Out of Focus (28 page)

She bit her bottom lip. “I messed up. I should have put my faith in God to bring Jake back, but instead I’ve been cursing him for taking you away. For taking Jake, too. I’ve been so angry and sad. Selfish. You would’ve never been that way. You always knew what to do.”

She pulled a tissue from her pocket, then wiped her nose. “You kept me balanced—made me a better person. Oh, Nick. Help me get it together.”

“The house is perfect. You thought of everything. Everything we ever dreamed of right down to the dark room and the cubby holes in my workspace, the color of Jake’s room, you knew it would be perfect.”

“I want to be ready, to be the best mom to our son. He’s coming home soon. I’m going to bring him home and make the surprise house the home you wanted it to be.”

Closing her eyes, she sniffled, and then prayed for the strength, the help, the way, to make things right.

She stood. Feeling better, stronger.

“You’re always in my heart.” She looked heavenward.

Her legs felt like rubber bands as she walked back to her car.

Inside the car, she stretched to look in the rearview mirror. She dabbed away the makeup the tears had smeared under her eyes. She felt a renewed strength and focus.

Even a visit to Grem didn’t seem too ominous a task now.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Scott sat at his desk going over paperwork. His cell phone rang and he answered without looking at the caller ID, hoping it was Kasey. “Scott Calvin here.”

“Scott? It’s Von.”

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Scott signed a report and put a stack of papers back on top of his in box.

“We just got a hit on Libby Braddock’s credit card. She just checked in at the Holiday Inn Express there in Emporia.”

“You’re kidding.” Scott scribbled the information on a pad by his phone. “We’re on it.” Scott didn’t even say goodbye. He hung up, grabbed his keys and ran for his car.

Not wasting a moment, he keyed the mic on his two-way radio and called out orders to Dispatch. “I need you to call the front desk of the Holiday Inn Express on Main. I need the room number for a guest who just checked in. Libby Braddock. She’s under suspicion for kidnapping. I’ll be there in three minutes. Have Dan Taylor back me up. No lights.”

“Ten-four,” said the dispatcher, and then she repeated back the request.

Scott hit his lights and sounded the siren to get through the light at Main and Route 58, then turned them off again. He couldn’t take a chance on spooking Libby Braddock. Arriving at the hotel, Scott identified the black Nissan that they had been looking for, parked right in front. The tag matched the plate they had on report.

He blocked the car with his, then jumped out of the cruiser.

The manager of the hotel ran out to meet him. “Angie just called. That lady is in room 118. Follow me.”

“Was she alone?”

“I didn’t see anyone with her.”

Scott nodded and followed the manager back into the building.

“She just checked in,” the manager said.

Just past the elevators, the manager pointed across the hall to the room. Scott approached the door with his hand on his gun. He knocked on the door. “Libby Braddock. It’s the police,” he announced.

An older dark-haired woman answered the door. “Is something wrong?” she asked, holding on to the edge of the door.

“Libby Braddock?”

“Yes.”

Scott flashed his badge, pushed the door open and walked inside.

“What’s going on?” She backed against the wall and watched as Scott scanned the room and checked the bathroom.

“Where’s the boy?” he asked.

She looked dumbstruck, but recovered quickly. “I’m traveling alone.”

“I know you left Leighsboro, North Carolina four days ago with Jake. Where is he now?”

She pressed her lips so tight the skin whitened around her mouth.

“I’m going to ask you again. Where’s the boy?”

She looked away, fidgeting.

“Fine. We can discuss his whereabouts down at the station.” Scott cuffed her and escorted her to his car.

“My purse. My stuff.” Panic rose in her voice.

“We’ll take care of that.”

Deputy Dan hustled through the lobby as Scott walked through with Libby Braddock. Scott transferred her into the deputy’s care and went back to impound her possessions as evidence. He called Von as he carried Libby Braddock’s one suitcase and the paper bag containing her purse to the car. “We’ve got her. But Jake’s not with her.”

