Trouble Comes Knocking (Entangled Embrace) (11 page)

I knew it was Ana’s way of saying
stop freaking out, find out the facts
, but it wasn’t her doppelganger being accused of murder.

I left the old files and went to a search engine, typing in Voeller Institute.

A picture of the building triggered a memory: lab coats, a room with very sterile walls and a surgical smell, blackness. My heart pounded in fear, and I broke into a cold sweat. This was the place I dreamed of. A lot.

Ana tapped my leg. “I found an address for Voeller. It looks like they’ve reopened. Maybe someone there can tell you more about Julie?”

“No. No, I don’t I want to go there,” I said, my stomach turning. The same overwhelming foreboding I had experienced at the farmhouse flooded through me. Like something bad happened, and I should get as far away as possible.

Ana squeezed my hand. “You wanted answers.”

“What do you think they’ll say if they see me, Ana? When I resemble Julie so much. It could be horrible. I don’t want to bring pain to anyone.” I’d never in my life known what a coward I was, and in that moment I knew when faced with a dangerous situation I would run away.

She nodded, but I could tell she knew it was a cop-out.

“Besides,” I said, tapping my pocket. “I still have to read notes from the Bonnie Kent investigation. If we spend all day chasing all over Elmer, I’ll never get paid for helping the police.” And I would have spent all that time with Eli for nothing.

The librarian finally approached us, a look of consternation written on her face. “Miss, you’ll have to leave.”

No question which miss she meant. She looked only at me. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“We haven’t done anything,” Ana said, defending me.

“You need to leave. You must.”

We stood and gathered our purses. “Can you tell us about Voeller?” Ana asked, showing a backbone I wished I possessed.

Again, looking only at me, she said, “There is nothing to be said. You have to go.”

I shook my head, and Ana stepped up next to me. “C’mon, Lucy. We know enough.”

My legs wouldn’t stop shaking. This had been a horrible day, a horrible idea. Outside of the library a handful of people milled around, as if waiting for something. They whispered. Pointed. Stared. It took only moments to figure out I was the something they were waiting for. “What is it with you people?” I asked, feeling ready to snap. “I don’t even live here. I haven’t done anything to you.”

“You’ve done enough,” one man said.

“How dare you show your face here?” said a woman with a toddler on her hip. “You’re a baby killer. You should be shot for what you did.”

The small mob crowded closer, excited by her words.

A police car rolled up, and I grabbed Ana’s hand. “What is going on?”

The officer stepped out of the vehicle. “Move along, folks, get back to work, go on home. Ladies, I need to ask you to come with me.”

“She needs to be arrested!” the woman with the child shouted at the officer.

“Celeste, she is not who you think she is. You know full well Julie Ryan died in that fire. Now go along before I arrest
you
. Do you want Tommy spending the night with Victor’s parents? That’s where he’ll be if I have to take you in.”

The woman pursed her lips but didn’t say another word. She spun on her heel and followed several others into the café across the street.

The officer’s badge said Henderson, and he had to be midforties, fit with slightly graying hair. Tall but not a giant, Henderson certainly didn’t look overly threatening. Still, not someone I’d want to go up against to find out. I couldn’t blame Celeste for moving so quickly. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I would go with him if for no other reason than he truly did save our skins.

“Oh for shit’s sake, what the hell are we supposed to be guilty of?” Ana asked, practically spitting and stomping as she spoke. “We were already leaving.”

“If you will,” he said, opening the door to the back of his squad car.

“Ana, don’t fight,” I said quietly. “He’s trying to help.”

The police station had two jail cells, a computer, and a corded phone. The building, about the size of a double-wide mobile home, looked as if it hadn’t been updated in twenty years. There were no warm fuzzies that came from the walls, nothing that said this was a good place to be.

Which, I assume, is probably the feeling you’re supposed to get in a police station, but this one gave it in spades.

We were directed to sit on metal folding chairs in front of the only desk while the officer took a call in a separate room before coming back to us.

“Sorry about that, ladies. We need to talk before you head out of town.” He unlocked a drawer and pulled out a file. Laying it on the desk in front of him, he flipped it open, and I saw a picture of myself as a toddler.

