Amber Alert, page 19
Lin cowers behind her seat, an instinctive reaction. Maybe she did this the wrong way. In any case, it was silly to think that Adam and Sherry would just let her walk away. What if—she has tried to push the thought away before, but it seems to make more sense than anything else—what if they kidnapped her? The girl in the restroom never planned to bring her back to Andrew and Martin.
That is why they never call. They don’t know where she is!
“Hello there,” the policewoman says with a friendly smile. “What’s your name?”
Lin straightens, looking right at the woman. “My name is Lin Gale. I’m on my way home to my dads.”
She has come so far now, she’s not willing to turn back. The policewoman frowns, obviously not happy with that answer.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m taking you back to your real parents.”
“You know where they live?” Lin is doubtful.
“Don’t you know the police know everything?” The woman’s smile is forced, and there’s something about her demeanor that makes Lin suspicious. “Come with me now.”
“No! I want to call home!”
Other occupants of the bus give them curious looks. A man is punching numbers into his cell phone, and the policewoman’s unease is growing.
“You can call later,” she says, reaching for Lin’s arm. “We have to go. Now!” She pulls Lin off the bench and after her, forcing her to leave the backpack behind.
“No!”
Lin tears herself out of the grip, running along the isle, the alarmed faces around her blurring. Why can’t people understand that she wants to be with her dads? Her foot catches in the strap of someone’s bag, and she stumbles. As an idea springs to mind, she makes herself very small, curling up under the seat as a last resort.
There’s the sound of sirens in the distance, but to her surprise, the woman doesn’t come after her. Instead, Lin hears rapid footsteps moving away.
“Hey, little one,” the man with the cell phone says. “You can come out. She’s gone. I called the real police.”
Lin wants to trust him, but at this point, it’s hard for her to tell what’s real and what’s not.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The file Ryna had copied, wrestling with her conscience for days, describes the families that, in the Middleton’s opinion, are not fit to raise children. It made my blood boil to read about Chrissie and Rachel characterized as “poisoning” Rosie’s childhood with what Middleton called a “radical liberal agenda.” I’m not a psychologist, but I know delusion when I see it. Then there’s the Tyler family, a case of “ex-gay therapy” gone wrong.
It’s incredible. They sold two already desperate people a fraudulent idea, and when it didn’t work out, came back for their baby who’s not yet a year old.
Martin Gale had lost his job in a private school that had ties to the network that the Winters’ pastor as well as Boggs’ employer belonged to. Clever manipulators, criminals for hire and their targets, playing desperate parents and those who want to be against one another. I shake my head in disgust. No one can make me believe that this is about religion. It’s about money, the mansion people like the Middletons get out of it, and the extra cash for Boggs he used to pick up girls.
The file is pointing at the Middletons, but it wouldn’t be enough in court, by far. We need more than circumstantial. We need the original adoption files.
“Are you still talking to me?” Joey asks, and I realize that he’s been addressing me before.
“It’s some fascinating reading…if you’re into abnormal psychology that is.”
“It’s just what they believe. You know that I don’t—”
“You know what, I don’t care. Let’s get this done, okay?”
“I gave you everything I know. I tried, so could you please look at me? You saw nothing wrong with meddling with a case when it was your family!”
There is so much wrong with that I don’t even know where to start, but Cal intervenes.
“You got this wrong, son. You’re with us because the detective here convinced us that we’d have a small window of opportunity to get to Middleton, one that you’re going to open for us. That’s it. Be grateful.”
“That’s enough, Cal.”
I don’t like the speculative gazes I get from both of them, and get up, tossing the file on the small table. “I need more coffee.”
* * * *
The plane ride is smooth for which I’m grateful as I’m mostly hiding out in the small kitchen. The confines of the space have a claustrophobic feel as it is, with all the dire truths in my face. Cal is right. If we screw it up, we won’t get another shot.
Rosie is back home, and she seems to be coping well. Chrissie and Rachel are still shaken, but they will be okay. This is still as much about them as it is about the others though.
Cal joins me a few minutes later, regarding me with concern.
“Are you okay?” comes the inevitable question.
“I will be. Sometime soon.” I can read in his face that the answer wasn’t satisfactory. “Come on, I’m glad I can be here. This is a lucky break.”
He lays his hand over mine, regardless of the two flight attendants. They don’t pay attention. “I know we need to talk. Soon—and as much as your partner over there annoys me, I’m glad he was there last night. I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you.”
“That’s all right, I didn’t expect you to.” I can tell those words stung in a way I hadn’t intended them. “Are you any further on the drawing?”
“There were prints, but none on record. We’re still on it.”
“Can you show me? I read most of those letters.”
“Right, and you told your sister it was okay to keep them. That’s okay,” he continues when I’m about to explain. “We’ll go from here now. Let’s see about Detective Parker’s undercover skills.”
“You’re not being sarcastic, I hope.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Good.”
Cal laughs and leans over to kiss me, his hand warm at the back of my head. “I missed you,” he whispers.
