Wed like to get medical attention for our baby, Remy started. His head got hurt in the storm. Mason held Caleb so the woman could see the little bandage. We just want to be sure hes okay, Remy said.
Oh my, yes. Cant take chances with little babies. The woman pointed with a pen. Go to the medical unit down there. See the sign?
Remy and Mason nodded their thanks.
Are you sure thats all you need?
Well, Remy said, thinking, we may need some clothes for him, and we lost his car seat. But thats asking too much.
Not at all, honey. Weve got donations of childrens clothes and items over there. Take what you need. Weve also got groceries and hot food down that way. If you need a place to sleep, let us know. Weve got volunteers from everywhere to help. Red Cross, Salvation Army, churches, community groups. If youre missing or looking for anybody, weve got people set up with Missing Person Emergency Search System down there to help you. If youre property owners that were hit, youll need a permit to get into your home and see the damage so you can start insurance claims and apply for aid. Weve got people who can help you with the process.
Thank you, Mason said, but we were traveling through from out of town and just wanted to get the baby checked.
Sure. Mary Jo? The woman turned to a teenage girl with a T-shirt that read Im Here to Help. Mary Jo, can you please take these nice folks and their little angel over to medical?
For sure. Follow me.
Mary Jos ponytail swayed in cheery contrast to the air of a recreation center filled with tornado victims as she led them to the medical unit. The six treatment stations had makeshift examination rooms with curtained walls. Each one was in use. Remy and Mason sat among the people in the two dozen folding chairs that constituted the waiting area. They were greeted by a woman in her twenties wearing a T-shirt and jeans and carrying clipboards.
Hi, who are we helping?
Our baby got a scrape on his head in the storm.
The woman looked at it.
How old is he?
Three months, Remy lied. If she said his real age, it would raise suspicion by matching the age of the missing baby in the news.
Okay, the woman said before passing Remy a clipboard and form. Fill this out then return it to me. One of our medical team will call you so Dr. Butler can examine him. It wont be long.
Masons face grew taut looking at the form about names, Social Security Numbers, medical history, allergies. He glanced at Remy, who took her time completing every box with phony information. Fifteen minutes later, she handed the clipboard and form back to the young woman.
That was smooth, Mason said.
This is going to work.
Remy took stock of Caleb for several moments before she was gripped by the fear that shed slipped up somewhere, had forgotten some important thing. She racked her brain but nothing came to mind.
Spiller? A woman in a flowered smock, her blond hair pulled up in a bun and with a stethoscope around her neck, glanced from the clipboard toward the waiting area. Isaac Spiller?
Remy raised her hand.
Thats us.
Hi, Im Charlene Butler. Lets go to number three and Ill take a look at him.
Remy and Mason entered the curtained cubicle. Charlene directed them to lay Caleb down on the examination table and hold him while she tugged on surgical gloves.
Lets see So he got a little bump in the storm. She lifted her stethoscope from her neck and bent over Caleb to check him. Are those little bloodstains from when it happened?
It hit Remy like a sledgehammer to her stomach. The thing shed overlooked. Shed forgotten to change the baby out of his bloodied romper. She knew she needed to get him clothes but had completely overlooked the fact he was still wearing his blue-and-white-striped romper with the tiny elephant. The last thing his mother had dressed him in. It was listed as a detail in the last news story Remy had read about Caleb.
Im sorry, Remy said, can you repeat that?
Dr. Butler looked directly at Remy, then Mason for a moment, as if she were assessing them.
I said, did either of you see what happened? Charlene removed the bandage. How did he get his little scrape?
No. Remy shook her head, looking at Mason. It was during the storm We didnt see anything hit him. I was holding him and afterward he was just bleeding a little.
Well, theres no bruising. Thats good.
As the doctor checked the babys vital signs, she continued asking questions.
Since it happened has he seemed overly tired or cranky?
No.
Have his sleeping patterns changed at all?
No.
Charlene removed the babys romper and diaper to continue.
Has he been fussing at his ears as though irritated?
No, nothing like that.
What about eating? Has his appetite changed?
No. Well, Im moving him to formula and solids.
Charlene glanced at the form Remy had completed on the clipboard.
At three months? Most people wait a bit longer. Hes big for three months.
Hes a good eater.
Are you breastfeeding?
No.
Mmm.
Charlene cleaned his tiny wound and covered it with a new bandage. Then, after several more minutes, she finished up.
Hes fine. Her gloves gave elastic snaps as she peeled them off. Just clean his cut regularly and replace the bandage often. You can put his romper back on.
