L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I’LL GET YOU HIS things,” the woman told Adam in Spanish, then disappeared into the shack.

What the hell? She’d said that the child’s father had been here nearly two months ago. But then he’d left again. Why hadn’t he taken the boy with him?

A moment later the woman came out again, smiling and carrying a shoe box with a Nike logo on the side.

“This is everything you need to take him to America,” she said. “He will be happy there. And my friend Corita will rest in peace now.”

Take him to… Adam’s jaw dropped to his chest. “Whoa.” He held up a hand. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

The woman kept smiling. “No. No misunderstanding. Bobby’s father said someone would come to get him. Someone would take the boy to his home in America. I’ve put everything in here.” She shoved the box at Adam’s chest.

Deciding he’d better see what was inside, he took the box and sat down on the rickety wooden steps. The woman disappeared inside again.

He pulled off the cover and set it aside. At first glance, the contents looked to be just a few items of clothing. A T-shirt, one pair of shorts and underwear, a book. He shoved the clothing aside and reached underneath. A piece of tattered paper. He thumbed it open.

“Robert John Sullivan Junior. Mother—Corita Sullivan. Father—Robert John Sullivan,” it read. Bingo! It was the boy’s birth certificate. Before he had a chance to read all of it, the woman returned again. He stuck it in a pocket to look at later.

“When Corita’s husband was here, he told me he had to take care of some business, so he couldn’t take Bobby. He said if he didn’t come back in two weeks, that I should mail the letter he gave me. That someone would come for the boy.”

“I’d like to see the letter.”

She shook her head. “The letter is gone. After two weeks, I mailed it like he said. My friend Corita, before she died, gave me a letter to mail and number to call, too, and when he didn’t come back, I asked a friend who was going to Mirador to mail Corita’s letter and make the call for me. But when he called the number he was told it was disconnected.” She paused.

Adam pulled out the letter he’d received from Corita Sullivan. “Is this her letter?”

She nodded. “I forgot to do it right away.”

That was why the LAPD only received it a couple of weeks ago.

“Something bad has happened to Corita’s man. I know it. Because after he left, some men came here looking for him. Men with guns.”

“Police?”

“No. Manolo’s men. Drug traffickers.”

Just as he’d thought. Anyone who worked narcotics knew of Miguel Manolo—the man who’d emerged as the new head honcho of the largest drug cartel in Central America. He was elusive…a ghost. No one had been able to take him down.

“If those men find Corita’s man…” the woman added, then ran a finger across her throat.

The same men they’d just encountered. Manolo’s men seemed to be one step ahead of Adam and Jillian. Which didn’t bode well for Sullivan…or them if they encountered the men again.

Just then, Jillian came around the corner, her expression somber. Thinking quickly, he asked the woman to take the shoe box back inside while he spoke to Mrs. Sullivan. He couldn’t tell Jillian everything, not until he sorted out what he needed to do.

He had to know for sure whether Jack Sullivan was dead or alive, and he couldn’t take the chance that she’d do something to screw things up. Not when he was so close.

“Hey,” he said. “How’d it go?”

Jillian gave him a look he couldn’t read. Just then, the other woman came out of the shack with a piece of paper. She handed it to Adam.

He glanced down. It was a telephone number. No name, no other identifiers. But he recognized that it was a U.S. connection with a familiar area code. A Chicago area code.

Jillian moved closer and glanced at the note. Her eyes went wide. She snatched it from his hand and stared. “This is my mother-in-law’s old phone number! What’s going on, Adam?”

Her mother-in-law’s number? Man, oh, man. It was just the evidence he needed to prove Jack Sullivan and Jillian’s husband were one and the same. It might not be conclusive in court, but it sure as hell was as far as he was concerned.

But what could he tell Jillian? What should he tell her? He couldn’t say that her husband had Manolo’s  thugs gunning for him and who knows what had happened to him. He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Then ask her where she got it.” Jillian’s hands fisted at her sides.

“Maybe you should sit down.”

She visibly stiffened. “I don’t want to sit. I’ve just spent the past fifteen minutes with a child who’s been shunted around for most of his life.” Her voice trembled with quiet intensity. “He barely seems to remember his parents, and the woman he’s staying with is a prostitute who doesn’t want him. He’s dirty and hungry and the saddest little boy I’ve ever seen.”

She paused for a breath, then said more softly, “And his eyes are exactly like my husb—” Her voice cracked and she looked away, but not before he saw her tears.

“Which means Rob is still alive,” she whispered, then closed her eyes. When she pulled herself together enough to look at him, she said, “Rob is Chloe’s father, Adam. I need to know what’s going on.”

His mouth and throat went dry as chalk. She had a right to know. And judging by how she’d held up so far, she could handle it. “Okay,” he said, then took her hand and led her away from the house and toward the car.

He physically placed her against the vehicle’s door and then leaned close to talk. He’d never been good at telling people bad news. “I don’t want to—”

“Just tell me, Adam. Please. Whatever it is, just tell me!”

He took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “The woman told me the boy’s father was here, but he had to leave on business. He told her he’d be back for his son within two weeks, but it’s been more than that now and she doesn’t think he’ll be coming at all. She thinks something bad happened to him because men with guns came looking for him and he never returned.”

“Men with guns? Like the bandits we saw earlier?”

Adam nodded. “They’re Miguel Manolo’s men.”

She stared at him for a second. Shook her head. “But what—”

“Manolo’s a drug kingpin, the head of the largest, most invasive drug cartel in Central America, and his men were here looking for Jack Sullivan. Before Corita Sullivan died, she gave her friend that phone number in case her husband didn’t return.”

