“That’s right. And Sadie’s missing. I have to go look for her.”
“What?”
“Please, can I speak to Karen?”
Karen came on the line, her voice raspy with sleep. “Hello?”
“Karen, could you come over and babysit for me? It’s an emergency.”
She heard Gus’s voice mumbling softly across the wire, and she knew he was informing her about Morgan. “Of course, Sheila. I’ll be right over in just a few minutes.”
Sheila was pacing on the front porch as Karen drove up in Gus’s ten-year-old Toyota. Karen got out and ran to Sheila, threw her arms around her. “Is Morgan gonna be all right?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard a thing.”
“What about Sadie?”
“Sadie’s in a lot of trouble.” Sheila started to cry again. “Oh, Karen, I’ve got to go. Please pray that I find her.”
“I will. Call me soon as you know something.”
Sheila started out to Jonathan’s pickup truck, then realized she was going unarmed. She just might need a gun. Morgan and Jonathan had one that they kept in their room. She ran back up onto the porch. “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”
Karen nodded and went into the house, turned on the kitchen light, and started making coffee.
Sheila ran up and tiptoed into Morgan and Jonathan’s room. Where would she keep a gun, if she had one? Probably right next to the bed, Jonathan’s side. She saw his bedroom slippers parked on the right side of the bed, so she went to his bed table and pulled out the drawer. Just as she hoped, the gun lay there. She pulled it out in her trembling hands, checked to see if it was loaded. It wasn’t.
She held the weapon in her hand and went through the drawers, looking for bullets. Of course he wouldn’t keep the gun loaded. There were ex-cons in this house, former drug addicts … He wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave a loaded gun where anyone could take it.
But the bullets had to be somewhere. She went through every drawer, found nothing, then tried the closet. There was nothing on the shelves that could have contained the bullets, so she ran to their private bathroom. In the bottom drawer of the vanity, she found his shaving kit, unzipped it.
There they were, in a box, at the back of the kit, next to a new tube of toothpaste. Her hands trembled as she loaded the gun. She double-checked the safety, then tucked it into the waistband of her jeans, pulled her shirt over it, and ran back outside.
She would do whatever she had to do to get her daughters back.
And she didn’t care what the consequences were.
CHAPTER 43
The flashing lights from half a dozen police cars lit up the Flagstaff Motel when Sheila pulled Jonathan’s truck into the parking lot. A crowd of tenants leaned over the rails on the second floor, watching the activity as the cops went in and out of the room next door to Amelia and Jamie’s. She saw Joe in his car with the driver’s door open, talking into his radio, so she went over and leaned in.
“Joe, what have you found out?”
He held out a hand as he finished the call, then he turned to Sheila. “We haven’t found Sadie, but we’re trying to run down all the information we can about this guy named Nate.”
“Nate?”
“Yeah, he was the one in the room next to Jamie and Amelia.”
“Then he’s the one Sadie came here to find.” She peered up at the room. “Is he there?”
“Nope. Nobody knows where he is.”
“What about Gibson?”
“We don’t think he’s involved, Sheila. He’s under heavy surveillance.” She heard someone call Joe’s name from the room in question, and Joe got out. “I’ll be right back. Looks like I’m needed.”
She nodded and stood by his car, watching him run up the stairs and into Nate’s room. Had they found any evidence that Sadie was there, that there was a struggle, that her daughter was taken against her will? Did they know what kind of car Nate drove, where he lived when he wasn’t in the motel?
Then she looked on the seat of Joe’s car, saw a writing pad on his seat. It was the pad he kept in his shirt pocket all the time. He’d been jotting on it as he’d radioed for information, and he’d left it here.
She looked around, hoping no one would see her, and slipped inside the car. She tore the page off of the pad, stuck it into her pocket, then slipped back out of the car. No one had noticed.
She hurried back into Jonathan’s truck and looked at the paper. There was an address written there. Sheila started the truck and headed to Hinesville to find that address. If that was where this Nate person lived, maybe it was possible that both of her daughters were there.
She prayed that they were still alive.
CHAPTER 44
Blair raced to the hospital as soon as she got the phone call that her sister was in labor. When she arrived, she couldn’t find a parking space. “It’s the middle of the night, for Pete’s sake! What are they having, a convention?”
She double-parked, ran inside, and bolted up to the information desk. “My sister just checked in. She’s in labor. Morgan Cleary.”
The elderly woman at the desk took her time typing Morgan’s name into her computer. “Yes, here she is. Room 403. The elevators are that way, dear.”
Blair dashed toward the elevators, almost taking out a nurse and a man in a wheelchair.
The elevator wouldn’t come, so she ran to the exit door and headed up the stairs. By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was dripping with perspiration.
She saw room 426 and took off down the hall, counting down as she went. Finally, she came to her sister’s door.
She burst inside and saw Morgan in the bed, soaked with her own sweat, clutching Jonathan’s hand as a contraction gripped her.
A doctor and nurse at the foot of her bed turned as Blair shot in. “I’m her sister. Is she all right?”