Scott heard Von’s fist hit something, probably the desk. He felt the same way.

A bitter edge filled Von’s voice. “Damn it. How is she one step ahead of us every single time?” Von’s voice had a bitter edge.

“I don’t know. She’s not saying anything yet. Hasn’t even admitted to knowing Jake. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Do you want me to call Kasey?” Von asked.

“No. I’ll call her.”

“I’m on my way.”

“See you in a couple hours.” Scott pulled onto the main road and dialed Kasey’s cell phone. His call went directly to voice mail. “Kasey. It’s Scott. I’ve got a lead. Call me.”

He tossed the phone in the seat, his heart racing.
I’ve got to get Jake back to Kasey.

Chapter Thirty-Five

By the time Kasey got to Grandma Emily’s, it was mid-day.

“Knock-knock,” Kasey called as she let herself in the front door. She put her purse on the table in the foyer.

Jeremy came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel.

“Hey. I tried to call you earlier.” He met her halfway down the hall and gave her a hug. “I was just getting ready to take your grandmother her lunch. Open-faced turkey sandwich. Want one?”

“Sounds great. I’m starved,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “I must’ve been on my way when you called.”

“I called your cell, too. Went straight to voice mail.”

“Really? That doesn’t —” Realization struck, and she nodded. “I must have forgotten to turn it back on after
—L
et me go do that.”

Kasey went back to the foyer, got her phone and turned it on. The voicemail signal chimed. “Did you leave me a message?”

“Nope. I better get this lunch finished before the old woman barks.”

Kasey typed in her password to retrieve the message as she followed him. “It smells so good in here.”

Jeremy stirred the turkey gravy and popped thick slices of bread in the toaster.

“Two messages. Aren’t I popular?” She pressed the button to listen to the first one.

Jeremy put a slice of toast on each plate. He took a knife from the magnetic cutlery strip, and began slicing the turkey, but then noticed the look on Kasey’s face. “What?”

“The first message was from Von.” She raised her hand to her heart and swallowed hard. “They’ve tracked down the woman who has Jake.” She fumbled for the buttons on the phone to listen to the next message.

“What?” Jeremy asked. “Damn
!
” He’d sliced his forefinger wide open. Jeremy whipped around to the sink and ran his hand under the water. “Who? A woman?”

Kasey ran to his side. “Are you okay?” She reached for his hand and had a look. “Ouch, that’s deep. You might need a stitch.” She backed away and put her finger up as the next message played.

“That was Scott. I’ve got to get home.”

“The sheriff?” He wrapped a paper towel around his finger. “Wait! Do you need me to come with you?”

Kasey ran to the door. “No. Tell Grem I’ll call later.”

She raced to her car, and spun tires as she sped down the driveway. In her rearview mirror, she saw Jeremy, watching from the door.

She gunned the engine and whipped around the corner. Her phone slid from the seat to the floorboard before she could catch it. She shook her bangs back and glanced to heaven.

“Nick. This is it. I know it!”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Libby Braddock sat alone in a small, windowless interrogation room while Scott filed the response to the APB and updated the system with her arrest. He called Von to apprise him of the situation.

“
Yes!
” Von shouted triumphantly. “Not a step ahead of us this time, was she? I’m almost there.”

“I’m going in to question her now. I’ll see you shortly.”

Scott left his office and stopped in the small room adjacent to the interrogation room. From here, he could see her through the one-way glass. Middle-aged, the woman was colorless. No makeup, except for the dark pencil on her eyebrows. Nothing special about her—average height, weight, and build. No light dancing in her eyes, clothes in shades of gray. Not the image of someone you’d picture loving a child. She looked broken, tired, but then maybe a four-year-old could do that to a woman her age.