Stunned silence was the response. Finally she managed to say, “But that number is old. Harriet doesn’t live there now.”

He reached out and took her hands in his. The implications were obvious. Jack Sullivan had given Corita the number some time ago—before Harriet moved to Meadow Brook.

The look on Jillian’s face broke Adam’s heart. He said, “Someone impersonating your husband would probably have all that information, even his mother’s number. Maybe he gave the number to his wife just to back up his story. After all, he knew everything else. And remember, if he also looks exactly the same, it would be natural for the boy to resemble him, too.”

She heaved a sigh. “Thanks, Adam, but I think we both know the truth. The man we’re looking for is my husband. I’ve just been too stubborn and unwilling to admit it. Not to you, anyway.” She shook her head. “Drugs. I—I can’t imagine Rob ever… But if it’s true, there must be a reason for it. Something … beyond Rob’s control.”

Even with the truth staring her in the face, she still didn’t want to believe the guy would betray her. She was that much in love with him. The thought that her devotion and loyalty were wasted on such a creep twisted Adam’s gut into knots.

“So,” Adam managed. “Despite all that, I think we should follow our plan.” She could believe what she wanted, but she could never be sure until they had hard evidence. And knowing what that might do to her, he didn’t want her to know.

She didn’t move. “I didn’t know we had a plan.”

“We did. We were going to find out what we could here, go back to San José and then home. It’s a good plan.”

“But what about … what if he comes back? What about the boy? God, Adam, the child’s been here so long without anyone who cares about him, it’s heartbreaking. He asked if I had come for him.”

“He speaks English?”

She nodded. “A little. His father taught him, he said.”

“When did he last see his father?”

“I didn’t ask. But he said his father told him he was taking him to America, but that if he didn’t come back, he’d send someone else to get him.” She looked at her feet. “He thinks that’s me. He thinks I’m here to take him home with me.”

“So did you set him straight?”

She shook her head. “How could I? He’s so pathetic, Adam. And he was so excited. I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him like that.”

“But he has to know.”

Her gaze darted about. “Look at this place. It’s a horrible environment for a child.” She stopped for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Then her eyes lit up.

“Oh, no,” Adam said. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, it won’t work.”

She looked hurt. “You don’t even know what I have in mind. Hell, I don’t even know. I just know we can’t leave him here. That woman only kept him as a favor to a dying friend, and because she thought someone was coming for him and would pay her for the effort. If she knows that’s not the case, who knows what she’ll do?”

“It’s not our responsibility.”

“It’s everyone’s responsibility to help where we can.”

Oh, man. She still wanted to save the world. “If I took responsibility for every terrible thing I came across, I wouldn’t have time to do anything else. Certainly not my job.”

“Well, fortunately, I’m not asking you to do anything. But I don’t have a job that keeps me from helping a little boy desperately in need.”

Adam winced. “Despite what you might think, I help people all the time,” he said a little more defensively than he’d wanted. Being a cop in L.A., he should be used to disparaging remarks, but hearing it from her stung in a way he hadn’t felt before. “But the plain truth is that we simply can’t help everyone.”

“I’m sorry.” She touched his arm. “You’re right. I should’ve said I don’t have the same constraints you do.”

“Which means?”

“I’m going to do what I can to help him.”

“Like?”

“If we can’t leave him here, we have to take him with us. That’s all there is to it.”

Even as Jillian said this, she didn’t know what they would do with the boy if they took him from here. Put him in an orphanage in San José? Would that be any better? She glanced around. Anything would be better than here.

Adam gave her a look that said she’d lost it. He shook his head. “No way.” Then he walked back to the house and went inside.

Several women now stood at their doors watching. One had a baby on her hip, another, two tiny children clinging to her skinny ankles. She looked no more than thirteen. There were no men around. At least, not right now.

Remembering her conversation with Father Martinez, Jillian’s feelings crystallized. Older children, orphans, weren’t desirable for adoption and were exploited in all kinds of ways. Would that happen to Bobby now that his caretaker believed his father wouldn’t return? The thought was abhorrent.

She couldn’t let that happen to any child.

So they could take him with them now and figure out what to do later. Maybe Father Martinez could find a good home for him. At the very least, he might know someone who could. The child would be safe with the priest.

Jillian walked back to the house.

“Hi,” a small voice said.

Jillian saw Bobby peering around the side of the structure. “Hi, Bobby. C’mon over here, I’d like you to meet a very nice man.” She smiled at the boy and held out her hand. Maybe if Adam saw the boy’s need, he wouldn’t be so reluctant.

Bobby worked his way around the corner of the house, his bare back scraping against the rotted wood. Wearing only a tattered pair of shorts and nothing else, he looked like a small, fearful animal. His hair was the color of dark umber, his eyes a deep rich brown. He was filthy, his ribs poked out, and his knees looked like gnarled tree knots on stick-thin branches. Yet he was adorable. Sadly so.

The boy reached up, placed his hand confidently in hers and walked with her to where Adam stood.

Adam hunkered down on one knee. “Hello, Bobby.” He rattled off something in Spanish, and the boy nodded. Adam said something else and Bobby’s mouth curved into a wide smile—right before he ran into the house.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

She folded her arms across her chest and eyed him suspiciously. “It was definitely about something.”

He shrugged, looked away almost self-consciously. “I told him if he was coming with us, he better get his things and say good-bye to the woman who’s taken care of him for so long.”