Untethered (25 page)

T
he police have you?” Char said. Beside her, Sarah gasped and her already pale face drained completely of color.

Char pulled onto the shoulder and punched the address into her navigation screen. “I can be there in about two hours. It's three now,” she said, “so I should get there around five. Does your mother know?”

“They couldn't reach her,” Allie said. “How can you be here that soon?”

“I'm going through Lexington right now,” Char said.

“How—?”

“I left Mount Pleasant at seven thirty.”

“You did? You never said.”

“I was worried you'd think I was chasing you.”

“Weren't you?”

“No. I was just . . . well, yes. I was chasing you. I wanted to be closer to you. You were going south, so I wanted to go south. I was hoping you'd pull over at some point and let me catch up. Let me come and get you.”

“I did pull over. Not to let you catch up, but to get some rest, like you asked. I did exactly what you said.”

“I know you did, and I was so happy—”

“Then why'd you call the police?”

“I didn't.”

“Then how did they know we were missing? How did they know what car we were in? Because my mom said specifically that she had decided
not
to call them.”

Char turned to Sarah, covering the mouthpiece of her phone. She gestured with her chin to Sarah's purse on the floor, and the cell phone peeking out the top. “Did you call the police?” she asked, in a whisper.

Sarah shook her head and whispered back, “Of course not!”

“Dave?” Char asked.

Sarah shook her head again. “No way would he.”

“Who are you talking to?” Allie asked.

“Sarah Crew.” Char winced as she said it. She knew what was coming.

“
Her?
How can you even
look at her
, after what she did, let alone talk to her?”

“Well, I—”

“How can you stand to be in a car with her?”

“I understand why you would say that, but—”

“She's not taking Morgan!” Allie yelled. “Don't even bring her to the police station! Morgan doesn't want to see her at all! Don't let her come anywhere near us!”

Char heard adult voices in the background, asking Allie to keep her voice down. “She's not taking her!” Allie said, quieter this time. “She's not, Char. Promise me you won't let her, or I swear, I'll . . .”

Allie didn't finish, and Char was sure it was because the girl
couldn't think up a threat she could actually carry out, especially from the police station. Char pictured Allie scanning the holding cell or waiting room or wherever they were keeping the girls, looking for exits, windows she could break open and push Morgan through. She felt her lips curving up into a smile. The image should make her furious. It wasn't a good thing that Allie had become so reckless. But Char was so filled with relief that the girls were safe, there wasn't room inside her for anger.

“Please,” Allie said. “She doesn't ever want to see them again.”

“Well, that's not for me to decide,” Char said, and before Allie could utter her disgusted tsk, Char had already told herself what a lame comment it had been. “Not lame,” Allie would say, if she could read Char's thoughts. “Gutless.” And she would be right.

Char slid her eyes toward Sarah and, lowering her voice, told Allie, “But I agree that wouldn't be the best thing. Let me see what I can do, at least for tonight. I'll try to work something out.”

“Okay,” Allie said, calmer now. She was quiet for a moment, and then she asked, “So, you've been driving all night just to be closer to me?” Char could hear the smile in the girl's question.

“What did you think I was going to do?” Char asked, smiling too.

Allie didn't answer. Char smiled wider, delighted by the sounds of the teenager on the other end—breathing, and safe. “I'm so glad you're okay, Al. I was so worried.”

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, CC. I know it was—”

“I know. Don't worry. I'm not upset. I'm just glad you're okay.”

“They're making me hang up,” Allie said. “So, I'll see you soon?”

“As soon as I can get there.”

“And you'll sort something out about Morgan?”

“I will. How is she, anyway?”

“She's—I've got to go. Thanks, CC. I mean it. I'll see you when you get here.”

The instant Char tapped the “end call” button, Sarah inundated her with questions. “So, the police found them? At the hotel? When? How?” She leaned forward and reached into her purse for her phone. “I guess I should call Dave. Or—maybe I'll text him. I'm not sure I want to . . .” She turned back to Char. “Where did you say they found them?”

“I didn't get any of those details,” Char said. “All I know is that they're waiting for us at the Knoxville police department. And you and I have to talk about how we're going to get home. But first, I need to call Lindy.”

Lindy's phone went straight to voice mail, so Char sent a text:
Allie just called. Knoxville police have her and Morgan.

Immediately, a response came back:
Thank God.

Char:
I tried your phone, but it went to vmail. Could you call me?

Lindy:
Not able to speak by phone at present. iMessage will have to suffice.

Char:
I'm on my way to get her now. Not much else to report anyway. It was you, wasn't it? I thought we had a deal.