Thank you.
Charlene smiled, cooed at the baby then left the cubicle.
Remy took Caleb, now clad only in a diaper, into her arms, and touched her cheek to his. Then she grabbed the romper and led Mason out of the medical post. They didnt speak as they worked their way across the rec center floor to the section with tables and rows of plastic tubs and boxes of donated childrens clothes.
Remy passed Caleb to Mason to hold. She then tossed the babys bloodied romper into a pile and began rifling boxes marked, Baby Boy 0-12 Months, building a selection of clothing, diapers, cramming it all into plastic bags. She dressed Caleb in a new green romper. It was a little big on him but it smelled freshly laundered. While she was choosing more clothes, Mason noticed a couple of baby car seats nearby and took the one that appeared the sturdiest, checking the harness system.
Mason then found the food table, grabbed several ham-and-cheese and egg-salad sandwiches that were wrapped in clear plastic. He also took cookies and doughnuts, cramming them into the bags of clothes.
They headed for the lot and their pickup truck, where Mason got out his tools and secured the car seat in the trucks cab, inspecting the anchor and the tether, ensuring it was secure before Remy strapped Caleb in.
Mason started the truck. Remy fastened her own seat belt then threw her head back into her headrest, letting relief wash over her.
We did it, Mason! Hes healthy and no one had a clue about us!
Damn straight-hes sixty thousand dollars healthy!
They drove away, realizing that now they were closer to achieving what they each truly wanted.
As Mason wheeled the pickup through the neighborhood, he pulled a sandwich from the bag and began devouring it. By the time theyd made it to the freeway on-ramp to head back to their motel, Mason had reached into the bag for a doughnut.
The kids healthy, so lets call her, he said between bites. Lets set things up to get this done.
Mason accelerated and they merged with expressway traffic.
Remy? Are you going to call her?
Not just yet. One more thing.
What? What one more thing? Mason turned to face her, disbelieving, when his cell phone vibrated.
Keeping an eye on the road and his mirrors he pulled out his phone to check the text hed received.
U can run but U cant hide mfkr.
It was from DOA. Jesus.
Then in a sickening heartbeat Mason suddenly realized that disappearing inches separated their pickup from the rolling wheels of a tractor trailer. At that very moment a flash of sunlight on chrome and a panicked bellow of an air horn sucked the breath from his lungs.
Mason lifted his foot from the gas to stomp the brake as his hand spasmed on the wheel to swerve.
Remy reached for the baby, screamed and shut her eyes, bracing for a collision.
At the last second Mason swerved, coming within a hairbreadth before averting a crash.
Remy sighed with relief.
This was the last straw for Mason. The close call detonated his rage-rage at Remys reluctance to get rid of the baby; rage at DOAs text; rage at everything. Mason roared east on the freeway, his nerves rippling with each car he passed.
Slow down! Remy said.
He was catatonic with fury, driving hard.
Mason, please!
He drove without speaking as they exited the freeway into some community racing by them in the southeast.
Mason, for Gods sake, what are you doing?
He didnt have a clear destination but rather a burning intention. They came to a deserted field, heaped with broken branches and debris from the storm. He parked the truck, grabbed the baby and got out.
Mason! Remy jumped out after him. What are you doing?
I cant take any more of this bullshit, Remy! Im going to take care of things once and for all!
Masons jawline pulsed as he marched through the debris with the baby. Remy ran after him, pounding his back and shoulders, tears streaming down her face.
20
Balch Springs, Texas
The morning after her night shift, Kate was in a southeast suburb of Dallas.
Shed halted her Chevy Cobalt in front of a redbrick bungalow, glanced at the trimmed grass and neat low-standing hedges bordering the sidewalk. Well kept, she thought, flipping through her notes to confirm the address.
Shed halted her Chevy Cobalt in front of a redbrick bungalow, glanced at the trimmed grass and neat low-standing hedges bordering the sidewalk. Well kept, she thought, flipping through her notes to confirm the address.
Bolstered by Chuck Laneers support the night before, shed been going full tilt on the baby story since 6:00 a.m. When she woke, shed texted Jenna Cooper for any news in the search for Caleb.
Nothing. Praying, Jenna texted back.
Kate then called Frank Rivera for any developments on the case. Had the baby, any baby, been recovered? What about anyone bearing resemblance to the helpful strangers?
Nothing new to report, Kate, sorry, Rivera said.
Hey, Frank, is it possible the baby was taken by this couple?