“What is this about?” I asked, truthfully not sure I wanted to know. That creepy feeling that stayed with me all day ramped up as if on intravenous caffeine. I hated this place and only wanted to leave. More than anything, I wanted Aunt Dolores to make me hot cocoa and hold me in her lap and tell me everything would be all right.

“First, what is your name?” he asked, looking at the folder, not me.

“Lucy Carver. This is Ana Watson.”

“Lucy, where are you from?” Still, he didn’t look at me.

“Here. But I didn’t grow up here. Now it’s your turn. What is this about?” I fidgeted in my chair and straightened my jeans. Ana placed her hand on mine.

Henderson looked up finally, eyes settling on mine. At first I saw pain in his eyes, then his face relaxed into what looked to be empathy or, I don’t know, pity, maybe, for my having the exact same face as the town’s mass murderer. He leaned his elbows onto the desk and turned the file for me to see. “This little girl here, Lucy, is you.”

My lips went a little numb. “Why am I in a file?” Quickly I scanned the pages and knew. “You think my parents kidnapped me?”

Now I laughed. Nervously, but then at the absurdity. “No. Not possible. I was born here, and my parents moved me when I was three. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t know who that girl is, but she isn’t me.”

He leaned back now and closed the folder. “Lucy Ryan. That’s her name. She went missing at three.”

“No.”

“She was born at Voeller Institute; her mother was a patient there. Lucy had sisters.”

Sisters. Julie and Katherine according to the report.
Kat
. “Why are you telling me this?”

“There is no statute of limitations on kidnapping, Ms. Carver. May I ask where your parents are now?”

“Gone. Missing. Since I was sixteen.”

He nodded. “And you’ve been with?”

“I have nothing more to say,” I said. I didn’t want to think Dee knew about any of this, not the only person in this world who had been there for me unconditionally. I couldn’t think of her as someone who would have known I’d been kidnapped.

“And who were my parents, according to your report?” I asked, not wanting to know.

“Mr. Carver worked as a doctor in town. Mrs. Carver a scientist at the institute. Another doctor at the institute, Dr. Alfred Voeller, had custody of the three of you. Your birth mother died.” Dr. Voeller was one of the men injured in the fire.

I had an image of him. Tall, white, gray beard, bald, very skinny and had no warmth. I could list his attributes like groceries. Dark eyes, no smile. In my head I heard a scream when he came into a room. “No, no, no.” One of the sisters. He picked her up and took her from the room. The white room. She came back later, sleeping and being carried by someone else.

The woman put her into a bed and turned to me. “Tomorrow it’ll be your turn,” she said.

My mind went blank. I couldn’t remember anything else.

It was the first time in my life I hadn’t been able to recall a memory.

“Lucy, earth to Lucy.”

I shook from my stupor and looked at Ana. “We need to go,” I said. Not really to her, not to Officer Henderson. My stomach curdled. I felt a nothingness in that void I couldn’t remember. Like a phantom-limb pain.

“Dr. Voeller wants to see you,” Officer Henderson said. “He’s on his way here now.”

“I have no intention of seeing him,” I replied, standing. “Do you have any reason to remand us?” My backbone was faked, but it was enough.

He shook his head. “You can leave. Though this isn’t over. I’m afraid we will have to question you further. This is an open investigation now that you’re back.”

I wasn’t back anywhere. And like hell he would be questioning me more. If Henderson thought he’d get a single answer out of me he was crazy. Still… “One more thing. Why did those people act like that toward me if Julie’s dead?”

He shook his head. “When the institute burned down, rescuers never found Julie’s body. Many believe she escaped. The people you saw today thought you were her. I received six or seven calls; that’s how I knew you were here.”

“How do you know I’m not her?”

“Because she died, Ms. Carver. Despite what some people think, despite what anyone may whisper, she died.”

“And you are certain of this?”

Ana nudged me. “Lucy, that guy is on his way here.”

I had a thousand questions. But they’d have to wait. I couldn’t face him today.

Officer Henderson nodded. “Ms. Carver, I am certain Julie Ryan died that day.”

I had sisters, two sisters, and one of them was already gone before I had a chance to know her. The other I may never know. I talked to them when I was little. If we didn’t get out of there soon, I’d be having a full-on emotional breakdown right in the middle of the station. “Ana.”