He crossed his arms and shifted his weight. She didn’t show any emotion at all. No nerves, no remorse, nothing written on her face. Usually he could tell by a suspect’s body language how the interrogation would go, but she didn’t give him any clues. He checked his watch.

Scott opened a drawer and took out a small digital recorder. He carried it into the room where Libby Braddock sat, looking straight ahead with her hands folded in her lap.

The fluorescent lights made the greenish-colored cement walls look like washed-out khaki, about the same color as Libby Braddock’s face. Scott closed the door behind him and set the recorder on the table between himself and the woman.

She raised her eyes to meet his.

“Ms. Braddock.” His voice was deep, authoritative. “You know why you’re here?”

She raised a heavily-penciled brow, but that was the only sign that she’d heard him.

“You’ve been read your rights?” he asked. He knew the answer, but it was always a good spot to start for the tape. “What would you like to tell me?” He steepled his fingers, then tapped his thumbs together.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

He lifted his chin. “We responded to an all points bulletin on you. Your name, your car. You fit the description.”

She shook her head.

“APB’s don’t get put out without a reason. Why do you think there was one out on you?”

“I couldn’t guess.”

“I think you could.” Scott leaned over his notes. “You live in Leighsboro, North Carolina. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here in Emporia?”

“Passing through.”

“You know someone who lives here?”

“No.”

“Where were you headed?”

She rolled her thin lips in, bearing down. Then she just shook her head.

The chair screeched under Scott’s weight as he moved toward the table and leaned forward—an intentionally intimidating posture. He rubbed his hands together. “Let me explain something to you. This is serious. You could go to jail.”

She licked her lips and turned her gaze to the cement block wall.

He leaned back and waited, allowing the silence to stretch. She didn’t bite.

“The charge is kidnapping.”

She jerked her head in his direction.

“Yeah. Kidnapping. We know you had a child with you when you left Leighsboro four nights ago. We have witnesses.”

Her arms tensed. She clenched her hands into fists, and pressed them in her lap.

“Was that your child, Ms. Braddock?”

She didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t even blink.

“Ms. Braddock, let me put this another way. Are you a mother?”

“I’ve never had a child of my own, if that’s what you mean.” Her voice was tight.

Her look was as cold as an arctic morning. It unnerved him. “So, the child that was staying with you. He’s not your child, is he?”

She looked to the wall, silent.

“How could you take another woman’s child?”

No reaction.

Scott skipped the compassionate stuff. It didn’t seem to be reaching her anyway. “Kidnapping is a federal offense. You go to prison for that. This isn’t a slap on the wrist we’re talking about.”

She spun toward him. “I didn’t take anyone’s child.”

“Really? Then tell me about how you came to be taking care of the boy.”

She bowed her head and picked at the cuticle on her thumb. It was already torn and scabbed. “I’m not a kidnapper. I’m a Christian. I’d never do something awful like that.”

“That’s not the way I see it. I
believe
you kidnapped that boy. Somehow, four nights ago, you found out the authorities were on to you. That’s why you left Leighsboro—just in the time. That’s what I think. Who told you that you’d been made, Libby?”

Scott tapped his fingers on the table in a slow rhythm.

She stiffened with each tap and cowered, closing her eyes.

“Hey. Are you listening to me? This is serious.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t do that. I would never hurt anyone.”

“But you did. Why did you take that child? Did you see the accident?”

She looked at him—eyes wide, jaw slack.

Was that surprise on her face?

“Accident? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head, brows knit. “What accident?”

She appeared genuinely bewildered.

“The accident that happened last August,” Scott said. “The boy was in the truck at the time of the accident. Were you there?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ms. Braddock. A good Christian doesn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“A good Christian, or lying?” He knew that would get her goat. “What did you do with the boy? Where is he?”

“Quit calling him boy.” Her voice sounded shrill, and her gaze held his. “He has a name. His name is Jake.”

“Fine. Where’s Jake?”

Libby’s hands trembled in her lap.