Lindy didn't respond, and Char grew tired of waiting.

Char:
I've got to get back on the road. I'll have her call you when I get to her.

Lindy:
I'll be out of pocket until morning. I'll try her then.

This time, it was Char who didn't respond.
You've just learned your daughter is safe, and you're too busy to talk to her?

Lindy:
Drive safely.

Which might have been as close to “Thank you for going to get her, and I'm sorry I broke our agreement” as Lindy could bring herself to say. Or might have been a reminder that Char would be transporting Lindy's precious cargo on the way back to Michigan, and she had better not do anything to harm it.

C
har told Sarah to wait in the car while Char went into the police station. Dave had reached his wife by then and reported that the Knoxville police dispatcher had called the Crews' home phone. Someone needed to pick up their daughter, the dispatcher said. There was no mention of the Crews needing to turn themselves in.

It didn't make sense to tempt fate by having Sarah step inside the station, though, so Dave said he would call the dispatcher and authorize them to release Morgan to Char. Sarah wasn't happy about this.

“She's still my daughter,” she said to Char. “I shouldn't be cowering in the car while you go in to claim her.”

Char suspected that at least some of Sarah's bravery stemmed from the fact that the woman so badly wanted to be punished. The Crews had put a lot of effort into keeping the authorities in the dark about what they had done, and the woman would never do something that might cause her to lose her son. But there was some part of Sarah, Char knew, that would love to march into the station, admit her misconduct, and demand to be locked up.

She could picture Sarah asking to use the police department's computer so she could bring up the articles she had read, where people in her position had been charged with child neglect and abandonment. “See?” Sarah would say. “I did this! I'm a terrible human being! You have to put me in jail. Forever!”

Even if Sarah didn't behave so drastically, there was no telling what Allie would do if Morgan's mother walked through the front door of the station. The girl might have kept mum so far about why she and Morgan were on the run, but who knew what she would blurt out if she came face-to-face with the real reason behind it. “Arrest her!” Char could hear Allie screaming.

There was no erasing what had happened to Morgan, but sabotaging things for Stevie by throwing his mother under the bus—or the police car, as it were—wouldn't make up for anything.

“You'd better stay put,” Char said, as she checked her hair in the mirror. After eight and a half hours in the car, she was feeling as disheveled as her passenger looked. Scanning the parking lot, she spotted the convertible. “We need to talk about how we're going to get two girls and two cars back to Michigan.” She touched Sarah's shoulder. “I don't think—”

“Morgan shouldn't have to go with me,” Sarah said. “I agree. I heard you whispering to Allie—I could guess what she was saying. I'll drive the other car back by myself. You take the girls.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “It's better that way. When I get home, we can talk about when Dave and I should come and pick her up.”

“Are you honestly up for that kind of drive?” Char asked. “I don't think you are. I'd prefer if you had Dave come down with your neighbor, like he was planning on doing. You could get a hotel room and wait for them. Get some rest and something to eat. Dave can
drive you home, and your neighbor can bring the convertible to me. I'd feel better if you did that.”

She left alone Sarah's comment about the Crews' picking Morgan up from Char's house later. It was difficult to imagine them getting Morgan out the front door past Allie. Or, for that matter, past Char.

Sarah lifted her phone. “You're probably right. I'll only drive as far as the first hotel I can find. I'll call Dave right now and have him make arrangements to come down first thing tomorrow. He can bring Stevie, or leave him with someone from church, since it's just a day trip.”

Before Char got out of the car, Sarah asked her to get the keys from Allie and bring them out to her so she could drive away before the girls emerged from the station. She thought about ducking down in the front of the car to catch a glimpse of Morgan, she told Char, but she had already changed her mind. If the girls noticed that the convertible was still there, they would know Sarah was on the premises. “Morgan shouldn't even have to sense my presence,” she said.

“I'll try to get a picture of her when she's not looking,” Char said, “and I'll text it to you.”

Sarah, tears flowing, smiled her thanks.

•   •   •

C
har ran the convertible keys out to Sarah and watched her stagger the fifty meters across the parking lot like it was the last part of a thousand-mile desert trek. “Are you sure you can even drive as far as the closest hotel?” she called.

“Go look after our girls,” Sarah said. “Don't worry about me.” She picked up her pace as if to prove her point.

Inside the station, Char gave the desk clerk the address of the couple in Toledo. “Please have the Ohio police check out this home,” she said. “I believe they have two girls who don't belong to them.” She had gotten the information from Sarah, who was reluctant to give it up but preferred handing it over voluntarily to having the police show up at her house to get it, which Char had threatened.