“Yeah, me too, but as you said, there’s a lot of homework we’ll have to do, right?”
I’d known it before, if this works out well, we might be sharing a room afterwards. It wouldn’t be the first time. For the first time, I wonder if my frequent involvement with Federal cases, no doubt helpful for my career, is related to this arrangement. The thought is making me a little sick.
* * * *
Rosie is a happy child. They went for a walk and took her to the playground afterwards. She quickly and easily interacts with other children. They are grateful that she wasn’t harmed, that they don’t have to go through the same hell as the parents of the other children whose fates are still unknown—or worse, Donna Clarks.
Still, Chrissie is wrestling with emotions of fear and anger that linger even now. Fear, because reality can be altered in a heartbeat. The loss of her parents, what happened to Rosie, the fact that her sister works in a job where occasionally, she gets shot at. Occasionally might be an exaggeration, but how would Chrissie know? Besides, it did happen.
She’s angry at people like the Middletons who have made it their mission to make other people’s lives miserable. Hard as Chrissie tries, she cannot understand.
In their congregation, people don’t look at them differently. Aside from the Internet, a few affectionate stereotypes from friends—or Ann, for that matter—have for a long time been the worst it could get, but now…the world feels a lot less safe than it did before. It’s not like she has been completely unaware, it’s just harder to ignore.
They are lucky, having been able to marry before equal marriage became the law of the land, blessed, to have Rosie. That makes it even more important to remember that equal rights often aren’t on the other side of a glass ceiling, but a brick wall.
It’s on days like this that Chrissie often feels that she should do more, donate, speak up. At the same time, it’s sobering to know people still have to be educated, and some can’t be, ever.
* * * *
The police car stops in front of their house, lights flashing. Andrew and Martin share an alarmed look. There hasn’t been much contact lately, no news since the FBI investigated an adoption agency that was responsible for placing a lesbian couple’s child in a foster family. No one told them if it could be related to Lin’s case, but they saw the couple’s interview on the morning show, twice, and the terrible speech of the institute owner.
It was too much to take, but they watched every single minute of it as if punishing themselves for any imagined negligence on the day Lin disappeared.
They are terrified of what this could mean. There was another case, another girl, who didn’t come back, her body found in the woods.
“I can’t do this,” Martin says. “There’ll be no news, and they’ll just look at us like—” There’s no need for further explanation. Not all cops who came to their house were the same, but they saw the suspicion in the eyes of some of them.
“We have to see what they want.”
Martin shakes his head.
“You can. Come on. They’ll probably just…” Andrew steps out on the front porch at the same time the passenger door of the cruiser is opened, a girl exiting.
When she sees Andrew and Martin, a smile spreads on her face.
Lin is home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Joseph, it’s so good to see you. Come on in!”
As they embrace, I can sense the tension in both of them. For Joey, it’s obvious. He has to make Middleton trust him, and, at the same time, not give the wrong impression to the people on whose side he says he is.
“Roger. This is Ann. I wanted to talk to you on behalf of Ryna. She’s scared that she’s made a mistake.”
“Is that so?”
Middleton gives me a curious look, and I force a polite smile.
“I can’t imagine what the problem might be, I was always satisfied with her work, but let’s not do this in the doorway. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? You’ll stay for dinner, right?”
“We’d love to,” Joey says. “I’d like to talk about Ryna first. Ann is okay. She’s family.”
“Good, good. Let’s go to my office.”
We follow him through the long, carpeted hallway, the walls adorned with classic art. I realize that my hands are clenched into fists at my sides. Everything about this house screams money, built with the pain and uncertainty of many.
A lot of the perpetrators I arrested never tried to bluff anyone for a second. They didn’t come up with any elaborate story or pretend that what they did was for anybody’s gratification but their own.
Using someone’s faith to blackmail them is low, and unfortunately, it seems to work well.
Once we are seated, Middleton asks for our choice of drinks again. I ask for some water.
“Tea would be great.” I shoot Joey an incredulous look, and he smiles, no doubt thinking of the same thing. That’s not good, not now, in any case.
Everything is settled, and Middleton sits behind his desk.
“What is Ryna’s concern?” It’s clear that there is more than her job on the line. She will probably not find a place to work here anymore once we’re done, but I assume she won’t like facing charges any better.
“You know that our families have always supported the same values. Ryna is loyal, but she’s worried about what’s going to happen to her job after the story about this one girl’s adoption came out.”
“Our house is not in danger. This is all just a sad attempt at a distraction from the real issue, that they are trying to silence us. I must admit I’m surprised to see you here…haven’t you been promoted recently?” There are no congratulations forthcoming.
“Yes, to Major Crimes. I’ve been thinking that maybe…I could help.”
“Really?”
“As for now, you’re still on the radar, which I think is ridiculous. We have cases of rape and murder. We don’t need to harass families who want to give children a safe environment.”
“Well said, but what do you want me to do?”