Scott’s nostrils flared. He leaned in closer to her. “What kind of woman takes a child from his mother?”

“Stop.” She covered her face with her hands. “I love Jake. He’s a good boy.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Where is he, Ms. Braddock?”

She took a deep breath. “I did the right thing.”

Scott stood and prayed he’d keep his cool. “What do you mean?” His words were slow and controlled. “What does ‘the right thing’ mean?”

He moved to the other side of her.

Her chest heaved with each breath she took.

“I’m going to ask you again. Where is Jake?”

“I’ll tell you where.” She sat taller in her chair. “He’s with his father. Where he belongs.”

Scott blew out a breath, as if he’d been sucker punched. He tried to swallow, struggling to keep his composure.

“He’s with his father?” Scott’s insides sank.

“It’s where his father would want him to be.”

“What did you do to him, Ms. Braddock?”

She shook her head.

“I did the right thing,” she whispered again. “I love him.”

Bile rose in Scott’s throat. He winced.

Had she harmed Jake once she’d learned they were on to her?

There was a double-rap on the door, and Deputy Taylor poked his head in. “Sheriff?”

Scott slapped the table as he walked around it and headed out to the hall. As soon as the door clicked closed behind him, Scott kicked the metal file cabinet three times. “Damn it.”

“What’d she say?” the deputy said.

Scott shook his head. He couldn’t repeat Libby Braddock’s words. “What do you have?”

Dan handed him a small photo album. “I just finished inspecting her bags. You need to take a look at this.”

“What’s in it?” Scott flipped open the small book. Pictures of Jake filled the album. It was sort of a brag book like the one a grandmother might carry around in her purse.

“Flip to the very back,” Dan said.

Scott turned to the last page—to a picture of a woman and a man.
 

The woman was Kasey. Next to her stood a man he recognized—the guy he’d recently met at her house.
 

Jeremy.

Kasey wore a wedding gown, Jeremy, a black suit. If Scott didn’t know better, he would have thought it was their wedding picture.

Von rushed down the hall toward them. “Hey. I got here as quick as I could,” he said, out of breath. “What do we know?”

Scott turned the picture to Von. “Ever seen this?”

Von looked surprised.

Scott said, “I thought that guy was the chauffer or nurse or something—for her grandmother.”

Von nodded. “He is. But he’s like a family member. That picture is from Kasey and Nick’s wedding. Where’d you get this?”

Dan spoke up. “It was in Libby Braddock’s suitcase.”

“I wonder how
she
got it.” Von looked from one of the two men to the other.

Scott leaned against the filing cabinet. “That guy showed up at Kasey’s one day, unannounced. I was with her. It was during her first week there.”

“At the new place?” Von asked.

“Yeah. She seemed surprised to see him.” Scott rubbed his chin. “I had a bad feeling about him. And those butterscotch candies he’s always eating. What’s that all about?”

Von laughed. “I don’t know, but he’s always got a pocketful. Sugar addict? Ex-smoker, maybe?”

“It might be a coincidence, but when I was at Kasey’s the other day, I was looking for a spoon and there were a bunch of those candies in one of the drawers.”

“Interesting.” Von crossed his arms. “Could be a coincidence.”

“He’s got something to do with this,” Scott said.

“Kasey will never believe it. She thinks that guy walks on water. You better have a rock- solid case.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I hear you.”

Von snapped his fingers. “You know, the neighbor said Libby Braddock was keeping her nephew. Did you ask her about that?” Von rubbed his upper lip. “Do you think she’s Jeremy’s sister?”

“She could be.” Scott motioned for Von to follow him, leaving Dan standing in the hallway. Scott led Von into the room next to the interrogation room.

“She has the same color hair as Jeremy,” Von said, shrugging, “but then half the world has brown hair. I guess she could be his sister.” He held up the sketch artist’s picture. “This is not Libby Braddock, though. A different woman sent Kasey the pictures from Nashville.”