking sobs. He could not have made a life with her, so intimately tied to that pain, but still he cared. “No one knows me the way you do. Not even Whit.”

The other women had been placeholders, aborted attempts to move past this relationship into something that could work.

“Is it Ellis?” Her voice trembled.

“Yes.” Natalie knew about but hadn’t been in it. “I have to let go.”

Sara nodded tearfully, understanding, he hoped. After one more squeeze, she got in. He watched her drive away, then realized Jonah had pulled around and was waiting, watching. Fine. He had nothing to hide.

Relieved that they hadn’t come to help her see something she couldn’t, Natalie enjoyed Tia and Carolyn. The respect and affection between the older and younger woman was beautiful, and it embraced her.

“That scent is perfect for you,” Tia said, smelling the essential oil she had created. “I’m always amazed how people choose the right ones.”

“It’s the one I liked best.”

“I brought something else, though. For the headache.”

She said, “How did you know …”

“A fractured skull?” Tia raised her eyebrow. “I’m guessing there’s a headache.”

“I thought it would be gone by now. But I’m still not right. Simple things are hard.” That was more than she’d told anyone, but these women were healers. She could feel it.

Tia took a bottle of oil from her purse. “May I rub this on your wrists and temples?”

“Of course.”

Tia came around behind the couch. She must have opened it, because the aroma filled the air. Her hands were astonishing. “Carolyn would like to intercede for your continued healing, if that’s all right.”

“More than all right.” As one prayed and one ministered, she felt the dull, underlying headache ease. Tired and dizzy, thick and slow after so many days, she’d been frustrated and frightened, but a sense of well-being overcame it all. She wasn’t forsaken.

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning
. She didn’t know if Tia said it or that line from the psalm just came to her. Whatever happened would still be God’s plan.

Vaguely she realized other voices had joined the women’s. She must have dozed, but tuned into the discussion in progress.

“It’s not great timing, Jonah.”

“Can’t be helped. I need this.”

She opened her eyes. Trevor and Jonah were both there. She straightened. “What is it?”

The chief said, “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a six-pack of headshots I’d like you to look at. For identification.”

“I’ll try.” Doubtful it would do any good, she studied each one, still amazed, though less dismayed, that nothing happened. She could live with it. That unicorn horn had gotten in the way.

Almost through the six photos, sadness lodged in her chest. She touched the middle photo on the bottom row. “This one. Except his face was scarred.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, it’s only memory …”

The chief’s eyes softened. He returned the folder to his jacket. “Can you remember anything else?”

And suddenly, she did. She gripped the edge of the couch. “He didn’t strike me.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t an attack. I ran into the pedestal. The sculpture fell.” The weight. The sharp, searing pain. Him bending over.
Blood. Too much blood
. His fear … for her.

Trevor said, “He had a crowbar.”

“It tested negative for blood,” Jonah told him.

“He didn’t hurt me.” She looked from one to the other. “I think he tried to help.”

In the darkness, Tia held him. The case file, the photos found at the abductor’s home told a story too wretched to express. What he’d seen and learned about Evan McCabe drove him to his knees, but he found no peace.

“How can we do this? How can we bring a child into this world?”

“Our baby will have us, Jonah.” She ran her hand down his side, brushing the bullet hole.