“I need to know what I’m looking at here. Roger, this is not going away so easily. The FBI will keep trying to find something on you.”
Middleton shrugs. “Let them. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I am not the enemy.”
“I know that. You have to—”
The door is pushed open, the girl rushing inside, halting abruptly, blushing when she sees us. “Daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had visitors.”
“That’s fine. Caitlin, you remember Joseph, Ryna’s brother?”
“Sure. Hi,” she says, all of a sudden tongue-tied, and blushing even more. I can relate. I was a teenage girl once. “I’m sorry.” She casts a quick look at Joey, ignoring me. “Mom needs you. Something…she’ll tell you.”
He’s on his feet the next instant. Joey and I exchange a look, but then Middleton says, “Why don’t you and Joe catch up for a bit, I’ll be right back.”
Poor girl. She nods uneasily.
“Seems like we picked a busy day,” I say, and she looks at me like she’s noticing me for the first time. Caitlin is in her mid-teens, I assume, wearing a dress that strikes me as unusual for her age, long dark hair. She’s pretty, but awkward, left to her own devices with her father’s guests.
“How’s school?” Joey attempts to put her out of her misery.
She shrugs, knotting her fingers together. “The same.”
“You’re still taking art classes? Ryna told me about that a while ago.”
“Oh yes, that’s the only thing that’s fun.” Her smile is more genuine. “It’s not school though, Mom and Dad are paying the teacher.”
There are moments in a case that seem small and insignificant, but turn it upside down. I stare at her, remembering Andrew Gale’s narrative of the scene at the mall, when their daughter Lin disappeared. One of the letters sent to Chrissie and Rachel, signed by “Cat”—short for Caitlin.
Joey doesn’t know about the drawing. I’m not sure why Cal thought it was a good idea to keep that particular fact from him.
“I tried drawing too,” I say, “but I wasn’t good at it.”
Caitlin’s gaze is calculating. “You have to keep at it and practice. Everybody can do it.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Could you show me something of yours?”
She’s uncertain.
“Go ahead, I’ll just stay here. It looks like your Dad will be a little while longer.” Joey gives her an encouraging smile. I hope he knows what he’s looking for.
* * * *
Caitlin’s room is typical for a girl her age, with the posters and textbooks. There’s a stack of sketchbooks in the corner of her desk, and she picks a random one to open it. I have no doubt that this girl has got a lot of talent—or that she’s the one who sent a hateful letter to my sister and her family, put the drawing of the princess and flowers into Rosie’s toy.
“Those are beautiful,” I say, proud of myself for appearing so calm when I want to shake her. There’s no way that she’s oblivious to everything her parents are doing. “You could become an illustrator, or draw comics. I bet children love these.”
I’m sure Rosie did.
“I love children,” she says, her face lighting up. “I want my own someday.”
“Your parents find new homes for children. Do you want to go into the same line of work?”
“What else would I do?”
She sighs, and I sense that she could open up a bit. I’m about to gently push with my next question when my cell phone rings. I let it go to voicemail and apologize. It rings again.
“Cal, this is not a good moment!”
“Oh yes, it is,” he disagrees. “You won’t believe this. Lin Gale walked away from her foster home and took a bus home. Even better: a fake cop tried to intervene and bring her back, and guess who sent her.”
“Wow.” I’m stunned. “That’s great. Where does it leave us?”
“The girl is older, she can help us a great deal. Her cover name was Maryann. The woman they sent after her is willing to talk. If you can find something better, go for it, but other than that…We’re on our way. Go get him.”
I turn to Caitlin and realize that it might take me a moment.
The teenage girl is pointing a gun at me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Hey. You don’t want to do this. We can talk.”
“You couldn’t care less about my drawings,” Caitlin accuses. “You are the lesbian’s sister.”
“What your parents do is not right. They take children from families that treat them right.”
“Sometimes…it’s necessary. When it’s better for the children.”
What did I expect of her? She grew up in this house.
“You know that Joey is with the police, right? I am too. If you want to help your parents and those children—”
“Shut up!” she yells. Her hands are shaking, tears forming in her eyes. I try to focus. This girl is not a cold-blooded criminal like Sherman was. She’s not a killer, but there’s no denying that she is under a lot of stress. Not a surprise, considering the secrets that her parents keep, and that she’s probably helping to cover up.
“Caitlin, listen to me. They found the other girl, Lin. You must tell us the truth now.”
“The truth is I’ll never be free! I can never make this right. Nothing will ever bring her back.”
I wonder which one of the kids she is talking about, if she has taken a special liking to one of them. It’s getting harder to think clearly, as if the air is getting thinner.
“Those children belong with their families. Rosie, Lin, Kevin…”
I can see in her face that all of these names mean something to her. Here’s even more reason to despise the Middletons, for drawing their underage daughter into their scheme.
“She belonged to me. Mom and Dad said I couldn’t have her.”
It’s another sad story unraveling that has nothing to do with the Middleton’s anti-gay stance, but fits into their overall profile perfectly.