She grabbed her purse and mine. “Officer Henderson, thank you for helping us back there.”

He stood and shook my hand, then pulled me in. I tried to get away, but he held tight. “Everyone in town knows who you are. Knows your family and where you came from. If you don’t wish to be a part of this, I suggest you stay far away.”

I nodded, looking him in the eye. It wasn’t a threat; it was a warning. And felt like much more was going on that I didn’t know about. In his own veiled way, Henderson gave me an out.

“We won’t be back,” I assured him, wishing in my gut I meant it. Knowing it was probably a lie. “This was a one-time trip for us.”

With that we hightailed it out of the station and back to the Escalade.

We’d planned to trade duties on the way back, but no way could I drive. Ana backed out of her spot and onto the main road. I looked in the rearview mirror to see a black luxury car park in front of the police station and a tall bald man step out of the back. I saw a glimpse of his face before the Escalade crested a hill. Alfred Voeller haunted me as a child; this I remembered. And though Julie may have taken blame for that fire, I knew in my heart of hearts: Voeller killed my sister.

Chapter Ten

“Sisters. That’s pretty deep. Shocking news,” Officer Len said, leaning his arms forward on the table. He looked torn between a need to pat my hand or keep it professional. A knock on the door saved the day. He stood and stepped outside for a few moments, but luckily long enough for the awkwardness to pass. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“No, you’re right,” I said. “It was pretty shocking.”

He made a few notes but didn’t say anything.

“Things became even weirder once I made it back to Fort Worth.”

The drive back was as quiet as the drive in, but I don’t think either of us expected it to be anything different. The landscape slipped by with the daylight, and soon the sun settled over the Fort Worth skyline. A couple of times I saw a green car, but then I’d think it was my mind playing tricks on me in the dusk. Still, I made a point of making out the license plate just in case. “I don’t want to go home,” I said, having thought about it most of the trip.

“I understand,” Ana answered, knuckles turning white as she clutched the wheel a little tighter. She’d driven without talking or stopping.

“I don’t know what I want to do yet.”

The numbness that took over my body left me spiraling headlong into a void. As strange as my life had been before all this, it had been manageable. The things I’d learned today couldn’t be fixed. They left me broken. It didn’t make me want to cry, it made me feel small. Completely vulnerable.

I looked out the window, brushing my knuckle across some condensation forming on the glass. “Can we go to John’s?”

“Sure.”

I gave her the address and didn’t bother calling on the way. I knew he wouldn’t care. Of all the people I could see after a day like that, I wanted John more than anything. My soul balanced out around him. My crazy thoughts and anxieties always washed away. We pulled in front of his house, and I got out. Ana unbuckled her seat belt and went to open her door. “No,” I said, stopping her. “I need some time. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you need, love.” Her voice came out pale. She took my hand and kissed it. Looking me in the eyes she said, “This doesn’t change who you are or who your parents were. You don’t know why this happened.”

I noticed she didn’t use the word kidnapped. Didn’t say anything about Julie or Kat or Voeller or the fire.

Adjusting her seat belt back around her, she also fastened on a smile. “You don’t know. And you don’t know if Dolores was part of it. She probably wasn’t and will be completely shocked. You don’t know. But more than anything, the people who love you are still in your life, and they still love you.”

It made me think about my parents, who were not in my life.

Did they still love me, too? Did they leave because they were afraid of being caught?

I smiled, hoping it looked brave and strong. Fearing it didn’t. “Thank you for everything, Ana.”

“Always.”

I shut the door, and she drove away. John’s car sat in front of the house so I knew he was home. I didn’t want to tell him about what happened. Not about last night, not about Elmer. I saw him through the window. He waved, and I imagine he raced down the stairs because he opened the front door before I’d made it there to knock. “Lucy!”

“Hey, John.”

“Want to come in?”

“Sure.”

We went up to his room, and I sat on his bed. One of his cats, the orange one, came and threaded its way around my legs before jumping up onto the bed and pushing its butt toward my face. “How was work today?” I asked, scratching the cat and wondering at the same time why they do that. I had been right when I told him about his two cats and a fish. The cats were Theodore, this one, and Miles, the black one, who mostly sat on the bookshelf and gave me the stink eye. The fish was a red-and-turquoise betta named Muddy Waters. Fitting.