Jonathan looked up at Blair but kept whispering to Morgan. “Breathe, honey … come on, baby, one, two, three …”
“She’s doing fine,” the doctor said in a low voice. “We’re about to take her to delivery. She’s fully dilated and ready to go.”
Morgan came out of the contraction, and Blair could see her relaxing.
“Blair, I’m glad you’re here …”
She went to Morgan’s side and took her hand as the nurse busied herself unlocking the bed so they could move it. “They can’t be delivering the baby! Isn’t it too soon? Can’t they stop it?”
“No,” Morgan said. “I’m too far. The baby’s coming.”
Blair shot Jonathan a distressed look. “It’s okay,” he said, but she saw the fear on his face. “Babies come early all the time.”
“That’s right.” The doctor smiled as they got the bed moving. “We have an excellent neonatal staff here. And the baby’s heartbeat is strong.”
Blair waited as they pushed Morgan into the hallway, and then she caught up and walked beside it.
“Are you coming with her?” the nurse asked. “If you are, you’ll need to change into some sterile scrubs.”
Blair looked down at Morgan. “Do you want me to come?”
Morgan shook her head. “Stay here. I want you to call home and find out if Sheila’s still there.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m worried about her. She was trying to go to the Flagstaff to find Sadie. She’s missing, Blair. We can’t find her anywhere, but if Sheila went to that motel, there’s no telling what might happen to her.”
Blair looked across Morgan to Jonathan. “Is that why Morgan went into labor? Because of the stress about Sadie?”
“No doubt,” he said.
Another contraction clamped on Morgan, and she pulled her legs up and moaned. Blair touched her sister’s shoulder, wishing there was something she could do to help. But Jonathan was right there with her as they hurried down the hall, talking her through the pain in a calm voice.
When they reached the double doors to Labor and Delivery, Blair hun
g back. “Take care of her, Jonathan.”
“I will, Blair. Pray, okay? Pray hard.”
She watched as her sister disappeared through the doors. As they swung shut behind them, she felt as if the world had plummeted out of control again.
Her sister was in labor, Sadie was missing, Amelia might be dead, Cade was implicated, and now … Sheila. Blair pulled her cell phone out and called Hanover House. A voice Blair didn’t recognize answered the phone.
“Who’s this?”
“Karen. Is that you, Blair?”
“Yes, what are you doing there?”
“Babysitting Caleb. Sheila called me—”
“Oh, no. Where did she go?”
“She said she was going to look for Sadie.”
Just as Morgan feared. Blair leaned her forehead against the wall. Now what?
“How is Morgan?”
Blair tried to refocus her thoughts. “She just went into delivery. Please pray for her. The baby’s too early.”
“Call me when she comes out, okay, Blair?”
“I will. And do me a favor. If you hear from either Sheila or Sadie, please call me at this number.”
“Sheila seemed really upset about Sadie,” Karen said. “I wouldn’t put it past her to walk into something dangerous. I’ll call you if I hear from her.”
Blair clicked her phone off, then dialed Cade’s cell phone number. She knew he hadn’t been to bed yet tonight.
“Chief Cade.”
“Cade, it’s me.”
“Hey, babe. How’s Morgan?”
“In delivery. Listen, Morgan’s worried about Sheila. She left Hanover House to go to the Flagstaff. She was panicked and desperate to find Sadie. I’m worried she might get into trouble.”
“I’m at the Flagstaff right now. Sheila was here for a few minutes, but she left.”
“Left? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t say. I figured she just went back home after she saw that we had things under control here.”
“She didn’t.”
He sighed, and Blair couldn’t blame him. The last thing he needed was another missing person. “I don’t know, but I’ll try to find out. I’ll call you back if I learn anything.”
Blair hung up and dropped the phone back into her pocket, then stood there, staring at those doors. She started to cry. She should have argued with Morgan and gone in with her. What would her mother have done?
If only her parents were here with her, reassuring her and praying with her. They would have words of comfort and faith. Her mother was supposed to be here at a moment like this. She was supposed to celebrate the news of her grandchild’s birth, praying for safe entrance into the world.
Blair went to the waiting area and sat down, trying to trust God. She knew He could orchestrate things perfectly to bring a healthy, beautiful baby to her sister. But He’d allowed Morgan to lose a baby before.
Please, God, let this be a day of joy and not a day of grief.
Those fateful words—“Not my will, but Thine”—hung on her tongue. But for the life of her, she was unable to speak them.
CHAPTER 45
Daylight dawned by the time Sheila found the address in Hinesville, twenty-five miles southwest of Cape Refuge. The address was a route number on a rural road, and there was no way to tell which dirt road to turn down. She’d ambushed a mailman as he loaded his truck out in back of the post office, and she flirted with him just enough to get the information she needed.
She made a few drive-bys first to check out the layout and realized that the moment she pulled her car down the drive, whoever lived there would be alerted that she was there. Instead, she parked her car about half a mile down on the side of the road and walked the rest of the way.
She stayed in the trees as she followed the driveway down to the house. It looked as if there were about five acres here, a little run-down house at the front of the property, and a ramshackle barn at the back. Thick trees covered most of the land, and as she made her way up to the house, Sheila skimmed those trees, staring hard at the buildings.