The clerk assured her he would make the call to Ohio, then pushed a buzzer to have an officer bring the girls out from a room in the back.

“Just to confirm my suspicion,” Char asked the clerk, “who called you?”

The clerk checked a notepad on the counter and looked up, confused. “Why, you did, ma'am.”

“What are you talking about? No, I—”

The clerk slid the notepad forward and pointed. “Says right here, mother of fifteen-year-old.”

T
he officer in charge, Captain Cecchini, told Char he had already listed for Allie the many ways her “adventure” could have ended badly, had the police not tracked her down so quickly. “This was no simple joy ride around the block,” he said, while she was signing the register to claim the girls. “She drove over six hundred miles and crossed three state lines.

“We understand why she did it, though. Trying to help her little friend there. So, we're not going to charge her with anything. But next time, I told her, she needs to involve an adult. This could have gone down way worse.”

Char thanked him for recognizing Allie's altruistic mission, and for going easy on her because of it.

“You know,” he said, “she's been stroking the little one's hair for the whole time they've been in here. At one point, your daughter had this look on her face like she was in pain, so I asked her about it. She said her legs were asleep—the younger one was lying across her lap and they'd gone numb.

“So, I bent down to pick the smaller one up and move her,
and”—he chuckled, remembering—“she about tore my eyes out. ‘No! You'll wake her!'” he mimicked in a high-pitched stage whisper, his hand raised like a claw. “Mama bear, that one. What are we gonna do? Charge a kid like that? When there's fifty others her age running around this town right now, stealing for no good reason at all, selling drugs to kids as young as her little friend there, and worse?

“Of course, I told her that after this, if I find out she has so much as backed out of your driveway without you in the car between now and when she gets her license, I'm coming for her myself, and putting her away for good.” He winked, then shook Char's hand. “I hope to see her again one day, that girl of yours. She's good people. Don't come down too hard on her.”

“I won't,” Char said, as behind him another officer led the girls out of a holding room at the end of the hallway.

“You two!” Char said, as they flew down the hall and bowled into her. Two long, toned arms wrapped around Char's shoulders as two shorter, softer ones clung to her waist. One head burrowed into her neck, the other pressed against the bottom of her rib cage. “Oh, thank God!”

“Oh, come on, CC,” Allie said, laughing. “You've known for two hours we were okay.”

“I know,” Char said. “But it didn't really hit me until the moment I saw you both.”

“What didn't hit you?” Allie said.

“Everything. That you're safe. How worried I was about you. How afraid I was that I might not see either of you again.”

Morgan lifted her head away from Char's ribs and squinted up with tired eyes. “Both of us?”

Allie poked the girl between the shoulder blades. “Of course, both of us. You think she only cares about me?”

“No,” Morgan said, still gazing up at Char.

Her voice was raspier than usual, and together with her sleepy, half-closed eyes, it made her almost more adorable than Char could bear. She stared down at the full, freckled cheeks tilted up at her and felt her chest tighten with the realization of all the little girl had been through in her ten years on the planet. More pain, more disappointment, more abandonment than most people experience in a lifetime.

“What?” Morgan rasped.

“Nothing,” Char said.

“Why were you looking at me like that?”

“I was just counting,” Char said. “I think I see some new freckles.”

“Ugh,” Morgan said, lifting a hand to cover her cheek. “Stupid freckles.”

“Beautiful freckles,” Char said. “I have never been so happy to see a group of freckles in all my life.”

•   •   •

C
har led two exhausted girls out of the police station, Allie practically carrying Morgan, the little girl nearly asleep on her feet. Char was several paces ahead of them, so when a figure emerged from the shadows, only she saw. It was Sarah Crew.

“What are you doing?” Char whispered, checking behind her to see if the girls had noticed the other woman. They hadn't. She wanted to keep it that way. “You said you were leaving right away.” She lifted a hand to shoo the woman toward the convertible. “Quickly! Before they see you!”

“I can't!” Sarah said, leaning forward to beg Char's understanding. “I can't go without first telling . . .” She looked past Char, to her
daughter. “Morgan!” she called. “I'm so sorry! Mommy is so sorry, sweetie!”

Char turned to see Morgan peering into the parking lot, trying to make out the shadowy figure calling to her as Allie took a step sideways and blocked Morgan's view. The teenager squared herself off in front of the smaller girl and reached her arms back to hold her there, in place, protected. Taking one hand off Morgan, she brought it in front of her, extending her arm and aiming her palm at Sarah. Stop.