“Strange,” he said, reaching across me to pet Theodore. “Not boring, that’s for sure.”

“Really? What happened?”

He smoothed his red and green-checkered bedspread, pulling off a bit of orange fur. “The police arrested that friend of yours. Natalie.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Natalie? For what?”

I guess I spoke too loudly because Theodore shot across the room and dove under the computer desk. John followed, but not to chase the cat. He sat in his computer chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Apparently she’d been changing some of the numbers in data entry and was caught.”

I wanted to be honest about what I knew but didn’t have a way to say anything without betraying an active investigation. “That’s surprising. She’s so meek. How could she have been doing something like that?”

It did surprise me. I imagined her trying to rescue those Nigerian children. “No, it couldn’t have been her,” I decided out loud.

John shook his head, sending a little of his hair flying back and forth. It settled but not exactly as it had been. I smiled. He and Eli were about as opposite as two men could be. John flowed like water; Eli burned like fire. “Well, that’s what the gossip was. And she left in handcuffs.”

“Is she in jail now?”

“Yeah.”

I glanced at the computer monitors behind his head. He had to be some kind of big-time gamer or something to have monitors like that. I didn’t want to ask, though. I wasn’t into gamers and didn’t want John to lose his appeal so soon.

“Wanna take a trip?” I asked instead.

He grinned. “Are we breaking her out?”

“Not exactly.”

The Fort Worth jail was a lot larger than I would have ever imagined. Its tall brick walls resembled a train station with people and children milling around everywhere. The sight of so many children was surreal. Though, when you think about it, where else would they be? One parent gets arrested, the other comes to bail them out. Of course they’d bring the kids.

We found out pretty quickly we wouldn’t be able to see Natalie. “Do you know where I can find Eli Reyes?” I asked a lady behind the desk. “He’s a homicide detective.”

“No,” she said without looking up, her voice as bland as water.

“He’s a friend.” In my periphery John clenched his fists and jaw. I turned to watch him walk away.
Great, now I have that to deal with, too.

“He can’t get your friend out,” she said, still monotone, still not looking my way. She clicked a few keys on her keyboard. “Anything else?”

I frowned, discouraged. “How much is her bail?”

“She’ll have to see a judge sometime next week. She won’t be able to get out before then.”

I called Eli but got his voice mail and left a message asking him to call back. Then I remembered the paper in my pocket: Bonnie Kent’s interrogation. It took a few moments of deliberation in my mind, but I decided to tell John everything. I wanted his help, wanted his input. I wanted him to know that even though Eli was my friend, I trusted John implicitly. I’d been told my whole life not to trust, not to give any of myself away and where did that get me? Almost no real friends and my epically bad breakup with Bobby. Aunt Dee always told me that I couldn’t expect things to change if I kept doing the same thing wrong. What good had keeping all these secrets really brought me?

“You hungry?” I asked, rocking on my heels, a little nervous about what I was going to share.

He hesitated a moment. “Yeah, always.”

“Let’s go get waffles. I have some things to tell you.”

Even though smoking was no longer allowed in there, years of leftover smoke permanently coated Waffle Hut. The stale smell of decades of cigarettes wasn’t exactly appetizing, but it didn’t stop John from downing food as if he’d been starved for weeks. And it definitely made me crave a cigarette now. I’d started smoking in college but quit about a month before I started at HGR. With everything happening, it was hard enough not to smoke. Being in a place like this made it brutal.

I nibbled on my banana-walnut waffle, telling John about the investigation. He made it halfway through his second all-you-can-eat breakfast before I finished talking.

“So you’re consulting with the police?” he asked through a mouthful of hash browns.

“Ever since that night you brought me to HGR after Mr. Winters died. I had a unique perspective on the case, and they brought me in.”

“And they’re going to pay you?”

“Yes.”

He wiped his mouth and leaned back, foot bumping mine under the table. “Man, that’s like categorically cool.”

I grinned. It was. And talking about the case took my mind off all the craziness of the day. I liked telling John about this. It made me feel so much closer to him.

He sipped his orange juice and worked on his second stack of pancakes.

“So I don’t think Natalie did it. I mean, I know her. I know I’m new to this police business, but she’s not the one.”