Were Sadie or Amelia in there somewhere?
The only vehicle on the property was an old rusty pickup truck with grass growing beneath it. It looked as if it hadn’t been moved in months, maybe even years.
She tried to decide on a strategy to get into the house and look around, but it was too dangerous. She sure wouldn’t do Sadie and Amelia any good if she offered herself up freely to the murderer. But as she came out of the trees, she realized a strategy might not be needed. An old man who looked as if he were pushing a hundred sat rocking on the front porch, staring off into space.
He looked as if a strong wind might shatter his bones into dust. Surely this wasn’t the killer! But maybe he knew something. Maybe she should just hide until he went back inside, then peer through the windows, searching out the property …
But what if she was at the wrong place, wasting time while her children’s lives were ticking away?
There was only one way to know for sure. She had to approach him. And say what? What if Nate was inside, watching through the windows? What if he recognized her as being related to Sadie and Amelia?
It was a chance she had to take. She thought of the story she would tell, about what had brought her here. My car just broke down, and I was wondering if I could use your phone. Yes, that might work. If the old man was here alone, then maybe he would believe her.
Slowly, she emerged from the woods.
The old man caught sight of her, and he stopped rocking and stood up.
Sheila’s heart pounded so hard that she thought it might beat through her chest. She froze. “Hello,” she said in a weak voice.
The old man laughed with delight. “Come right on up here, young lady! I been waiting for you! You look purtier’n your mama. Come give your ol’ daddy a hug.”
She stood there a moment as his words sank in. Did he think she was his daughter? Wouldn’t he realize she wasn’t as she got closer?
She forced herself to move and took a few steps toward him. “How are you?”
His eyes glistened as he wobbled toward her, his arms stretched out wide. “Oh, Ruby, you’re just a sight for sore eyes!” He threw his arms around her and laughed as he held her.
He was weak and shaky, and he seemed so certain she was his daughter. She let him hold her and realized it wouldn’t hurt anything if she hugged him back. There was no emptier feeling than hugging someone who stood stone cold, and he didn’t seem the kind of man who deserved that. So she closed her arms around him.
His shoulders shook as he wept, and he pulled back and looked into her face. He would see now that she was not his daughter.
“I got some eggs, Ruby.” His raspy voice lilted with delight. He let her go and clapped his hands. “In here, darlin.’” He opened the door and stepped into the dark house. “Mama! You’ll never guess who come to see us.”
Sheila’s heart raced as she followed him into the dark house. She looked around for some sign of a murdering maniac. Instead, she saw a small living room with threadbare furniture and thick dust floating on the sunlight coming through the windows. The air was thick with the smell of mold and urine. She reached for the light switch, turned it on. One of the four lightbulbs in the overhead fixture worked—the others had all burned out.
His kitchen was covered with old, dirty, crusted-over dishes, but a vase of fresh cut flowers sat among them. She peered up the dark hall, wondering if his wife would come bustling out and scream at the top of her lungs when she saw the stranger standing in her house.
But no one came.
He led her into the filthy kitchen and reached into the refrigerator, but there was little there. “Musta ate them eggs. I’ll have to make a list for Nate. Mama needs some milk, anyways.”
She caught her breath. “Is … is Nate here?”
He didn’t answer, and she realized he was almost deaf. She didn’t want to raise her voice, for fear that Nate s
lept somewhere in the house.
The old man busied himself moving dishes around, humming a song. He dropped one and it broke on the floor, and he looked rattled as he turned around, clearly looking for a broom.
Sheila backed away and looked up the hall. If she walked through there, looked into the rooms, surely he would think it was a natural thing. Wouldn’t his daughter do that?
“Don’t know where I put that broom. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t nailed on.”
As he muttered, she went up the hall. There were only two bedrooms and a bathroom, and she looked into the first one. The bed was unmade, the sheets were dirty, and a lifetime accumulation of junk was piled high. She went to the next room. A twin bed was pushed against the wall. A man’s clothes lay over a chair and were strewn across the floor, and several pairs of dirty sneakers lay on a round rug. A book lay open on the bed. She closed it, and saw the cover.
In Cold Blood.
The blood drained from her face. She’d read that book in prison. It was full of graphic descriptions of a horrible mass murder by crazed, sociopathic killers. She thought she might faint. She reached out to the dresser to steady herself. Think. Maybe Sadie was here.
She forced herself to move, to go to the drawers and pull them out one by one. There was nothing there to incriminate Nate. Just that book.
No one else was here. No mama … no Nate.
She went back to the old man as he started to bend over to pick up the pieces of the plate. “Here, let me! I’ll get it.”
“You’re a good girl.”
She picked up the pieces of the crusty dish, knowing that it hardly made a difference with the sticky film of filth on the floor. But it seemed to satisfy him. She raised up and looked around for a garbage can. It was overflowing, so she just placed the pile against the wall. “Where is Nate?”
“At school, I reckon.”
School? How old was he?
“Has he been here lately? In the last few days, I mean. Has he brought anyone here with him?”
“He’s gettin’ so big now. School bus drops him off sometimes, and he comes to see his ol’ grandpa. Come over here and I’ll make you some eggs.”