“What do you want?” Allie hissed.

“Please!” Sarah said, starting toward the girls. “Please just let me talk to her! Let me see her! Let me explain! Morgan, honey!” She held a hand out toward the girl, beckoning. “Mommy only wants to tell you—”

“Sarah,” Char said, stepping sideways to block the other woman's path to the girls. “Nothing good will come of this.”

“But I have to talk to her!”

“Another time,” Char said, trying to keep her voice calm. She held two hands up, urging Sarah to back away. “You can talk to her another time. Or . . . maybe . . . write her a letter. But don't put her through this now.”

Sarah stood her ground and turned wild eyes to Char. “You don't understand! It's killing me! It's been killing me, this entire time, that she didn't know! She didn't know that I didn't want to!” She craned her neck to see past Char. “I didn't want to do it, Morgan! You have to believe me! I didn't—”

“Go away!” Allie screamed.

Char turned, holding up a hand to the teenager. Allie's face was bright red. She held her fists rigidly at her sides and her entire body was shaking. Morgan was crouched behind Allie, her head ducked
down, her hands clinging to the sides of Allie's shirt as though some violent storm were coming from the front and threatened to blow her away. Morgan's hands were shaking more than Allie's, and Char could see her pale white legs quivering, too.

“Easy, Allie,” Char said.

“Tell
her
to take it easy!” Allie said, jutting her chin toward Sarah. “Tell her to leave! Morgan doesn't want to see her! She doesn't want to hear her voice! Ever again!”

“I know you don't want to see me, Morgan,” Sarah said, her voice pleading, on the verge of breaking. “I don't blame you. But if you would just let Mommy explain. Just for a minute.” She took a step forward.

Char held out a hand, stopping Sarah, as Allie screamed, “Don't you come any closer or I swear, I will—”

“Allie!” Char said, not taking her eyes off Sarah.

Sarah snapped her head to the right, toward the police station, and Char turned to see what had caught her attention. Captain Cecchini was in the doorway, another officer with him.

“What's the commotion out here? Ma'am?” he said, coming toward Sarah. The other officer stayed with the girls. “I don't know what's going on here, but—”

“Please!” Sarah wailed, shaking her head. “Please! I just need to tell my daughter—”

“The young one's your daughter?” He looked from Sarah to Char for confirmation. Addressing Sarah again he said, “Well, ma'am, we received instructions from your husband that Mrs. Hawthorn here was to take both children with her. But if you can show me—”

“I don't want to take her!” Sarah cried. “I only want to talk to her! I need to make her understand—”

The captain looked again at Char and she shrugged, not
wanting to implicate the Crews by offering any part of the story. “I think she's just having a hard time,” she said. “I've asked her to wait, and talk to Morgan another day. When everyone's better rested. And calmer.”

The captain held a hand out to Sarah but she refused it. “You don't seem to me to be in any state to talk to her, ma'am,” he said. “And I can't say she looks like she's in any state to want to hear it. So, I think you need to get on your way, and do what Mrs. Hawthorn says—save it for another day. Here, take my hand, and let's get you to . . .” He looked around the parking lot. “Do you have a car here?”

“She's going to drive the convertible,” Char said. At the look of alarm on his face, she added, “She's going to get a hotel room for the night first. Someplace close. Right, Sarah? You're going to get a good night's sleep first.” To the police captain, she said, “I told her to have her husband come for her tomorrow if she's still not up for the drive.”

“Now, there's a good idea,” he said. He took a step toward the convertible and motioned for Sarah to follow, but she didn't move. “Ma'am,” he said, turning back to her. “You're upsetting the children. I'm going to give you till the count of three to start moving for the car. If you fail to cooperate, I'm going to have to take you inside. One . . . two . . . three. Okay, then.”

He wrapped a hand around her arm and, immediately, Sarah fell to her knees. He put both hands under her armpits and lifted her. Sarah sobbed, but didn't struggle. The second he released her, her knees buckled again. He grabbed her by the armpits again, then hoisted her into his arms as though she were a child of five.

As he lifted her, he nodded to the other officer, still standing guard near the girls. “Let's get her into the patrol car there,”
Captain Cecchini said. “We'll take her to the ER.” He turned to Char. “You need help with the girls? I can have someone from inside come out, if you need.”

“We'll be fine,” Char whispered. She stood motionless as he carried a limp, crying Sarah to a patrol car. Morgan was still hiding behind Allie, and Char was thankful that the little girl had not been forced to watch as a defeated, whimpering Sarah Crew was loaded into the back of a squad car and driven away.