He shook hair from his eyes, and I grinned. John resembled how I wished I could be: carefree, relaxed, comfortable. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought those thoughts, but it certainly cemented them further.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, this time not stuffing a bite of food into his mouth before talking.

“She’s not the one. I know it in my gut.”

I pulled the paper out of my pocket and a second came out with it. The doodle from the day before. I shoved it back in and unfolded the transcript Eli had given me.

“This is the information from Bonnie Kent’s interview yesterday. She was the receptionist having an affair with Simon Winters.”

John came to my side of the table, and his thigh brushed against mine. Everything inside warmed simply by having him next to me.

I glanced at the information and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The affair lasted about eight months; she hadn’t thought anyone knew. They always met in private at a small restaurant south of Fort Worth. “Says she never saw anyone familiar when they were together, never took trips or rode in the same car.”

“How can anyone have an affair?” John asked, interrupting my reading.

“People cheat. I never have, but I can see how it can happen.” John visibly deflated at my words. I regretted saying them the second they came out of my mouth.

It didn’t take any special ability to tell his father had cheated on his mother.

I backtracked as fast as possible. “I mean, not that it is ever a good thing, but people are human, they make mistakes. They throw themselves into bad situations and then feelings get involved.”

“I know,” he said, pushing his plate forward. “I don’t believe you could ever do that to someone you love.”

“Maybe he didn’t love his wife,” I suggested.

John repositioned his thigh and sat up a little straighter. “Well, he should have dealt with that, then.”

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing,” I said again, silently cursing my blabbermouth.

“I get it,” he said. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Good.”

He sat silently, then pulled his orange juice over. I reread the documents hoping something would pop out. “Always the same restaurant,” I said. “Why do you think that was?”

“I’m not sure?”

“What if they knew someone, maybe believed they were safe there? Why else would they always go to the same place? You’d think if you’re hiding a relationship you’d want to move around a bit, keep things mixed up.”

“Huh. Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m guessing they knew the owner. What do you think?”

I jostled his leg with my knee. “Want to investigate further, Watson?”

He grinned. “C’mon, Holmes. Let’s hit the road.”

It took twenty minutes to get from the Waffle Hut to The Slotted Spoon. Outside was lit by a bright blue sign with the restaurant’s name and, of course, the neon
Open
sign in the window. Otherwise the place looked mostly desolate. Not a single patron sat inside the restaurant, which didn’t bode well for a Friday night.

A girl about my age sat in one of the booths reading a magazine. She stood when we came in. “Two?” she asked, looking as if she wished we’d stayed away so she could finish her article.

I stepped forward. “Actually, I have some questions.”

“Yeah, two,” John said, interrupting me to answer her.

She showed us to a booth, then brought us some waters and two menus. “We
just
ate,” I said, not even bothering to open my menu.

“Yeah,” he said. “But how likely are you going to get information before knowing what this place is?”

“What do you mean?”

“The feel,” he said. “The waitress. Is she here every night? Is she here to fill in? Is she the owner’s kid? These are all important things. Look around.”

I did and tried to see what he saw. Up front silver tubs billowed steam, apparently filled with soup. A few pictures hung on the walls, but nothing stood out. It was a fairly plain-looking restaurant. To be honest, I wondered how a place like this would stay open.

“Do you get it?” he asked, still seeing something I didn’t.

“No.”

“Why here?” he asked. “What made this restaurant so special?”

I looked around again, and then it clicked. I’d seen the diploma on the wall in Mr. Winters’s office; he went to Ohio State. Buckeye memorabilia hung all around the restaurant. Everything that was anything here came from Ohio State. “He does know the owner.”

John touched his nose. His adorable, boyish nose. I shook my head, trying to clear the ever-present John-webs out of my brain. He always seemed to find a way in, wrapping around my every thought like a spider.

The waitress returned. “Are you ready to order?” she asked, not even bothering to pull out her order pad.

“I’ll try the potato,” John said. “She’d like a salad.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised his eyebrows as he looked at me, cutting me off.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m a Buckeye; this place is awesome. Who owns it? I’m wondering if I might have heard of them.”

That perked her up a bit. “Well, two people, but one of the owners died recently,” she said, digging the toe of her shoe into the tile floor. “Now it’s only Mr. Smith. He’s usually here in the mornings.”